Chapter 4 #2
Damn! There he went again, lusting after the woman like the cheap libertine she thought he was. He’d have to keep close rein on those thoughts. The woman was trouble, pure and simple, and her attractions only made her doubly so.
Better that he concentrate on his far less troublesome fiancée, the one Miss Taylor seemed determined to scare off. He needed to invent some explanation about the article that would assure Katherine of his intention to be faithful.
He sighed. The irony was that he intended exactly that.
He’d never approved of infidelity. His father, for all his faults, had been scrupulously faithful to his mother, and Ian had admired that.
Those people in the ton who held “sophisticated” ideas about marriage annoyed Ian, for they were shallow, concerned only with their own pleasures.
But convincing Katherine would be difficult now.
How could he make her believe him over the famous Lord X when she was so shy of him?
When he arrived at the Hastings town house an hour later, he was no closer to determining what to say to Katherine.
That irritated him. So when the butler showed him to the drawing room, he was already in a sour mood.
As the servant announced him, Ian’s mood darkened even more at the sight that greeted him.
Inside the elegantly appointed room, the generally haughty Lady Hastings perched on the edge of a lavender settee like a squirrel on a branch, her head erect and her gaze darting back and forth as if to scent the approach of danger.
Sir Richard, who could barely walk, had nonetheless pushed to his feet on the Aubusson carpet and was using his cane to struggle toward the sideboard and its selection of brandies.
Where was Katherine? Why wasn’t she part of this strange family tableau?
“Lord St. Clair!” Lady Hastings cried as soon as he entered. “Do come join us! I’ll ring for tea.” She lifted a little silver bell and rang it repeatedly, until the tinkling echoed in the drawing room like a strident opera chorus.
“Agnes, that’s enough!” her husband commanded. “Put the damned bell down, for God’s sake! We’re not having tea at a time like this!”
A frantic expression crossed her lined face as she patted the seat next to her with uncharacteristic energy. “Of course we are! Don’t listen to him, Lord St. Clair. Do come sit down beside me.”
Something was amiss; any fool could tell that. “What’s happened?” Ian asked Sir Richard, ignoring the man’s wife.
“Nothing has happened,” Lady Hastings retorted. She shot her husband a murderous glance. “You mustn’t discuss this now.”
“There’s no point in pretending,” her husband replied as he reached the sideboard. “My man could find no trace of them. If not for these legs, I could’ve gone, but ...” He trailed off, splashing a generous amount of brandy into a glass.
“You shouldn’t be drinking.” She rose and went to his side.
The couple were trying Ian’s patience. “Find no trace of whom?”
“My daughter,” Sir Richard said. His wife let out a little squeak, but he forestalled any further protests. “He has a right to know, Agnes.” He met Ian’s gaze squarely. “You proposed marriage to my daughter, but she gave you no answer. Is that correct?”
An uneasiness settled into the pit of his stomach. “Yes.” Had she run off to avoid him? Had she been that upset about that bloody article?
Sir Richard held the brandy glass up to his mouth, but his wife removed it before he could drink any. He scowled at her, then at Ian. “I’m afraid, Lord St. Clair, that our daughter has run off—eloped—with another man.”
Eloped? Katherine? Timid Katherine who had putty for a spine? His temper rapidly rose to a boil.
My God, not again. This had happened to him last year when Lord Nesfield’s daughter, Sophie, had run off with a barrister. What was wrong with these young girls, always flying off to marry men without their parents’ approval?
He must have the worst luck in Christendom!
Despite his efforts to choose reasonable, dull women, he only found the ones whose quiet natures masked raging passions.
Passion had never been part of his offer, but then, he’d assumed that a sensible woman didn’t want that fickle emotion.
Apparently, he’d been wrong. Bloody hell.
“With whom did she run off ?” Ian asked.
Sir Richard snatched the glass of brandy from his wife, then downed it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Our steward, Mr. Gerard.”
Their steward. Katherine had eloped with a man she must have known for some time. He suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling he’d been duped. “Was there a prior attachment between Katherine and your steward, sir?”
“Yes,” Sir Richard said at the same time his wife cried, “No!”
“Which is it?” he asked in a frigid tone.
Sir Richard scowled at his wife. “Why don’t you tell him, my dear? I don’t think you’d like what I have to say on the subject.”
She glared at him, then faced Ian with a rustle of muslin skirts.
“You see, Lord St. Clair, my daughter began fancying herself in love with Mr. Gerard years ago.” She cast her husband an arch glance.
“I warned my husband that he should dismiss the man, but he thought nothing would come of it. ‘It’s a girlish infatuation,’ he used to say.
‘She’ll ne’er act upon it. And I shan’t lose a good steward for such an idiotic reason. ’”
Under other circumstances, Ian might have been amused by Lady Hastings’ uncanny ability to mimic her husband. Just now, he wasn’t. “Go on.”
“Richard thought she’d grow out of it. She didn’t. Then last year, the man had the audacity to ask for her hand. He was declined, of course. Clearly, he lacked the necessary prerequisites of birth and fortune.”
“Necessary to you,” her husband added.
She sniffed. “Don’t quibble with me, Richard. You know I was right to insist on that. And you should have dismissed the man as soon as he made his feelings known.”
Her husband leaned back against the sideboard.
“I thought him an honorable man. Besides, I feared that dismissing him would merely tempt him to run off with the silly girl and if I kept him on he wouldn’t risk his position.
They both seemed to accept the situation.
” He glanced apologetically at Ian. “When you came along and she acquiesced to your attentions I thought she’d forgotten her girlish fancy.
” His attention turned briefly to his wife.
“I didn’t know she wasn’t pleased with your courtship. ”
Ian didn’t have to ask what the man meant. Apparently, he’d underestimated her fear of him.
His wife waved her hand as if to erase her husband’s words. “My husband doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Katherine was perfectly pleased with you until ...”
She paused, and Ian felt a stab of unease. He could see where this was leading.
“Until that wretched article was printed in the newspaper,” she continued, two spots of color darkening her powdered cheeks.
“ I know young men must have their fun, but really, Lord St. Clair, couldn’t you be more discreet?
The moment Mr. Gerard read that column, he rushed in here, protesting that we were marrying ‘his angel’ off to a profligate bounder who couldn’t appreciate her. ”
Ian groaned. He’d known that article would bring him nothing but trouble. Damn that scribbling witch, Miss Taylor!
Lady Hastings sighed. “Of course, I told him to mind his place, and Richard—much too late, in my opinion—gave him his notice. But it was futile. My sweet, dutiful girl was impressed by his gallantry. She ran off with him the next day.”
Ian stared at her agape. “That long ago? And you didn’t tell me? Didn’t even have the courtesy to notify me? The briefest note—‘Dear Lord St. Clair, our daughter has run off with the steward, so sorry for all your trouble’—would have sufficed!”
Lady Hastings bristled and opened her mouth as if to give him a proper set-down.
Her husband hastened to intervene. “You’ve every right to be angry, St. Clair.
I wanted to tell you at once, but Agnes hoped my man of affairs might recover Katherine before the runaways reached Scotland.
I’ve no hope now. My man sent word that he lost them.
I fear my daughter and Mr. Gerard will be married before we see them again. ”
A chilly silence ensued, punctuated only by the crackling fire and the muted clopping of horses in the street outside. Ian spoke first. “Then I suppose that’s that.”
“Yes. Thank you for being so understanding about this.”
Ian nodded. It began to dawn on him he was free of the insipid Katherine. Part of him hated having his plans destroyed, but another part rejoiced in his escape.
“I’m afraid we won’t be going to the Worthings as planned,” Sir Richard added. “If you’d give them our apologies—”
“Of course.” He paused, then said with complete sincerity, “I wish you all the best with your new son-in-law. I’ll trouble you no further concerning your daughter.” That was another advantage to this disaster—he needn’t endure Lady Hastings’ fawning again.
He pivoted toward the door, but Lady Hastings cried out, “Wait! Suppose Richard is wrong, and she is recovered, chaste and unharmed. Perhaps then—”
“Lady Hastings,” he interrupted as he faced her, “I don’t want a wife who’s in love with another man, no matter how chaste her body.”
The two spots of color returned to her cheeks. “Yet you felt free to come to the marriage with the smell of your strumpet clinging to you.”
“Agnes!” her husband exclaimed in shock.
Ian narrowed his gaze on the impudent woman. “If I were you, Lady Hastings, I’d beware of believing everything Lord X writes, especially under the circumstances. The Spanish have a saying—‘Whoever gossips to you will gossip about you.’ And Lord X is clearly no respecter of persons.”
Then without another word, he left.