The Rebel Bride (38 page)

“She wasn’t far along in her pregnancy, but as I’m certain you’ll understand, it was quite a shock.” He gazed at Harry speculatively from beneath half-closed lids. Unexpected though his visit was, it could not have been better timed. Perhaps Harry would succeed where he had failed.

“Damned shame.” Harry brightened almost immediately. “I’ve just the thing to cheer her up. I brought her a present, you know. A trifle really, but I fancied she would like a real Spanish mantilla. All the ladies drape them over their heads in Portugal, you see.”

“Doubtless she’ll be delighted, Harry. Now, if you like, you can visit with your sister. Mannering will take you up. I won’t intrude on your reunion.”

Kate lay languidly on a sofa near the fireplace, a finely knit cover spread over her legs and a paisley shawl draped about her shoulders. An embroidery frame with only a few too large, uneven stitches covering its muslin surface lay precariously near the edge of the sofa. She heard a light tap on the door and quickly lowered her head, as if suddenly preoccupied with her stitching. It was Julien and she couldn’t face him, she simply couldn’t. She didn’t move when she heard the door open.

“Well, I say, Kate, that’s a fine way to greet your only brother, your
older
brother, who, I might add, you should
honor and respect.” Harry was the picture of cheer as he stepped into the room.

“Harry!” She struggled into a sitting position, her initial shock at seeing him giving way immediately to a tearful smile. “Oh, my dear, it’s so good to see you again. How very fine you look, so handsome and dashing.” She alternately clasped him tightly against her and pushed him back, as if to verify that it was indeed he.

“Ho, Kate,” Harry protested after several of her fierce embraces, “don’t want to wrinkle my coat, old girl.” He patted her pale cheek, endeavoring to keep the worry from showing on his face. Lord, but she looked pale and drawn, and dreadfully thin. He’d never thought of a pregnant woman being thin, but she was. On the other hand, Julien had said she wasn’t very far along. Still, it scared him witless.

To Kate, who knew her brother perhaps better than she knew herself, Harry’s thoughts were mirrored in his wide blue eyes. She forced a smile and said lightly, “Do sit down, my love. As you see, I’m still a trifle weak, but it will pass, Harry, and there is naught for you to worry about. Come, my dear, pull that chair closer, and tell me about your regiment and all your adventures.”

Harry could find no fault at all with her suggestion, as it appeared she had no wish to speak of herself. He’d give her thoughts another direction, that’s what he would do. “Deuced hot in Spain and Portugal,” he said, stretching himself easily in the chair opposite her.

“Was there much fighting, Harry? I was very worried about you.”

“Oh, no, just scattered packs of ruffian bandits. We routed the scurvy lot, let me tell you. No match at all for our men.” He sat forward in his chair, warming to his story. “We had a couple of native guides, though of course we really didn’t need them, just had them along to point us through the scrubby paths. Damned rocky terrain, you know, ground dry as a bone. But our men were hearty goers, rounded up the villains, no matter how cunning they were.”

Kate sighed. “Oh, Harry, how I wish I could have been
with you. I wouldn’t have minded the heat, and goodness, all the excitement—”

“Now, that’s not something for a countess to wish, old girl. Cursed rough work, you know.” He paused and gazed around the elegantly furnished chamber. “Lord, I never thought to see you so regally placed.”

“It does seem strange. I daresay, though, that Kate Brandon never wanted or sought such honors.”

“Ridiculous, sister. Don’t you remember we couldn’t find a solution for you and Sir Oliver when I left for Oxford? Then the earl of March, dashed fine fellow, by the way, swoops down and rescues you, just like in those romantic novels.”

She lowered her eyes and drew her lips tightly shut.

Harry eyed her with a frown. “I can see you’ve indeed fallen into a depression, and that isn’t good for you. Now, my dear, trust me to cheer you up.”

“Harry, you will stay here at St. Clair, will you not?” she thought to ask, her voice pathetically eager.

“Think I very well might. The earl already asked me, you know. Sir Oliver won’t quite like it, but I shall pay him a visit or two. Surely three visits to him would be overdoing it, don’t you think?”

“You must call him Julien, Harry. He would not care for such formality from his brother-in-law.” At the mention of her husband’s name, she lowered her head and asked with forced lightness, “You’ve seen him, then?”

“He met me downstairs and told me of your accident. I’m sorry, my dear. Bound to have more children.” He felt suddenly that he had stepped into uncharted land and was quite out of his ken. He could not unsay the words he’d already spoken, so he merely looked at her hopefully.

“Of course, Harry,” she said, her voice as dull and gray as the overcast day.

As he could think of nothing to say for the moment, Harry picked up a periodical from the table at his elbow and casually flicked though the pages.

Kate sought to divert his attention, chiding herself for making him feel awkward and uncomfortable. “It will be
Christmas in but two weeks. If you don’t think your military dignities will suffer, we could decorate the hall. There are holly and berries in abundance in the home wood.”

Harry readily agreed to her suggestion, though secretly he thought it would be a dead bore. He suddenly remembered the mantilla carefully wrapped in tissue paper in his portmanteau. Kate loved presents. Surely it would be just the thing to cheer her up.

He rose and tried for a mysterious air. “Don’t want you to move, Kate. I have a surprise for you.”

He was rewarded, for Kate’s eyes lit up, quite in the carefree manner of his hoydenish little sister.

“A present, Harry? Oh, how very kind of you. May I have it now?”

“Of course you may. Let me fetch it, and while I’m about it, I’ll see if the earl—Julien—will now join us. Said he didn’t want to interrupt our reunion, but we’ve had plenty of it by now, I’d say, and I’m sure he would enjoy seeing you. He’s very worried about you, you know.”

Kate said nothing to this suggestion, and Harry strode in his finest military fashion out of the room, feeling a bit more encouraged than he had only minutes before.

Dear Harry, she thought, so innocently does he step into the boiling kettle. She planted a smile on her lips, for Harry’s sake.

B
y the time Christmas Day arrived, St. Clair had undergone a magnificent change. Under Harry’s very nominal direction, the servants had festooned countless bunches of bright-green holly, dotted with deep-red berries, all along the walls and beams in the hall, even going so far as to fasten clumps—most disrespectfully, Mannering thought—atop the armored knights. Colorful paper strings of red and green garland were hung in deep scallops over the doors, and much to Kate’s delight, Julien and Harry had hauled in a mammoth Yule log for the giant fireplace.

On Christmas morning, after Julien and Kate had ceremoniously dispensed gifts among the staff, they went to the library to join Harry. Julien presented Kate with an elegant pair of diamond drop earrings and a narrow gold bracelet dotted with small exquisitely cut diamonds that matched those of the earrings. She accepted them with a smile, conscious that Harry was watching at her elbow.

“Just the thing to go with your mantilla,” Harry said, all innocent enthusiasm.

“You’re right, of course. Thank you, Julien,” she continued with pained correctness, “They are quite lovely. I’m sorry that I didn’t have the opportunity to—”

“My birthday is in January, Kate. I shall expect two presents from you on that date. It’s the sixteenth. Don’t forget now. If you like, I’ll even give you hints, perhaps write them down and put them under your pillow.”

Harry gazed at them, baffled. He had felt acutely uncomfortable more than once during the past two weeks at being in their company. Several nights as he had made
his way quietly to the kitchen, he had noticed a light shining from beneath the library door. He’d walked quietly to the door, cracked it open, and seen his brother-in-law sprawled in a large chair gazing fixedly into the dying fire. He had recalled Kate’s aversion to marriage with the earl, quite inexplicable to him, and her flight alone to France. But, be damned, she’d married him and, for a while at least, carried his child. Certainly no aversion there. That wasn’t possible, was it?

Late one night, as Harry gazed proudly at his scarlet uniform, pressed by Timmens’s careful hands, he was drawn by the sound of loud voices coming from far down the hallway. Blessed with a lively curiosity, Harry quietly opened his door and looked down the darkened corridor. He realized with a start that the loud voices were coming from Kate’s room. It came as something of a shock to him, for during the length of his stay Harry had never before heard Julien and Kate raise their voices to each other, much less argue, and in such an unrestrained way.

He retreated back to his room and closed the door, reflecting as he did so that perhaps marriage wasn’t the divine state it was touted to be. It made him shudder.

Above all things, Harry disliked problems, particularly those he didn’t understand. It occurred to him that staying with Sir Oliver might not be so bad after all. Certainly, at Brandon Hall, he knew exactly what to expect from his dour parent. But he didn’t want to have to put up with Sir Oliver’s endless and continuous sermons that touched on everything from the cleanliness of his linen to the number of girls he’d seduced. Odd that, such extremes in his father, who wanted everyone to see him as being a very holy, righteous man.

But Harry was totally unprepared the next morning, when he walked down the front stairs, to see his brother-in-law in the hall, his head bent in conversation with Mannering, his luggage stacked near the front doors.

“Ah, Harry, there you are,” Julien said pleasantly, turning to face his flustered brother-in-law. “I’ve decided to return to London. There are pressing matters that
require my attention. Kate has decided to remain here at St. Clair a while longer before joining me.”

He ignored the look of patent disbelief on Harry’s face. “I’m driving my curricle. Would you care to join me?”

Harry would have liked very much to yell at the earl, to defend his sister with scathing demands as to the earl’s reasons for such an abrupt departure. But under Julien’s cool, inquiring gaze, he was made to feel that such an action would be grossly impertinent. He fidgeted with a gold button on his scarlet coat and said finally with stiff formality, “As you wish, my lord. I will accept your offer. Actually, I didn’t really want to visit Sir Oliver anymore or stay with him.”

He looked for the world like a ruffled bandy rooster, Julien thought as he turned his attention back to Mannering. He wondered if Harry would drop his reserve and question him on their journey. He really had no idea, at the moment, how he would respond to questions from a brother.

They ate their breakfast in strained silence. Julien carefully laid down his fork, drew out his watch, and consulted it. He transferred his gaze to Harry, at once amused and rather touched by his obvious agitation. “I applaud your sentiments, Harry, but you must understand that it is Kate’s wish. I am certain that you have noted an atmosphere of tension between us.”

“Yes.”

“As a gentleman, you must know that I cannot divulge the reasons. To do so would be a great injustice to your sister.”

“Is it because of her miscarriage?”

“Perhaps, in part.” Julien turned the subject. “I’ve already said my good-byes to your sister. I will await you in the curricle. I believe Timmens has packed your bags and Mannering has seen them brought down.”

Harry wasn’t much relieved, but he felt that to persist would make him appear boorishly forward. He rose slowly and laid his napkin down beside his half-empty plate.
He was taken aback by the hard glint in his brother-in-law’s eyes.

He turned nervously and walked to the door. “Yes,” he said over his shoulder, “I’ll say good-bye to Kate.” He wondered as he slowly mounted the stairs if he appeared mealymouthed to the earl. He knitted his brow a little over this, but by the time he lightly tapped on Kate’s door, he’d managed to reassure himself. Julien was her husband, after all. It was in a heartening voice that he called, “It’s I. May I come in?”

“Of course, my dear.” As he walked into the room, she rose, shook out her skirts, and stretched out her hands to him. Harry pulled her rather gruffly into his arms and said in a low voice, “If you prefer that I stayed with you—”

“Don’t be silly. You know very well that you would pine away within the week for want of your laughing, gay companions.”

“But the earl—Julien, Kate. He’s offered me a place in his curricle to London. It doesn’t seem the thing to leave you alone.” He ground to a halt, seeing in her eyes the same hard look he’d so shortly before witnessed in his brother-in-law’s.

“Oh, damnation, Kate. I didn’t want to see you unhappy. God, to see you this way after all those years with Sir Oliver. Isn’t there anything I can do?”

“This isn’t a Greek tragedy, Harry. You just don’t understand about people who are married, that’s all. The earl merely journeys to London on business matters. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

“Your husband’s name is Julien, Kate, not
the earl.
Don’t take me for a fool.” He would have said more, but he checked himself at the sight of her drawn face.

She looked up at him, the merest hint of a smile on her pale lips. “Never a fool, my dear, never. Now, I know you must be off. Pray don’t concern yourself further about my stupid affairs.”

He eyed her dubiously for a moment, and to her profound relief, said nothing.

“Take care, Harry, and don’t wallow in too much
mischief.” She dropped a light kiss on his cheek, hugged him briefly, and drew back.

“You will write to me if there is anything you—”

“Yes, yes, of course.” She felt quite calm at the moment and didn’t want to risk any faltering on either of their parts. Some moments later, from her vantage point at the window, Kate watched the footman strap the luggage onto the boot of the curricle. Julien and Harry, scarves knotted securely about their throats against the light flakes of falling snow, climbed into their seats. The groom handed Julien the reins, and Kate fancied she could hear the crunch of hardened snow beneath the wheels of the curricle. She maintained her vigil at the window long after new snow filled in the wheel tracks on the drive.

Although the household staff were astounded at the earl’s abrupt departure without the countess, no word reached Kate’s ears. To the casual observer there was no sign of disruption in the daily activities at St. Clair. Privately, of course, there was endless speculation, even by the second footman and the Tweenie, a circumstance that Mannering heartily deplored but was unable to curtail. That the countess roamed through the various rooms, silent and aloof, was obvious to everyone, even those of little to no sensitivity.

Never sure how long the countess would wish to remain in any one room, footmen scurried to lay fires against the chill, only to discover not many minutes after their efforts that the room was empty again.

Luncheon and dinner trays were returned to Cook with scarce a morsel taken from the plates. A firm believer in the benefits of pork restorative jelly, Cook artfully hid spoonfuls of the thick gray substance beneath a cutlet or among the sauced vegetables. “The only one who’s benefiting from my jelly is that miserable tabby,” she said to Mrs. Cradshaw, as she dished yet another uneaten plate of food into the cat’s bowl.

Kate had no idea that she was unwittingly adding to
the culinary pleasure of the kitchen cat, so closely was she locked into herself.

One afternoon, after wandering into the estate room, she returned to her room and huddled into a chair close to the fireplace, pulling a cover up to her chin. She had tried so hard not to think, not to remember, that she felt as if her mind was weaving itself into circular patterns. Finally, unable to withstand the onslaught of the bitter, shadowy memories, she allowed her mind to dwell upon them, each of them in turn. As once she had sought frantically to forget, she now forced herself to recall every detail, vividly re-creating the past five months, from the moment she’d fallen dead at Julien’s feet in her duel with Harry.

She rose reluctantly sometime later to light candles against the early-winter darkness. As she carried a branch to a table near her chair, the glowing lights blended for an instant with the orange embers in the fireplace, creating a lifelike shadow that loomed upon the wall in front of her. She could almost feel Julien’s presence near to her. It was almost as if she could reach out and touch him. She had but to listen closely to hear him speak to her. The large shadow flickered and flattened into an insignificant blur.

She sank into her chair and buried her face in her hands. With appalling clarity she remembered their last night together, when she’d taunted him until, finally, his calm, impassive facade crumbled. With a fury that matched her own, he had shouted at her.

“You speak so scathingly of
my
unbridled passions. But listen to yourself, madam, you rant like an uncontrolled, hysterical termagant. You can’t say that you were mistaken in my character, for indeed you have never exerted the slightest effort to determine what sort of man I am. You have acted childishly, ignoring the needs and distress of everyone else around you. Your arrogance is amazing, your assumptions even more appalling. Damnation, woman, stop acting the shrew one minute and the victim the next.”

“Damn you, how can you say such a thing, how—”

“How dare I what? Speak the truth? Make you realize that this mockery of a marriage is not only of my making? How many times you have hurled at my head that you dance to my every tune? I will tell you, madam, that the piper no longer plays.”

She rushed at him with clenched fists. “You lie, just as you’ve always lied, just as you—” She raised her fists.

“Don’t do it, Kate,” he said in a voice of deadly calm. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure at this moment than to thrash some sense into you. You’ve quite nearly pushed me over the edge. Don’t give me the excuse to do it.”

“Ah, yes, your pleasure.” She drew up, panting. “I’ve been naught but an instrument for your bloody pleasure, your token countess, whom your gentleman’s code forbade you to seduce. You were forced to marry me so you could bed me, nothing more.”

“Forced to marry you?” He looked at her thunderstruck. “Is that what you believe? You witless little fool. Hear me, Kate. I could have had quite an admirable selection of women for my wife. My choice of you for my wife, as the countess of March, had very little to do with the gratification of my sexual appetites. Only your irrational refusal of me caused me to act in the way that I did, that and the dreadful way you were forced to live by that maniacal father of yours.”

“How very fortunate for you, my lord, that women find you so irresistible, else you would be forced to expend considerable energies staging your elaborate scenes.”

“I seem to recall, madam, that it was you who staged our last so memorable seduction scene. And if my lamentable memory serves me correctly, your own passion rivaled mine.”

“No, damn you, that’s a lie. I didn’t feel a thing, it was all imagined. No, I merely feigned feeling for you.” She clapped her hands over her ears.

“No, I won’t stop and I haven’t said all that I wish,” he said, feeling like a savage now, nearly lost to control. He forcibly pulled her hands to her sides. “Damnation,
listen to me. The young girl who was brutally raped no longer exists. You have seen her again, felt her misery. But now you must let her go. You are a woman, with a woman’s needs and desires. You will destroy yourself if you do not banish that child’s fears.”