A Simple Lady (11 page)

Following Elizabeth’s hurried exit from the breakfast parlor, Kenrick retrieved her abandoned book, opened it to one of his favorite plays, and settled back for a long wait while his wife changed clothes. He was pleasantly surprised when she returned in less than twenty minutes attired in a chestnut riding habit with chocolate trim. A matching hat sat jauntily atop her curls. The last of Kenrick’s earlier regrets faded away.

Ten minutes later he was forced to admit to himself that Elizabeth was one of the most pleasing riding companions he had ever known. Not only could she ride as though she had been born in a saddle, she also exhibited more common sense than most of Kenrick’s acquaintances. She made no attempt to initiate a conversation while they were negotiating the bustling streets leading to the park.

Although the day was clear, the park was thin of company so early in the morning. “Would you like to canter?” Kenrick asked, turning in his saddle to smile at Elizabeth. “I would suggest a gallop but that, as you know, is forbidden.”

Elizabeth nodded. “A canter would be lovely.”

By the time they had worked the fidgets from Missy and Solomon, the park was beginning to fill up.

“Kenrick!” A gentleman astride a showy bay approached, waving one elegantly gloved hand. “I had not expected to see you in town this summer. But no doubt you have good reasons for abandoning your usual summer activities.” The fellow eyed Elizabeth with open curiosity. His sly smile and roving gaze suggested that whatever he was thinking about her, it was not quite respectable.

Kenrick pulled Solomon to a halt and responded coolly. “Davisson. I have not yet had the honor of introducing you to my wife, Lady Kenrick.”

“Your wife!” Davisson’s tone expressed his astonishment. “But I thought your wife was—”

“Was what?” Kenrick interrupted quickly. His narrowed eyes and cold gaze would have suggested to a slower wit than Davisson that care was needed in finishing that sentence.

“I, eh,” Davisson continued, gulping, “I thought your wife was, eh, in the country.”

“As you see, you were mistaken. Elizabeth, my dear, may I present the Earl of Davisson.”

Elizabeth inclined her head. “My lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Davisson responded suitably but shortly, appearing anxious to be on his way. He quickly said his goodbyes and trotted away, bouncing ungracefully in the saddle.

As soon as they were once again alone, Kenrick turned to Elizabeth, concern clear in his eyes. “Have you met others in London who appear surprised that you are capable of appearing in public?”

Elizabeth averted her gaze and answered him shortly. “No, I have not.”

Although he was not oblivious to the deepening furrow on his wife’s brow, Kenrick assured himself she was merely unhappy about Davisson’s behavior, not this discussion he was determined to continue. “I’m guessing that Mother’s friends concealed their surprise better than Davisson did. In all likelihood, everyone in town has heard some degree of gossip. It was bound to be a popular
on dit
when I rode out of town, a special license in my pocket, with the intentions of marrying a simpleminded girl. What I fail to understand is why your father was so vocal about our arrangements. Had he made his offer to me in private rather than at a crowded table in White’s, all London need not have known of his duplicity.”

Elizabeth inhaled deeply. For the first time in her life, she found herself wishing to defend her father’s actions. “It was not duplicity, my lord,” she said stiffly. “My father believed what he told you.”

Although Elizabeth was not looking at him, Kenrick made sure she could hear his snort of skepticism. “Do you ask me to believe, madam, that your own father is unaware of your very obvious abilities?”

“Yes, I do ask you to believe that, my lord, for it is true,” Elizabeth replied, now looking directly into his eyes.

“Then you ask too much, madam. Your father is no fool, nor am I. I was prepared, for my mother’s sake, to accept you in public, despite your and your parents’ very successful strategy to ensnare me through falsehoods and pretense. I will not, however, subscribe to pretense myself by professing to believe your lies when we are in private.”

They had reached the edge of the park and must soon plunge into the noisy and crowded streets where private conversation would be impossible. Elizabeth lifted her chin and spoke clearly. “If, after we return to Kenrick House, I might have a few moments of your time, I believe I can explain my father’s misapprehensions about my mental capacities in such a way that you will understand.”

Kenrick gazed at his wife. She looked almost majestic, sitting proud and straight in the saddle, her eyes large and luminous, her lips soft and inviting. But her unfortunate choice of words had suddenly whirled him backward in time.

“You must understand,” Paulina had screamed at him. He had been kneeling at her bedside, praying for her ordeal to end, sympathy for her pain wrenching his own abdomen into cramping knots. She had looked beautiful, even with her face contorted by the agony she endured. And then, her will weakening with her flesh, she had told him the truth. The baby that was killing her was not his progeny but his half-brother. “Try to understand,” she had pleaded as he stared at her, disbelieving. “Try to understand. You must understand.” She had died with the words on her lips.

The past faded. Kenrick sighed deeply, gazing at his living wife, her firm lips, her widened eyes. “Understand, madam?” he said, his words clipped and cold. “Understand? Unfortunately, I understand much too well already.”

Tugging on his reins, he instantly guided Solomon into the street ahead of Elizabeth, who trailed behind him all the way home. They did not speak again.

Chapter Ten

The Marquess of Kenrick was not accustomed to feeling remorse, nor did he enjoy the sensation. Unfortunately, he was finding that dealings with his wife evoked that emotion far too often for his comfort. How was it, he wondered, that she consistently made him feel guilty when it was she who had wronged him? Or was it possible that he had misjudged her?

After helping his wife dismount following their ill-fated morning ride, Kenrick had taken one look into Elizabeth’s ashen face and shattered expression and realized his vacillations between congeniality and hostility had upset her very much. He found himself, irrationally he admitted, longing to reach out and comfort her. But that was ridiculous. He would only open himself up to more hurt. Elizabeth, after all, surely was just as guilty of duplicity as Paulina had been.

Solemnly he watched as Elizabeth, her shoulders square and her chin high, swept into the house and mounted the stairs toward her chamber. He strongly suspected she was retiring there for a good long cry. His own preference would be to seclude himself in the library with a bottle of brandy, but first he must find his mother. Just yesterday she had tried to convince him that Elizabeth was innocent of any deception. He had refused to listen to her. After all, his mother was notoriously soft-hearted. Now, for reasons he did not fully comprehend, Kenrick found himself not only willing but eager to hear his mother’s defense of Elizabeth.

“Larkman, where can I find the dowager marchioness?” Kenrick asked, impatience clear in his tone.

A hint of disapproval touched the butler’s countenance. “I believe, my lord, that you will find her ladyship in the front drawing room with—”

“Thank you,” Kenrick interrupted tersely. Flinging his hat, gloves, and riding crop onto a nearby table, he took the steps two at a time. He was desperately hoping his mother could convince him that he had misjudged Elizabeth.

“Dearest!” His mother greeted Kenrick’s hasty entrance with a fond smile. “Come see who is visiting me today.”

Kenrick stopped abruptly in the doorway, his expression suddenly constrained. “Gerald,” he said, suppressing a moan. Finding his detested cousin with his mother seemed the final insult in a morning that had consistently gone wrong. First that scamp of a kitten had scratched his new boots, then he had quarreled with his wife, and now this—Gerald, sitting on the settee with a smug smile on his face and with Elizabeth seated just to his right. Kenrick clenched his teeth and smiled. Somehow he would manage to be polite. Elizabeth was already glaring at him, her expression both wary and cold. No sense in alienating his mother too.

Stepping into the room, he nodded to his cousin. “I did not realize you were in town, Gerald.”

The blond man grinned, his handsome face open and friendly, his blue eyes twinkling with the knowledge that he had discomposed his cousin. “Hello, Kenrick. It seems each of us has astounded the other. I had believed you to be summering in Scotland.”

Kenrick tried to relax, but his jaws were already beginning to ache from the effort required to sustain his smile. “As you see,” he said, nodding slightly, “I am not in Scotland. I observe that you have met my wife.”

“I have—to my great delight. She is quite charming. You are a lucky fellow, Cousin.”

Kenrick nodded again. “Thank you.” His smile had grown stiff. “I could not agree more, of course.”

His mother was listening contentedly, apparently unaware of the undercurrents flowing through the conversation. “Will you take tea with us, Jeremy? Elizabeth was about to pour.”

“I would be delighted.” Kenrick lowered himself into a chair opposite the small settee where Elizabeth and Gerald sat side-by-side. Fixing his gaze on the teapot, he tried to analyze the unanticipated surge of rage that was sweeping through him. He was not surprised by the magnitude of his antipathy for his cousin; that went back many years. He was, however, more than a bit bemused by his sudden and inexplicable urge to shove Gerald’s straight white teeth down his long slender neck.

Determined to get a grip on his emotions, Kenrick forced himself to regard his cousin with an expression of feigned interest. “What brings you to London, Gerald?”

“A spot of business. And yourself?”

“The delightful anticipation of serving as escort to my mother and wife during their visit in town. Do you make a long stay?”

Gerald accepted a cup of tea from Elizabeth, gazing at her with open admiration. “I cannot say at the moment, Cousin. It will depend upon how my business prospers.”

“Then we shall hope it flourishes.” Kenrick’s smile was suddenly sincere and more than a bit mischievous. Hearing his mother’s quick gasp, he glanced at her with an expression of wide-eyed innocence. “Did I say something wrong? Oh! I beg your pardon, Gerald. I never intended to imply, of course…”

“Of course not,” Gerald responded, his own smile forced. “No one accuses you of ill-will, Cousin. We know too well your tendency toward ineptness.”

“Gerald, dear boy,” the dowager interjected hastily. “I believe you mentioned taking Elizabeth for a drive this afternoon. I know she wishes to visit a bookshop and would no doubt welcome your escort.”

Gerald turned to Elizabeth with alacrity. “I would be honored, my lady.”

Kenrick pulled in a quick breath. The thought of Gerald escorting his wife anywhere at all was anathema to him, but he could hardly object, especially with Elizabeth taking care not to meet his gaze.

On the other hand, he didn’t trust himself not to lose his temper if he was forced to endure much more of Gerald’s efforts to charm his wife. He jumped to his feet. “I beg your pardon, ladies, but I’ve just recalled an urgent matter of business and must be on my way.” He sketched a quick bow before turning and hurrying from the room.

* * *

Elizabeth watched her husband stalk out of the drawing room. He had hurt her feelings this morning on their ride and now appeared more than eager to remove himself from her presence. She suppressed a sigh and flashed Gerald her most charming smile. “Your escort would be most welcome this afternoon, sir. If I may have a few minutes in which to change?”

“Certainly. Do not feel you must hurry. My groom is walking the horses.” Gerald jumped to his feet as Elizabeth stood to excuse herself.

“I shall be just a few m-m-moments, sir,” she said. Then she turned and hurried from the room.

Thirty minutes later Elizabeth was seated beside her husband’s cousin as he skillfully guided his curricle down bustling Piccadilly toward Hatchard’s. Not only was Gerald handsome and charming, Elizabeth was thinking, but he also handled the reins with a degree of expertise she had rarely seen. Could, perhaps, her husband’s antipathy toward his cousin spring from jealousy?

“I am more pleased than I can express that you have consented to drive out with me today, my lady,” Gerald said. He appeared to be devoting his full attention to maneuvering the crowded streets, but his tone sounded quite sincere. “It is an act of kindness on your part that is more than I deserve.”

Elizabeth, frowning in confusion, glanced toward Gerald, wondering if perhaps he was teasing her. However, he seemed unaware of her regard as he concentrated on easing his curricle between a large traveling carriage that had stopped on one side of the street and a high-perch phaeton that was crowding him from the other side. Elizabeth waited until the traffic had thinned before she spoke again. “Forgive me, sir, but I fail to take your meaning. I should think any act of kindness must be on your part. After all, you very generously agreed to accompany me on my errand today.”

Gerald continued to look straight ahead, but even in profile, he appeared upset. His lips were thinned, and a slight frown furrowed his high forehead. “You do not know then,” he murmured softly.

“Know what, sir?”

“That following your wedding, I very inaccurately and unfairly informed Aunt Mary that you were, er, that you—”

“Oh!” Elizabeth suddenly recalled that this was the man who had labeled her as simpleminded when reporting Kenrick’s marriage to the dowager. “Yes, I know what you mean, sir. However, I am sure that what you said, you believed to be true and that what you did, you believed to be for the best.”

A deep sigh of relief greeted Elizabeth’s words. “You are too kind, my lady. I had feared you might never forgive me for that indiscretion.”