Puritan Bride (32 page)

‘Will I approve?’

‘Not at all! But sons do not have to approve their mother’s actions.’

‘I mislike the tone of this.’

‘Leave it to me!’

A comfortable travelling coach pulled by four matched bays drew up before Widemarsh Manor. There was only one occupant. Jenks jumped down from the box to open the carriage door and give his strong arm to the lady who descended with careful steps. She shook out her skirts, pulled her cloak around her, and nodded to her coachman with perfect equanimity.

‘Knock on the door, if you please, Jenks. Loudly.’

Thunderous knocking from the haft of Jenks’s coaching whip echoed round the courtyard.

No answer.

‘Knock again.’

Jenks complied.

‘Katherine. Open the door. It is Elizabeth Oxenden.’

The shortest of moments passed and then the came the sound of keys and bolts. The door swung back.

Kate stood there in the doorway. Her face was pale but composed, her emotions well in hand.

‘You will not see my son,’ Elizabeth explained. ‘I can understand that. But will you allow me to enter?’

Without a word, Kate stood back and led the way into the parlour.

There they stood and looked at each other.

‘For you to make such a journey, matters must be very grave.’ Kate’s voice was a little husky, strained with frequent tears and disuse over the past days.

‘Of course they are grave, my dear and foolish child! When the two people I care about most are so clearly unhappy, it is of the gravest!’

The mild endearment and Elizabeth’s exasperated smile were Kate’s undoing. Despite her best intentions, she covered her face as tears began to slide down her cheeks. She could do nothing to stem them.

‘Come here. Dearest Kate. What is so terrible to make you cry so?’

Kate sobbed uncontrollably in her arms as Elizabeth guided her to the settle before the fireplace. They sat and Elizabeth continued to hold her, stroking her hair, allowing her to weep.

‘What distresses you so? There is no need.’

‘My own mother would not come to see me.’ Kate gulped and sniffed. ‘But you did.’

Elizabeth was stricken, reduced to silence, now aware of the depth of Kate’s isolation.

‘She never even sent a letter with Simon. I know I left
Downham Hall without her knowledge, but I thought she might have written …’

‘There, now. Perhaps she did not know that Simon planned to come. I have come instead.’ Such meaningless words in the circumstances. Elizabeth held Kate as the tears still racked the slight body, murmuring more empty words of comfort, but giving her the solace of her enfolding arms. When the sobs began to abate, she produced a handkerchief, dried her cheeks and fetched a glass of wine from the court cupboard.

‘I am so sorry.’ Kate sniffed, now embarrassed. ‘I did not intend to inflict myself on you in such a way.’

‘Nonsense! Who better to dry your tears. Now.’ She gave her the glass of wine again and watched as Kate sipped obediently.

‘Better? Good! Then let us try to put everything to rights. When are you going to see my son and allow him to talk to you?’

Kate had not expected such a direct approach, but decided on honesty after all. ‘I do not know that he wishes to see me,’ she explained simply, her eyes on her fingers clenched in the handkerchief in her lap.

‘Of course he does not want to see you! He has only been here—how many times in as many days?—and returned home in a temper with you and himself when you have barred the door. Of course he does not wish to see you! At this moment he has gone rough shooting and
is pretending that he is enjoying it! He snarls and snaps and drinks too much. He is perfectly happy!’ Kate had to smile at the heavy irony. ‘Do see him, dear Kate. It will make life better for all of us. I have never known him be so concerned about the affections of a woman before. You have made quite an impression on him!’

‘I do not know what to say to him. My family have so much to answer for—he may have decided that he could achieve a better marriage after all.’ Kate continued to sniff at the doleful prospect.

‘We do not choose our families, dear Kate.’

‘No. But murder. Lies and deceit. If I had not started this quest, would Gilliver still be alive? And Richard! I cannot bear to think of it.’

‘You must not blame yourself.’

‘But I encouraged Richard to believe that I would marry him. He thought that I loved him. I am not guiltless in this.’

‘No, but his actions went far beyond anything you could be held responsible for.’

‘But he is dead. My cousin is dead!’ She held tight to Elizabeth’s hands as tears threatened to fall again. ‘I know that he probably killed Gilliver, but I cannot forget his kindness and companionship to me as a child.’

The two ladies sat in silent grief and, although Elizabeth inwardly winced at the fierce grasp of her hands, she would not have loosed that hold for the world.

Eventually, sensing a restoration of calm to Kate’s overwrought emotions, she took control of the situation again. ‘So, when are you going to put my son out of his misery? You realise that he thinks you hold him to blame him for your cousin’s death?’

‘No. Never!’ She shivered with the return of vivid memory. ‘I know that Marcus had no choice but to defend himself. If he had not, Richard would assuredly have killed him.’

‘But he blames himself. He needs you to help assuage his guilt.’ Elizabeth raised a hand to touch Kate’s cheek in a gentle caress. ‘Surely you know that he loves you. That he adores you.’

‘He has told me so.’

‘And do you believe him?’

‘Yes.’ Kate’s reply was unhesitating, but little more than a whisper, as if she hardly dare admit it to herself.

‘Well, then.’ Elizabeth smiled. ‘Tell me what is in your heart, Kate.’

‘I wish we had met in different circumstances. Then we could have loved freely without the horrors of deception and violence.’

‘But can you love him at all?’

‘Yes. Oh, yes.’ Kate smiled at last, her face transformed by joy at the recognition of what was indeed in her heart.

‘Good.’ Elizabeth nodded, satisfied at last. ‘Then I will tell him to come.’

*  *  *

Elizabeth made ready to leave. ‘You should know. My son has arranged for the burial of Gilliver.’

‘Where will she rest?’

‘At the Priory, of course.’ Elizabeth understood Kate’s anxieties here and answered gently. ‘With the rest of the Harley family. She has always thought that the house was hers, so it is right that she should return there at the end.’

Of course. Kate bowed her head in acknowledgement of the news she wished to hear. He would think of that. And carry it out quietly and efficiently. She should have expected no less.

‘Does Marlbrooke know you are here?’ Kate asked finally as she accompanied Lady Elizabeth to the door.

‘No. He does not.’ Elizabeth answered Kate’s shrewd question with a bland smile.

‘And Felicity?’

‘Certainly not!’

‘What a devious lady you are.’ Kate managed a chuckle. ‘I think I might be surprised to learn how often you get your own way without anyone realising it!’

‘I have had considerable practice!’ Elizabeth leaned over to kiss Kate’s cheek, but then frowned down at her gloved hands. ‘One thing before I go. I believe it might help you if you realise that we all have difficult families, to some degree or other.’

Kate registered her surprise.

‘Shall I tell you who poisoned me? Not really intending
to give me enough to kill me, you understand, but enough to frighten me and lay a trail of guilt to you.’

‘I thought it was Gilliver. She said not—but I think it was not easy to know what was truth and what was justifiable deception in her mind.’

‘I
know
who did it. It was Felicity.’

‘Felicity? Did she tell you?’ Kate was shocked at Elizabeth’s calm acceptance of her companion’s duplicity. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I am very sure. And, no—she did not tell me. She did not need to. I know she was guilty, from her manner, from her reaction to me, and to you, after I recovered.’

‘But why? Why would she do something so outrageous? I thought she was devoted to you.’

‘I believe she is. But that made her jealous of you. What better way to get rid of your influence over me—as she saw it—than to make it seem that you had poisoned me with one of your potions? I shall tell no one of this and I would be grateful if you too remain silent. Felicity and I understand each other very well. She is a sad person, but she has given me her time and her patience when I have been intolerant and thoughtless towards her. I will not turn her off. And I know that she will never do such a thing again. So, you see, you are not the only one with relatives you wish you need not lay claim to!’

K
ate dressed herself with utmost care for Marlbrooke’s visit. She was in no doubt that he would come. Nerves tingled through her body, bringing a flush to her pale cheeks and a delicious sparkle to her sapphire eyes. For the first time for days her mind was dominated by something other than the memory of her cousin’s lifeless body and Marlbrooke standing with blood dripping from his sword. And her uncle’s anguished cry as he had fallen to his knees beside his son, regardless of the agony from his stricken joints. Instead the Viscount’s tall, elegant figure, his night dark hair, his striking features, all filled her mind with nervous anticipation.

She scolded herself for foolishness. Yes, he would come. Lady Elizabeth had said that he wished to see her and doubtless she would know. But they would simply
talk. And decide whether to complete the contracts with a marriage ceremony. There was no need for her to be so flustered. And to shiver with longing when she remembered the slide of his hands over her breasts and the heat and demands of his mouth on her skin. And the hard planes of his body as they held hers in submission, luring her into such responses that shocked her with their intimacy … No need to think about that at all! All they would do was have a sensible discussion.

Nevertheless she dressed carefully and made her preparations.

She bathed and washed her hair in fragrant rosemary and lavender, grateful for Gilliver’s stores of dried flowers and herbs. Then she chose one of the gowns given her by Elizabeth, although as before she doubted its previous ownership. By now she not only suspected, she knew without doubt that Marlbrooke could be amazingly devious in his methods. This was no gown sewn by a local seamstress for a comfortable evening at home—it had all the marks of London and high fashion stamped on it. The separate bodice and skirt were made of the most extravagant, and beautiful, cream silk and silver tissue trimmed with applied bands of costly Venetian point lace. It was a dress, Kate decided in all honesty, she could not resist. And her Puritan uncle would surely disapprove of it with forthright comment on the pursuits of the devil. The bodice was tightly laced with rigid boning, emphasising Kate’s slight bosom. The low neckline, low enough
to reveal her shoulders and a considerable portion of her bosom, made her blush, but the deep lace collar was very beautiful. The skirt was full and rustled delightfully over the layers of petticoats needed to do justice to the gown. The elbow-length sleeves were also trimmed with a fall of lace to draw attention to Kate’s slender arms and fragile wrists. It was far too formal and extravagant for a quiet evening at Widemarsh Manor, but Kate had no hesitation in choosing to wear it. And if beneath it she donned a particular chemise with roses and honeysuckle embroidered in rose pink silk, no one but herself would be aware. She would not contemplate any other possibility! A pair of matching brocade shoes decorated with pretty rosettes completed the ensemble.

She studied herself in a faded mirror. The foxing could not hide the glory of her appearance and she blushed with pleasure. Her cheeks were still pale, but her skin was glowing and her deep blue eyes held a sparkle of excitement. For her hair, there was no hope and she could not pretend otherwise. It was still far to short for fashionable ringlets, but she was able to thread a cream ribbon through her curls to tie in a provocative bow by her ear. A fan finally, decorated round the edge with violets. She clutched the ivory sticks with their painted flowers as if her life depended on it.

She was ready far too early, so she sat and waited for him in the parlour. It seemed like a lifetime. And then
tensed as she heard the sound of a coach on the carriage drive. So he had not chosen to ride from the Priory.

She stood in nervous apprehension, suddenly wishing that she could refuse him entry once more. She could sit no longer, but paced the length of the parlour, trying to still her beating heart, chiding herself for her cowardly reaction. The knock on the door stopped her mid-pace, fan flattened against her breast. The slow footsteps of Crofton echoed in the hall. Voices. What would she say? What would he expect of her? Her heart still beat painfully within her laced and boned bodice. She found that she was holding her breath.

The door to the parlour opened on a brief knock.

‘Lord Marlbrooke to see you, Mistress Harley.’ There was a knowing gleam in Crofton’s eye, quickly hidden. ‘Would you be wanting anything further, mistress? Or can I be off to my bed like all good Christians?’

Kate shook her head distractedly and focused on Marlbrooke, who still stood in the shades of the hall. ‘My lord.’ She swept him a formal curtsy, worthy of the Court gown, her full skirts billowing as she sank gracefully to the floor.

As she rose she lifted her gaze—and stood transfixed, her polite social smile frozen on her face. He stood in the doorway now and he too had dressed for the occasion. And he was magnificent. The situation reminded her forcefully of that day—so long ago, it seemed, and yet perhaps not so—when he had bowed himself into her
uncle’s library and she had decided that he was no more than a pampered courtier whom she was free to hate. How wrong she had been.

He remained in the doorway, a faint smile on his face, an appreciative gleam in his eyes as if he could read the trend of her thoughts.

If she was tricked out in latest Court style, then without doubt so was he. The sleek black brocade coat and waistcoat swept from neck to knee, showing his figure to perfect advantage. Gold embroidery ornamented the heavy turned-back cuffs and buttonholes whilst a gold-fringed sash confined the waistcoat. His black breeches were gartered at the knee, the impression of wealth and elegance completed by silk stockings, and black leather shoes with high red heels and decorative ribbon rosettes. A white silk shirt displayed extravagant lace ruffles at throat and wrist. Finally, his own dark hair was arranged to fall in a profusion of heavy curls and ringlets to his shoulders. He carried a black wide-brimmed felt hat, ostentatiously decorated with ostrich plumes and ribbons, and a costly dress sword. He flourished the hat in elegant style as he swept her a magnificent salute.

Then they stood and looked at each other.

Marlbrooke broke the tension. ‘I decided that since my errand was to woo you afresh, I should dress the part. I am relieved. Otherwise you would have quite cast me in the shade, Mistress Harley.’

‘Impossible. You are far too splendid for me, my lord.’

‘Are you intending to invite me into this room, or do you wish me to leave now?’

‘Forgive me, my lord …’

‘Oh, Kate!’ He abandoned the rigid formality and approached to take her hand and lift it to his lips. ‘How could I have forgotten in three days how very beautiful you are?’ He turned her hand over to press his lips to her palm and then to her wrist, where her pulse beat against his mouth. It pleased him inordinately that she was wearing the sapphire ring.

She was flustered. ‘Please sit, my lord.’ She fluttered the fan somewhat inexpertly and tried for composure.

He sat.

‘Perhaps a glass of wine?’

‘Thank you.’

She poured the wine with formal courtesy and placed the glass carefully at his elbow before taking the seat opposite.

‘Well, Mistress Harley?’

‘I do not know what to say.’ Kate’s formal manners deserted her and she frowned at him. ‘This is most unfair of you. You have me at a disadvantage, sir.’

‘How should that be, Viola?’ His smile was quick and utterly disarming. ‘You have kept the door locked against me for the past few days. Your servant looks at me as if I had crawled from under a stone and he would like to crush me as he would a cockroach under his boot. I have turned out tonight—in my coach, no less—wearing this
extremely inappropriate outfit for country life, and you talk of disadvantage.’

She came rapidly to her feet, dropping her fan. ‘I know. I am sorry I was so disobliging but I … What do you want from me?’

He came gracefully to his feet, bent to pick up the fan and placed it on the table out of her reach. ‘Nothing that will make you uncomfortable, dearest Kate.’

He took her hands in his. His smile had vanished, his face now serious and a little strained. It seemed to Kate that perhaps he had enjoyed as little sleep as she had.

‘Look at me,’ he commanded gently when her eyes fell before his. ‘It is no very great matter, Kate. Simply this. Do you love me enough to put the past behind us?’ And here was the crux of the problem. ‘Do you love me enough to live comfortably with me, even though you know that I challenged your cousin to a duel and that my sword was the cause of his death? If you feel that you cannot, then I will not hold you to the settlement. We will end the agreement, break the settlement, whatever it is that you wish. I will not force you into a union that you cannot bear and which would ultimately destroy us both. I love you too much to allow that.’

Her eyes were locked with his now, overwhelmed by the sacrifice that he would make for her. ‘Would you indeed do that?’

‘Of course.’

‘Your generosity takes my breath away.’

‘Dearest Kate.’ He frowned down at their joined hands. ‘You must also be able to forgive yourself for the past tragedy. And, indeed, there is no blame attached to you. You must not take on the burden of the sins of others. Richard and Simon must be allowed to carry their own responsibility in this.’

‘I know. I have thought about this.’ Her voice was low but certain. ‘I was wrong.’

He surprised her by releasing her hands to drop to one knee at her feet, head bent in supplication.

‘I told you once that I loved you. That has not changed, nor ever will. Will you love me, Kate, and accept my love in return? Will you do me the honour of wedding me?’

She touched the dark silk of his hair, savouring the warmth in her heart that began to melt her fears. He waited in some trepidation, realising that he had never wanted anything as much as he wanted this woman to give her heart and her hand to him. The silence between them seemed to stretch endlessly.

Then, ‘Yes. I will marry you. I will love you and take your heart for my own.’

He looked up at her, seeing the glint of tears in her eyes, but her lips were smiling. ‘Do you realise that if you had said no, you would have condemned my soul to endless night?’

‘Oh, Marcus!’ She opened her arms to him. ‘I have loved you for longer than I would admit to myself—and I have been so lonely here without you.’

‘I know.’ He rose to his feet and gathered her against him, his arms enclosing her, turning his face into her hair as waves of relief swept through him. ‘I have spent the last week prowling aimlessly round the Priory, driving my mother and the servants to distraction.’ His hands swept down her back with more than a hint of possession. ‘I suddenly find it impossible to live without you.’

His mouth found hers in a kiss that devastated her and left them both shaken with the depth and intensity of emotion between them. ‘You know what I want,’ he murmured against her lips.

‘And I.’

He took her hand, linking their fingers. ‘Show me where your room is.’

She led him up the darkened staircase to her bedchamber. Kate knew that it was now free of dust and herbs, polished and tended for this one occasion, the linen laundered and fragrant with lavender, but it would not have mattered. They had eyes for no one but each other.

Without words, he undressed her carefully, laying the magnificent gown aside with the lightest of touches, even though his hands trembled from the iron control he exerted. He wanted to drown in the glory of her body. To claim what was his and possess her completely. He forced his will and his heart to rule his senses.

When she stood naked before him he pressed his lips to her forehead, holding her away from him with gentle hands on her shoulders as he looked at her.

‘Forgive me, Kate. I want you so much. I will try to use you gently and with the courtesy you deserve, but I fear that this night my need may be greater than my control.’

‘I am not afraid.’

‘You should be.’ His eyes blazed. ‘For I am. Afraid of the depth of desire that I feel for you.’

‘Then take me, my lord. For I am yours. And I love you with all my heart.’ Her smile was one of total trust and love. And she reached up to press her lips to his with a whisper of mouth against mouth.

He removed his own finery and would have led her to the bed, but she stopped him with a hand lifted to his shoulder.

‘What is it?’ He searched her face in concern but saw only her glorious smile.

Kate came to stand before him, and touched in tentative recognition the vicious line of the raw scar that still scored his ribs. She ignored his sharp intake of breath as he realised her intent. Leaning in to him, she bent and traced its path with her lips, caressed the length of the newly healed wound with tender kisses. She touched him slowly, lingering over her task. It was the last visible remnant of Richard and the ugly deeds that had almost destroyed them, almost divided them irrevocably. Kate’s deliberate act of love purged the bitter memories and obliterated the final division between them.