SoundsofLove (27 page)

Violet shook her head as if to clear it. “I think you
wonderfully human.” She sipped her tea with a pensive air, then shook her head
again and smiled. “Cat, you did nothing Julian wouldn’t have done. Years
without a partner, with no chance of recovery…he would have shagged the nurse.”
Covering her mouth, she began to laugh quietly.

Cathryn joined Violet’s giggles. “I agree. My ten minutes of
sedated pleasure would barely qualify as a transgression in his world.”
Indignation rose, and she fought to keep her voice low, although the tavern was
nearly empty this mid-afternoon. “He thought to seduce
me
on our second
encounter, and I am a noblewoman of spotless reputation.” That had a hollow
ring after her recent confession. “Assuming the doctor hasn’t bragged about his
conquests—now that’s a chilling thought.”

Violet gestured to the serving girl for more tea. “Even
knowing of your marriage contract to Hedges, a fellow peer of the realm, Julian
pursued you. What does
that
say of his honor?”

A deep sigh escaped. “The man is a rake.”
A stunningly
handsome, virile, charming, generous rake.

“There is also his temper.”

Cathryn had heard enough about Julian’s faults. “I’ve sifted
each act of violence carefully, Vi, and found more than adequate provocation. I
was proud he defended my character with Hedges.” Her voice rose, and Violet
placed a comforting hand over hers. “Even I acted violently and was glorified
for it. In normal circumstances, Julian is wonderful to the extreme.”

Julian’s finer aspects filled Cathryn’s mind. She loved this
man desperately. Neither of them was perfect, but they were perfect together.

The girl arrived to refresh their cups, and Violet waited
until the dishes had been cleared before asking, “What do you want to do now?”

There was only one answer. “I want him back.” Her voice
dropped lower. “Now that I’ve had him, no other will do.”

“You’d best act quickly, before some wily female snatches
him up from under you.”

Fiona, perhaps. Another chilling thought. “I need to craft
my apology carefully, so we reunite as equals.” She picked up her cup and gazed
at the remnants of tea leaves clustered in the bottom, wishing she knew
something of divination. The leaves congregated in a round shape reminiscent of
a child’s head, and she gasped. “I believe I have something he’ll want very
badly.” She’d never had such powerful flashes of intuition before, as if the
universe itself was screaming a truth at her. “I may well carry his heir.”

* * * * *

Julian’s head felt noticeably lighter as he rode back to
Literell, and even his spirit felt a tad brighter, as it had after the day at
the poorhouse. Imagining his hair made into a wig for a needy child, his chest
swelled with pride. Several pints of country ale with Griffin and the men of
the village had washed the rest of the afternoon in a pleasant glow. In spite
of the cold wind, he was warm and much improved from three hours before.

“Will you allow another personal question, Julian?” Griffin
asked in a concerned tone reserved for old friends.

“You may ask,” Julian said noncommittally, his brief
contentment set aside as he waited for the inevitable.

“What happened with the lady?”

“She lied to me.”

“Ah, I see,” he said in a tone that suggested he saw
nothing. “Why?”

The question surprised Julian. Not
about what?
but
why?
He pondered the times Cathryn had spoken of her affair with the doctor. Why had
she lied to him? The first time he’d caught her off guard and she’d forgotten
the brief incident. Lord knew there were women he’d forgotten.

But the second time she’d lied? She’d taken a dose of
laudanum, and she’d been very relaxed. Perhaps she believed what she said
later,
He’d been dead to the entire household for over a year.
Those
words haunted him.

He turned to Stoney with a shrug. “Why did she lie? I think
perhaps she believed what she was saying at the time, even though her deception
was clear afterwards.”

“Then it wasn’t truly a lie, was it?”

Yes, it was. “She shagged her husband’s doctor while her
husband still lived.”

“Ah, I see.” He sniffed. “I thought the quality didn’t care
about such affairs.”

That was often true. One need only look to Noel for an
example. “I expect fidelity in my marriage.”

“Even if she fails to meet your needs?”

“Yes.” His response was automatic, but Griffin’s
disbelieving stare made him chuckle. “No. But Cathryn would have met my needs.”

“If she’s as passionate as that, did her husband meet
her
needs?”

“He’d been unconscious for a year.”

Only chirping birds and clopping hooves punctuated the
silence as the puzzle of her circumstances fell completely into place. He
thought to mention her sedation—Stoney would appreciate the humor of the
bizarre situation—but he already felt like a bloody idiot.

“She said I scare her at times.” It came out in a rush, the
final obstacle.

“The last weeks must have held frightening moments for you
both.”

“That’s true. You should have seen the welts she left on
Hedges’ face. She learned to defend herself very quickly. It was…remarkable.”
And a bit frightening. Not that he thought she would turn on him, but he had
seen her in action. Even for a thin woman, she had done some harm, and he
respected her abilities, glad to know she wasn’t helpless without him by her
side. A well-muscled man many times her strength, particularly one wearing
bloodied clothing and ranting as he had done at Gorham House, had to be
frightening to her. That was only logical.

He’d never been happier to feel like a fool, and a grin
replaced his frown. “Forget the girls tonight. I’m returning to London as soon
as I’ve dispensed with the fetid Miss Draper—two nights, no more.”

The lioness waits,

Seeking exoneration.

Will he forgive her?

Cathryn crept out her front door at first light the next
morning and glanced about for reporters. None came forth, and she hurried down
the street carrying her suitcase. A coach left at eight for Newtown Green, and
she would be on it, just after she posted her letter to Julian detailing why
they belonged together. Seeing Violet had given her new clarity. She only hoped
her intuition was correct and Julian wanted her back. Her constant prayer was
that he would come for her at her father’s home, in just a few days time.

Her shoulders ached by the time she reached the coaching
station an hour later, but the walk had been invigorating. Buying her ticket
from the whiskered attendant, she heard her name called behind her. By the time
she finished her transaction, there were three reporters gathered around her.

“Lady Sibley, you were rumored to be at Gorham House. Is it
as decadent as they say?”

She knew enough to give no response. Anything she said would
be twisted to suit their needs. She would tell them what she wanted them to
know, in her own time.

“Lord Ahlquist was spotted near York two days past. Has he
gone to ask his mother to bless your union?”

That was interesting news. Still no response.

“Why aren’t you with him?”

“Where are you headed today?”

“She bought a ticket for Newtown Green,” offered the
stationmaster.

Cathryn shot him a disgusted look as she pushed past the
reporters to sit in the waiting room. She might as well feed them some
information she wished known, in case Julian was looking for her. “I’m going to
visit my father, Baron Bradford, for a few days.” She unclipped her cloak and
displayed her brooch. “I’m wearing Lord Ahlquist's gift, his grandmother’s
cameo.”

All three reporters hurried to make a sketch before she
changed her mind. “So the betrothal stands?”

She cocked her head and gave them a look she hoped said,
of
course, you simpletons, why else would I wear his gift in public?

The call came for her coach, and she flashed the men a smile
stating all was well with her world.

“Did the earl kill Baron Hedges?”

Her resolve to remain placid burst. “No! The baron was
crushed by his horse, a grim reminder to ride slowly on dark country roads.”

“But the earl was there when he died.”

“The inquest proved his innocence.” She picked up her bag
and headed towards the coaches. “The earl is
not
a violent man. Please
quote me correctly on that. The Earl of Trenchford is
not
a violent man.”

* * * * *

Julian was having lunch at an inn near Cambridge two days
later when he saw the Morning Post from the previous day.

Lady Sibley Defends Earl of Trenchford’s Character
read the headline. A sketch of a winsome Cathryn wearing his cameo accompanied
the short piece. Dear heavens, how he missed her. “Lady Cathryn Sibley attested
repeatedly that the Earl of Trenchford was not a violent man, in spite of the attacks
and death that have vexed him all month. On her way to visit her ailing father
in Newtown Green, Lady Sibley offered these exclusive comments to our reporter.

“After Baron Hedges’ unfortunate demise, the earl and I grew
tired of the decadence of Gorham House. Lord Ahlquist went to ask his mother,
the Marchioness, for her blessing on our impending union. I only hope my dear
papa lives long enough to witness our vows.”

The press was notoriously unreliable, but this rag rarely
made stories from nothing. It was even possible Cathryn was sending a message
of exoneration. She did not believe Julian to be a violent man. She wanted
their betrothal to stand. He grinned as he finished the article, his spirit
lighter than it had been in days.

His coachman sat across from him finishing a bowl of soup.
When Julian looked up, he caught the man watching him with a smile.

“Can we make Newtown Green today?”

Holmes thought for a moment. “By midnight, if the weather
holds.”

Julian handed over the paper as he rose. “I’ll send a
dispatch ahead requesting two rooms.” Taking a deep breath, he realized his
wound did not pinch for the first time in a week. “I’ll take a turn at the
reins for the next hour.”

Holmes’ face dropped. “After the last time, I thought you’d
had your fill.”

Julian laughed. “Mrs. Aubrey drove two full hours. I only
want a bit of exercise.” He was feeling bloody marvelous.

* * * * *

Cathryn left Bradford Manor after breakfast and cut across
the dried meadow into the village of Newtown Green, where she planned to visit
the vicar and renew old acquaintances. The path led to the end of the main
street, just beyond the church and graveyard. A stiff wind tugged at her bonnet
ties and whipped her cloak around her. She nearly passed the cemetery without a
glance, but a dark movement near Geoffrey’s headstone caught her eye. Thinking
it might be a reporter intent on unearthing some new fact and possibly causing
mischief, she pushed open the creaky iron gate and headed to investigate.

Cathryn’s heart sank when she spied Edna Lewin on her knees
pinching the dead buds from a mass of golden chrysanthemums planted around the
marble headstone. Cropped brown hair stuck out from beneath her plain black
bonnet, and her cape lay around her on the cold ground. The love reflected in
each careful pruning, and the despondency surrounding the frail woman, made
Cathryn’s compassion bloom. Edna had loved Geoffrey ages before Cathryn knew
him. Edna loved Geoffrey even now, when Cathryn’s feelings for him lay dormant.

Julian was all she’d thought of for days.

Perhaps it’s time to put that part of my past behind me.
And Edna needs a friend.
She cleared her throat and her former housekeeper
glanced up. The last weeks had not been kind to Edna, and her drawn face and
sunken eyes attested to the depths of her misery. The air crackled between them
in uncertain tension, until Cathryn broke the spell. “Thank you for doing that.
Geoffrey loved well-tended flowers.”

Edna appeared stunned.

Cathryn walked towards her and held out her hand. “Mrs. Lewin,
I bear you no ill will. Our lives are intertwined, and I’ve missed you
terribly.”

Tired eyes filled with tears as Edna accepted the proffered
hand. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, milady, but I’ll accept it, if that’s
what you wish.”

Coarse, strong fingers reminded Cathryn of all this woman
had done for her over the years. “I do. I want you to come home.”

“Mr. Lewin and I are…separated.”

“I see. I’m sorry.”

“And he sent Molly and Victor to his mother’s in the north.
I’m not to communicate with them until he tells me I may.”

Cathryn led the way to a stone bench under a nearby tree and
sat, patting the seat beside her. “Do they know why?”

“He says I disgraced the family. He called me a…whore.”

No woman wants that. “Oh, Edna, you were a victim of circumstance,
I think.”

An awkward silence ensued.

“Loving Geoffrey was my first memory,” Edna finally
whispered in a confessional tone, “but I was weak to keep seeing him.”

“He was weak as well, and love is too often unkind.”

“I never meant to hurt you, or the first Lady Sibley. I just
couldn’t deny him…” She appeared conscience-stricken and deeply in need of
repentance.

Perhaps this was the time to expunge the sins. “Every
Monday?”

The disclosure came slowly. “Nearly…in the spare servant’s
room, when Nathan went to see his mum. We thought no one knew. We never meant
to hurt no one.”

Cathryn stared unseeingly into the distance as she digested
this bit of information. It was bitter to consider, and expunction was slow to
arrive. A noise from the road caught her attention, a welcome distraction. An
enormous private carriage came into view around the corner.

Jumping to her feet, Cathryn forgot the task at hand.
Could
it be Julian so quickly? If he’d been en route to London when he saw the
Post
…
She hurried towards the gate.

“Is it Lord Ahlquist, milady?”

“Perhaps. We had a row, but I—”

A turn in the road showed the side of the coach—and a ducal
seal.

“Oh, no. It’s the Duke of Clarendon.”
He likely has a
copy of the Sapphos, and his intentions are almost certainly not benign. And
Julian, even if he wished to come to my rescue, might still be in York.

The coachman spotted the two women and began to slow his
team.

“Mrs. Lewin, I need your help. I believe the duke means me
harm.” Her mind scrambled as the coach came to a halt.

Be ready to defend myself.

Call for Fiona.

“Have you heard of Gorham House?”

“Mrs. Burns’ residence?”

“Yes. It’s less than two hours south of here and very near
the Duke of Clarendon’s estate.”

“Not your father?”

She shook her head. “No.” Her father was nearly blind from
years spent studying one ancient text after another. Her brother was, frankly,
a bit of a dullard, and unlikely to act decisively, particularly in the face of
such a daunting title. The duke was a thief of the highest order. She might be
stolen away by nightfall.

What to tell Edna?

A burly footman jumped off the carriage and made his way to
her side before he bowed. “Lady Sibley?”

“Yes.”

“His Grace requests an audience.”

“Of course,” she said. Edna appeared frozen, and Cathryn
prayed she could rely on her as she whispered, “Go south as quickly as you can.
They’re my friends, they’ll know what to do.”

Speaking louder for the footman’s benefit, she hoped her
fear did not show as she continued to instruct Edna. “Please send someone to
inform my father of my whereabouts. And leave messages for Lord Ahlquist as
well.”

A beefy hand reached out to take her elbow, and she
sidestepped out of the way. “But do not delay on your primary task, do you understand?”
Leaning in as she passed the trembling woman, she whispered hotly, “Go swiftly.
Now!”

Edna turned and fled into the cemetery, slamming the rusty
gate behind her. Cathryn saw her duck around the back of the church and hoped
she would seek Father Langdon’s help. She slowly climbed the steps into the
duke’s luxurious coach, feeling very much like a damsel in distress.

The duke’s feeble grin welcomed her, and he gestured for her
to join him on his side of the expansive blue velvet-lined coach. “Lady Sibley,
what a pleasant surprise finding you along the road. We were coming to fetch
you at Bradford Manor.”

Her heart pounded wildly as she gave the obligatory
deferential curtsy, which was more of an awkward bow in the entry of the
carriage. “Duke.” Hoping to sit across from him, she glanced in the opposite
direction and found herself facing Dr. Benjamin Kinsley. His handsome visage
glowed at her, and she nearly lost her balance trying to retreat.

He reached out to steady her as she reconsidered her options.
His steely grip was an unwelcome reminder of their brief intimacies, the cause
of all her current woes. Her temper flared and she tensed. He tightened his
grip, making her very aware of how vulnerable she was.

A homely, husky man squirmed in formal attire next to the
doctor, and she reluctantly acquiesced to the duke’s request as the coach began
to move.

She was barely settled when the duke grabbed her knee and
squeezed quite hard, causing her discomfort even through her cloak and gown.
His voice was brittle. “You know the doctor, I understand.”

“He treated Sir Geoffrey for several years.” And bled him to
death as he bled our savings dry. She looked at the doctor as she spoke and
glimpsed a lecherous nature she’d never before observed.

All three men chuckled, and she flushed as she thought of
what details the doctor might have disclosed. The duke’s hold on her tightened
to painful as he continued with a bitter edge to his voice. “He treated the
ladies of the household as well.”

Cathryn shifted but could not break his clawlike grasp on
her kneecap. “Sir, you’re hurting me.”

He released her with a sniff. “I have plans for you.” As if
nothing untoward was occurring, the nobleman reached into his jacket pocket and
produced a copy of her Sappho’s translations. “Your name is on these.”

Resisting the urge to rub her sore knee, she glanced at the
doctor, who was staring intently at the duke as if his fortune depended on the
man’s every action. “Yes, I worked on those the first years of my marriage.”
The men shared an incredulous look, so she continued, “My father tutored me
himself.”

“Did Sir Geoffrey give you permission to publish them?”

“I haven’t published them.”

“They belong to his estate.”

She loathed the idea that all a wife’s possessions became
the husband’s, and his heir’s. Some women lost gowns and gifts if the heir
cared to be mean-spirited.

“What is your interest in my meager translations, sir?”

He shrugged a slender shoulder. “Some men collect art or
horses, and I’ve done both. Now I collect translations, granting my personal
stamp of endorsement to worthy works. In a hundred years, I want people to
remember me as a great benefactor and patron of the finer arts.” With the
resources at his disposal, he was not exaggerating the scope of his influence.
He would be a terrible enemy on all fronts.

The doctor surprised her when he spoke. “Is Lady Sibley’s
work worthy?”

She was glad he’d asked and wondered at his intention as the
duke considered his response. “She shows promise, particularly with feminine
topics.”

The doctor and his husky seatmate granted her admiring looks
before regaining their neutral appearance. She wondered how to use the duke’s
interest but needed more information. He saved her asking when he continued, “I
understand you’re familiar with the
Digenis Acritas
?”