The Deception (13 page)

I pulled myself together and went back to my original point. “May I send for Louisa, my lord? She would be no trouble, and she can help to show me how I should go on in society.”

“Send for her by all means,” he said. “God knows, there is enough room in this house for half of Wellington’s army.”

“Lambourn is much cozier,” I agreed.

He sighed. “I have been an absentee landlord for too long, Kate. There’s nothing for it but to stay here for the next few months so that I can get on terms with the local gentry and the tenants.”

“We need some dogs,” I said.

Silence. “Dogs?” he repeated.

“Certainly. A few dogs would make the house seem much homier. Haven’t you ever had a dog, my lord?”

The muscles in his face tightened. “I would not have brought a dog into the same house as my father.” His eyes were bleak. “He did not admire animals.”

I hated to see him look like that, but I knew I couldn’t show him that I had noticed anything. I said briskly, “I have never had a dog either. We traveled too much. But I’ve always wanted one.”

“Then you shall have one.” His face relaxed and he smiled again. Everything inside me softened. It really
wasn’t
fair. He looked once more at my portmanteaux. “I’ll have Mrs. Pippen send one of the chambermaids to unpack for you,” he said. “Dinner will be in two hours.” And he was gone.

Chapter Nine

In fashionable houses in London, dinner was served at eight or even nine o’clock, but in the country one still got one’s dinner at six. I wore my only evening dress, a blue taffeta I had bought in Lambourn with my allowance, and arranged my hair into a bun on the crown of my head. Fashion called for an array of ringlets to fall artistically out of the topknot, but I was not skilled enough to create ringlets, so I just pulled it all smooth.

My hands were freezing as I waited in my sitting room to go down to dinner, and I walked over to the fire to warm them. I knew very well that my cold hands were not due to the temperature in the room, which was quite comfortable, but to the fact that I was terrified.

Will we sleep together?

Yes.

That simple conversation was going around and around in my head. I was here in his house. He had introduced me to his servants as his wife. He was going to make the best of an unpleasant situation. We were going to stay married.

Will it be tonight?

I shivered and looked at the elegant gold clock that was set upon the charming white painted mantelpiece. It was time to go down.

My husband and his brother were before me in the drawing room. They were both dressed in formal evening attire: single-breasted black tailcoats, white shirts and neckcloths, white waistcoats, buff-colored pantaloons, and white silk stockings. They made me feel shabby.

“I say, Kate,” Harry said, “I’ve never seen you in an evening dress before. You look bang up to the mark!” His frankly admiring look made me feel better. I turned to my husband, hoping he would echo his brother’s compliments.

Adrian said, “Let us go into dinner.” He came to offer me his arm, and I laid my fingers rather tentatively on its immaculate black surface. With Harry trailing behind, we paraded across the magnificent marble floor and into the dining room.

It was an imposingly beautiful room, done in creams, pale greens, and golds. The only darker color in the room was the four deep-green alcoves that lay along the left wall, and the darker color effectively set off the striking white marble statues that filled them. The wall opposite to the alcoves contained four tall windows, which led out to the terrace. An immense crystal chandelier hung from a ceiling that was decorated with painted cream-and-gold medallions. The oblong mahogany table, laid with service for three, had twelve gilt chairs with pink upholstery pulled up to it. Extra chairs were lined up against the wall.

Adrian seated me at one end of the table and went to take the seat on the opposite end. Harry’s place was exactly between us. The men sat, and we regarded each other over a huge expanse of highly polished dark wood. Footmen in royal blue-and-gold livery brought in the first course and placed it in front of us. It was some sort of soup I didn’t recognize. The fine bone china was edged in cobalt blue and gold and had the Greystone crest imprinted in the design. I picked up my spoon and took a very small taste.

From the far end of the table Adrian remarked that the mulligatawny soup was excellent. Perhaps it was.

Harry said, “One thing about the Frogs, they know how to cook.”

I took another delicate sip. It was a little spicier than the food I was accustomed to.

My footman—I say
mine
because he was stationed directly behind my chair—asked if I wanted wine. I usually had water or lemonade with my dinner, but tonight I said that I would take wine.

Adrian said, “That is claret, Kate. Have you ever had claret before?”

“Certainly,” I replied with dignity, and took a small sip. It was actually quite nice. I liked it better than the soup. I took a second sip.

The soup was removed, and I devoutly hoped that Adrian’s chef wouldn’t come storming upstairs demanding to know why I hadn’t finished mine. The second course was brought in—chicken in some kind of a sauce, served with at least eight side dishes. It was good, but I wasn’t very hungry. I managed to get some of the chicken down, but I never touched the side dishes that littered the table. I started on a second glass of wine.

Adrian said to me, “Tomorrow I will introduce you to Euclide, my Lusitano stallion.”

I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it. He was sitting on the other side of a sea of side dishes, at least fifteen feet away from my own seat. I heard my voice remark, “I think this is ridiculous.”

Adrian raised his eyebrows. After a quick glance at his brother, Harry followed suit. From behind their chairs, their footmen also looked at me. I took another sip of my wine. “Do you dine like this every night?” I asked.

“How else should we dine?” Adrian inquired politely.

“Well, if we must sit in this damned palatial room, the least we can do is put all our chairs together at one end of the table. I’m getting a sore throat from trying to make myself heard.”

Harry said, “How can you have a sore throat? You’ve been mum as a church mouse all evening, Kate.”

“That is because I do not like to shout at my dinner companions,” I replied with dignity.

“I think it’s because you’ve been too busy gulping down the wine,” Harry said.

I glared at him. “That is not true! And you are hardly one to talk about gulping wine, Harry. You practically inhale it”

“Children, children,” Adrian said soothingly.

Both Harry and I turned our glares on him. He was looking amused.

I said, “If you don’t wipe that very superior expression from your face, my lord, I fear I will be forced to do something dangerous.”

He looked interested. “And what would that be?”

I took another sip of my wine. “You will have to wait and find out.”

“You’d better get that wine away from her, Adrian,” Harry remarked.

I closed my hand around my glass. “Ladies drink wine. I was in London. I saw them do it.”

“Ladies also eat their dinners,” Adrian pointed out. “Wine on an empty stomach is not good for anyone.”

“I always eat when I drink wine,” Harry said righteously.

I thought about this. “Muffins,” I said.

Adrian looked bewildered.

Harry said, “Exactly. Why do you think I ate all those muffins, Kate? It was to soak up the wine I was drinking.”

I looked at my plate. There seemed to be quite a lot of chicken left. “But I’m not hungry.”

‘Try,” Adrian said.

I picked up my fork and took a bite. A large hand reached out next to me and removed my wineglass. I yelped, turned to my footman, and demanded, “Put it back.”

“Walters is getting you a nice glass of lemonade, Kate,” Adrian said. “It will be much better for your sore throat than wine. Now take another bite of chicken.”

“Traitor,” I said to my footman. He was a fair-skinned young man, and he blushed. I turned back to my chicken and took another bite.

“I still think this is ridiculous,” I said.

Adrian surprised me by agreeing, “You are quite right, Kate. I will have them set the table differently tomorrow.”

“All the chairs together?”

“All the chairs together.”

“There isn’t any sort of a family dining room?” I inquired. “I can see that this is a splendid room for entertaining, but it is rather... overwhelming... for intimate family gatherings.”

“You are perfectly right,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll have a new wing built—one that will be just for the family.”

I looked at him suspiciously, but he was not wearing that amused expression that so enraged me. He looked serious.

“That’s a splendid idea, Adrian,” Harry said. “I’ve always hated this house.”

“It does not hold happy associations for any of us,” Adrian agreed bleakly.

“I have finished my chicken,” I announced.

Walters came into the room with a pitcher of lemonade for me. The footmen removed our plates and all the side dishes that I had not eaten and brought in the dessert. It was apricot tart, and I ate it all.

It was nearly eight when I arose from the table and left the gentlemen to their wine. Walking very carefully, I went back to the drawing room and stared at the fire in the magnificent green marble fireplace. There seemed to be two of them. A footman came into the room and inquired if he could get me anything. I asked him his name and where he came from. It was going to take me a long time to get to know all of the servants in this house, so I thought I might as well make a start.

His name was James and he had grown up in one of the cottages on the Greystone estate. We were chatting away about his little brothers and sisters when Adrian and Harry came into the room.

“That was quick,” I said.

“We didn’t want you to get lonesome by yourself,” Harry returned, giving poor James an extremely arrogant look.

“I have been having a very enjoyable conversation with James,” I told Harry. “I was not lonesome at all.”

“Dash it all, Kate,” Harry said indignantly, “this is not Lambourn, you know. You can’t get all cozy with the servants here!”

“Thank you, James,” Adrian said quietly. “That will be all.”

James marched out, relief evident in every line of his back.

“You hurt his feelings,” I accused Harry.

He shrugged. “Who cares?”

“
I
care,” Adrian said, still in that same quiet voice.

I looked at him in surprise. He was watching Harry. “We have an obligation to those who depend on us for their livelihood, Harry,” he said. “Great privilege also means great responsibility. I would like you to remember that.”

Harry looked a little sulky. “I wasn’t going to ask you to fire the bloody footman, Adrian.”

“There is a lady present,” Adrian said. “Watch your language.”

I looked around for the lady.

Harry hooted. “He means you, Kate.”

“Oh.” I felt extremely stupid, and to disguise my discomfort I went to the fireplace and stared into the two flames.

Adrian said, “What would you like to do, Kate? Do you play cards?”

“I play whist,” I said, “but you need four players for that.” I blinked, trying to clear my vision so that there would be only one fire. “To tell you the truth, my lord, I don’t think I could concentrate on cards just at the moment. I feel strangely light-headed.”

“You’re foxed, Kate,” Harry said. “It was the second glass of wine.”

“Do you think so? It’s not at all an unpleasant feeling, Harry. Perhaps that’s why gentlemen drink so much.”

“Very likely,” Adrian said. He came over to me, took my hand, and placed it firmly on his sleeve. “Come along, Kate,” he said, “I am going to take you up to your room. A good night’s sleep will cure your light-headedness.”

I walked with him to the door. “Good night, Harry,” I threw over my shoulder just before we went out.

His response floated after me into the great hallway, and for a moment I felt a cowardly urge to turn and run back into the shelter of Harry’s presence. The man beside me was not a safe brother but a very unsafe husband. I heartened myself with the memory of his remark about my getting a good night’s sleep, however, and when we reached the door of my room, I bade him good night in a reasonably steady voice.

To my relief he did not come in, saying only, “I’ll send for someone to help you undress.”

I wasn’t too foxed to undress myself, but I wasn’t at all averse to acquiring the reassuring presence of another female. “Thank you, my lord,” I said.

In five minutes the maid who had helped me to dress appeared to help me undress. Her name was Nell, and we chatted away while she took the pins out of my hair. She was from Newbury, she told me, and her father was a blacksmith.

Finally I was in my nightgown and in my bed and Nell was gone. The fire was still blazing, and I contemplated my snug warmth with pleasure. In most lodging houses the bedroom fires were out by eight o’clock, and here it was almost ten and the fire was roaring away.

There was no sound from the room next door. I put my arms around my pillow and went to sleep.

* * * *

“Kate.”

Someone was calling my name, and I struggled to fight my way out of the comfortable soft darkness of sleep and into the light.

“Kate.”

The voice came again. Not urgent, just steady, calm, and immensely authoritative. I opened my eyes and found myself looking at Adrian. I blinked, and he was still there.

“I was beginning to think you were never going to wake up,” he said.

“You told me to have a good night’s sleep,” I said crossly. I yawned. “Why are you waking me up in the middle of the night?”

“It’s not yet midnight, sweetheart. Hardly the middle of the night.”

I struggled to sit up against the pillows. My head felt fuzzy. “What are you doing here?” Then I registered the fact that he was wearing a dressing gown. My lips parted in a soundless
O.