The Sinner (11 page)

After two days they reached Oxley House. She had expected it to be magnificent, yet she'd not envisaged it to be quite as grand as the glittering mansion nestled on a slight rise at the edge of a lush forest. It was a modern building, although off to the east on another rise she spotted an old castle keep, much like Slade Hall. The new Oxley House shimmered like a jewel in the sunshine. There was so much glass! She'd never seen any place with that number of windows before. She couldn't even begin to count them all. The main part of the house was three stories high, the towers at either end stretching to four. Decorative crenellations and a stone carving of the family crest topped the roofline, interspersed with dozens upon dozens of chimneys, shooting majestically into the sky. Fittingly, the house itself was a warm brick that appeared golden in the late afternoon sunlight.

"Welcome to your new home, my lady," Oxley said, drawing Charger alongside the cart. "I hope you like it."

"I do," she said on a breath. "It is a jewel, my lord." She had the urge to thank him again for rescuing her, but he'd asked her to stop the habit the day before. He'd insisted that
she
was doing
him
a favor by finally ending his bachelor days. She'd chosen to ignore the heavy way he'd said the word 'bachelor' and the dimming of the light in his eyes. It wasn't her fault that all noblemen must marry eventually.

"Drive up to the front door," Oxley said to the driver. "I'll be taking my bride through the proper way."

A dozen servants spilled out of the house as they approached. They greeted their master and he greeted them in return, before they efficiently went about their business of tending to the horses or taking trunks inside. Oxley helped her down from the cart and was about to escort her inside when a thin, crooked man, who must have been in his seventh decade at least, met them on the steps.

He bowed. Or that is, Cat assumed the nodding of his head was a bow. His back seemed to be permanently fixed in that crooked position, poor man. "Good afternoon, my lord. The guest rooms are already prepared for Lady Slade, sir."

How had Oxley organized it all from the road? He'd not sent any of his men ahead. If he'd sent word, it hadn't been with one of them. Cat felt rather relieved. The thought of arriving unannounced had made her feel a little sick. At least this way his mother would have fair warning to grow used to the idea of a nobody marrying her son.

"Guest chambers?" Oxley echoed.

"There has not been enough time to remove all of the dowager's belongings, my lord," the crooked man said.

Cat winced. Throwing the countess out of rooms that she must have occupied most of her life wasn't the best way to start their new relationship. "There's no hurry," she said. "Please allow Lady Oxley to move in her own time." Or not at all. A house of that size must have many bedchambers. Cat could live in one of them until Lady Oxley was ready to move of her own free will.

"Crane, this is Lady Slade," Oxley said. "Lady Slade, this is Crane, my house steward. Anything you need, go to him. He's a marvel. Oxley House would fall apart without him."

The old man glowed under his master's praise, and he appeared to be trying not to smile. He bowed his awkward bow to Cat and she smiled back.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Crane," she said.

"And I am pleased to meet you, my lady."

"She won't be Lady Slade for much longer," Oxley went on. "She'll be my wife. Catherine. Cat," he said, sounding out the word as if seeing if it suited her. He must have liked it because he smiled at her rather sweetly. "Can I call you that?"

"Of course, my lord."

"And you must call me Hughe."

Crane cleared his throat. "My lord, I ought to warn you that the dowager countess has been asking her friends about Lady Slade."

"And what has she learned?"

"Nothing, as far as I am aware. There hasn't been time for her letters to be answered."

"Good," Hughe said tightly. "She'll get to meet Cat first."

Cat's stomach sank to her toes. It would seem she had been right in assuming the dowager countess would find fault with her son's choice of bride. It was inevitable, she supposed, and worrying.

Hughe led her across the porch between slender columns and into the house. The inside was just as magnificent as the outside. The great hall was the most enormous room she'd ever been in, besides the Presence Chamber at Whitehall. A long oak table and bench seats occupied most of the space. A hearth fit for a giant yawned on one side, above which were mounted two crossed swords. Tapestries and screens hung on the walls, their vibrant colors brightening the room.

Cat was so busy admiring the great hall that she didn't see Hughe signal the maid to approach until she was at Cat's side.

He patted her arm. "Go upstairs and allow the maids to take care of you. The journey has been long and you must be exhausted."

"Not at all," she said. Indeed, she felt like a child on her birthday, presented with an assortment of gifts to unwrap. She wanted to explore every nook, peek into every room, and speak to every servant to learn more about her betrothed.

"There should be a bath in your chambers and new gowns too," Hughe said. "Although I'd wager most are too big."

Perhaps she could leave the exploring for now. A bath sounded like Heaven, and of course she ought to try on all her new clothes. "Thank you, my lord. Hughe."

He bowed elaborately. "It's my pleasure! I cannot wait to see you in those gowns. I hope some are blue to match your eyes. If not, I'll have them made. Dozens of them." He was back to being the fop, but she didn't mind. Anything was better than Slade and Hislop.

She followed the maid up to her new bedchamber. It was larger than her room at Slade Hall and looked more comfortable, with an enormous canopied bed and thick mattress. The seat in the window embrasure was covered with deep cushions in crimson velvet.

Another maid emerged from the adjoining room and announced that her bath was ready. Cat gratefully allowed the girls to help her undress and sank into the water with a sigh. She could certainly grow used to this.

***

Hughe changed his clothes and reluctantly went in search of his mother, his good mood dampening somewhat at the thought of the discussion he was about to endure. He'd enjoyed seeing Cat's eyes light up at the sight of his home and the smile she'd bestowed on him when he told her about the bath. Had her servants never carried a bath up to her chambers at Slade Hall? Probably not. For one thing, that narrow spiral staircase with its unforgiving stone walls would not make it easy, and for another, he had seen so few servants. She'd not even insisted on bringing a maid with her. If she continued to be such an agreeable woman, he might not mind being married as much as he thought he would.

He found his mother in the high great chamber on the topmost floor, where she liked to spend most of her time. She sat sewing on her large throne-like chair, with her maids seated on lower chairs around her. They rose upon his entry and curtsied.

"Son," his mother said, holding out her hand to him. "You're home."

She sounded surprised, even though she would have seen his arrival through the windows. It irked him that she'd not come down to meet Cat, but perhaps it was better this way.

He kissed her cheek and held her thin hand in his own. She looked a little more tired than usual, her skin too pale, but her eyes were as sharp as ever. "Good afternoon, Mother. I hope I find you in good health."

"My health is as it always is."

It was her usual answer and told him nothing. He supposed it was better than listening to a catalog of ailments, but he would like to know if she felt unwell instead of hearing it from her ladies. At least his last absence hadn't been particularly long. With his friends and his latest target not far away at Sutton Grange, he'd been able to come home before heading off to Sussex and Slade Hall.

"Any news?" he asked. "Crane tells me the servants are all well." Hughe would speak to his land steward later to find out how his farmers fared, but the man was as efficient and capable as Crane, and he knew all would be in order.

"We have no news," his mother said. "Oxley House carries on well enough when you're not here. Indeed, it's on the few occasions that you do return that everything is thrown into disorder. You seem to bring madness with you, Hughe. No more so than this time." She said it sweetly enough, but he heard the coolness to her tone. So did her ladies, if their worried glances were an indication.

"Cat is looking forward to meeting you," he said.

His mother arched her eyebrow at him. "You're marrying a cat?"

"Her name is Catherine. She likes to be called Cat."

"Does she also like to live in the barn?"

"Mother," he said on a sigh. He'd known it would be like this, but still he'd hoped her relief at finally marrying him off would override any issue she had with Cat's status.

"When will you wed?" She continued stitching as if they weren't discussing one of the most important events of his life.

"Next week. Perhaps longer if I cannot return sooner."

"Not waiting for all three banns to be read, I see?"

"I've sent a man to obtain a special license."

"Is there a particular reason to hurry?"

Her ladies blushed and bent their heads lower over their sewing. "She is not with child," he said, not caring if he offended anyone by his directness.

His mother lowered her sewing to her lap and fixed him with a stare that had not become frail over the years like her body. "Then why are you marrying her?"

"Because I want to."

"And what is she bringing to the marriage?"

"Herself."

The tiny lines around her mouth drew together. "Who are the Slades? I admit to knowing nothing about them."

"A baronial family in Sussex. Cat is the widow of the second baron."

"Baron." Her huff told him what she thought about that. "And her own family?"

"Her father was a gentlemen farmer. He's dead, as is the rest of her family. She has no one in the world."

"Her husband's connections?"

"There is a brother-in-law, the new baron Slade. He's insignificant and takes out his frustration over that fact on his late brother's widow."

"Ah. Now I see."

He didn't know what she saw. How could his brief introduction to Cat's situation have told her anything of importance?

She took up her sewing again, effectively dismissing him. He would not be dismissed, however. He had to leave in the morning and he couldn't go with a clear conscience if his mother and Cat got off to a turbulent start.

He strode to the window and looked out upon the driveway and the knot garden to its left with the low hedges and roses in full bloom. Cat had told him she enjoyed being in the garden. If the weather stayed pleasant and his mother became difficult while he was away, at least she had somewhere to retreat to.

"You don't approve," he said, leaning on the window sill.

She took so long to answer he wondered if her hearing was failing. "Young men should not be allowed to choose their own wives."

"I don't see why not. I think I chose rather well."

She paused mid-stitch. She didn't say anything straight away, or make any sound at all, but somehow everyone in that room knew she was displeased. Hughe could hear the maids swallowing from where he stood as they glanced furtively at their mistress.

"Leave us," she told them.

They couldn't get away fast enough. They didn't even bother to pack up their sewing and just left it on their chairs. Hughe waited until they were gone before returning to his mother. He picked up the shirt one of the maids was working on and studied it without really noticing a single thing about it.

"I've got things to do," he said. "If you want to shout at me, get on with it."

"Don't," she bit off. "I allow your glibness most of the time, but not about this. It's much too important."

He set the shirt down on the table and sat on the chair. "Then let's be frank with one another. I am marrying Cat. I've promised her, in front of witnesses, and there's no going back."

"You can get out of a spoken agreement."

"I don't want to."

She pressed her lips together and laid her sewing in her lap. "I don't understand you, Hughe."

"You never have."

To his surprise, she flinched. How could that truth hurt her? They were very different people and she'd had little to do with him throughout his life. He hardly knew her, and she him.

"You've fought me on this issue for years," she said.

"Then you should be pleased that I've finally settled on a bride."

"But why her? I've presented you with so many options from the best families in the country. Beautiful, good girls, and some not so good ones too in the hope they could entice you. Yet none of them pleased you."

He shrugged. "I didn't particularly like them."

"You hadn't even met half of them!"

"Perhaps that was the problem."

"For goodness sakes. You cannot be expected to meet everyone, particularly when I don't even know where you are much of the time, and cannot arrange meetings at the drop of a hat. Your insistence upon being introduced to these girls was an impossible demand."

He shrugged again. There was simply nothing to say to that. She was right. He had wanted to meet his potential bride first, but he was rarely home and never divulged his plans to his mother.

She shook her head. "All of those lovely, eligible girls from excellent families, and you chose a baron's widow. And not even an important baron, but somebody I haven't even heard of."

"To be fair, there are a lot of barons, and her husband wasn't particularly fond of going to court. Secondly, I don't need a rich wife or a well-connected one. I have more money than I know what to do with and enough connections of my own."

"There's no need to boast."

Was there no pleasing her? "I think you get my point."

"I do not. Sometimes it's not about the money and connections they bring. How can I put this?" She searched the ceiling as if she could pluck the answer from the beams. "It's about legacy. The joining of two magnificent families serves to strengthen both and ensure the line remains healthy, long after husband and wife have passed on."