The Viscount Needs a Wife (18 page)

K
itty woke to a noise. Sillikin was already out of bed, snuffling around the gray-clad maid who was making up the fire.

“Beg pardon for waking you, milady.” It sounded like a sincere beg, as if she expected to be scolded or worse.

Kitty realized she was naked and stayed under the covers. “No matter. Carry on.”

Sillikin went to the door. This was definitely a problem. At Cateril and the parsonage, Kitty had let the dog out to find her own way to the kitchen and the outside, but she might not know the way here as yet. More important, Kitty wasn't entirely sure it was safe. She found it hard to imagine anyone hurting a friendly little dog, but there were problems in this house.

When the fire was going, Kitty said, “Thank you. Please take my dog down and let her outside. Then return her here. And send Miss Oldswick to me.”

The maid curtsied. “Yes, milady.”

Sillikin went with her trustingly, already seeing a new friend. Soon Henry arrived with chocolate and fresh-baked bread, followed by the maid with a large jug of steaming water and Sillikin, tail wagging with enthusiasm for a new day.

Kitty was already in her nightgown and robe, sitting at the small table by the window.

Once the maid had left, Henry said, “I didn't ask what breakfast you like.”

“That's excellent, thank you. When there's good fresh fruit, I'll have some of that as well.”

Kitty could sense Henry wanting to ask about the night, but of course she didn't. Kitty tried to give an impression of contentment, because Henry was a spy for Lady Sophonisbe. It wasn't difficult, but she couldn't relax until Henry left.

Kitty was spreading butter on her second piece of bread when the adjoining door opened and Braydon came in, only partly dressed. It was startling to see him less than perfectly turned out. He wore boots and breeches, but only a shirt above the waist, and it was open-necked. That glimpse of chest was enough to light a spark in her, but he said, “I'm going for a ride. Do you ride?”

“No.”

“Would you like to?”

“I don't know.”

“So many things to explore.”

Kitty sensed underlying meanings to that.

She glanced at Sillikin. The dog was lying in front of the fire. She'd raised her head to look, but she wasn't staring. A step in the right direction.

“You don't object to my being out for perhaps an hour?” he asked.

Kitty did, but only because of lust. She'd wondered how they'd be together this morning, but the answer seemed to be
the same as before
.

“Of course not. I have plenty to do.” She finished buttering her bread. “But I'm not going near you-know-who until you're by my side.”

“Ah, I did hope to avoid that.”

She glanced at him and saw that hint of a smile in his eyes. It had become precious to her. “Shirking the battle, sir?”

“There are times when it would be a very wise thing to do.”

“Dishonorable to be wise?”

“In this crazed world, frequently.”

She thought he might kiss her again, but he inclined his head and returned to his rooms. She regretted the lack of a kiss.

Kitty spread black currant jam on her bread and enjoyed a bite, thinking. She had not displeased him, even by lingering in his bed, but it would be pleasant to have a more positive response. Open approval, or even admiration. Was the hint of a smile as much as she would ever get? In the biblical sense, she knew her husband today, but in other senses, he was still a mystery.

Oh, by their agreement, they would be mostly apart. Why bother about these things?

Kitty washed and began to dress, by which time Henry had returned to put her into her outer clothes. She chose a sage green woolen gown because it was her warmest, and an extra flannel petticoat underneath. Today she planned to go through the whole house with Mrs. Quiller and put her stamp on it.

She added a cap with relief. She'd worn one for a decade and felt undressed without. A check in the mirror confirmed that she looked like the lady of the house. Perhaps not grand enough to be a viscountess, but there was the ring to compensate.

“My cloak, please, Henry. First, I'll take Sillikin for a walk.”

Henry brought it and asked, “What bonnet, dear?”

She probably should wear one, but she was walking in
her own garden. If she was mistress here, she could set the rules.

Once outside, Kitty found the air even colder for being damp and the sky overcast, but she felt immediate relief from escaping the house. That wasn't a good sign, but in time, with changes, it would become a comfortable home.

She decided to explore the outbuildings, heading first for extensive ones that were probably the stables, despite being built as a miniature of the house and painted as perfectly white. When close, she realized the first high wall was roofless. It was a walled garden, so probably the kitchen garden.

Kitty put Sillikin on the leash and explored. When she went through the door she encountered an affronted stare from a wiry man who was directing two others in some digging project.

But then he doffed his hat and said, “My lady.”

Kitty gave him good morning and asked his name.

“Garrison, m'lady.”

“Everything looks in good order, Garrison,” she said, trying to look as if she understood what she saw. She gave him leave to return to his work and strolled a path in spurious inspection.

Much of the ground was empty, but there were some tall green plants and other smaller ones beneath glass bottles or inside low glass frames. From Cateril Manor she knew vegetables could be kept beyond their season by such means, but no more than that. She was skilled at choosing good fruits and vegetables at market, but knew nothing about growing them. A closer look at the tall plants showed little cabbages growing along the stem, larger at the bottom and smaller toward the top. Heavens, they were brussels sprouts. She'd never known they grew that way.

Branches wired to walls would be fruits, she supposed.
A glass house ran along one wall, full of plants. She'd like to explore in there, but not under the wary observation of the gardeners, who seemed worried that she'd run amok in their domain.

She left and continued on to the stables. They were unmistakable because of the smell. Remembering the alarmed and alarming white horse, Kitty picked up Sillikin before going into the stable yard. A black dog slunk out of a building, growling.

A bowlegged, sinewy man followed. “Down, Roller.” He touched his forelock and said, “Milady,” but with a wariness that was becoming tiresome.

Then Baker came out of a stall, smiling. “Good morning, milady. Can I do something for you?”

No sign of the white horse.
Ah. Braydon is probably riding it.

“Does someone have time to show me round?” Kitty asked. “I know little of horses and stables, having spent most of my life in London.”

She saw Baker silently defer to the older man and be given the job.
Excellent.

Baker took her through rooms where food, straw, tack, and other necessities were kept. Sillikin wriggled, keen to explore, but Kitty said, “No.”

“Most of the horses are in the paddock, ma'am,” Baker said, “but Corsair's here. We're keeping an eye on him 'cos of a bit of a limp. He's Miss Godyson-Braydon's mount.”

Kitty remembered the black. “Has she had Corsair a long time?” Kitty asked.

“Not as I understand, ma'am. She had a gray before.”

So upon the deaths, even the stables had been adjusted to mourning. “Are all the horses black?” she asked.

“No, ma'am.” Baker took her to the paddock rail, and she saw five horses there. Two brown ones stood out as prime specimens, and she recognized Braydon's curricle
team. The other three were various shades of brown and didn't look highbred.

“What are they used for?” Kitty asked.

“Not much,” Baker said. “Toby and Trump were the late viscount's riding hacks, and Teapot is used with the dog cart.”

“Teapot? Who named her that?”

“Miss Isabella, as I understand, ma'am.”

So Isabella had been playful when younger, and a romantic more recently. She'd named her black horse after Byron's
The Corsair
. That could be something to build on.

“Do they all just loll around doing nothing?” she asked.

“They're exercised, ma'am, and Teapot sometimes takes Mrs. Quiller on errands.”

“She drives herself?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Is it difficult?”

“Not with Teapot, ma'am.”

“Could I try?”

There were probably a host of duties she should attend to, but being able to drive would offer freedom. Kitty acknowledged that the real reason was that she didn't want to return to the house until Braydon was back. Cowardly, but there it was.

“I don't see why not, ma'am,” Baker said. “Unless Mr. Varley has any objection.”

He, Kitty assumed, was the head groom. There was probably an interesting balance of power between Varley and Baker, his lordship's personal groom, but it seemed Baker could handle it. Kitty suspected all Braydon's servants were carefully chosen.

Kitty let Sillikin explore on the leash as the gig was brought out and checked, and Teapot was brought in from the paddock, placidly ready to oblige. Kitty was glad she'd never have to harness the animal, for it all seemed very
complicated, but the two-wheeled vehicle itself was much sturdier than the curricle.

All the same, when it was time to climb into the seat, she had to hide nervousness. Baker was already in position and clearly had the animal under control, but the thought that she might soon be in charge could almost make her back out. She put Sillikin down by her feet and told her to stay still, hoping that made sense.

“Shall we go anywhere in particular, ma'am?” Baker asked.

“No,” Kitty said, but then changed her mind. “Let's visit the parsonage.”

It would be eccentric to go there the day after her wedding, but Kitty smiled at the thought of driving up to the door and of seeing Ruth.

Baker drove round to the drive and out through the gates, turning onto the road. Then he paused to pass the reins to Kitty. “It's a simple route from here, ma'am—flat and almost straight, and Teapot is as calm as could be. But you should learn to hold the reins right.”

He showed her how to wind them through the gloved fingers on her left hand so that she could tighten the left or right by turning her hand. Then he put the whip in her right.

“I can't whip the poor beast.”

“And you'll not need to, ma'am, but you should start right. The whip's mainly in case the horse misbehaves. A touch brings it back in line. Now just say, ‘Go on.'”

Kitty did, and Teapot set off at a walk.

“Say, ‘faster.'”

“Faster.” Teapot sped to a trot. “Does it understand?”

“Only the sound, ma'am.”

They were rolling along a little too fast for Kitty's comfort, and the gig's springs didn't provide a smooth
ride, but she could truly say, “This is splendid! I'll soon be able to go where I want, when I want.”

“Early days, ma'am,” Baker said, sounding worried.

She flashed him a smile. “Don't worry. I won't attempt the curricle.”

He might have blanched. “Nor anywhere alone for a while, ma'am. Think about stray dogs, birds, even cows in the road.”

Kitty remembered when a bird had flown out in front of the curricle. “Teapot might go wild?”

“I doubt that, ma'am, but his lordship'd have my hide if you harmed yourself.”

“Don't worry. I have no idea how to harness her, and I'm not even sure I'm strong enough. I won't attempt anything without a suitable companion.”

In reality, Teapot was following the road for herself, giving Kitty nothing to do, but she still enjoyed the sense of control and the confidence that she could soon be able to come and go around the area with ease. The only hazard they encountered was a two-horse cart lumbering along and taking up a good part of the road. Baker took the reins to steer past that.

They approached the parsonage down the lane toward the village, so Kitty didn't have to deal with the busy green. She managed to turn the vehicle into the space before the door, only ending up at a slightly odd angle.

“Victory!” she declared.

Teapot jibbed at the sharp voice, but Baker was already at the horse's head.

Ruth came out and stared. “Kitty! What on earth are you up to now?”

Kitty managed to climb down without assistance and lifted Sillikin down. “Driving lessons.”

“But it's the day after your wedding.”

“Braydon's out riding, and I want to be independent.”

“Without a bonnet?”

Kitty put a hand to her head. She'd completely forgotten that. “Don't fuss. No one saw me.”

Ruth shook her head and asked, “Have you come for any particular reason?” Then, “Is something the matter?”

“No, not at all. I merely needed a destination. Oh, there goes Sillikin, in search of friends.” The dog had shot into the parsonage. Kitty turned back to the groom. “Can Teapot stand for a short while?”

“Yes, milady. And if you're longer, I'll walk her around a bit.”

Kitty went into the house with Ruth. “No need for alarm. I simply took the impulse to learn to drive. It's quite easy.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Oh, very well. It's easy on a quiet road with a groom at my side. But it will be delightful once I'm more experienced. It's also delightful to speak without wondering who's listening.”

“What do you mean? Come into the parlor. This might not be the Abbey, but do you want everyone here hearing everything?”

Kitty went in, but she was feeling scolded and wondered if it was justified. She certainly shouldn't have gone driving without a bonnet. “I'm not intending to share scandals,” she said when the door was shut. “But when you visited the Abbey, did you notice how the entrance hall is like a theater stage, with the upstairs galleries seeing and hearing everything?”