An Unlikely Countess (36 page)

That had been the final straw that had turned her resolution into dismay, and then despair.

She shook her head and banished all thoughts of that man. She was married to Cate, and her marriage bed would be wonderful.

She looked at the clock. Not yet ten. Perhaps Cate had been summoned to more duties.

She rose and went toward the adjoining door, thinking to knock, but then she paused. She was in her nightwear. What if his valet answered?

She could send Karen, but with what message?
Milady wishes to know when milord will join her in bed?
In which bed?

How could it all be so complicated? She’d expected Cate to join her and arrange everything, but what if she was supposed to do something? If so, what?

She told herself Cate was no shy violet, and no stickler for the rules. He’d come when he was ready.

She sent Karen away, telling her she was free for the night, and then tried to concentrate on a book about the court of the previous king. She’d hoped it would educate her, but it all seemed to be gossip, and a great deal of it scandalous. She’d not thought herself a prude, but perhaps in these circles she was.

Another book was a guide to London. She was sure it would be very useful one day to know where the hackney stands were, and the rates to various parts of the city, but it didn’t amuse. She looked at the engravings, studying the Queen’s House and the Houses of Parliament, St. James’s Park and Westminster Abbey, but none of it could hold her attention.

The clock seemed to tick very slowly. What a pity a lady couldn’t ring a bell and summon a husband! She chuckled at the thought, but she was restless with impatience and her imagination was building physical need. She might as well await him in bed.

The mattress was rather hard, perhaps overstuffed with wool. Not long ago it would have seemed perfection, so she wouldn’t complain. The bolster was also hard, but that was normal. The pillows, however, seemed thin. She put one on top of the other, wondering if this was as Artemis liked it, or if the woman had arranged things for her successor’s discomfort.

She wouldn’t think of Artemis either.

This night was for her and Cate.

Was Cate’s mother keeping him so long out of jealousy of another woman?

No matter.

She couldn’t keep him all night.

 

Cate was in his boyhood bedchamber, looking out of the window, drinking brandy and trying not to drink too much. If he passed out, he’d not be able to make love to his wife, which was as it should be; but if he was found passed out on the floor here, it’d do no one’s reputation any good.

Last night she’d rejected consummation. If he could be sure she’d feel the same tonight he’d be with her now. He’d take her to his bed again, be together with her again, and even indulge in the sort of kisses and closeness that wouldn’t carry him too far.

If there were any.

This morning, at her dressing table, he’d almost lost control, and she’d not seemed to be rejecting anything. Had foolish, impulsive confidence that morning made lovemaking possible, or had she changed her mind? He couldn’t risk sharing a bed with her yet. For his own sanity, he had to be certain that her first child, especially a son, was his.

He screwed the cap back on his brandy flask and made his way down to the earl’s bedchamber, turning all thoughts from his delectable, desirous wife.

P
rudence awoke to sunshine, and to the fact that she was alone in her bed and had been alone there all night. She flung an arm over her eyes, fighting tears.

What had she done wrong? Had it been her comment about Artemis?

Or did he not truly desire her? Once, that would have seemed obvious. Why would a glorious man like Cate Burgoyne want too-tall, too-mannish Prudence Youlgrave? He made her feel otherwise, but if it was all deception, she’d rather he be honest.

Then she remembered her reaction the previous night, when she’d been so exhausted. Had he taken her unwillingness as more general than she’d intended? If so, how did she correct the impression? She couldn’t imagine saying it directly, but if he kissed her again, flirted with her again, she’d make it clear that she wasn’t an unwilling wife.

If he didn’t kiss her again?

She wouldn’t even contemplate that. In any case they must; he needed an heir.

The thought of being bedded only to get a child made tears threaten again, so she sat up and climbed out of bed. She was going in search of her maid when she remembered the bell. She pulled the cord, hearing the little ring below. Soon Karen hurried in, cheerful as always, already with washing water.

As the girl poured it into the basin, Prudence asked, “Is my black dress ready?”

“Sorry, milady, but they say as the ’em’s not quite done. The cap’s here, though, milady.”

“Ah, well, as long as it’s ready for tomorrow. The dyed blue, then.”

She sat to work the tangles out of her hair. Another night without a plait, and all for nothing. She pinned it up tightly on the top of her head, and once she was dressed, she fixed the black cap on top. There. No one could accuse her of unsuitably light spirits.

But then Cate walked into her bedchamber and wished her a good morning. Despite her disappointment, the day was suddenly bright again.

“Have you breakfasted?” he asked. “If so, I can eat alone.”

“No, no.” She rose, flustered, and sent Karen for the meal. A moment ago she’d had no appetite, and now she wasn’t sure she could swallow for other reasons, but she’d grasp any time with him she could.

“That’s the blue?” he asked with a slight grimace.

It made her smile. “I like that about you.”

“What?”

“That you say what you mean. And look what you mean.”

“It’s pushed me into trouble. I never did tell you that, did I?”

She didn’t want a trace of a shadow on this morning, but if he needed to tell her something, she’d listen.

“What?”

He leaned against a bedpost. “I was ordered to sell my commission.”

“In the army? Why?”

“To get rid of me. I could have been cashiered—that means thrown out in disgrace, and also without rank, so the commission can’t be sold. The price is the only money most officers leave with.”

“Cashiered? For what cause?”

“Consistently refusing to follow orders and, they claimed, inciting the men to do the same. I do have a strong dislike of idiotic orders and pointless rules. I’m trying to suppress it here, but I can feel it rising.”

“Idiotic rules such as . . .?”

“Here? For example, that the clerks must rise whenever I enter their room. It disturbs their work and sometimes causes inkblots and errors, but it must be so, I am informed. I suspect it’s because Flamborough, Dramcot, and the rest enjoy the reverence. It’s the same up and down the line.”

“Like the servants having their ranks. Does everyone hope to have someone below them who must take orders?”

He smiled ruefully. “Having been born to high rank with many below, I can’t comment. Do you value it?”

Prudence thought. “No, but it is delightful to have servants to make life comfortable.”

“Isn’t it?”

“What idiotic rules did you ignore in the army?”

“A host of them to do with uniforms—not just for me, but for my men. They can be punished for a loose button or an unpolished badge. The good generals let the petty things pass during the fighting, but once we had peace, it was back to every button and bow, and punishment for offenders. Then there were the drills. Coming from action, we were all bored, and endless drills didn’t help, so I devised training exercises that could be useful in real fighting. That sowed discord. Some of my men would have preferred boredom, and some other units wanted my regime. Most other officers didn’t want any bother or unrest. I’m a restless sort of fellow.”

“So you were asked to leave.”

“I was given the option of a regiment heading for India, where my restless nature might be appreciated, but I declined. Too far from Keynings, you see.” He looked outside, gazing through the window. “Do you wonder if wanting things too much can create chaos in order to provide it?”

If not for last night, she would go to him, touch him. All she had was speech. “You are in no way responsible for your brother’s death, Cate.”

He looked at her. “We quarreled, furiously.”

Had Artemis accused him? Surely not, or he couldn’t have such faith in her. It must have preyed on his mind.

“A quarrel doesn’t kill anyone,” she said.

“I did once know a man to die of rage, but Roe wasn’t purple with it. He was pale and cold. It was his way.”

“What made him so angry?”

“Me. It’s always been me. My very nature offended him, and he had reason. I failed at a number of things, and have a way of disturbing orderly lives.”

He was looking at her.

She said, “My life wasn’t at all orderly.”

“But perhaps I made it worse.”

She did go to him then, to at least be closer. “Worse? We’ve had this debate before. There is nothing about my life that is worse for your actions.”

He took her hand. “Thank you for that. I get night demons sometimes. Roe’s lack of faith in me galled. I was a good officer in wartime; no one denies that, but it counted for nothing here. He knew I’d been encouraged to go to India and was furious that I couldn’t see the blessings of that. He knew all the army stories, of course. Plenty of people happy to report, none of them friends of mine. I resented everything he said and implied. I resented his assumption that as head of the family he could command me. We opened old wounds, both said things we didn’t really mean. . . .”

About the baby
, she realized.
But your brother did mean that, and you still don’t know it.

“In the end, I slammed out of the room and shook the dust of Keynings off my shoes with only the money I had to hand. I rode with Jeb to Northallerton to catch a coach to London and sent Oakapple back with Jeb. If I’d taken the horse and ridden south, Roe wouldn’t have accused me of horse stealing, but I was determined to take nothing that was not mine. Pride and folly. But it brought us together,” he said with a smile. “So it wasn’t as bad an impulse as it seemed at the time.”

She had to say it. “It trapped you.”

“If you’d listened to my story, you’d know I never allow myself to be trapped by the rules.”

She shook her head at him, longing so much to take him into her arms, but Karen announced that breakfast was ready, and the moment was gone.

They went into the boudoir and sat at the small table. “Did you speak with your mother yesterday? Is she very angry?”

“Peeved,” he said, pouring ale. “She’s not one for the deeper emotions, but she’s easily peeved and gives it teeth. She stated that I’m a fool to have married so unwisely. I countered that if she met you, she’d know differently.”

“In this gown?” Prudence asked.

“It’s not a matter of dress. She’ll get over her spleen. She wants a son and heir in the nursery, and you are the vessel.”

Prudence looked up from her tea, wanting to ask the obvious question, but unsure how.

“She’s still chewing her bitter cud,” he said, “but she’s not one to cut off her nose to spite her face.”

“You sound bitter too,” she pointed out. “She’s your mother. She must love you.”

“What a pleasant notion, and odd, don’t you think? Is there some alchemy to it? If so it failed to work here, and in many other cases. She and I understand each other as little as Roe and I did, and neither of us saw any need to overcome that. I had my nurse and attendants, who were loving enough, and she had the heir to focus on, the one who’d stay here and affect her life.”

“That’s very odd.”

“Is it? As I said, it’s not uncommon, perhaps because in a place like Keynings parents see little of their children.”

“Oh. Cate, I don’t think I’d like that.”

Prudence realized too late that her comment brushed against the lack of consummation, but there was no taking it back.

“I suspected as much. I won’t try to rule you in that, and I think I might like to spend time with any boys, but we will have other duties that take us away. London, for example.”

“I remember your mentioning London, even before you confessed the terrible flaw of being an earl.”

“How do you like it now, my lady?” he asked wryly.

“I’d prefer a smaller home and less pandemonium, but . . .” She’d almost said that she’d welcome anything if she had him.

“You will, like the practical woman you are, make a home out of a nest of demons.”

“Stop talking like that about your family.”

He smiled at her. “Very well. Demons don’t go to church, but my mother will. That will be her way out of the coffin she’s put herself into.”

“I hope she’ll approve of me. I’ll only have a very plain black dress.”

“Cease this obsession with clothing!”

“You were concerned enough when I was in Peg Stonehouse’s clothes.”

“Yes, yes, I was, but it was more out of guilt. You seemed comfortable there, and I was bringing you here.”

“I have no desire to live in a small farmhouse that lacks even glass in the windows!”

“Practical, always. Mother is too. She’s ready to build bridges. I think she’s mostly peeved because I didn’t choose a bride from her lists.”

“Lists?”

“Terrifying lists. Even more terrifying when the names became flesh. Let me tell you all about Bland, Bumble, and Fizz.”

Prudence listened with amusement, enjoying chocolate and warm, sweet bread, happy enough to be here, cozily talking of humorous matters. She felt sorry for the unsuccessful candidates, for they did not have him, even though she did not have him in the complete sense.