SoundsofLove (9 page)

Cathryn watched, fascinated at the shocks of desire that
emanated from each brush of his lips. “I’ve only just come out of mourning.”

“He should have been there when you did.”

“Well, your curiosity over his motives should be satisfied
soon.” The warmth of his touch radiated throughout her hand. “His note said he
was free anytime on Sunday, so I thought to see him at noon.” Her lips began to
ache for Julian’s.

“We can return to London that night and announce our
alliance publicly.”

He pulled back slightly and she leaned into him, desperately
wishing he would steal a kiss. “You assume he’ll release me.”

“I assume nothing. I know he is a real threat, but I am the
stronger man in every regard.” She straightened at his arrogant remark, and
hoped he knew how mean-spirited Percival could be, but he defused her pique
when he added, “And I have you by my side. Together we will not be defeated.”

She nodded and wondered again how she had captured the
attention of this incredible man. No one had ever told her she was particularly
attractive, although she knew her features were pleasant enough. This man
seemed to want her as much as she wanted him.

This was all happening very quickly, and he was so deeply
distracting. She had barely thought of anything besides their glorious
lovemaking in her parlor.

“Would you like me to send over the Ahlquist dressmaker,
Madame Vichy?”

He had read her mind. Well, part of it.

“That’s very kind. I wondered how to have a suitable
wardrobe made without alerting the gossip mongers.” Even if I had the funds,
she thought.

“I want to squire you all over London once we’ve settled
with Hedges. Vichy’s staff is very quick and the season is over, so my mother
and sisters will not be overtaxing her time.”

Before she had a chance to inquire about his family, Mr.
Curtis knocked lightly before entering. He spoke as he crossed the room. “My
partners and I are all in agreement. To avoid a breach of promise suit and the
resultant likelihood of a public scandal,” he said as he took his seat, “the
best course of action is to seek a mutual termination of the contract on
grounds of incompatibility
before
Lady Sibley reveals any affection for
another man. We suggest you two cease interactions until the situation is
resolved.”

Julian stood and leaned over the solicitor’s desk. “Are you
saying we can’t win this case if we go to court?”

“No, milord. The abandonment issue is real, and her
distressed state of mind at the time is most reasonable. Unless you get the
wrong judge, your case should hold. But the Ahlquist name will be badly soiled
if Hedges fights you.”

“Well, discretion will have to suffice.” He helped Cathryn
to her feet. “Lady Sibley pours the best tea in London. I will not deny myself
that simple pleasure.”

Or any other pleasure, his sultry eyes signaled.

Curtis rose to escort them out. “As you wish, milord.”

Cathryn bit her tongue again. Julian was wonderfully
arrogant, and she needed to trust his judgment. As his countess and future
marchioness, her stature would be immeasurably elevated from that of a baroness
with small holdings. She realized with a rush of power that she could do a
great deal of good with such authority and wealth.

She wanted to become an Ahlquist very badly. And she wanted
the title untainted by scandal.

All of Cathryn’s senses were on alert as she waited in the
dimly lit private dining room at the King’s Arms Inn. A century of Oxford
scholars tipping ale and whisky had imbued the floorboards with a pungent
aroma, and the amber stain of tobacco smoke darkened the one small window. She
had eaten in this very room many times with her family and, later, Geoffrey,
and she hoped Percival would feel at ease here, as she usually did. He avoided
London, except to hear lectures on his specialty, twelfth century Byzantine literature.
Violet said he disliked crowds and incompetent public servants, and London had
an overabundance of both.

Perched on the edge of a wooden bench, she peered through
murky glass to a partial view of Holywell Street. Bells chiming the hour
alerted her to the coming confrontation. Tension cramped her neck as she
scanned the busy thoroughfare for any sign of him, or of Julian. She traveled
with only her maid and footman, who was today her driver of a fine hired
carriage. Her two staff were brother and sister, and they dined just outside
the door in the main dining room. Julian’s displeasure over her plan to dine
with Hedges unchaperoned had been palpable, although his deference came with no
argument, as if he respected her judgment. She suspected he or his men were
lurking nearby.

She could return to London this afternoon if Percival proved
cooperative. She was prepared to stay longer if the baron needed more
persuasion that she was not the right wife for him, but she suspected he would
be relieved to be rid of his unwelcome obligation to her.

No clear strategy was in play, other than to try not to be
distracted by thoughts of Julian and to listen before speaking. Hedge’s lack of
interest had a motive, and she needed to know why he had absented himself from
her life when they could have wed by now.

Her note to him had only mentioned discussing estate
business, and she was in fact concerned about the lack of timely correspondence
from the dependable Sibley steward. She did not want to be beholden to Julian for
everything, and she was entitled to her dower’s portion.

At five after noon, the tall baron came into her sights. He
was leaner than she recalled, and she felt a twinge of guilt that she had
shirked her duties as his baroness. His green long coat and beaver hat were the
style in Oxford but looked odd compared to the newer London fashions. His face
was partially hidden by a younger man’s head, a strikingly handsome blond boy
who was hatless on the cool autumn day. The two men were engrossed in conversation,
and they stopped at the corner in front of the King’s Arms, just at the edge of
Cathryn’s view.

Craning her neck slightly, she could see them plainly.
Percival faced her now and he was much as she remembered him, long in the face
and quite gaunt. He was jovial with the boy, and Cathryn was surprised when he
mussed the blond hair playfully. The golden idol didn’t seem to mind, and he
didn’t flinch when Percival patted his cheek. This appeared to be their
farewell, as the boy turned and walked down Holywell.

What happened next baffled her even more. Percival stared
after the young man for a very long time, probably until the youth turned a
corner. All the while, the baron’s face was quietly radiant and he seemed to be
very content. With a deep breath, he turned and his face transformed into the
man she knew—rather pinched and terse, very much like the villain in one of
Mrs. Burns’ novels.

In a minute, he would be in this room with her, and her mind
was in a jumble with this new insight into his character. He held deep
affection for that young man.
Fanny Hill
described a scene of two men
engaged in sexual activities of a deviant nature. Could Percival be a sodomite?
It was a startling thought.

Cathryn knew some scholars developed deep platonic bonds
with the young men they tutored. If he engaged in immoral activities, would he
call attention to them in such a public forum? His change of demeanor, as if he
were preparing to discharge an unpleasant obligation, made her even more
uneasy.

Trying to balance these new perceptions, she sipped her tea
to calm herself. Julian would know what to do. She wished him beside her now,
and her shoulders squared.

Listen before speaking. Let Percival lead until I know
his mind.

When the inn’s owner opened the door to the private room for
Percival, the baron wore the insipid look of one who does not acknowledge
inferiors. Upon spying Cathryn, the look changed to one of unwelcome duty. He
bowed slightly to her as he waited for the owner to leave them.

“Lady Sibley, a pleasure to see you.” His voice was frigid,
and she knew he lied. She began to rise from the bench, but he gestured for her
to stay seated. “Don’t get up.”

She nodded and resumed her seat. “It’s good to see you as
well, Sir Percival.” He hung his coat on a hook near the door and came to sit
across from her. She waited for him to initiate conversation.

“You’re looking fit,” he said as he settled into his seat.
His dull-brown eyes glanced at her face, but unlike most men, did not stray to
her chest. “You must be relieved to be out of black.”

So he was aware her mourning was over. “Indeed. My coloring
is not suited to such a severe color.” Gray was worse.

His glance held a hint of masculine interest. “That red gown
suits you.” He made red sound offensive, as if it were a strumpet’s costume.

She preferred burgundy, as Julian had labeled it, but said
only, “Thank you.”

The innkeeper appeared with a tray containing tea for the
baron.

“We’ll have the Sunday roast, with the cauliflower and red
onion pie.” Hedges ordered without asking her opinion. “It’s the best item on
their menu.”

The innkeeper glanced her way and she nodded. “That sounds
grand, thank you.”

“And a bottle of the inn’s red wine.”

A utilitarian choice. Clearly, he was not celebrating a
beloved betrothal.

When they were alone, Percival glanced around the room
nervously. He sipped his tea and then rose to stand by the small fireplace.
Cathryn held her teacup and waited for him to begin.

“How’s Violet getting on?”

“Very well, thank you. She sends her regards.”

“Yes, well, convey mine to her as well.”

He cleared his throat and his voice took on an ominous tone.
“I heard you made quite a scene at the Philological Society meeting.”

That was the last thing she expected him to say, and he
sounded quite cross about it. She struggled to maintain a placid demeanor.
Before she could speak, he continued. “Why do you attend the damn meetings?”

She was often asked the same question, minus the profanity,
and she lied each time. She craved the intellectual stimulation the meetings presented,
but she answered, “Widow’s courtesy. Geoffrey was an active member for many
years.”

“I’m aware of that, of course. And I know the value of the
society. We have similar groups here, studying languages at every level. My
friend said you took on an assignment with Lord Ahlquist.”

Hearing her lover’s name set her heart racing. “It’s a minor
thing.”

“Yes, so I heard. A trivial word from a trivial writer
seeking expert approval.” Percival spat the words at her and she cowered
slightly. Julian had been right about this encounter. This was a mistake.

“Are you so bored that you need to amuse yourself in such a
demeaning fashion?” He shifted from leg to leg and clenched his fist, as if he
planned to fight the next man who came through the door. “These men are toying
with you, and Ahlquist is the worst. I want you to abandon this ridiculous
pretense.”

The words hung between them as a dare. Cathryn knew she had
no future with this man. She straightened her back and deflected his command. “Why
are you speaking to me in this rude manner?”

He stepped towards her and placed his cup down with a
clatter. “You’re my wife. Your actions reflect on me.”

“I’m not your wife.” She spat the words out as she pulled
her cloak tight and rose with the intention of leaving.

He moved to block her way. “Yes, you are. I made a
settlement on you.”

She was speechless in her rage. She’d never hit a person
before, but her hands quivered with anger at his callousness.

“Geoffrey talked me into taking you, even in your condition.”

She met his eyes and saw only cold disdain. “My condition?”

“You’re barren,” he said casually as if reacquainting her
with the obvious, “but I need no heirs. My brother wants the title for my
nephew, Henry.”

She resumed her seat with a soft thud and muttered, “Geoffrey
was sterile.”

Percival snickered. “Had you fooled, did he?”

She glared at him. “He had no issue in his first marriage
either.”

“Amelia was a sickly thing,” he said dismissively. “I’m
talking about that chit Molly.”

“My maid?” How utterly ridiculous, the girl was only sixteen
and had been twelve when Geoffrey took ill.

“Bloody ironic, isn’t it? Your stepdaughter does your
laundry.”

Molly was her stepdaughter? Edna Lewin and Geoffrey had been
lovers? Was it possible Molly was their child? Her stomach churned at the
disloyal thoughts.

No. Geoffrey was a good man who loved her. “This is
preposterous.”

Percival sneered, clearly enjoying delivering the bad news. “My
mother told me the story herself. Old Geoff couldn’t keep his hands off the
wench. They were caught going at it in the stables, and him with a wife on her
deathbed. Nine months later, Molly was born.”

Mrs. Lewin, a wench? Cathryn started to defend her. “Edna
Lewin—”

“Yes, that’s her name. Edna.” He cut her off and gloated as
if this was the ultimate proof. “He made me swear she’d be cared for, and her
children, too, so don’t you go discharging them over this.”

Before she could respond, a serving girl entered with their
wine. Cathryn’s mind throbbed with this unwelcome knowledge.

Geoffrey had betrayed her, and he’d seemed the kindest man
in the world.

And then the import of Percival’s disclosure struck her like
a bucket of ice water. If he told the truth, she was proven barren. A chill
crept into her bones and she pulled her cloak tight. Julian needed an heir. She
resisted the urge to curl up into a ball and hide beneath the soft wool fabric.

Every dream she cherished was shattered. She couldn’t marry
Julian—or any respectable man in need of an heir. She would never have the
children she’d prayed for; she would never be free of the dreadful man who
stood before her. Even her past was a shambles. Her esteemed husband had been
shagging the housekeeper.

“You didn’t know, then?” Hedges came over to pick up his
glass.

She shook her head and reached for her own glass. As she
lifted it to her lips, she glanced at Percival and the scorn on his face made
her doubt him. Perhaps this was all a concoction, meant to keep her in her
place. A flicker of hope took hold.

She drained half her glass but kept her eyes on him. “Why
are you telling me this now?”

“I hadn’t intended to, but you should know your value.” He
glanced at her fully for the first time and she was glad for the thick cloak,
although his look was filled with contempt rather than desire. “I dislike women
who think themselves the equals of men.”

If she’d had a weapon, she would have used it on him.

The innkeeper interrupted them as he entered carrying a
large tray. Soon the platter of rib roast was on the table, followed by the
vegetable pie and some creamed peas. “Would you like me to serve, my lord?” he
inquired as he set plates and utensils before them.

Percival examined his silverware critically. “Bring me a
clean fork. This one is filthy.”

Cathryn glanced at hers and found it spotless.

The innkeeper left hastily, and Cathryn wished she’d chosen
a more public venue for this discussion. Percival was a Neanderthal. She should
exit while she still had her wits about her, but her curiosity kept her seated.

He stared at Cathryn and then down at his plate. He expected
her to serve him. She wanted to rail at him, to make a scene that would bring
Victor and Molly running to her defense, but she sensed Hedges was not yet done
explaining himself and she needed to know his mind.

Silently, she picked up the carving knife, tempted for one
second to plunge it into his chest and end this charade. Instead, she calmly
sliced two thick pieces of meat and placed one on his plate, then hers. He
watched her intently, but she kept her face carefully devoid of emotion as she
set the knife back down on the platter. Let him think her a simpleton; perhaps
he would reveal more of his motives, and she could find a way out of her
contract.

The vegetable pie released a cloud of fragrant steam as she
broke through the crust and spooned a large serving onto his plate. Her
appetite had left her, so she placed a smaller portion on her own. She detested
peas and gave him several spoonfuls.

His booming voice startled her as he began Sunday grace, “O
God our King.” She thought he must be used to saying grace in the large dining
halls he shared with the Oxford students and tutors. Surely, his tone was meant
to intimidate her here in this small dining area. He continued as if he were a
minister preaching to his flock, “A…and steel us to wait for the consummation
of your kingdom on the last great Day; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.”

“Amen.”
And please let his accusations about Geoffrey be
untrue,
she added silently before she opened her eyes.

The innkeeper hovered nearby with the new silverware, which
passed the baron’s inspection.

Cathryn toyed with the crust of her onion pie and watched
Hedges cut his meat. He did not speak and she nibbled on an onion without
tasting it. Only two days before she’d shared a similar meal with Julian, and
her lost appetite then was because she was enthralled by the earl. His
flirtatious manner lightened a room, his exceptional good looks made being near
him a delight, and his generosity made her smile. She wanted to know his
deepest thoughts, to share his desires and dreams, to have him by her side day
and night.