Too Dangerous For a Lady (37 page)

Her flights of fancy were interrupted by the portrait of her husband hanging over the stairs in such a way that it always confronted her as she went up. It had been painted after Marcus's death, based on a miniature done in 1807, before his heroism and maiming.

It showed a magnificent, young, dark-haired officer in his gold-braided regimentals, bright with vigor and life, but it was the Marcus Cateril she'd never known. She'd met him after he'd lost a leg and an eye, been scarred in the face, and been broken in other ways that caused him pain till his dying day.

She fought tears, as she often did, not of grief over his death, but of sadness for all he'd lived with. He'd often said he wished he'd died alongside his senior officer during that magnificent assault at Rolica. She knew he'd meant it. The overdose of laudanum that had killed him had not been accidental.

She hurried on into the refuge of her room and wrapped herself in two extra shawls. Fires were not kept lit throughout the day in bedrooms, even when the weather turned cold. After a moment she added woolen gloves, then unfolded the letter, hoping for truly diverting news.

Now for the main impetus for writing, Kitty. The sickness carried off our local lion, so a new gentleman has come among us as Lord Dauntry. You'll remember that Viscount Dauntry has the giving of this parish, so it was of some importance to us. The new viscount is a very distant relative of the old one and has never been here before, but by blessed good fortune he and Andrew both attended Westminster School only a few years apart, though Dauntry was plain Braydon then.

Ah. A friendship with the new viscount might advance Reverend Westway's career wonderfully.

Lord Dauntry has joined us to dine quite frequently in the weeks he's been here and thus we have become familiar with his situation. The inheritance was a complete surprise to him. One might say a shock.

At this point Ruth had run out of paper and begun the crosswise writing, so Kitty turned the page.

In addition to the title and Beauchamp Abbey, he is now guardian of the two daughters of his predecessor. He also has the care of the Dowager Lady Dauntry, the late Lord Dauntry's mother, who lives on in the house. Thus he sees the need of a sensible woman to assist him with this. I immediately thought of you.

A laugh escaped. What was Ruth thinking of?

Then she read the next line.

It would mean you living close, Kitty. Only think of that!

Oh. Yes. Only think of that. She and Ruth had met when they were both parlor boarders at school and become inseparable, but when they'd left school, their paths had gone in different directions. Ruth had found employment as a governess. Kitty had returned home and soon been wooed into marriage by Marcus. They'd rarely met since, and not at all now for four years.

To be close again. Wondrous, but surely impossible.

I know it would mean exchanging life as part of a noble family for one as a servant, but I have had the feeling that you're not entirely comfortably situated.

It was so like Ruth to read between the lines. Kitty had tried to put a bright face on her situation here just as she had during her marriage, for she didn't believe that a trouble shared is a trouble halved. It seemed to her that complaining of trials that couldn't be avoided was merely sharing the misery.

But now perhaps there was something to be done. Did she have a possibility of employment? She couldn't see what the position would be. Surely the children had a governess. Companion to the elderly lady, then.

With Ruth nearby.

There could even be weekly visits.

Kitty focused eagerly on the page again.

So I put forward your name and explained why you might be suitable, but then Lord Dauntry shocked me by saying he'd resolved that the lady he needs must be his wife. My hopes were exploded.

Kitty's were, too.

She crumpled the letter and threw it across the room, but Sillikin ran to retrieve it and bring it back to her, tail wagging.

“This isn't a game, you foolish creature.”

But she took it and smoothed it out again. “What a way to tell a story, dragging me this way and that. But I don't suppose I'd have liked the position anyway. Minion to an old woman, and a servant, no matter how it's dressed up.”

She knew that talking to her dog was a sign of desperation, but there'd been many times when there'd been no one else who should hear such things.

She picked her up. “I'd have a room of my own, but no company other than my lady, who could be even worse than Lady Cateril.” The dog licked her chin. “Yes, I know I have you. Thank heavens.”

Sillikin turned to settle on Kitty's lap, but pushed the
letter sideways with her paws so it slid toward the floor. Kitty caught it and realized she'd not reached the astonishing news. Perhaps that would raise her spirits. She smoothed the paper and found her place.

I was bold enough to ask why, and Dauntry pointed out that his wards are hard to handle and his elderly dependent an ill-tempered tyrant. Though we see little of the Braydon family, I fear that is true. He repeated that anyone he brings into the house will need the authority of a wife. Then he startled me by asking if you would fulfill his requirements as wife!

Yes! I'm sure your astonishment equals mine.

It did indeed.

Marriage?

To a viscount?

Was it a full moon?

I was cast into a tizzy. He, however, continued as if discussing whether to plant turnips or cabbages to say that he needs his household under sensible management without delay and asked again if my friend might be suitable and willing.

I didn't know the truth about either, but the thought of you within miles, not to mention the opportunity for you to become a peeress, was too much to resist, dear Kitty. I said you might. Of course that commits you to nothing, and I know you've said you will not marry again, but do please give it thought, for Lord Dauntry means what he said.

Kitty frowned at the dog. “He must be mad. Would I want to marry a madman to escape?” Then she answered herself. “Perhaps. If he were safely mad.”

Ruth was correct in saying that she didn't want a second
husband, but in part that was because she couldn't imagine finding a comfortable one. He would have to be a mild man with a comfortable income, but what did she have to offer such a prize? She had no great beauty or charm and no money.

I respect your devotion to Marcus, but can you continue as you are at Cateril Manor for the rest of your life? Upon hearing of the death of Princess Charlotte, I found myself contemplating the uncertainties of life and our duty to use our time on earth well. However, my desires might cause me to overpersuade you, so let me tell you of the problems.

The writing was becoming even smaller. There must be a great many problems and that was a relief. Kitty could feel the temptation of this ridiculous plan and she needed an antidote.

Lord Dauntry stated plainly that he sought a wife who would not think she could change his ways. Kitty, I fear those ways include carousing and wicked women. He behaves with complete propriety here, but he is a very fashionable gentleman and his life since leaving the army has been mostly in London. You are more familiar than I as to what that might involve.

Kitty was, but she was fixed on the words “since leaving the army.”

Ruth said nothing of wounds, but Kitty's London life had included many of Marcus's army friends. Some were good company, but she'd learned that soldiering often left scars, even if they weren't visible. She wasn't attracted to the idea of any second marriage, but certainly not to another ex-soldier.

He asked if I would put the proposal to you. I made no promise, but later Andrew and I discussed the matter. He is uncomfortable with the situation for many reasons, but he sees how advantageous it could be to you and he confirmed my assessment that Lord Dauntry would be a tolerable husband as long as you kept to his conditions.

And if not? Rages and bruises, then weeping contrition and threats to kill himself? If she'd been a meeker woman, perhaps Marcus's life would have been easier, but his anger and roughness had developed an echo in herself. She'd answered rage with rage, and rebutted accusations with some of her own. . . .

She wasn't suited to be any man's wife. But the next line leapt out at her.
Remember, Andrew and I would be close by to offer loving support.

To be close to Ruth and have her loving support.

What was more, if she became Lady Dauntry—astonishing thought!—she'd be able to visit the parsonage whenever she wished. She could invite Ruth and her family to her own home. What was the name? Beauchamp Abbey. Was it pronounced in the French way,
bowshamp
, or did it match the village name—Beecham? She pushed aside irrelevant questions.

Here at last was escape from Cateril Manor, but could she bear the price?

What would the price be?

The married life of Lady Dauntry would be vastly different to hers with Marcus, no matter how odd her husband was. She wouldn't be trapped in four rooms, and it seemed unlikely Lord Dauntry would demand her presence most of the time or insist on her sharing his restless bed.

She and he could have separate suites of rooms. Separate wings, perhaps! Given what Ruth had said, he might rarely
be at the abbey at all. In a normal marriage she might object to his amusements elsewhere, but not in this one.

“Am I seriously considering this?” Sillikin's cocked head seemed to send the question back at her. “I am.”

To escape Cateril Manor. To live close to Ruth. To have a home of her own again, and with a frequently absent husband . . .

If you are willing to consider the matter, it must be soon. Dauntry is a man of brisk action. If you don't give him hope, he will proceed to other ways of obtaining the wife he wants. I can't imagine it will be difficult.

Ruth had run out of space and turned to write diagonally.

If you agree to consider the match, he will arrange your journey here at his expense, and your journey home if you decide he will not suit. You need only reply to me for all to be put in hand, but remember, it must be soon.

I don't know this man well, Kitty, and I fear my ardent desire to have you nearby influences me, but Andrew believes you should at least consider this and his judgment is sound.

That was it.

Ardent desire.

Yes.

Kitty rose and paced her room, Sillikin keeping pace at her heel. Marriage!

She hadn't rushed into her first marriage, but she had been swept along on a fast stream of ecstatic romance, with no one attempting to calm her down. She'd had a vision of herself as ministering angel to the wounded hero, and her
parents had been dazzled by her being wooed by a member of the nobility. If they'd any doubts, his wounds and true adoration silenced them. He had adored her, and in a way had done so to his dying day, but adoration could have a dark side.

Here was a very different situation. She must decide quickly, the man was a stranger, and she had no one to hand to offer advice. If she mentioned it to anyone in the family, Lady Cateril would find out and heaven knew what would happen then. What to do? What to do?

She halted. “I must go to Ruth.”

With that, everything became clear. She must go to Ruth, for advice and for the joy of it. Once in Beecham Dab, she'd soon know whether to make this marriage. Mere travel there wouldn't commit her. She had some money. It would probably cover the cost of the journey by stage. But she'd have to escape the house without rousing suspicion.

She was devising complicated ways, some of which included elements from novels, when she came to her senses. No one but she knew the crucial contents of the letter. She could simply ask to visit her old friend.

She picked up Sillikin to hug her. “I don't know why I haven't done that before.”

She'd allowed herself to become glued here by Lady Cateril's grief, but not even her mother-in-law could object to a short visit to a respectable old friend. She'd travel to Beecham Dab, and perhaps she'd never come back.

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