Duke Herheart Final Page 7
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“I wanted to thank you, Kathryn. May I call you Kathryn?” He hesitated until he was sure he had her attention since she seemed to be fumbling with the reins and trying unsuccessfully to pull the skirts of her gown out from under her bottom. When she finally looked at him, there were questions in her eyes that shone honey in the bright afternoon light. “I’ve not been the landlord. I mean, I was manor born but never inclined to visit the tenants. You…you positively charmed them. That is important and I am grateful.”
She regarded him, her eyes narrowing, and he realized that she had just decided that it was a very heavy admission from someone such as he. “Would you say that I earned my keep today?”
He wanted to say that it was so much more, but he was dealing with the proud, headstrong woman who had been walking to London without shoes and so he was inclined to let her believe she had done only a day’s turn. If he told her the truth – that she was helping him warm badly-strained relations with his people, she would think him to be exaggerating.
“You did. If I fed you an evening meal and provided some mild entertainment, we could call today even. Is that fair?”
“Fair,” she said. And suddenly he no longer wanted her in his debt; he wanted so much more.
They traveled the remainder of the trip in a comfortable silence. He had seen a woman today who knew how to talk to people, women especially, to smooth his way, and ease his burden. Talking with women, especially uneducated ones, was naturally a great deficiency of his. For the first time since he had assumed the mantle, he saw how a woman could be a partner rather than just a person to be attached to and yet he had only known this one for only part of one day.
The few relationships with women in his life were mostly poor. He had struggled to find a way to talk to his sad mother. He and his Aunt Agatha probably got on the best. There was his beloved sister Cassandra 48
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who he desperately wanted to reconnect with, but the abject failure had been his relationship with his unwanted wife. Not being able to talk to her and, in reality, only barely tolerating her had made for a difficult marriage. Thankfully, he had been away for most of it. She had mostly been miserable and he found that he was not sorry that they were no longer married.
He wondered how to reach Cassandra, whom he loved with all his heart, but she suffered and he could offer her no solace. He wanted so much for her to heal, to be made whole, to have a new husband and children if she wanted, but at least to have some kind of life. Michael realized it was time to make Kathryn known to his fragile sister.
He had had few sexual liaisons as well. Not being inclined to casually bed women, although he had had ample opportunity being an officer possessed of enough fortune and passable looks to attract any number of followers, he had preferred abstinence to promiscuity. His lack of partners would probably surprise most of his friends. He had bedded one woman on the Continent several times but stopped when it became clear to him that the perils of risking getting her with child outweighed any pleasure he had found.
And he had never paid for sex, not with money, jewels or even simply opera tickets. He had never had his first wife Catherine either for she was already with the child that his cousin would not acknowledge when they married and he had not wanted her. Truly, no one he had bedded had meant anything to him and that above all had been the reason his partners had been so few.
He had been comfortable being celibate because he knew absolutely that he had not contracted pox and left behind no by-blows. If he did marry again, it would be a lot easier without any of that baggage. Now that he had to think about choosing a bride, he knew he could never be interested in simpering London chits. He was more Puritanical at heart than he would admit publicly but his lack of interest had manifested itself in a strong desire to ultimately choose a Duchess who was not necessarily a gently bred virgin but also was not prone to dalliance. He would not tolerate his wife’s infidelity and he would make clear that they were to keep their vows, even if theirs was not a love match.
He had seen far too many marriages in which one of the partners suffered at the hands of the other just for trying to be faithful, or worse because the mistresses or lovers were flaunted in society so that they knew they were being cuckolded. Even when they were not all flaunted as his Father’s had not been, they still caused such pain. His Father was so arrogant to think that his mother and children had not known of or 49
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been affected by his widely known relationship with Clarice Moorecombe and the ones before her.
Then there was the question of issue. When neither partner was faithful, how was the man to even know a child was his? Or if the affair was ongoing, that he would not stumble upon his wife in a compromising position? Surely a marriage should be based on mutual respect. He really was so much more provincial than most of the gentlemen of his acquaintance whom he knew partook of the affections of willing married women. There were a few notable exceptions like his friend Matthew Drake who was also rather staid.
He glanced over at the woman riding beside him and, without hesitation, determined this Kathryn would indeed make a fine Duchess.
He didn’t have to love her. He just needed her to be in his life. She had nothing really to recommend her other than what he saw as quite stunning physical features, an ability to share feelings openly, a warm disposition and charming wit. There was no dowry, no family, no connections. He did not need any of that, thankfully. He just needed her to make his life easier, warm his bed, and provide an heir or two. She would do that nicely and she was already here. Simple. He had not expected to be drawn so strongly to a female who possessed the qualities he might want in a wife. He could very well imagine bedding Kathryn Ragland and being very satisfied with her for his remaining years.
He had traveled the entire distance lost in thought, uninterrupted by the woman riding beside him. Upon gaining the forecourt, Michael watched the enamored stable lad run for Kathryn’s horse. When she blessed him with a gracious smile, the boy flushed from his head clear down his shirt. He could not be more than eleven or twelve and thankfully, the lad’s look was worshipful rather than lustful. But when Kathryn leaned down and whispered something to the boy, Michael felt a ridiculous pang of jealousy run down his spine. He knew better than to ask her what she had said but he could imagine she was giving loving, supportive thanks to the boy in that incredibly warm way she had of endearing people to her. Bloody hell.
She caught his eye at that moment. Michael realized that his social mask must have slipped and she saw something he did not want her to recognize. He knew jealousy well and it was unattractive, he certainly did not want her to see it in him. Stiffening, he announced, “My lady, now that you have charmed the tenants and the staff, it is time for you to retire for a well earned rest. We shall dine at seven o’clock and I will in the meantime see to that entertainment I promised.”
“Would it be horribly unsporting of me to ask what kind of 50
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entertainment?”
He hid a smile at her attempt to sound like him. “Your accent is coming along, but no, dear lady, it must be a surprise. Do you like them?
Surprises I mean?”
“Very much. I also like parties and birthdays and Christmas. I’m a very festive person.”
“Well, then you shall not be disappointed.” He brought her diminutive hand to his lips letting them linger just a moment longer than proper as he stroked her palm with his thumb. She smelled of saddle leather, people, and life.
* * * *
Kathryn forced herself to take the stairs one at a time. In truth, she was probably tired enough to crawl after her miles of walking, then riding behind Michael on his horse, then the hours riding on her own mount, and endless conversations with so many different people -- but she was too excited to give in to her growing list of aches and pains. This had been one o
f the most interesting days of her life. The tenants, their problems, and how Michael fairly beamed at her success with them pumped her up. This afternoon she finally felt like she had done something worthy of all the effort he and his staff had gone to on her behalf. She had not spent any time on her own very real problem though, a wave of guilt roiling up in her stomach at the thought. How the heck was she going to get home from this dream world? Lost in thoughts of missing Christine and her job and all of those who would be frantic over her disappearance, Kathryn missed the landing for her room and ended up one floor above her own. Not realizing her mistake, she reached for the knob and opened the door into what was clearly not the Dowager’s bedroom she had been assigned. This was a sitting room, shrouded in darkness, with old-fashioned furniture and smelling oddly of mold.
Kathryn began to back out the door when she heard the voice. “I saw you.”
Who? His sister? “Hello, I’m Kathryn.”
“I’ve heard.” The voice was almost a whisper but heavy, sad.
“Are you Michael’s sister? Cassandra?”
“Yes.” One word answers. Great. Kathryn thought and moved into the room.
“May I come in? I’d be thrilled to meet you.” She couldn’t however say that she had heard so much about her since Michael had said almost nothing but that she was ill and an unqualified chaperone.
“Please.” The word was resigned and as heavy and sad as the first 51
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she had spoken. Then she said nothing more. Kathryn decided that she would go forward with Cassandra as she had with the tenants, naturally and unassuming. “I apologize for not coming to visit you upon first arriving at the house. I seem to barely find my way around and am constantly having to be shuffled back to wherever I am supposed to be. I have to admit that I actually found you by accident today.”
“Rarely anyone finds me. My footman and my maid know where I am but everyone else leaves me alone.”
“Why is that?” It was the bold frontal approach that her instincts and training told Kathryn would have the best chance of success with this delicate bird.
“They think I am crazy and are afraid to upset me.”
“Why do they think that? You being crazy I mean?”
“Probably because after my husband’s death, I tried to kill myself.”
“Kill yourself? Wow. That probably would make me concerned for your safety too.”
Cassandra was regarding her through eyes blacker than her brother’s, her pale skin almost translucent, the bones of her face evident.
She clearly never got any sun or exercise, probably hadn’t been outside in days. Only her hair shone healthy. Its blackness glowed almost blue in the dim light.
There was a saying Kathryn recalled about being killed or judged or something like that for a sheep as a wolf or some such so she went forward boldly again. “I can imagine that losing your husband was terribly difficult but killing yourself would not bring him back.”
“No, but I did not want to do it because I missed him. I did it to try to punish him, or at least his family.”
“What did he do to you?” Kathryn whispered. She could see those obsidian eyes lighting and warming to her subject now that she had gotten her admission off her chest. “I’d be very comfortable listening.”
“He humiliated me in the most disgusting of ways that a husband could humiliate a wife.” She paused and Kathryn wondered if she would continue. “He actually fought with another man over his mistress and got himself shot in the process.”
“Was it in a duel?”
“Of sorts. It seems that Edward was not ready to give her up even though another unmarried protector was nosing around. She had hopes of choosing a protector that would one day flout society and marry her as she was and when Edward married me, she wanted to move on.” She paused thoughtfully and regarded Kathryn’s expression. “I can see you’re probably wondering how I know this.”
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“Yes. I had gotten the feeling that men around here are very private, especially I imagine about mistress dealings.”
“After he died, she told me. She thought it might be easier on me to really hate him rather than grieve over him. In a rather twisted way, it probably was a blessing, because from that moment on I was determined to have some sort of revenge for what he’d done.”
“Did you know he had the mistress when you married?”
“No. I was nineteen and naïve. I was a highly sought after prize and my father pushed me toward Edward as first son of an Earl with vast holdings. I recall at the time that I was sure he would love me and come to that conclusion very quickly. Why would he not?”
“Of course.” Why would he not?
When she did not continue right away, Kathryn saw for the first time, the wistful look of a young woman who had believed in the dream of a happy marriage only to find betrayal at such a young age. She could not be any older than Kathryn herself. “I believe he loved his mistress.
She told me that he had professed his love but had married me anyway.
She had tried to convince him to marry her, that because he was the only son, his father wouldn’t disown him. We agreed he must have been too cowardly. So instead, he married brilliantly – a woman of means who would allow him to continue his adultery after marriage.”
“Did you have sex with him?” The provocative questions kept her talking so this one just seemed natural.
“On our wedding night, he came to my room and took my virginity but it was rough and callous and I hurt for days. I woke to his being gone in the night. I believe he went to her for satisfaction. We never had… sex again.”
“Wasn’t he even concerned with an heir?” Kathryn tried not too sound as surprised a she felt.
“I suppose he would have got back to that eventually but he was so busy trying to keep his mistress that he didn’t have much time for me.”
“How long had you been married when he was killed?”
“Just over a year. It was the loneliest, most despairing time in my life. I didn’t know why he was rejecting me, just that he was. Gone all hours but keeping me almost captive in the house by refusing invitations.
It was as if he wanted to be sure I never got out and discovered what he was doing.” Cassandra trailed off.
“So what happened?”
“Since you seem to be able to handle all of this talk of mistresses without swooning, I shall tell you exactly what happened. There was a gun battle in her townhouse. I believe she finally wanted to rid herself of 53
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him and his possessiveness so she invited her new protector over to send him on his way. Words ensued and finally they drew pistols and shot. He must have been drunk or too outraged to aim properly and his bullet hit no one but did leave a hole in her plaster. The other man was deadly accurate.”
“And she told you all of this? I mean, I don’t doubt you, it’s just that it would seem like her new man would have gotten into trouble.”
“She knew no one would believe me, and her new protector had taken great pains to make it appear that it had been an accident. It sounds like quite an outrageous story now that I am repeating it to another human being.”
“It’s hard to believe someone thought that two men with guns in one woman’s apartment with one ending up dead had been an accident but I know from what I’ve read, the English male aristocrats seem to let each other get away with a lot.” Kathryn shook her head, digesting this tale.
“That is an understatement,” Cassandra said dryly. For this first time during their interview, her lips curved in what might have been thought to be a smile.
“So, mistress comes to unburden herself to you out of a sense of guilt or was it female compassion?”
“When she said she wanted me to hate him it was because she knew I would find out enough about his death to wonder, but not enough to be
angry. She thought I deserved to be let out of the agony of grieving for such a scoundrel. It was oddly kind of her but she probably also got some sick revenge too. I had married him after all.”
“So. No one tells publicly that your husband was fighting over a whore, no one is punished, and you’re supposed to be the grieving widow? I’ll bet you were pissed. Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to cuss.”
“No matter. That’s exactly how I felt and I was also at the mercy of his family. His father was not at all pleased to be stuck with caring for me since I had not bothered to bear him an heir in the whole year I was married to his son.”
“So, that guy was definitely an ass!” Kathryn cringed at her own cursing.
“I told him everything.” Her eyes and skin glowed as Cassandra made her triumphant announcement.
“What did he do?”
“He slapped me and told me to never utter one word against his son again,” she said scornfully.
“Oh, my gosh. So when you went to his father hoping they would admit what he had done he hit you. Then you tried to take your own life 54
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to punish him?
“Yes!”
“Brilliant but tragic solution, awfully Shakesperean for me,”
Kathryn offered.
“Just so, I made sure to leave notes in several places but alas, my brother intercepted me before I could complete my task.” She turned longingly toward an outside window that must have reminded her of him. “He had come back from the Continent for the funeral and came to visit me just as I was completing my letter to him. He was always able to read me very well and he could see something in my eyes that told him there was a different problem. I tried to hide it but he saw it. He pulled the letter from my hands and then carried me bodily from the room.”