An Earl Like No Other (11 page)

“But very beautiful.” Lady Elinor said. “Very beautiful.”

“Yes, indeed, Mrs. Arthur. You are a woman full of surprises. Where did you learn to sing like that?” He held her gaze for a long moment and this time he saw it. Was that anxiety, perhaps fear, in her eyes?

She shrugged. “Here and there. The family circle, you know. All girls learn to sing.”

Not like that, he told himself. Not like that. That voice had a very good coach at some point, but he kept this thought to himself.

 

Feeling faintly apprehensive, Kate busied herself with the task of gathering up the picnic paraphernalia. After a moment, Lord Kenrick rose and said, “The sun is getting quite low. Come, Thomas, let's see to the team.”

“Rosie,” Kate said, “your skirt may be dry enough to wear now.”

Rosie checked the skirt and pronounced it damp but wearable. She put the dress back on and returned to help Kate finish gathering things together. By the time the men brought the team and carriage around, all was readied.

“This has been a most delightful day,” Lady Elinor said as Lord Kenrick helped her into the carriage. “I do thank each and every one of you.”

“See? I told you you'd love it,” her nephew said.

She caressed his chin and said quietly, but with a laugh, “Jeremy, dear, no one likes an
I-told-you-so
.”

Kate smiled at this and on the return journey tried to keep up her end of casual conversation with Lady Elinor, but found her mind repeating his lordship's question: “Where did you learn to sing like that?”

Could he tell she had had superior training? Her father had been an unforgiving tyrant, showing little affection to any of his children, but he recognized talent when he saw it and insisted that it be nurtured. No, a few folk songs could not reveal so much. It was not as though she had been warbling operatic arias. She dismissed the worry and fell to agreeing with Lady Elinor about what a wonderful day it had been.

As they approached Kenrick Hall, a traveling coach was pulling up to the door. Lord Kenrick stopped behind it, turned his own reins over to Thomas, and jumped down to help his passengers alight. A tall man emerged from the other vehicle and called out, “Jeremy! Oh, I say! Perfect timing, eh?”

Kate felt herself freeze inside.

No! This couldn't be happening.

But it was.

She kept her head down, foolishly hoping her mobcap afforded some cover, and instructed Rosie to take the children up to the nursery.

“Both of them?” Rosie asked.

“For the moment. I shall come for Ned as soon as I can.” She could not just desert Lady Elinor.

“Bobby!” Lord Kenrick grasped his brother's outstretched hand, then enclosed him in a bear hug. “I did not expect you until next week!”

“You know how government works—its clocks have different timing mechanisms than those of ordinary folk.” Robert Chilton looked over his brother's shoulder and spied their aunt. “Aunt Elinor! You are still the most beautiful girl in Yorkshire!”

“Oh, go on with you, you honey-tongued devil, you.” She hugged him and Kate saw tears on her cheeks.

Kate tried desperately to make herself least seen, but Robert Chilton spied her and took a step toward her.

“What the—? Kate? Kate, is that you? By Jove! Lady Arthur! I never thought to see you here!”

K
ate's mind was in a whirl. Robert faced her; Lord Kenrick was slightly in front of her, his eyes focused on his brother.

Lord Kenrick's brows shot upwards. “
Lady
Arthur?”

Kate tried to convey her sense of urgency with a warning look to Robert even as she answered Lord Kenrick in a light tone. “Oh, pay that no mind, my lord. It was a silly game we played on the Peninsula. You must know how utterly bored soldiers can get—even officers.” She shook her finger at Robert. “And
you
must know these games do not play well at home where imaginary titles are frowned upon.”

Robert's eyes widened in astonishment. “Imagi—. Oh. Right. I was just so surprised to see you.”

“And I, you, Captain Chilton,” she said. “It is a real pleasure and I do hope we will have an opportunity later to catch each other up. Right now you must be anxious to renew your acquaintance with your family.”

Another gentleman emerged from the traveling coach and Robert quickly introduced him as Captain Ralph Clemson. “He joined the regiment just in time for that little dustup at Waterloo,” Robert explained and made the man known to his brother and his aunt. He then turned to Kate, who was holding her breath against another faux pas that could bring down her house of cards. “Unfortunately, Clemson, you missed knowing our ‘Angel of the Forty-sixth.' ”

“Mrs. Arthur. I am the housekeeper here at Kenrick Hall,” Kate offered, with a brief curtsy and a glance at Robert to be sure he had absorbed her name and position.

“Pleasure.” Clemson nodded in her direction.

Wilkins and a footman appeared to help with the luggage.

“We should move indoors,” Lord Kenrick said, offering his arm to his aunt. “I am sure Mrs. Arthur will see to some refreshments for us.”

“Yes, my lord.” Kate was glad to make her escape, but also worried that Robert might let something slip before she could talk with him. And what might Captain Clemson know of the Angel of the 46th?

She saw to it that refreshments were taken to the drawing room and that a suitable supper would appear in due time. It was a point of pride with her that Lord Kenrick's household not be found deficient on any score. Trying not to allow herself to become obsessed with worry, she kept very busy for the entire evening.

 

It was late before Jeremy had any time alone with his brother. Lady Elinor had excused herself immediately after the evening meal, saying she had had a long day. The gentlemen then sat for a long while at the dining table over port and brandy, sharing stories of their separate adventures of several years and on two continents. At first, Jeremy had privately wondered about the sort of person an adult Robert might have become. After all, his younger brother had been a mere schoolboy when Jeremy had seen him last. He was pleased to find his doubts were groundless. The three men established an easy rapport and talked for a long while before Captain Clemson politely left the two Chilton brothers to cap the evening.

Jeremy and Robert moved into the family drawing room and were ensconced in comfortable chairs, their last drinks in hand when Jeremy turned to the topic that had niggled at the fringes of his consciousness since that scene at his brother's arrival.

“So—Bobby. You knew my housekeeper in the Peninsula.”

“Jeremy, I haven't been
Bobby
in over a decade,” his brother protested. “And I think our sister has been Margaret lo! these many years, though I did enjoy twitting her about ‘Mags' when I visited.” He had mentioned earlier his visiting the Talbots.

“All right.
Robert.
I shall try to remember.” Jeremy suspected the younger man deliberately avoided the question, and he was not inclined to allow that. “Mrs. Arthur? The Peninsula?”

“Ah, yes. Kate. We called her the Angel of the Forty-sixth. That little woman showed more courage and fortitude during the entire campaign than any six fighting men!”

“Is that so?”

“Saved lives too. Some women—especially officers' wives—complained and carried on. But Kate—she helped the medical people. I know of at least three fellows who would not be treading the earth today but for her.”

“Is that so?” Jeremy said again, trying to be encouraging.

“That
is
so,” Robert said firmly and sipped his drink. “She saved my arm! Blasted surgeon wanted to lop it off here.” He pointed to a spot above his right elbow. “Kate persuaded him to wait. She cleaned the wound herself, applied poultices and such for over a week. So . . . I'm here, and I'm still right-handed. Thanks to her.”

“Impressive. But what do you know of her background?”

“What do
you
know?” Robert parried.

“Well, I admit to knowing precious little. I was desperate, you see.” He explained the circumstances of hiring Mrs. Arthur. “I trusted Phillips. I trusted her, in fact, but as I look back on it, I had little real information. She is a soldier's widow; she was forthright about her son; she did not mind removing to Yorkshire; she came from the South of England; and she's done an exemplary job since she came here. Oh, and she worked for a duke. So—what can you tell me about her?”

“She worked for—”

“For a duke.”

Jeremy watched an unreadable flurry of thoughts and emotions flit across his brother's expression before Robert looked away.

After a long pause, Robert said, “She comes from Cornwall—or Surrey. I forget which. Father was a country squire and a high stickler. Disowned her when she married against his wishes. Husband's family disowned him too, but he was able to buy a commission.” There was another pause. “That's about all I can tell you.”

“
Can
or
will
?” Jeremy suspected there was more—much more—that Robert could tell him.

Robert shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “At the moment,
can
. I owe her too much not to respect her privacy.”

Jeremy smiled, torn between admiring his brother's loyalty to a friend and his own intense curiosity. “I can accept that. Mind you, I am not satisfied—far from it, in fact—but I respect your position.” He decided to let the matter drop for now. “So, you've seen the inimitable Maggie—uh, Margaret—and her lot. Have you seen your mother?”

“Oh, yes. Clemson and I stopped in Bath a few days before coming up here.” Robert drained his glass and waved away Jeremy's offer of a refill. “Mother is, as you can imagine, not best pleased with you.”

“I know. I have a note from her every few weeks or so telling me that Bath is just not London. I offered her the dower house here, but she said, ‘Society in Bath is decidedly inferior, but society in Yorkshire is nonexistent!' ”

“That's my mama.” Robert sported an understanding grin.

“To be perfectly honest, Robert, I
had
to let the London house. If certain other ventures don't go well, I am likely to lose it anyway. Hell and damnation! I'm in real danger of losing everything. Amelia will still have her fortune, though, and she can live comfortably forever in Bath. Your grandfather knew what he was about in negotiating her marriage settlements with our father.”

“He was a sharp one, all right. But I'm sorry to hear matters are so lean with you.”

“It will work out—or it won't.” Jeremy stifled a yawn. “Before we call it a day, what about you: What are your plans?”

“Clemson and I are on a sort of reconnoitering tour.”

“Oh?”

“We are both keen on selling out. His grandmother left him a holding in Scotland. He'll be going on alone in a few days to check it out.”

“And after you sell your commission?”

“I could live for a while on the proceeds. Also, both Margaret and I had modest legacies from our maternal grandmother.” He shrugged.

“I see.”

“Made the settlements easier for Margaret's marriage. But I think Talbot would have had her in sackcloth.” Robert chuckled, “Still would too.”

“They are quite taken with each other,” Jeremy agreed, feeling a twinge of envy as he thought fleetingly of his own marriage to the captivating and capricious Willow. “So,” he said, again shifting the topic, “you're set to become a true Corinthian, eh?”

Robert snorted. “Hardly. I won't be
that
plump in the pocket. Or such a fribble. God knows this family has had enough of those.”

The next day the three gentlemen went out shooting early in the morning. Privately, Kate thought it a deal of foolishness when one thought of the paltry number of fowl they were likely to produce for the table. Chicken was more available, was a more versatile dish, and tastier besides. Still, the men would have their sport. Throughout the morning she fretted silently and, though she tried not to let her anxiety spill into her dealings with others, it was inevitable that it do so.

When Rosie made some trivial comment about yesterday's embarrassment, Kate snapped at her, “Do try to be less absorbed with yourself.”

The maid looked hurt, mumbled, “Yes, ma'am,” and scurried away. Kate immediately felt contrite.
Self-absorbed? Look who's talking
, she told herself and resolved to make it up to Rosie later.

She also snapped at Ned, who pestered to be able to play with a bow and arrow. “No. I haven't time this morning and there's no one else to set up a target and supervise.”

“I don't need a target set up. I'll be careful.”

“I said
no!
Go do the page of sums I gave you.”

“I already did,” he said resentfully.

“Cassie will be down soon for the riding lesson. Go and change your clothes so you can join her.”

This met with less resentment and Kate was glad to know that Ned and Cassie would be looked after very well by the stable crew for a while.

Since Cranstan's leaving, Kate had assumed some of the responsibilities for Lady Cassandra's care. Rosie had been appointed temporary nursery maid, seeing to the little girl's routine physical care and sleeping in an adjoining room in the nursery suite to be on call. Still, Kate had to supervise Rosie. His lordship had mentioned the need for a “real” nursemaid, but then his brother had arrived and God alone knew when—or if—the vacancy would be filled.

Kate knew that to a certain extent she was dwelling on the issue of Lady Cassandra's care to distract herself from her own problems: a Bow Street Runner trying to find her, and what Robert Chilton might reveal to his brother.

By mid-morning, the gentlemen had returned from their shooting expedition with a few ducks and a goose for the Kenrick table. After a late breakfast, Captain Clemson was writing letters, and Lord Kenrick was engaged in some paperwork of his own. With the children now occupied, Kate seized the chance to talk with Robert.

She found him sitting in a wicker chair in the back garden, smoking a cheroot. “I hope I'm not intruding.”

“Not at all,” he replied. “I was hoping for a chance to speak with you. Have you time for a little stroll?”

“Of course.”

When they were out of earshot of any chance listener, he said, “All right, Kate. Out with it. Tell me what is going on with you. Last I heard, you and Ned were at Wynstan Castle—and here I find a member of a duke's family as my brother's
housekeeper
? Incredible!”

“I suppose it does seem that way.” As they walked slowly along the garden paths, she explained briefly the circumstances of her being where she was and what she was.

“And you had no alternative?”

“None that I could see. The law favors men over women, you know, and a powerful duke, well . . .” Her voice trailed off in despair.

“What about your family? Surely after all this time—”

“My father's response would be ‘You made your bed—now you must lie in it.'
If
he deigned to respond at all. Nor would he ever even
think
of defying a duke. He was very emphatic in washing his hands of me when Arthur and I returned from eloping to Gretna Green.”

“Why? Most fathers would rant a bit, but then they'd come around.”

“Not mine,” she said bitterly. “He sets great store by orders of precedence in society. He refused permission for the marriage merely because he knew Wynstan disapproved.”

“And Wynstan disapproved because—?”

“Because he
always
disapproved whatever Arthur wanted to do. And because the daughter of a mere country squire could never measure up to his expectations for his family connections. He is quite pretentious about his position in society, you see. Also, he had chosen a wife for Arthur: the daughter of an earl who was to inherit a property adjoining Wynstan's main holding. Wynstan hates—positively hates—having his wishes thwarted. He simply will not tolerate opposition.”