An Earl Like No Other (18 page)

She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. She gave him a direct look tinged with sadness. “Jeremy, there can be no ‘next time.' ”

“What are you saying? Of course there can.”

She spoke slowly. “I . . . I think neither of us is the sort to indulge in—in reckless behavior.”

“Look. We—you and I—have something wonderful here. Something to treasure. I care for you and I think you care for me. We can be married within the month—sooner, with a special license.”

“M—married?” She sounded shocked. “We cannot marry.”

“Why not?”

“An earl would not marry his housekeeper.”

“This one would.”

“There would be a horrible scandal. All your plans for the earldom . . . And—and—there are other considerations.”

“Scandal be damned. It would blow over,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He paused. “ ‘Other considerations'? Like what? We are both free. Oh. Oh. You mean Robert. Oh, God! What have I done?”

“Robert?”

Ignoring what seemed like genuine surprise in her tone, he plunged on. “Robert and you. I knew there was something between you. And now we—I have—Ah, God forgive me!”

She jumped from the bed and stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “You think—You actually think,” she fairly sputtered, “that I would—that what just happened—Robert? Preposterous! Robert is my friend. A very dear friend. What a very high opinion you must have of me if you think I would—”

He wanted to laugh at the incongruity of her upbraiding him as she stood there stark naked, but then his sense of shame at having wronged his brother and his own temper rising in reaction to her scolding got the better of him.

“You must admit that it is a perfectly logical assumption.”

“A logical—Oh! This is too much.”

He too jumped from the bed and, mindful of her still tender hands, grabbed her by her upper arms. “A logical assumption,” he said through gritted teeth. “But be that as it may—we should marry.”

“Why?”

“Because, for one thing, I will not have a child of mine born on the wrong side of the blanket.”

She jerked away from him. “Well, why don't we just wait to see if that is even a possibility?” Her tone was icily sweet as she wrapped the robe around her, then stood frowning at him, gripping the folds of the garment at her chin.

“Fine,” he muttered. He pulled on his trousers and reached for his shirt. “We shall discuss this in the morning.”

“That will not be necessary.”

“Oh, yes it will.” He knew he was being childish in this need to have the last word, but damn it . . .

 

Kate heard the door click shut behind him, then slumped to the bed and let the tears flow. Panic seized her. “Oh, my God. I've ruined everything. Ned. We will have to leave. But where will we go? Where?”

She fumed and fretted in this manner for some minutes, then allowed common sense to assert itself. After all, Jeremy had said nothing of her leaving. In fact, he had mentioned marriage. What he had not mentioned was love. She knew from personal experience that the time-honored institution of marriage was difficult enough when two people loved and cherished each other. Of course, many a marriage was contracted on other principles, but she had no interest in finding out what it would be like without those key ingredients.

Besides, he merely wanted to ensure that his child would not be born a bastard. Even as this idea popped into her musings, she knew she was being unfair. He had been gentle and caring in his lovemaking. On some level, he genuinely cared for her—he had said as much, had he not? And was a child not a valid consideration? Of course it was. She squared her shoulders and dried her tears. Good grief. A single sexual encounter needn't necessarily result in a pregnancy. Two, her conscience chided—and all it takes is one.

For a while she let herself relive those glorious moments: his hands, his lips exploring her body; her eager responses. She blushed at remembering her own passion, that urgent need to connect with this particular man, to be connected to him in the most primal way. In that respect, you are little better than those randy widows soldiers used to make such fun of, she chastised herself.

Why
had she let this happen?

Part of the answer was that she had given in to her desire for him—for Jeremy. In doing so, had she now jeopardized Ned's welfare? The more complicated answer to the question of
why
, the more honest, more complete answer, was that she loved him. She cherished and respected his integrity, his loyalty, his gentle humor, his love for his daughter, his fondness for her son, his determination to do right by the people of Kenrick. Yes, she loved him. Hopelessly—for her very presence in his life was likely to bring disaster on him. Was she, in fact, about to invite calamity into the lives of the two people she loved most?

 

After a nearly sleepless night, Jeremy put aside not only his nervousness about meeting with Kate again, but his need to discuss the situation with Robert, and tried to immerse himself in estate business. He sat at his desk, not seeing the papers before him when Robert came in. Avoiding what was uppermost in his mind, he told Robert about his brief encounter with Mortimer, then turned to examining the books in light of the sale of the wool.

Jeremy ran a hand through his hair. “It cannot be done. I see no way to save us now.”

“We've yet to hear about those remaining ships,” Robert said. “They may still arrive to save our bacon.”

“We cannot count on that happening. Mortimer is right: Those ships too are likely at the bottom of the Indian Ocean. Moreover, we have no idea what—if any—profit we may realize if they do make it to the London docks.”

“There's still the money from my grandmother and from the sale of my commission.”

“No!” Jeremy said sharply, then immediately softened his tone. “We've been over this before, Robert. If we go under, that is all you will have to start over with.”

“And you will have nothing.”

“I'll be able to return to America. Astor will take me on again. Maybe you will want to join us.”

“Maybe. . . . Well, promise me this: If my money will make the difference—help us keep Kenrick—not just the name, but all of it—you will take it and never look back. After all, we agreed on a real partnership.”

“Deal,” Jeremy said. “If. It is a huge gamble, though” He ran his hand through his hair again. “God, how I hate this uncertainty.”

Now the uncertainty extended to Kate. He knew little of her ties in England. Would he be able to persuade her to join him if he returned to America?

After surveying all Kenrick's enterprises some weeks ago, the Chilton brothers had agreed that Robert would be the new Kenrick steward. In addition to a modest salary, he would have a percentage of overall profits—if there were any. In effect, the brothers had drawn up a partnership. Jeremy had insisted on their drafting a legal document. And so they had. Robert had collected the papers from Phillips a few days ago—along with a still hopeful letter that in effect said “no news is good news” regarding their investment in cargo ships.

“There is another matter I want to discuss with you,” Jeremy said. “It concerns Mrs. Arthur—”

But before he could continue, the sound of an arriving carriage with a large team and several outriders floated through the open French doors. Both brothers looked out to see what the commotion was.

“Do you recognize that crest—a rampant lion before crossed swords?” Jeremy asked and was surprised at seeing recognition and a profound sense of alarm on Robert's face.

“Oh, my God!” Robert said. “The Duke of Wynstan.”

A
s she oversaw the household routine the next morning, Kate pretended to herself that there had been little change in her status at Kenrick Hall. She met with gardeners who supplied the homegrown fruits and vegetables for the earl's table; she then conferred with Mrs. Jenkins about menus for the week, and set maids to turning mattresses, laundering bedding, and dusting furniture. None of the staff treated her differently; there were no sly glances, no sudden pauses in conversations when she approached. Her secret—hers and Jeremy's—seemed safe, and she hugged it to her.

She had not seen Jeremy yet and, after that quarrel, she was apprehensive about facing him. He was not a man to ignore an issue and pretend nothing was amiss. He would surely demand an explanation of her behavior. No matter how he might react to her deception, it was time—past time—to tell him the truth. She just had to find the right opportunity to do so.

It was mid-morning; Kate and Lady Elinor occupied padded straight-backed chairs as a small table in the morning room, so called because it faced east and caught the morning sun through tall windows. The family used it as an informal sitting room. Furnished for comfort rather than show and boasting light floral colors, it was Kate's favorite room in the Hall, even though it, like the rest of the house, showed signs of age and neglect: worn upholstery and sun-streaked draperies. Having dispensed with items from a day-old newspaper, Kate had just opened a new novel by Mrs. Edgeworth when Ned, closely followed by Cassie, burst into the room.

“Mama! Mama! He found us!”

Alerted by the alarm in her son's voice, Kate felt an answering frisson of fear—Ned's terror-filled reference to
he
could mean only one person. She sought to quell her own and Ned's emotions by speaking very calmly. “Good morning, Ned. Cassie.”

Ned grasped her arm and shook it. “The duke, Mama. He's here!”

“Oh, dear God, no.” The words exploded from her in a hoarse whisper before she could bring reason to control the fear.

“We saw the carriage. It's his crest. I saw the lion. Him too. He found us, Mama!”

Fear sought to grab and twist her innards; she fought nausea. Kate felt her life, her whole being crumbling as she put her arm around her son. “No. No.” The words now came as a soft wail. She hugged Ned tightly and, despite the chaos churning within her, pressed her forehead to his and said softly, “We must not panic.”

“What is it, my dear?” Lady Elinor asked.

“It's—it's Wynstan. He wants Ned,” Kate said without thinking to dissemble in answering.

“Wynstan? The Duke of Wynstan? Cedric Gardiner?” Lady Elinor was clearly mystified.

“Please, Mama. We can hide, can't we? Cassie knows a place.”

“Cassie knows a—? Cassie?” Lady Elinor shot a questioning look toward the little girl.

“In the dining room. There's a secret door.” Cassie had caught Ned's sense of urgency.

“Ah, the priest hole.” Lady Elinor calmly accepted and dealt with the excitement of the moment. “Cassie, my dear, why don't you show it to Ned while his mama and I sort this out? We shall call you when it is safe.”

Cassie shifted the ever-present Lady Lobo to one arm and grabbed Ned's hand. “Come on, Ned.”

“Mama?”

“I—it's all right, Ned.” Taking deep breaths, Kate was regaining control of herself. She patted him on the back. “You go along with Cassie until we call you.”

With a glance over his shoulder and reluctance in every step, Ned followed Cassie from the room.

Kate seized on the trivial to buy time to think. “There's a priest hole here in Kenrick Hall?”

Lady Elinor's matter-of-fact response barely registered as Kate frantically tried to think what to do. Her instinct was to grab Ned and just run. But where? How? She could achieve nothing alone.

“The first earl and his countess remained Catholic, though they publicly accepted the crown's new religion. Many people did, you know. But it was very dangerous in this area to receive church sacraments—hence a hiding place for a priest should they be interrupted.” Lady Elinor paused. She had clearly resorted to this history-book explanation to allow Kate to collect herself, for her voice now became more firm. “Now, Mrs. Arthur, it is time you explained yourself. And I want the truth—as will Jeremy.”

Kate sucked in a long, quavering breath. “It's a long story.”

“Begin with your connection to Wynstan.”

Kate took another deep breath. “My husband was Lord Arthur Gardiner, Wynstan's son.”

Lady Elinor's eyebrows shot up. “Good heavens! Go on.”

In a soft, resigned voice, wringing her hands nervously, Kate gave her a hurried summary of events that had brought her and Ned to Kenrick Hall. Occasionally, the older woman interrupted with a question or a comment, but mostly she just listened. When Kate finished, Lady Elinor sat quietly. Kate sat in misery and sheer terror at the thought of losing Ned. She had been so sure they would be safe for a while longer.

Finally, Lady Elinor asked, “Do Jeremy and Robert know all this?”

“Robert does. Jer—Lord Kenrick does not—or did not. I imagine he is being informed right now of what an imposter he has been harboring.” Kate swallowed hard and clenched her hand on the table. “I did not know what else to do. I could not—cannot—allow the duke to mistreat my son.” She fought tears of despair.

Lady Elinor reached across to pat Kate's hand. “Of course not. But, my goodness, what a predicament this is. Do you realize how it may affect Jeremy?”

“At first, I did not think of that at all. I just wanted Ned to be safe. I never counted the cost to others. But lately—Oh, Lady Elinor, what am I to do?”

Again the older woman patted Kate's hand. “Let's just see what happens. Jeremy and Robert are very capable men. Your son is safe for the time being.”

Still apprehensive, but grateful for the older woman's sympathy, Kate gripped the hand of friendship. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Further conversation was cut short by the appearance of Wilkins, who announced, “Mrs. Arthur, his lordship wishes to see you in the library.”

“I am coming with you,” Lady Elinor said.

 

Jeremy turned from the scene out the window to look intently at Robert. “Wynstan? You know him?”

“Know of him. He's here about Kate.”

“Kate?”

“Kate. She needs our help, Jeremy. We both owe her. We must protect her. We must.”

A sense of urgency swept from Robert to Jeremy, where it quickly blended with apprehension and anger.

“Kate? Kate needs protection? From a duke? What does that mean? Just what the hell is going on?”

“Just trust me, all right?” Robert begged over the furious knocking at the door. “Trust her.”

Jeremy ran a hand through his hair. “Trust. There seems to have been an amazing lack of that commodity around here lately.”

An open door from the library to the entrance hall allowed Jeremy and Robert to hear clearly an imperious male voice.

“Inform your master that the Duke of Wynstan wishes to see him immediately.”

Jeremy stepped into the hall. “That will not be necessary, Wilkins.” He then quietly instructed Wilkins to locate Mrs. Arthur.

Two men stood before him, but Jeremy had no difficulty distinguishing between them. The duke was a tall, thin man with a shock of thick white hair and heavy black eyebrows over granite-hard, almost black eyes. A square jaw and thin lips did little to soften one's impression. He was dressed in black and carried an ebony cane, though he held himself erect. The other man, heavier, and not as tall or as forbidding in demeanor, wore the signature red vest of a Bow Street Runner.

“I demand that you produce my grandson this instant,” the duke said.

“How do you do, your grace? Welcome to Kenrick Hall,” Jeremy said with exaggerated politeness and extended his hand. “I am Kenrick. This is my brother, the Honorable Robert Chilton.”

Wynstan ignored the proffered hand. “I know who you are. And I know you are sheltering that slut who kidnapped my grandson. I have come to retrieve him and Hoskins here has a warrant from the London magistrate for her arrest.”

Jeremy assumed a haughty attitude to match that of his boorish guest. “I am not accustomed, your grace, to allowing demeaning references to women in my home, nor to discussing important matters in my entrance hall. Please step into the library.” He shot Robert a questioning glance and mouthed the question,
His grandson?

Robert nodded glumly. Suddenly much that had puzzled Jeremy about his housekeeper and her son fell into place. But he still had a number of questions and he thought he might thoroughly throttle her once this was over. He had no doubt she was the boy's mother, but what was her relationship to the duke? Surely the man would not refer to his own daughter in such coarse terms. But just as surely Kate—his Kate—was a woman of quality; her education and speech proclaimed her such. She had deceived him profoundly, but he was damned if he would allow this man—duke or not—to mistreat her, nor to ride roughshod over someone under even the unknowing protection of the Earl of Kenrick.

Jeremy gestured to seats for their guests as Robert closed the library door. The duke looked around the room disparagingly and seemed to be withholding himself from the shabby elegance he saw. When Robert too was seated, Jeremy said, “Would you care to explain what, exactly, you are doing here, your grace?”

“I told you,” Wynstan replied in the same superior tone. “Hoskins, you tell him in the simple terms he might understand.”

The Runner looked uncomfortable, but explained as though he were reading a report. “After an exhaustive investigation, we have determined that the woman passing herself off as ‘Mrs. Arthur' here at Kenrick Hall is, in fact, Lady Arthur Gardiner, widow of Lord Arthur Gardiner, youngest son of the Duke of Wynstan. The child Edward Arthur Gardiner is the Marquis of Spenland, heir to the Duke of Wynstan.”

Jeremy looked at Robert for confirmation, but he knew, even before seeing Robert's nod, that it was true.

The Runner went on in the same rote tone: “As head of the family and in the absence of the child's father, the Duke of Wynstan is asserting his legal right to take charge of said child. He has sworn out a warrant for the woman's arrest.”

“I am having her transported,” Wynstan said. “Teach that baggage to cross swords with
me
.”

“Careful of your language,” Jeremy said softly. “Another slur, and, duke or not, I will have you thrown out of my home.”

Red with outrage, the duke spit his words sliced through clenched jaws. “You would not dare such. Do you even know with whom you are dealing?”

“I am fully aware of who you are, but as a guest in my home—invited or not—you will behave accordingly.”

“Just produce the woman and the child and let us get this over with,” the duke ordered.

Robert addressed the Bow Street Runner. “Mr. Hoskins, I am sure you have a much better acquaintance with the law than I have, but have Lord Spenland's guardians been contacted in this matter?”

“Guardians?” The man looked in surprise at Wynstan. “Why—we assumed the duke had full legal standing. Male head of the family and all, you know.”

Robert replied, “I happen to know that Lord Spenland's father appointed two respected and responsible gentlemen to serve as his surrogates should he be unable to manage his son's affairs.”

“This certainly sheds a different light on the picture. You did not tell us this when you swore out that warrant, your grace,” the Runner accused.

The duke issued a contemptuous snort. “Of course I did not do so. It was irrelevant. My position supersedes a scribbled paper.” He turned to Jeremy. “Now will you produce the—uh—woman and the boy, or must I have this place ransacked looking for them?”

“You will do no such thing,” Jeremy said. “You would need an army for such an endeavor, and I assure you those outriders who accompanied you would not be sufficient to the task. Nor will Mrs. Arthur—Lady Arthur—go anywhere against her will.”

“I demand you require that woman's presence here and now.” The duke rapped his cane against the floor. “And Hoskins, you are to arrest her forthwith.”

“I cannot do that, your grace, until we know the legal status of guardianship,” Hoskins said.

The duke turned to Jeremy. “Bah! Send for her! Now!”

“I am right here, your grace.”

Kate, accompanied by Lady Elinor, stepped through the door.

 

The men, even the duke, stood as the women entered, though Kate noted that Wynstan studiously ignored her. She saw him frown in confusion at Lady Elinor and then turn away from her. When the women were seated, Kate ventured a look at Jeremy, but it was difficult to read his expression. However, she had heard enough of the conversation to know that he would not allow the duke free reign.

The duke, who remained standing, pointed an accusing finger at Kate and glared at her. “You! Who do you think you are, spiriting away my heir as you did?”

“I am his mother,” she said simply. “And I shall continue to do all I can to protect him from being abused by you—or anyone else, for that matter. He has been happy here. Children should be allowed to be happy.”

He responded with another derisive snort. “Happy! The boy needs discipline and training if he is to one day take my place. Discipline and training. And I intend to see he gets them.”

“Over my dead body,” Kate snapped.

“Oh, I shouldn't think it would come that,” the duke said with a mirthless chuckle. His next words were stones flung directly at her heart. “But you
will
be out of the picture. The penal colony in New South Wales.”

Kate felt an icy shiver course through her. She knew it was very possible for this cold specimen of humanity to achieve just such an end.