An Earl Like No Other (19 page)

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Cedric. You always were an outrageous bully, but this is quite beyond enough.” Lady Elinor's outburst focused surprised attention on her.

A deep flush suffused the duke's face as he peered more closely at the source of this affront to his person. “Eh? Who? Oh, I say—it—it cannot be. Lady Elinor Chilton?”

“Elinor Baxter, you old curmudgeon. As you well know. After all these years, you still think you can dictate to everyone. Browbeat people enough and they fall like dominoes, eh?”

“Well, I—I—”

“You could not dictate to Baxter and me years ago, and believe me, you cannot dictate here, either.”

Kate watched, mesmerized, as Wynstan engaged in an internal struggle to regain the upper hand. Surprise, chagrin, and arrogance flashed across his features. Vindictiveness won.

“We shall see who has the final say on this matter,” he threatened. “The law is likely to take a very dim view of a woman's grabbing a child from his ancestral home to take up residence in the establishment of an unmarried man. It's indecent, I tell you.”

“Here, now—” Robert interjected.

Jeremy stood and held up a hand to halt any further outburst from the duke. “That's enough, Wynstan. You've gone too far. Too far by half.”

Lady Elinor sat up straighter. Her voice dripped honey and vinegar. “And you forget, Cedric, that I am very much a part of this household. I do hope you are not attempting to question
my
character. I doubt our mutual friends in the ton would tolerate that.”

“Oh, for—” The duke swallowed the rest of the utterance, then raised his cane and shook it at the lot of them. “Mark my words, one way or another that child will be returned to my management.”

Kate felt a shiver of premonition. Instinctively, she looked at Jeremy, who gave her a slight nod as he took a stance at the fireplace, resting his arm along the mantel.

“Nothing will be resolved here and now,” he said. “It will take a few days to get the legalities of this matter sorted out. Meanwhile Mrs.—Lady—Arthur and her son will stay where they are. And you, your grace, may find accommodation to your liking at the Kenrick Inn in town. I would offer you the hospitality of Kenrick Hall, but under the circumstances, I feel sure you would be more comfortable elsewhere.”

Jeremy's tone left no room for quibbling and Kate felt a twinge of satisfaction at this slight to the duke's consequence.

Her satisfaction was short-lived, for as soon as the door closed on the departing duke and his companion, Jeremy's rather enigmatic gaze shifted from Kate to Robert and back to Kate. She squirmed inwardly, wishing this moment could have been avoided.

“
Lady
Arthur, Robert,” he said, laying an ironic twist to her title, “I believe Aunt Elinor and I are entitled to some sort of explanation.”

His voice was calm, detached, but Kate wished she knew what he thought, what he felt.

 

What Jeremy thought, what he felt as she told her story could be summed up in a single word:
betrayal
.

Amelia.

Willow.

Kate.

Three women he had cared for—and each of them had betrayed him. Even as he listened to Kate's story, he recalled his earlier misjudgments of women in his life.

So what if his feelings for Amelia amounted to adolescent infatuation—a boy naively equating physical beauty and an unassailable position in his father's household with perfection in character? His stepmother had found his puppy-like adoration amusing, his innocence laughable.

And then there had been Willow. She of the laughing brown eyes, she who clutched and clawed at life, demanding, taking whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. He had been so utterly bewitched by her, so thrilled to have been what she wanted—that it had not occurred to him that she was capricious in her desires. In looking back, he did not doubt that she had loved him—in her fashion. But Willow was incapable of committing herself for long to anyone or anything. For her, the chase itself was the very stuff of life. He knew that much of the fault had lain with him, with his failure to understand her character. Willow's mother had tried to warn him.

“My daughter is very free-spirited, Mr. Chilton. She doesn't always choose wisely.”

“And you view me as a bad choice?” he had asked.

“No. On the contrary. I think you the best choice she has ever made. I just hope—I pray—she will be satisfied—that you will both be happy.”

They had been—for a while. He supposed, with the benefit of hindsight, that each of them had found the other exotic and fascinating. When the novelty wore off for her, Willow had been unable to settle for what had by then become familiar. What might have given comfort, she found tiresome. He sensed her restlessness, but felt powerless to deal with it. Then she became pregnant. Jeremy had longed for a child; Willow saw motherhood as a trap. It was all his fault, of course, for Willow was incapable of owning her share of blame for anything. He had often wondered if matters might have been different had Willow had a chance to know her daughter—or would she have come to resent her child as much as she had her husband?

And now Kate.

He had allowed it to happen again.

Would he never learn?

“So, there you have it,” Kate said, interrupting his musings. “I hope, my lord, that you will not harbor any resentment toward Robert for agreeing to keep my secret.”

“I think,” Jeremy said slowly, feeling his way in this morass, “that it is not Robert's behavior that is in question.”

Lady Elinor interjected, “But surely, Jeremy, you can see Mrs. Arthur's—Lady Arthur's position. Imagine if someone tried to take Cassie from us.”

“Kate,” said Lady Arthur. “Just Kate, please.”

Jeremy gave her an oblique look and, seeing her blush, knew they were both remembering his use of her name just last night. He ran his hand through his hair and looked at both Robert and Kate.

“Are you sure about this business of guardianship?”

Kate nodded. “Yes. Since he could not give a mere woman legal authority, Arthur appointed his friends Mr. Phillips and Major Lawrence.”

Robert rose to place a reassuring hand on Kate's shoulder. “I was there when Arthur received the papers in the regimental mail. Said he wanted me to see them as an extra precaution.”

Noting the gesture, Jeremy said, “Nevertheless, Wynstan seems a very determined man. And you know what they say about possession being eleven parts of the law. We should curtail morning rides for the children—at least temporarily.”

Fear flashed in Kate's eyes. “Yes! Wynstan can be very determined. He is used to getting what he wants.”

“We shall do our best to protect your son, Mrs.—uh—Kate,” Jeremy assured her.

“That we will,” Robert affirmed.

“I fear all three of you are overlooking something,” Lady Elinor said. They turned expectant gazes toward her. “Wynstan's slur about this being a bachelor household. My presence does lend a degree of propriety, but there is likely to be a great deal of gossip. Wynstan will see to it—out of sheer spite, if nothing else. He has done it before. He will do all in his power to sway public opinion. And he
is
very powerful.”

Robert shrugged. “So? People always have to have something to talk about in Yorkshire. Especially in Yorkshire.”

“So—this sort of talk could be very damaging to Kate, to her case, if it goes to court,” Lady Elinor said. “What is more, the Kenrick name is likely to be muddied—yet again. Since the situation involves a person of Wynstan's rank, the talk most assuredly will not be confined to Yorkshire.”

“But—but, as you told Wynstan, you have been here all along,” Robert said.

“I was trying to divert him, but I doubt that a chaperone will account for much in ton circles,” his aunt responded. “The vultures love gossip—the more salacious, the better.”

“Oh, I am so sorry, my lord.” Kate sounded devastated. “I never intended—I just wanted—”

“Well,” Robert said, taking a practical tone and pacing about the room, “I suppose if one of us married her, that would solve the problem.”

For a long moment no one said anything, then Kate spoke.

“Robert Chilton!” Her tone was a blend of anger and amusement. “If that is a marriage proposal, I do most heartily reject it!”

“Why? What do you find objectionable in me?” Robert asked.

Despite the underlying gravity of the situation, the other three laughed at Robert's little-boy-hurt expression and tone. Perhaps a bit of comic relief
was
in order, Jeremy thought.

Her amusement still very evident, Kate said, “Because, you lovable looby, you don't love me. Nor can I love you—at least not in the way a wife should love a husband.”

Welcoming this information, yet still torn by his own conflicting emotions, Jeremy said, “Well, that leaves me.”

Kate held his gaze for a long moment, her expression unreadable. She rose and smoothed her skirt. “Let us hope such a drastic step is unnecessary, though I do appreciate the willingness—of both of you—to make such a sacrifice. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I must go and rescue Ned and Cassie from the priest hole.”

When she had gone, Robert escorted Lady Elinor for a stroll in the garden, and Jeremy stayed in the library, feeling the full weight of the morning's disclosures.

So his housekeeper was a member of one of the most eminent families in the realm. Her son—Cassie's playmate—was heir to a duke. So much for even a remote possibility of taking her and Ned with him to America.

They had stormed into his life under false pretenses.

She had been dishonest.

A sin of omission, he temporized.

A sin nevertheless, a streak of stubbornness insisted.

And he was damned if he was ready to forgive her.

Besides, there was still the matter of the duke.

Not to mention Mortimer, debt, threats, that mysterious fire—and the price of wool.

A
few hours later, Kate's earlier self-congratulations on seeing no change in her status in Kenrick Hall seemed a joke worthy of the gods themselves, for now the staff did, indeed, treat her differently. There were definite signs that the news had raced through the Hall: sudden pauses in conversations, speculative looks, confusion in greeting her with bows, curtsies, stumbling over her title. She was sad at losing all that she had achieved in the way of trust and rapport with other staff members.

She sought to put others at ease by carefully treating them with the same understanding and respect as always. She sought to quell her fear and uncertainty by taking refuge in mundane tasks. This ploy proved only partly successful in calming her inner turmoil. What should she do? What
could
she do? Grab Ned's hand and dash into the woods? A fairy-tale solution. To sneak away again would be impossible.

Besides, Lord Kenrick—Jeremy—had said, had he not, that he would protect her son? Regardless of what he might think of her now, she felt certain he would honor that promise—which made her love him all the more.

She was in the stillroom sorting and labeling herbs and spices when Wilkins notified her very formally that her presence had been requested for the midday meal with the family in the dining room.

“The family?” she asked, feeling stupid.

“That is what his lordship said.” Wilkins looked beyond her.

She washed her hands, tucked an errant curl beneath the mobcap, and reported as instructed to find Jeremy, his aunt, and his brother already there. Four places had been set at one end of the table; a footman held a chair for her. When Wilkins and the footman had finished serving them, Lord Kenrick dismissed them and waited for the door to close before speaking.

“We have given the situation a good deal of thought, my lady,” he said. “Henceforth, you will be an honored guest in this house. You will take your meals with us and you will remove to one of the guest bedchambers.”

“Oh, I should not think that necessary,” Kate protested. “I am quite satisfied in the nursery wing.”

“As your hosts, we are not,” Jeremy said, looking toward his aunt.

“You see, my dear,” Lady Elinor said, “now that the servants know who you are, we can hardly relegate you to quarters that are less elegant than what any member of society would deserve as our guest.”

“The sooner the servants view you as such, the sooner everyone else will,” Jeremy explained.

“Better accept your new status, Kate,” Robert said. “There is a good deal at stake here. Socially, politically, perhaps even legally.”

Not to mention emotionally, she thought, and she again seized on the banal, the trivial, to avoid letting her mind drift to the painful. “But—but what about my duties as housekeeper? Someone needs to—”

Jeremy interrupted. “For the time being, you may continue to supervise as before. Wilkins will see that your instructions are carried out.”

“I see . . .” His rather formal tone shredded her heart. She wanted to throw her arms around him and say, “I'm sorry, Jeremy. I'm sorry I was not more honest with you, more trusting. I'm sorry to bring such chaos to your world just when you were working so hard to right it.” Instead, she sat quietly and listened as others managed her life—again.

Across the table, Lady Elinor offered a sympathetic smile. “For your sake as well as ours, we must try to deflect the gossip. Public opinion can be a powerful force in legal matters.”

“And in political matters,” Robert added.

“To that end,” Jeremy said, “Aunt Elinor has invited the vicar and his wife, as well as Squire Dennison, along with his wife and daughter, to take supper with us tomorrow evening.”

“Nothing elaborate,” Lady Elinor assured her. “These are my special friends. We can rely on them to help us put a good face on this situation.”

Robert chuckled. “And it does not hurt that Dennison is also the local magistrate.”

Kate felt herself near tears at this show of support. “I do so appreciate your kindness, and I sincerely regret—”

“Now. Now. ‘What's done is done and cannot now be undone' as a Scottish queen once put it,” Lady Elinor said.

Kate gave her a rueful smile. “Lady Macbeth was a party to
murder
.”

Lady Elinor returned the smile. “Nevertheless, what we cannot undo, we must try to mitigate.”

“How?” Kate asked.

“We—the three of us—have come up with something,” Jeremy said. “If you are amenable, we have concocted a story that might suffice.”

“And that is?”

Robert explained. “A mad relative of the Duke of Wynstan somehow got it into his head that he, instead of Ned, is Wynstan's heir and, fearing he would harm your child, you fled. Naturally, you sought the aid of your dead husband's friend—the intrepid Captain Robert Chilton—who persuaded his brother to allow you to pose as his housekeeper, but now the madman is safely ensconced in Bedlam and we are welcoming the glorious truth.”

Kate laughed. “Preposterous. I was here long before you arrived.”

Robert waved a hand dismissively. “That too was part of the plan.” He paused. “The story is a little thin, but will serve to mitigate the gossip—or obfuscate.”

Kate shrugged. “If you all think this will work . . . But what about Wynstan's version?”

“He was understandably worried about appearances and made foolish accusations in a fit of anger,” Lady Elinor said.

“Which at least touches on the truth,” Jeremy said.

Kate gave them a tentative smile, her gaze resting a moment on Jeremy's unreadable expression. “Then I had best see that Mrs. Jenkins serves up a truly remarkable supper tomorrow.” Glad to have a project to occupy her, she rose.

Jeremy rose as well. “Mrs.—uh—Kate.”

She turned at the door to see a distinct twinkle in his eyes.

“You may leave off those badges of office,” he said.

“My lord?”

“Your helmet and armor. That infernal mobcap and apron.”

“Oh. As you wish, my lord.”

Well, she thought as she left the room, he did not seem unduly angry with her, but she was sure he still resented what he must see as—what was, indeed—her deceit. She regretted it, but what choice had she had? She could have told him sooner, as Robert had suggested, but somehow the timing was never right.

In bed last night?

Well, yes, she
might
have broached the topic then—had he not suggested she was so loose with her favors that she could wantonly bed one brother while having some sort of liaison with the other. The very idea!

Now—now she must put aside what might have been. She must concentrate on protecting Ned from a man whose idea of discipline and training meant torturing a child. And to do that, his mother needed help. In these enlightened, modern times women like the Princess of Wales and Lady Caroline Lamb might flout convention and assert a degree of independence, but woe betide a lesser woman who tried that—a country squire's daughter who openly opposed a duke. Ned's safety—his very being—depended on his mother's engaging help that could now come from only one source: the Earl of Kenrick.

 

Just when Jeremy thought this day could produce nothing more to complicate his life, it did.

Late in the afternoon, Nathan Porter arrived at the Hall and asked to see Lord Kenrick and Mr. Chilton. He was directed to the stables, where the two brothers leaned on a fence watching a trainer work a young horse Robert had purchased at Tattersall's before leaving London.

Greetings and praise of the new mount over, Jeremy asked, “What brings you our way, Porter?”

“I think I got a lead on that there fire, my lord.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, it could prove to be nothin' at all, but it seems worth lookin' into.”

“Out with it, man,” Robert demanded.

“Me ‘n a couple of fellas was over at that tavern on Durham Road. Billy Thompson an' his pa was there—both of them drinkin' pretty heavy. Someone mentioned our fire, what a terrible accident it was an' how it was too bad it happened when the new earl was tryin' so hard to put things right an' all. Then Billy, he says real nasty-like, ‘What makes ya think it was an accident?' Then the pa says, ‘Watch yer tongue, boy.' He tried to get Billy to leave and he finally did, but as they left Billy says, ‘Kenrick bastards didn't get near what they deserve. ' ”

“Interesting,” Robert said, “especially when we've not spread it about that the fire was a case of arson.”

“What did he mean about our not getting what we deserve?” Jeremy asked. “I know Thompson thought he would be better off as a tenant with Mortimer than with us, but I was not aware of bad blood or truly hard feelings about his move.”

Porter stroked his chin. “I ain't real sure. After them two left, the barkeeper said they blamed one of your older brothers for some family problems, but he either didn't know what they was, or he wasn't gonna tell
me
.”

Jeremy turned to his brother. “Have you any idea what that might have been, Robert? Something that might have happened after I left England?”

Robert's brow wrinkled in concentration. “No. . . . Not really. As I said before, Billy and his sister were my age, but once I went off to school, I saw them only during holidays. Billy and Mina were daredevils, though. Last time I saw them, I think we were all about seventeen. She was a pretty girl, but something of a flirt. Billy was quite protective of her, as I remember.”

“I'd say that 'bout sums up them two,” Porter agreed. “My wife used to caution our oldest girl not to behave like Mina.”

“Hmm. Could be something there,” Jeremy said. “Charles always fancied himself as quite a ladies' man.”

“We can't confront the Thompsons with no more than that to go on,” Robert said.

“You're right. We need to know more about our ‘deserving' that fire. But don't forget, we do have some hard evidence: that oil-soaked rag meant to start a fire in the small barn.”

“Pretty flimsy though,” Robert replied. “Every household has old rags lying around.”

“But they are not all white cotton with blue stripes,” Jeremy said. “Let's bide our time another day or two, find out what we can before accusing anyone.”

“My oldest daughter, Eve, might know something about Thompson family troubles,” Porter said. “She knew Mina. Eve married the Edmonds boy over in Hollister Glen. I'll take a ride over there tomorrow.”

“Aunt Elinor and her friends may be able to help too,” Jeremy said, “but we have to be discreet—no sense stirring up any more needless, hurtful gossip.”

 

Later that evening, with Robert off on what he had announced as a “reconnoitering mission,” Jeremy and Kate has seen to the bedtime rituals for Cassie and Ned, the two parents tacitly agreeing to keep to the children's routine as much as possible. They had then joined Lady Elinor in the family drawing room, where the other two had prevailed upon Kate to give them a song and then another and another.

Jeremy thought the women as aware as he that they were avoiding discussing Wynstan's bombshell visit that morning. He was also conscious of how utterly comfortable he was in this very domestic scene, even though he refused to let go entirely of his sense of betrayal. He found himself fascinated by a wisp of a curl on Kate's forehead, and as she sang, he watched her mouth, remembering how those lips had responded to his the night before.

“So, tell us, Kate,” he said to prolong the pleasant interlude, “how you came to be so musically adept.”

“My father insisted all his children learn to play some instrument,” she replied. “When my sister Beatrice and I showed a bit of talent on the pianoforte, he readily provided lessons.”

“He made the right choice,” Lady Elinor said. “You certainly are testimony to his wisdom in doing so.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

Jeremy noted a faint blush, but no false modesty in her demeanor. “That was a detail left out of our London interview a few months ago.”

Her blush deepened. “I am truly sorry I deceived you so. I—it seemed a right solution at the time.”

“And Phillips knew all along?”

“Yes, but to his credit, he did suggest I should tell you the truth.”

“You should have.”

She put aside her guitar and sat up straighter, a challenging glint in her eyes. “Now be honest, my lord. Would you have invited Lady Arthur Gardiner and her titled son—strangers—for an extended visit at Kenrick Hall?”

“Well, no, probably not,” he admitted.

She gave him an arch look. “Given the issues you already faced, should that not be
definitely not
?”

“She has you there, Jeremy,” his aunt said.

“Oh, all right,” he said. “Back to the point I intended. Aside from your connection to Wynstan, just who are you?”

With occasional comments or questions from her two companions, she gave them a forthright, albeit brief, account of her earlier life.

No wonder they called her the Angel of the 46th, Jeremy thought. It took a very strong degree of courage and fortitude for a young, gently bred woman to defy an autocratic father and the conventions of society and then deal with the hardships of an army on the march.

On the heels of her last comment, Robert strolled into the room. “Confession time finally?” he asked with grin.

“You might say that,” she said.

“I have some news that should interest all of you,” Robert said and paused.

“Well?” Jeremy and Lady Elinor said simultaneously.

“Wynstan did not go to the inn.” Again he paused.

“He left Yorkshire?” Jeremy asked.

“Oh, no. He is still in the area. He is a guest of Sir Eldridge Mortimer.”