Bluestocking Bride (22 page)

"I think I know my father better than that. I tell you, he will be adamantly opposed."

They were standing face to face, Catherine looking up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"My dear!"
He caught hold of her hands and spoke gently. "I have made a settlement on Lucy provisional to her marriage to Charles. She gets
Branley
Park—an estate I have no use for anyhow. It will mean a comfortable living for them and the kind of life that Charles most enjoys."

"A settlement!
On Lucy?
Why did you not give the estate to Charles? He is your kinsman."

"A man's pride, my little goose.
Charles would not accept a farthing from me, but Lucy is my sister-in- law. I am in duty bound to provide for my wife's relations. I finally made Charles understand that."

"But why didn't they mention any of this to me? Lucy has always confided in me!" Catherine's voice was puzzled and a little forlorn.

"I think they meant to last night, but found you somewhat preoccupied. Tom said that you were distressed to hear about your sister Mary. And besides, they could not speak freely with Henderson present."

Catherine sat down, her mind trying to digest all that
Rutherston
had told her.

"There is no need for us to remain longer in town, Catherine. Lucy has gone. I have no business here. I shall arrange our removal to
Fotherville
House by the end of the week."

"What about the portrait?" Catherine asked absently.

"Henderson will come down in a week or two to complete it. There is no hurry."

"But Richard."
It was the first time she had used his name in a long while, and he was well pleased. "These things take time to arrange—settlements,
journeys. When did it all come about?"

"My decision to give Lucy
Branley
Park was by no means sudden. I had it in my mind since before our marriage. Their decision to go to Breckenridge was hastened, I believe, by the departure of your brother Tom this morning. They made up their minds on the instant to go with him—and Charles found me at White's early this morning to put me in the picture."

She looked up at him, but with the light behind him, she could not see the intensity of his regard.

"You are a strange man." He heard the weariness in her voice, and put out a hand to caress her face, but she shook it off.

"Let me think, Richard. Give me a little time. Somehow, I never thought you would lift a hand to help them." She rose and stood with a preoccupied air, smoothing the folds of her dress.

"You never did have a high opinion of me, did you, my love?" He spoke lightly, but there was an implacable set to his jaw.

"But. . ."

"Yes?"

She had been about to say, "I love you," but she choked on the words. He did not love her, and it would give him the upper hand again. He would only despise her for it. She was too weary to think, and the symptoms of her pregnancy, for she was sure it was that, were taking their toll.

"I must rest for tonight. But I do thank you for what you have done for Lucy and Charles. It was uncommonly kind. Sometimes, I don't think I know you at all."

He wanted to say so much more, but the look of strain on her white face halted him.

"You need not go to Carlton House tonight. I shall convey your apologies to the prince, if you wish it, Catherine."

"No, I want to go. I don't think I could bear another evening of
Medea's
company."

"You could always settle for
Hippolytus
."

They were falling into their former way of address, and it brought them very close to
a reconciliation
.

"Have a care, my
lord,
I may meet my
Hippolytus
at Carlton House tonight."

"I have no fear of that, my sweet wife. Amongst the Carlton House set, manners are always thought superior to morals."

It was an unfortunate remark, and although
Rutherston
saw the shutter close on Catherine's face, he was at a loss to know what meaning she had attached to his words. It made him angry to see the feigned indifference in her expression, but he was too concerned for her welfare to confront her with that anger, and he watched helplessly as she left the room with her little chin raised a few degrees in that pert, unselfconscious posture that told those closest to her that one more word and she would do battle.

As soon as Catherine passed through the Grecian portals of Carlton House, she knew that it had been a mistake to come. Nervous exhaustion and fits of nausea had left her weak and trembling at the knees, and her dark suspicions about
Rutherston
and Lady Symington teased her mind. She missed the steadying presence of Lucy and Norton, for
Rutherston
, silent and remote, seemed like a stranger at her side.

She entered the great house with a dread sense of foreboding, and steeled herself to an outward display of tranquility that she was far from feeling. The heat in each successive chamber was oppressive, as she had known it would be, and the brilliant lights of the glittering chandelier in the vast interior of the Circular Room intensified the throbbing in her temples. She moved, dreamlike, from group to group, aware of
Rutherston's
guiding hand at her elbow. But it was not long before he was hailed by some crony, and although he left her in the care of Lady
Arabella
, Catherine felt that he had abandoned her to pursue his own pleasure.

In normal circumstances, she would have enjoyed the spectacle, but she was too conscious of her own misery to care. There were more men in regimentals to be seen at Carlton House than almost any other residence. Here, at least, one was made aware that a war was in progress, and that these gallant young men would soon depart to meet their fate with careless chivalry. Most of them were younger sons, Catherine reflected, for only seldom did the heir to any fortune or title of distinction cast care to the winds and risk everything for king and country. But younger sons had everything to gain and nothing to lose—but their lives. It was because of these reckless young men that she and
Rutherston
could live untroubled on their estates, and Catherine wondered if he ever gave it a thought.

From time to time throughout the evening,
Rutherston
came to her side, drawing her away from the society of the dowagers and debs to make her known to men of widely different stamp. He was on familiar terms with those who formed various coteries in government circles, and although it was evident that his support was courted, he confided to Catherine that most of those present were noteworthy in only one particular—their mediocrity. But those few whom he did admire, he introduced to Catherine, and although at any other time she might have been flattered, her emotions were too raw from the slights he had inflicted upon her to appreciate the gesture.

As the evening progressed, Catherine found it increasingly difficult to force the smiles to her lips, and her spirits flagged even further. She longed for a tranquil place where she could sit in quiet seclusion without having to make the effort to appear interested in the inane comments and court gossip of the fashionable
elegants
around her. In her hand she clutched a glass of iced lemonade that
Rutherston
had procured before he was carried off by Lord Liverpool, and Catherine wandered about, well within sight of her husband, until she spied an empty sofa beside a fronded palm where she sat down to
rest, holding at bay the nausea that had settled to a vague unease in the pit of her stomach.

Her eyes traveled dully over the crowded assembly, coming to rest on a merry circle of Hussars in blue and gold regimentals
who
were attracting attention to themselves by their noisy hilarity. One young man, not in uniform, his hand resting lightly on the shoulder of a companion, threw back his head to laugh, showing the gleam of white teeth, and Catherine saw that it was Adrian Henderson. For the first time that evening, she smiled in genuine pleasure. He turned at that moment, and catching sight of her, raised his hand in salute, and almost immediately detached himself with lazy grace from his companions and made his way toward her.

So thick was the crush that Catherine stood up so that Henderson might not lose sight of her. She took a few cautious steps forward, but by some mischance, the glass in her hand tipped, cascading the lemonade in a stream of silvery droplets to the back of the elegant lady who barred Catherine's way.

Lady Pamela Symington spun round, her beautiful face contorted by fury, and Catherine, in one fearful glance, recognized
Rutherston's
theater companion of the night before. Catherine saw venom in the narrowing eyes, and although the lips smiled, the voice that spoke was contemptuous.

"Lady
Rutherston
, is it not? Richard's little country-bred wife." She turned to the exquisite at her side. "Percy, this is the little chit of a thing who carried off the unattainable marquis."

The elegant fop, his high, pointed collar touching his ears, raised his quizzing glass in a languid hand and stared at Catherine in mild curiosity.

Catherine was scarcely aware of the malicious words or the indolent stare. Her gaze was riveted to
Lady Pamela's soft white neck and the dazzling diamonds that encircled it. She stood incoherent, transfixed, her face paper white, and instinctively her hand flew to her own breast to finger the chaste bridal pearls, and she wanted to tear them from her throat, but some vestige of pride restrained her. He had given this woman, his mistress, the diamond necklace that she, in her naiveté, had imagined was meant for her!

Her breath quickened in her body, making her shoulders heave with her deep gasps, and she felt the nausea rise from the pit of her stomach to engulf her. The glass slipped from her nerveless fingers, shattering on the floor, and all conversation in the immediate vicinity abruptly ceased. Catherine looked around wildly, her hand clasped tightly over her mouth, the nausea shaking her body in incontrollable spasms. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw
Rutherston
, white-faced, forcing his way through the throng toward her, and wild panic surged through her veins.

She tried to scream a name, but it came out as a whisper. The room went spinning around her head and she fell dazed to her knees. Then Henderson was by her side, sweeping the Symington woman out of the way, and his arms went round her, lifting her up and out of
Rutherston's
reach to safety. A path was made for them through the crowded chambers, and a liveried footman, hurrying to assist, ushered them into a small saloon, and on Henderson's curt instructions went in search of Lord
Rutherston
.

Catherine strove for composure, gathering the remnants of her waning strength and distracted thoughts. How could she ever have supposed that she had the wit and beauty to hold a man of her husband's temperament? She had been living in a
dreamworld
, and now it had been turned into a painful nightmare.

A blessed numbness crept over her as she listened to the soothing words of Henderson's anxious voice, and she closed her eyes, trying to blot out the picture that came to torment her of a dark beauty, an Aphrodite, and on her breast the priceless token of a man's love and esteem.

She was dimly aware of
Rutherston's
presence and his cold, uncivil words of gratitude to Henderson,
then
she was in strong arms, her head crushed against his chest as he carried her to the waiting carriage to take her to Berkeley Square.

The doctor confirmed Catherine's pregnancy, and forbade all parties and balls. He further advised
Rutherston
to put off the proposed journey to
Fotherville
House, until his wife should be over the attacks of nausea which, in Dr.
Strang's
opinion, almost never lasted more than two or three weeks.

Catherine was glad that their removal to
Fotherville
House had been delayed, for she felt that in that particular setting she would be overwhelmed by a house that was the ultimate expression of
Rutherston's
fastidious personality.

His frequent absences left her in no doubt that he was pursuing his pleasures with the rapacious Lady Pamela, and the knowledge left her wretched beyond bearing. Her emotions hovered between depression and fury, but pride compelled her to conceal her feelings from
Rutherston
by assuming a polite but preoccupied air. 13he knew that it angered him and was glad of it.

Cut to the quick by his blatant neglect, she became less than discreet in encouraging Henderson's attentions, pushing
Rutherston
, she knew, to the limit of endurance, and she waited with bated anticipation for the storm to break. She knew instinctively that he would try to assert his mastery over her—that he regarded her as one of his possessions—and she was determined to show him the error of his arrogant turn of mind.