When she turned to Rudley, she surprised a troubled frown on his face. Stepping close, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Katherine, you must know these rooms hold many memories for me—happy ones, and unhappy ones as well.”
For the first time since she had known him, she heard apprehension in his voice and suddenly realized how vulnerable he could be, how easily hurt by those he trusted. Arabella had hurt him in that way, and Katherine knew it had to be difficult for him to be here again . . . remembering.
Instinctively she reached out to lay her hand on his cheek. “Our future begins today,” she said. “The past cannot be forgotten, for it has already become a part of us. But if we keep it in perspective we will manage well enough.”
He covered her hand with his own and, turning his head, gently kissed her fingers. “I am sure you are right. If you should want me, my apartments are through this door. I will collect you in thirty minutes. Will that be sufficient time?”
She nodded and smiled as he disappeared through the connecting door. No sooner had the door closed than a young maid appeared with hot water, which she poured into Katherine’s basin. As soon as her task was accomplished, she curtsied and introduced herself. “My name is Bess, m’lady. If you should like to tell me which dress you wish for dinner, I shall fetch it for you.”
“Thank you, Bess. There is a burgundy evening gown with black lace. Did you see it?”
“Yes, m’lady, I did. I will find it straightaway.”
After she washed, Katherine brushed and rearranged her hair, then changed her gown. She was ready when Rudley returned at the appointed time.
They walked nearly to the end of the hall before he stopped at Pamela’s apartments. He knocked briefly, and when a quiet voice answered “Come in,” he opened the door and swung it wide for Katherine to precede him.
The room was brightly decorated in rose and white. A large four-poster bed hung with dark rose silk stood against the far wall. In it, propped up against half a dozen pillows, was Katherine’s stepdaughter. At the sight of her father and his new wife, the child scrambled to the edge of the bed, slid onto the carpet in her bare feet, and dropped a creditable curtsy.
“Katherine, allow me to introduce my daughter, Lady Pamela. Pamela, this is Lady Rudley.”
“How do you do, my lady?” Pamela replied politely, then added shyly, “Welcome home, Papa.” She was clearly pleased to see them, but once she had finished her greeting an awkward silence fell. Since Rudley did not seem disposed to bridge the gap, Katherine stepped forward and smiled at her.
“I am delighted to meet you, Lady Pamela, but please do climb back into bed before you take another chill.” Pamela glanced self-consciously at her toes and then did as she was bid. Katherine approached the bed. “Do you mind if I sit here?” Pamela shook her head mutely as Katherine helped to tuck in the comforter and then seated herself on the edge of the bed. “Your father and I are sorry to hear you are not feeling well.”
She glanced up at the earl, who had advanced with her and stood at the bedside. “Since you could not come down to greet us,” he added, “we decided to come up to you.”
“Miss Shaw would not let me come down, though I wanted to,” Pamela said. “It will be wonderful having you home to stay!”
This one artless comment made it clear to Katherine that Pamela regretted her father’s absence from her life. Katherine could not conceive of such an arrangement. She had been only three years older than Pamela when her father died; she would remember the pain of his loss all her life. If Katherine, at Pamela’s age, had endured months of separation from her father, she would have been instantly into his arms for a hug and a kiss. Yet here were Rudley and his daughter, speaking to each other civilly like two acquaintances meeting casually on the street.
Indeed, by his own admission, Rudley barely knew his daughter. Katherine suspected it was hard for him to separate the child from the mother, a woman who had been a source of great pain and disillusionment.
Katherine saw at once that Pamela had inherited her father’s eyes: deep-set and dark blue. Her hair, however, was pale yellow and hung in thick curls nearly to her waist. She did not think Pamela would ever be the great beauty her mother was said to have been, but she had no doubt the attractive child would grow to be a handsome young lady. Katherine quit Pamela’s room with a promise to visit again on the morrow. Pamela, in her turn, promised to rest in order to speed her recovery.
The earl and his new countess retraced their steps to the main house, descended the stairway, and turned toward the dining room. As they crossed the hall, the dark mahogany doors of a drawing room stood wide directly before them. Katherine could not resist stepping inside.
“What a lovely room!” she exclaimed. The room was wainscoted and hung with pale blue figured paper. The far wall embraced a massive fireplace, finely wrought in stone. A cheerful fire burned in the grate, and despite its generous size the room was warm and inviting. Window hangings of dark blue velvet provided the dominant color, while the furnishings had obviously been chosen with a discriminating eye. Many were rare and beautiful.
“This was my mother’s favorite room,” the earl remarked. “She chose the colors and fabrics used on most of the pieces here.” He walked toward the fireplace, drawing Katherine’s attention to the large full-length portrait that hung over the mantel. “This was my mother. She was Miss Rosalind Ashley before she married. This portrait was painted in the first year of her marriage. She and her family were our neighbors to the west. A distant cousin has inherited Weiring and lives there now.”
“She was beautiful,” Katherine said simply.
“There were many who thought so, even though her dark coloring is considered more fashionable now than at the time of her debut.”
“I see now where you and your brother John inherited your dark hair.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “And Oliver and Meg are fair, like my father. There is a fine portrait of him hanging in the picture gallery. You must remind me to show it to you.”
Katherine’s attention was drawn to a petit-point chair standing to one side of the fireplace. It seemed out of place in such an immaculate room, for it was worn and shabby, much in need of repair.
Rudley read her thoughts. “You are thinking that chair could do with some refurbishing. My housekeeper will agree with you, but I will not permit it. The scene depicted there is this house and the lake in the foreground. Every stitch was placed with great skill and care by my mother, who was a notable needlewoman. It is a comfortable chair and often used, so it has become worn, but it is one of a kind and therefore irreplaceable. I think I was younger than Pamela when my mother finished it, which means it is older than you are, Katherine.”
Katherine, no mean needlewoman herself, could see that endless hours had been expended on the elaborate design. It showed great attention to detail and perspective; she could easily understand why Rudley would not wish to part with it.
“Well, I cannot speak for you, madam wife,” the earl said, “but I am nearly perished with hunger.”
“I am so sorry,” she apologized. “I am keeping you from your dinner. But there is so much to see.”
“And you shall see it all,” he promised. “But not tonight. We will have our dinner and then get some well-deserved sleep. This has been a tiring day for both of us, and I have no doubt you will want to be up with the sun to go riding.”
“Could we?” Katherine asked excitedly.
He smiled. “Certainly. If you wish it. I prefer to ride before breakfast, but if you intend to do a great deal of sightseeing, we had best eat first.”
They ate their dinner together at one end of a dining table that could easily seat twenty. Too excited to eat much, Katherine helped herself to a bowl of hearty chowder, a portion of delicately spiced partridge, and a tempting apple pastry.
When they had finished, Katherine asked, “Shall I retire to the drawing room, my lord, and leave you to your port?”
“You shall not,” he responded. “Unless you wish to incur my displeasure.”
“But it is customary, sir.”
Rudley frowned. “First ‘my lord’ and now ‘sir.’ It is entirely proper, Katherine, now that we are wed, for you to address me by my given name.’’
“Of course it is. I shall try to remember.”
Rudley rose from the table. “I do not wish for any port tonight. I have ordered a hot bath for you. I thought you should like one.’’
“It sounds wonderful. The perfect way to relax after a momentous day.”
Once again they climbed the staircase to the floor above. When they paused outside her door, Rudley took her hand and raised it gallantly to his lips. “Enjoy your bath” was all he said before he continued down the hall to his own apartments.
Katherine found Bess waiting for her, and though she cooperated in the mechanics of bathing and preparing for bed, her mind was elsewhere. Rudley had not said good night. That could mean only one thing. Clearly he did not consider the evening to be over.
Katherine had, like most women, she supposed, pondered what it might be like to be with a man. Unfortunately, her imaginings had never yielded much worthwhile information. In the past year or so she had thought about being with James. This was easier to imagine, for she loved him and could envision herself kissing him, holding him close.
In the weeks before her wedding she had tried not to think about this part of her marriage. Most marriages were arranged, and many women married men they did not love, yet they all seemed to survive. They lived their lives and raised their children. Why could she not do as well as they?
Bess helped Katherine into a soft white nightgown and matching wrapper, then brushed her waist-length hair until it shone in the candlelight.
As she stood behind Katherine and regarded her reflection in the mirror, Bess said, “You look so lovely, m’lady. You must have been the most beautiful bride. It’s right proud I am to wait on you.”
“Thank you, Bess.”
“I’ll be leaving you now, m’lady, if there be nothing else you need. Would you like tea or chocolate in the morning?”
“Chocolate would be wonderful, thank you.”
“Good night, m’lady.”
“Good night, Bess.”
The maid closed the door quietly while Katherine continued to sit before the mirror. Her face seemed pale in the candlelight, her eyes unusually large. Somehow she did not like her hair worn loose about her face as if she were a young girl. She carefully divided it into sections and began braiding it into a heavy rope. She had finished and was securing the end of the braid when the door to Rudley’s apartments opened.
Katherine watched his approach in the mirror. He wore an ornate dressing gown of green and gold brocade, belted at the waist. He advanced to stand behind her, taking the thick braid in his fingers. “How was your bath?” he asked.
“Extravagant.”
“You are easily pleased, Katherine. You may have a bath every day if you wish it.”
“That, my lord, would be
sinfully
extravagant.”
“Stand up and turn around,” he said. “Let me see this nightgown that Meg insists is all the rage in Paris.”
Katherine did as he asked while he inspected her attire from head to foot.
“It is lovely, my dear, there is no denying that. But not nearly so lovely as you.’’ He reached to take her by the waist and pulled her close, his lips meeting hers with a warm, rich kiss.
Katherine fought her instinct to stiffen in his arms. She willed herself to return his kiss. She forced her arms to close about him. With her eyes closed she concentrated her entire will on submitting to her husband, and though she succeeded fairly well in controlling the responses of her body, she found she could not adequately control her emotions. Try though she might, she could not stop the tears from forming in her eyes.
When the kiss ended, she lowered her head so he would not see the telltale tears on her cheeks, but his hand beneath her chin gently lifted her face into the light.
She thought he might be angry, but could read only compassion in his face as he brushed a tear away. “It is too soon,” he said. “I understand.”
“But you have a right—”
“No,” he interrupted. “I have no right that supersedes your wishes.” Allowing her no time to comment on this pronouncement, he said, “Go to sleep. We ride early tomorrow, remember?”
He released her then and walked to the door, where he paused only briefly to say, “Good night, Katherine.”
“Good night, Edward.”
He smiled at her use of his name, then passed through to his own rooms. Katherine remained standing in the softly scented golden room and found herself thinking how little she understood the man who had become her husband.
Katherine’s maid woke her promptly at eight o’clock when she drew back the heavy gold hangings of the bed and fastened them to the bedposts. She had already opened the curtained windows and bright morning light filled the room. It was the same young girl, Bess, who had attended Katherine the previous night.
“Good morning, m’lady,” she said. “I hope you slept well. I brought your chocolate, and I have laid out your riding things.”
“Thank you, Bess. I meant to ask you last night if you had seen a small leather case with brass studs.’’
“Yes, ma’am. It’s here in the bottom of the wardrobe. Mrs. Windom said it were personal belongings and I was not to unpack it. Shall I bring it to you?’’
“No, thank you, Bess. I do not need it now; I only wondered where it was.”
Katherine carried her chocolate to the open window. A stunning vista of blue and green met her gaze and she smiled with delight. From her northern-facing windows she saw spread before her those things the earl had described the previous evening in the gathering darkness. Directly beneath her was the wide graveled drive that led to the stables on the right and swept away to the left along the ridge they had traveled. The bridge was a masterpiece in fitted stone with two symmetrical arches rising gracefully above the racing water of the stream. Beyond the drive formal gardens descended in broad terraces to the lake, a placid, deep blue body that stretched across the valley and disappeared around a ridge to the east.