Rudley’s first impulse was to join them immediately, but when he heard Sir Humphrey’s next comment he hesitated, wishing to hear how his wife would respond.
Sir Humphrey spoke tauntingly. “Your husband seemed remarkably ill at ease when we met this morning—almost surprised. Could it be that you somehow failed to mention me to him?”
“You are right” Katherine admitted. “I had not told him about you. But he knows now. Go away, sir, and leave me in peace. I am asking you to keep the promise you made.”
“Do not speak to me of promises,” Sir Humphrey fired back. “You who have no intention of honoring the promises so recently made to your husband.”
Katherine’s voice turned distinctly cold. “And what precisely do you mean by that?”
“Do not play the innocent with me. Your husband may believe that you visited Lincolnshire to collect your sister, but everyone in the village knows it was Parnaby you came to see.”
“You are quite mad.”
“Am I? You arrived on Tuesday, he arrived on Wednesday. He left for London the same day you did. You went nearly every day to his home. Do you truly think people believe you went there to see his
mother
?”
“Would you like to leave now, sir, or shall I call my butler to show you out?”
“I will leave on my own. I would not wish to cause a stir. By the way, whose brat
is
this you are carrying, your husband’s or Parnaby’s? Or do you even know?”
While Rudley stood rooted on the far side of the door, horrified by what he was hearing, Katherine rose and walked to the bellpull, giving it a vicious tug.
Sir Humphrey rose reluctantly. “I’m going. Tell me, do you still keep a journal where you write all your little secrets? That is how I knew you were in love with Parnaby in the first place. I used to pop into your room and read it from time to time. I daresay your husband would find it entertaining.”
As the door opened and the butler appeared, Katherine said, “Sir Humphrey is leaving, Reeves, please show him out.’’ She hovered inside the salon until she heard the outside door close, then she stepped into the hall to address the butler once more. “If he should ever call here again, I am not at home. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lady. Perfectly.”
Katherine proceeded across the hall and down a corridor to a side door. After the morning’s rain the day had turned pleasant. She let herself into the garden and sat there on a bench until her pulse and respiration had returned to normal.
When Katherine had quit the salon, Rudley retraced his steps to the office, where Kendall was studying an estate map.
“Peter?”
“Sir?”
“When you were in Lincolnshire, did Lady Rudley use the coach?”
“Yes, sir, nearly every day to go visiting.”
“Whom did she visit?”
“A great number of people. All old friends, I assume.”
“And did she ride out?”
“Yes, she did. I saw her myself on several occasions.”
“With whom was she riding?”
Unaccustomed to such questioning, particularly about her ladyship, Kendall frowned. “Once she was with Miss Stillwell and Miss Harrington, once with Lord Harrington, another time she was accompanied by a young lord who lived in the neighborhood. I cannot recall his name, though she introduced us.”
“Was it Parnaby?”
“Yes, sir, I believe it was.”
“And how did they seem to you?”
“Seem, sir?”
“What sort of terms were they on?”
“They seemed friendly, my lord. She introduced him as an old friend.”
“Were they accompanied by a groom?”
“No, sir, but it was midmorning and they traveled the high road. No one could take exception—”
“Thank you, Peter, you have been most helpful.” Cut short, Kendall watched his employer leave the room. He stared at the closed door for some time after Rudley had gone. Their strange conversation filled him with foreboding.
Rudley ascended the main staircase and made his way to his wife’s apartments. When there was no answer to his knock, he entered, closing the door behind him. The curtains were still drawn from Katherine’s nap earlier. He opened them now. All traces of the rain shower had passed, leaving behind a blue sky and soft white clouds. As the light reached the far corners of the room, he turned to regard the furnishings.
Did Katherine keep a journal? She did. He recalled seeing it beside her bed, recalled watching her write in it. It was a slim brown volume. Walking to her bed, he opened the drawer of the night table. The book lay there in plain view.
He knew a moment’s hesitation. Such a violation of privacy was unforgivable, yet the painful questioning of his heart demanded answers. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he picked up the book and opened the cover. There at the top of the first page was the name he had come to loathe: “James Haygarth, Viscount Parnaby.” That was all the sheet contained, only the name, written across the top in Katherine’s neat script. He turned the page and was astonished to see his brother’s name on the top of the second sheet and his own name on the next. As he leafed quickly ahead he saw that each page held a name followed by notes and comments. The back section seemed to be filled with ordinary diary entries.
Turning back to the front, he discovered the listings there were only men. Then, as he read through them with more attention, he realized they were only eligible, unmarried men.
With his heart turning cold, he paged back to the sheet that held his name and slowly read the notes written there:
Edward Seaton, Earl of Rudley
early 30s
widowed several years
one child—daughter 10?
excellent memory
delicate manners
home in Hampshire
strong family ties
first wife—Arabella ?
interest in Lady Milicent Battle
often in London
decisive
excellent dancer
unostentatious
He had not finished the page when the door opened and Katherine stood on the threshold. At first surprised to find her husband there, she soon noticed her journal in his hands. She closed the door quietly, wondering vaguely how Sir Humphrey could have worked his evil so quickly.
She crossed the room to stand at the foot of the bed. Rudley neither spoke nor moved, but the bewildered look in his eyes was one she would not soon forget.
“That book is private.”
He snapped it shut with one hand. “I have seen enough.”
“Did you come here looking for it?”
“Yes.”
“Did Sir Humphrey speak with you while he was here?”
“No. I was standing on the other side of the library door for the latter part of your conversation with him.”
“Oh, my God,” Katherine whispered as she closed her eyes and tried to imagine Rudley listening to the horrible accusations Sir Humphrey had thrown at her. She realized now that she had not even denied them—she had long ago discovered how fruitless it was to argue or talk back. “I am afraid I have much to explain.”
“The opportunity for explanation is no longer an option for you, Katherine. I have several questions that you will answer—honestly, if you please.”
As he came impatiently to his feet, she moved to a chair and sat down as he fired his first question at her. “What is the nonsense in this book? The names and the notes?”
“It is a list of husband candidates. I started it when I first went to London. I listed all the eligible men I met—their characteristics as well as information about them.”
“Why?”
“I had gone to London determined to marry. I think that making the list was one way to convince myself that I would go through with my plan. I also felt it would aid me in making a wise choice.”
“Why did you strike some names off? Oliver and others?”
“I took Oliver off when I realized he was attracted to Charity. The others I deleted for various reasons. Lord Atherford because he drinks too much. Mr. Dale because he gambles to excess. These were traits I did not desire in a husband.”
“And you considered marriage with all these men?”
“I was determined to marry one of them.”
“How many offered?”
“Four, including yourself.”
“Four!’’ He was pacing the floor now, a disbelieving frown on his face. “Why is there nothing written on Parnaby’s page?”
Katherine looked at him, then away, not answering.
“The truth, Katherine, with no delay.”
“I did not need to write about him; I knew everything without writing it down.”
“He was your first choice, is that not so?”
“He never offered for me.”
Rudley walked to the window and gazed out with unseeing eyes. He wanted to ask why she had married him. He wanted to ask if she loved Parnaby, but the answer was obvious. She had gone north to meet Parnaby; she had chosen Rudley as her husband because of all the candidates on her “list” he had the most to offer. He found he could not bring himself to ask these questions, for he knew he could not bear to hear her answers.
The silence in the room dragged on as Rudley continued at the window and Katherine remained in her chair. He threw open one of the casements and allowed the warm breeze to pour over him. The day was as fresh as ever, the sky as blue. White clouds hung soft as feathers above and the surface of the lake sparkled as sunshine bounced off ripples stirred by the breeze.
He saw none of the beauty before him, for he was consumed by only one thought. Katherine was pregnant—possibly with another man’s child.
He turned suddenly from the window. His tone was that of a stranger, harsh and unfamiliar. “Did you go to Parnaby’s home repeatedly while you were in Lincolnshire?”
“Yes. I went to visit his mother. She—”
“Do you truly expect me to believe that? Even Kendall saw you with him.”
“I rode with him. Is that so terrible?”
“You took no groom along. You were alone with a man you once hoped to wed. And you swear nothing inappropriate happened?’’
She opened her mouth to deny any wrongdoing, then hesitated as she remembered the indelicate conversation she had shared with James, remembered the kiss to which she had initially responded. The pause lengthened while she tried to form an answer that would be both honest and unhurtful to him.
“Your silence speaks most eloquently, Katherine. I think we have said all there is to say.”
He paused for a few moments, and when he continued, his voice was devoid of all feeling. “I will be leaving for London immediately, and I will hope that no pressing business calls me back here in the near future.”
She looked up in shock at these words. “Can we not talk? I can explain!”
“You could offer explanations from now until sundown, and not one of them would alter the facts. I knew you were attracted to Parnaby, but I thought that once he was lost to you, you would put it all behind you. I never imagined you would carry on an
affaire
with him—”
She interrupted him in quick defense. “It was not an
affaire!
I rode with him. I kissed him, but we were never together—not in the way you think!”
“So you say. Unfortunately, I find myself unable to believe you. If this is his child, and if it should be a boy, I will be expected to accept Parnaby’s bastard as my legitimate heir! Yesterday I would have willingly laid down my life for love of you. Today I cannot forgive you for forcing me into this compromising position and for placing the future of my family in jeopardy.”
Then, without waiting for a reply, he tossed the journal into her lap, turned on his heel, and was gone. Katherine knew, as she watched him leave the room, that her only chance for happiness went with him.
* * * *
Rudley sent orders round to the stables for Navigator, and when he descended the steps twenty minutes later, he found his head groom holding the horse in the drive. “Do not expect him back, Henderson. I am taking him to London.”
“Your lordship would make better time with the curricle.’’
“I am not in a hurry, and I wish to have him with me in town.”
“But it is forty-five miles, m’lord,” the groom objected.
“I am well aware of the distance, Henderson,” he snapped. “If you are concerned for Navigator, rest assured your concern can be no greater than mine. I will not overtax his strength.”
“No, of course not, m’lord. I did not mean to imply that you would.”
Rudley sprang easily into the saddle, gathered the reins, and moved off down the drive at a brisk trot. When he joined the main road, he did not turn toward London but struck off to the west instead. He followed the high road for a short distance and then turned left-handed onto a narrow bridle path that wound its way slowly downhill until it came to the stream that fed the lake at Rudley Court.
It was a small stream, perhaps five feet across, and shallow. Years ago, someone had constructed a sturdy footbridge in the event that the path should be used by pedestrians.
Rudley dismounted and, tethering Navigator to a low branch, walked onto the bridge and sat down upon its edge. The water was higher than usual with the recent rains, but his boots still cleared the surface by more than a foot.
He stared down into the rushing water and could recall almost word for word the conversation he and Arabella had here nearly eleven years ago. It was on this bridge that she had told him she was increasing and the child was not his. Not content with the initial pain she inflicted, she turned the knife in the wound by adding that the only reason she had married at all was to save herself from disgrace and that she had chosen him simply for his title and his wealth.
He and his wife had been estranged from that day forth. For the next five months until Pamela was born, he suffered agonies, cursing himself for the impatience that prompted his hasty marriage and blaming himself for his stupidity in the choice of a wife.
Until today he had not given much credence to the maxim that history repeats itself, but now he had become an example of it. What evil fate haunted his life that he should be burdened with the support of children, none of them his own? Arabella died without revealing the identity of Pamela’s father. Rudley publicly acknowledged the child as his own but could never feel close to her, for she was a living testament to her mother’s duplicity. Katherine’s condition had plunged him back into the same hell from which he had struggled to climb for ten miserable years.