Lady Catherine's Secret: A Secrets and Seduction book (36 page)

As a child, he’d learned to avoid his parents because he was better off when they forgot about him. Nannies hadn’t been willing to endure the chaos in their household for long, so after the fourth one left, his parents had given up. He’d become so good at remaining invisible that nobody ever bothered with his education until he was about twelve. Around then, Father finally took enough notice to send him away to school.

“I knew Huntley at Eton,” Attwood said, interrupting Stansbury’s thoughts. “He got me expelled.” He plopped down on the sofa and a puff of dust burst from it, drifting in the weak sunlight.

“What? He went to Eton?” Stansbury hadn’t attended such a lofty school. Since his education had been neglected for such a long time, he’d been enrolled someplace less demanding, but even so, he’d found himself at an appalling disadvantage. The other boys and the teachers made him feel the fool, always struggling to catch up to where he should have been. When the other boys had free time, Stansbury was either holed up in his stifling room studying or closeted with an annoyed teacher who was trying to teach him things he should have already known.

He hadn’t been able to mingle with the other boys because he was always studying, always working. At first, sensing his weakness, the other boys had teased and bullied him, but they had stopped. He’d
made
them stop. He’d already taken more than his share of abuse at home. He refused to endure it at school as well. He still looked back on that part of his life with a mingled sense of triumph and shame. Nobody had been able to prove he’d started those small fires, but the other boys left him alone after that. It had been an easy matter to sneak into his tormentors’ empty rooms and set them in flames while the boys were out with friends. He’d gloated over their misfortune in a way that left no doubt in their minds that he was the culprit. They’d never accused him though, and he’d been able to finish his education in relative peace.

Setting the fires achieved his goal, but at great personal cost. He’d never known he was capable of causing so much pain and damage until he’d unleashed his pent-up anger on those boys. Provoking their had proved to be an effective solution, and it had left him feeling powerful. Perhaps he could employ a similar solution with Huntley. He’d love to see that man quake in terror. Anything to bring him down.

“Bollocks! I detest that bloody Huntley!” Stansbury felt a warm glow of pleasure as he thought about making Huntley squirm. And Lady Catherine... he’d love seeing her squirm too, but in an entirely different way. “Maybe she can still be mine,” he mumbled, half to himself. “I can’t simply let her go, not with the money she’d bring to the marriage.”
And not with knowing what I do about her secret life,
he thought
. There simply has to be a way to use the information to my advantage.
But this was one secret he didn’t want to share with Attwood. At least, not yet.

“If you could dispose of Huntley, she couldn’t marry him. She’d be free to marry you.” Attwood said, dripping the poisonous, honeyed words into Stansbury’s ear.

Stansbury shot Attwood a skeptical look. He didn’t trust the man. He was altogether too smooth and manipulative. He’d begun to wonder why he’d thought it wise to enlist him in his vendetta against Huntley. “Why do you care who I marry?”

“He got me expelled from Eton, he kept me a prisoner, he helped that lot force me to marry a woman I detest and who keeps me on a leash like a pet. Isn’t that enough? I want to hurt him in every way possible. I want to destroy him. If you win Lady Catherine, then all the better.”

Stansbury grunted and continued to scrutinize Attwood. Eventually, he decided the man was being truthful. He detested Huntley just as much as Stansbury did.

He mulled over the idea. With Huntley gone, Catherine would no longer have a protector. His own offer of marriage would become her only recourse if she didn’t want to risk being exposed.

At least he’d been able to raise doubts about Huntley’s financial situation. He’d been spreading rumors for over a month that Huntley was overextended and needed cash. He’d hoped to undermine the man’s success and was pleased when the rumor he’d created had taken hold.

“I like you, Attwood. You have a devious mind. Let’s see if we can put our heads together and devise a plan to destroy the marquess. Perhaps we can even arrange circumstances so that we can line our pockets in the process. It would be the perfect revenge if we could steal both the man’s money
and
his lady.”

43 - Less Than a Week

On Monday afternoon, less than a week before Catherine’s wedding, she and her mother called on Mrs. Tidwell. Apparently they came on the heels of another pair of callers.

The foyer was dim after the bright winter sunlight, and Catherine was momentarily blinded.

“Catherine. What a wonderful surprise.” Elizabeth’s delighted voice greeted her.

Catherine reached out to take Elizabeth’s hand, fumbling in the dim light, and gave it a squeeze before removing her cloak. She was relieved to have a friend here to break up the monotonous series of afternoon calls.

Elizabeth linked arms with her, and they walked into the drawing room together, followed by their mothers.

“Welcome, ladies,” Mrs. Tidwell said. “And Lady Catherine. I hope you’ll allow me to extend my felicitations on your upcoming marriage.”

Catherine murmured her thanks.

Elizabeth pulled her to one side while the three older ladies talked, saying, “Let’s take a turn around the room, shall we? I need to speak to you.”

Catherine cocked an eyebrow and then looked around the small space pointedly. “Don’t tell me you need to stretch your legs. That could be a challenge in here.” The small room was bursting with knickknacks and furniture, not leaving much room to maneuver.

“I wanted to ask you about your engagement to Huntley,” Elizabeth said in a hushed voice. “Are you happy about it? Are you certain of your decision?”

“What? Of course I’m certain.” Catherine said emphatically, causing Mother’s gaze to snap toward them. Catherine noted her attention and smiled reassuringly at her.

Unfortunately, they also attracted the attention of some of the other young ladies in the room. Lydia Larchmont and her compatriot, Mary Givvens, were also paying a social call.

“It must be a love match,” Lydia said languidly. “Why else would she marry him unless she wanted the title? Everyone knows that his estate in Scotland is a disaster. That ridiculous house he just purchased will consume the entirety of his funds.”

Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide. “Lydia!”

Mary Givvens snickered. “I heard he was trying to find a bride who could fund the renovations on his estate in Scotland. People are saying he’s short on money.” Mary and Lydia trained their gazes on Catherine with almost identical narrow, assessing expressions.

“Oh, Catherine. I’m so sorry. I assumed you knew.” Lydia’s eyes glittered with false sympathy.

Elizabeth didn’t appear surprised by Lydia’s accusation. She must have heard the rumor as well. Where on earth had it started?

Then it hit her. Lydia. The woman scorned.

Seeing Lydia’s gloating expression, Catherine reached deep within herself and pulled forth the grace and aplomb she had developed over the years. What had Mother always said?
Don’t let anyone take the upper hand. Always remain in control.
The same advice applied in fencing. Never allow your opponent to take the higher ground or the upper hand.

She raised her chin, her gaze becoming steely. “Lady Lydia, I’m surprised at you. Although I wouldn’t dream of discussing my fiancé’s financial situation, the
marquess
,” she said, stressing his title, “has been quite forthcoming with me.” She refused to allow Lydia to believe she had scored a point. “For you to suggest otherwise is appalling.” She narrowed her eyes. “One might question your motive in spreading such rumors, especially when considering how upset you became when you learned of our engagement at the Norfolk ball.”

The gloating look fled Lydia’s eyes, which narrowed in seething anger. “At least I don’t have the misfortune to be engaged to the scoundrel. Just wait until he hides you away in Scotland in that moldering old castle.” A malicious grin twisted her face. “You’ll never see London again. He’ll leave you isolated and penniless.” Lydia turned with an audible huff, composed her face, and crossed the small room to her mother. Mary scurried after her.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but Catherine held her hand up to stop her. “There are things between Daniel and me of which you know nothing. Rest assured he is the man for me. I’m perfectly satisfied with our engagement.”

“What are you girls whispering about?” Lady Wilmot’s imperious voice interrupted them. She glanced at the departing forms of Lydia and Mary and then narrowed a suspicious gaze at Elizabeth and Catherine.

Turning her back on Elizabeth, Catherine gave Lady Wilmot a sharp smile. “We were just discussing wedding plans. There is so much to do, and so little time. My wedding is less than a week away.”

§

Once Catherine and her mother returned home, they met in the morning room and began sorting through the guest responses for the wedding breakfast. Catherine was surprised when Percy entered at around six o’clock, bearing a gentleman’s calling card.

“He instructed me to say that Lord Huntley requested he meet with you, Lady Catherine,” said Percy.

“Really?” She glanced at her mother with surprise. “Then, by all means, show him in.”

Mother gave her a questioning look, but Catherine merely shrugged.

Percy ushered the man into the room.

“Jonathon Newcomb,” he declared, “at your service,” and bowed with a deep flourish, which was exaggerated by the long tube he held. It was about thirty inches long and three inches in diameter.

Newcomb was a small, slim man. He might have been almost any age. Catherine guessed that he was youngish, but his thinning dark blond hair gave him the look of an older man. His pale gray eyes were set in a mild face. His patterned vest was more elaborate than most men wore, but somehow it suited him.

“Lord Huntley has engaged my services to perform improvements on a home he purchased outside London,” Newcomb said, speaking to Catherine. “When we met this afternoon, he instructed me to consult with you as soon as possible.”

“Me? But I haven’t even seen the property.” Catherine glanced at her mother for some guidance in this unusual situation, but she looked as bemused as Catherine felt.

“It is quite lovely, I assure you. I’m here to learn about your tastes and preferences so I can incorporate them into the overall design.”

Mr. Newcomb pulled a pocket watch from his vest and consulted it before snapping it closed and replacing it. “If you have a few minutes to spare me now, m’lady, I can stay to discuss some details with you, or if you prefer, we can make arrangements to meet at a time more convenient to you.”

How intriguing.
“I have some time now, Mr. Newcomb. Perhaps you could explain further.”

“Of course, of course. Lord Huntley has engaged me to assist with the interior of the house. As you’re aware, he’s making extensive renovations to his new estate, both to the manse and to the surrounding environs.” He waved his hands vaguely in the air, the tube making his movements all the more dramatic. “There are many different tradesmen involved in the work. The furnishings were included in the purchase, and although there are many excellent pieces, the overall décor is quite dated.”

“You said you spoke to him this afternoon?”

“Yes, m’lady. I came directly here. I would have sent a note first, but there was no time. Lord Huntley wants me to complete my plans quickly, since you will be leaving for Scotland soon.” He chuckled deeply. “I don’t envy you all of the renovations you will face over the upcoming year.”

She looked at him quizzically. “All of the renovations? But we’ll be in Scotland for months. Won’t the majority of them be complete before we return?”

“Here, yes. But the ones in Scotland have yet to begin.” At her look of confusion, he asked, “Didn’t Lord Huntley inform you? His home in Scotland has fallen into a terrible state of disrepair. All of his efforts have been focused on the lands surrounding the castle, but now he has decided to fully restore the house as well.” He eyed her more keenly. “I was operating under the assumption that he had discussed it with you, because he commented that you played a large part in his decision to rebuild his ancestral home. I truly hope I haven’t spoken out of turn.”

“He’ll be renovating two houses, including his entire estate in Scotland, over the next year?” she said, trying to come to terms with the enormity of the tasks. “Are you quite certain?”

“Well, really just the two houses. He has already put most of his estate plan into place.” He paused, and then confided, “I’ve seen his estate plan, and I must say, your fiancé is a man of vision and forethought. I’m accustomed to working with people who have creative vision, but his goes much beyond my ken. There is a certain brilliance in his thinking that I have seldom encountered.”

A flash of fierce pride hit Catherine.
My fiancé.
“Mr. Newcomb, if you could provide me with an overview of the plans today, perhaps we could arrange to meet soon to discuss the details.”