Wedding Night With the Earl (6 page)

“There you are,” Madeline Dormer said, sweeping up from behind Katherine, taking hold of her elbow, guiding her out of the dance floor traffic and over to a nearby wall. “Wasn’t that fine-looking gentleman you were talking to just now the mysterious Earl of Greyhawke? Of course it was. I don’t know why I’m asking something that I already know the answer to.”

“Is he mysterious?” Katherine asked.

“Oh my, yes, he is,” Melba Tiploft answered Katherine as she came up beside Madeline and joined them. “This is the first time he’s been in London in over two years. Two long years, I might add. How did you manage to merit a conversation with the beast, my dear?”

“Don’t be dull, Melba,” Madeline said. “She’s the duke’s niece and this is his dinner party. That’s how she managed.”

“The beast?” Katherine queried Melba. “Lord Greyhawke?”

“Don’t you know?” Melba questioned, her pale blue eyes showing surprise. “I thought everyone had heard.”

“Remember, she’s led a sheltered life,” Madeline said.

“No, I haven’t,” Katherine argued. Even though she knew it to be true, she didn’t like hearing anyone say it.

“My dear friend, if you don’t know why he is called the beast, you have. But I’m happy to enlighten you. For a time after he left London he was referred to as the beast because he was so distraught after his wife died trying to have their child that he destroyed the inside of his house. Isn’t that right, Madeline?”

“That’s what all the gossip columns said, so it must have been true. At least, most people agree there is always some truth in what the scandal sheets say. I mean, they don’t make up their news.” Madeline’s eyes turned dreamy and her voice softened. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to love someone that much, can you?”

Katherine’s heartbeat slowed. She could. But then maybe that was because she understood uncontrollable grief. She’d loved her family that much. After they were killed and only she was left alive, there were times she felt like destroying everything in sight, too.

But to her friends she simply whispered, “No, I hadn’t heard that about him.”

“Oh, Katherine,” Penny Marchfield said as she sidled up beside the much taller and buxom Madeline to form a line of females in front of Katherine. “Every young lady in this room had her eyes on the Earl of Greyhawke the minute he stepped through the doorway. I’ve never heard such whispering as was going on after he appeared. And who should be the first young lady he talks to? You! Didn’t you just want to melt into a puddle?”

“When did you meet him?” Melba continued with the conversation, her eyes filled with mocked accusation. “And why didn’t you tell us you had met him?”

“How could you keep from telling us, is what I want to know?” Penny exclaimed.

“But never mind that,” Melba added quickly. “You must tell us all about him. And right now.”

“Indeed you shall,” Madeline echoed. “We won’t let you go anywhere until we’ve heard all. I’m sure the duke approves of him, yes? I mean, he must. He’s an earl!”

Penny sighed softly. “He looks just the way I imagined a rake of the highest order to look. Tall, broad shoulders, and too dangerous for words. I think he would make all the angels in heaven swoon if he walked by them, don’t you?”

“Angels are men, Penny,” Melba corrected tightly.

Penny huffed and jerked her hands to her slim hips. “They are not. Not all of them. Not the ones I’m talking about, anyway.”

“Never mind that, you two,” Madeline said. “Tell us, Katherine, what did you talk about for so long?”

Katherine’s gaze had darted from one young lady to the other as each had a say and asked questions about her conversation with the earl without giving her time to respond to any of them. At thirty, Madeline was the tallest and oldest of all the ladies in the Wilted Tea Society, a group that she’d started three years ago. It wasn’t a large group, and the only criterion was that you couldn’t be betrothed or married. But it seemed few young ladies wanted to belong to a gathering that called themselves wilted tea.

Katherine, like all the current members, found humor in the name and enjoyed their weekly gatherings for tea, friendship, and the latest gossip. Each week they were given a sewing project to work on and bring back to the next meeting. When the group formed, Madeline had insisted they couldn’t meet just for their own enjoyment but must do something worthwhile for less fortunate people, too. So the ladies embroidered handkerchiefs or knitted shawls, mittens, or caps and once a week took them to an orphanage. Katherine had joined her first Season because of this. If not for having been born into a wealthy family, she could have been sent to an orphanage after her parents were killed.

Contrary to what most people thought, the ladies in the group hadn’t given up on their dreams of one day meeting a handsome prince, falling in love, and making a match. It was just that they were getting older and still unwed. Madeline had asked her to join. And Katherine soon found she had more in common with the slightly older ladies than the ones who, like her, were making their debut into Society.

“Well?” Madeline said. “Don’t just continue to stand there mute. What did the earl have to say?”

Katherine didn’t want to tell them what she and Lord Greyhawke had talked about. It was private, but it was also clear she wouldn’t leave the barricade they had formed in front of her until she gave them something to chew on.

“We didn’t talk very long,” she said, stalling for time so she could come up with something credible to say that wouldn’t be too far from the truth.

“Ha!” Penny exclaimed as her dark eyes widened. “I was counting the seconds. It must have been at least ten minutes.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Katherine told the petite lady with the shock of wild cinnamon-colored hair that she had tried to tame with pins, combs, and flowers. “It couldn’t have been more than five, if even that long.”

“Just tell us what he wanted,” Melba insisted.

“Nothing,” Katherine said with a shake of her head, feeling a prick of guilt about the prevarication. He had wanted something.
To dance with her!

“What did he say?” Madeline asked again.

“Not much. It was just a simple conversation. We talked about the quadrille that was taking place.” Perhaps that stretched the truth a bit, too, but at this point she really wanted to settle this with as little fanfare as possible.

“Did he by chance mention me?” Penny asked expectantly. “I was on the dance floor.”

“No, I’m sorry, Penny. We didn’t talk about anyone specifically, but how lively the dancing was.”

“And?” Melba prompted, eagerly making a motion with her hands for Katherine to say more and to say it more quickly.

“And, well, let’s see … we talked about miracles.”

“Miracles?” all three ladies exclaimed in astonishment at the same time.

“You asked me and I’m telling you,” Katherine said, beginning to feel defensive.

“That’s the most preposterous thing you’ve said,” Melba squeaked.

“It’s true,” Katherine insisted.

“What kind of miracles?” inquired the smallest of the three young ladies.

“Who cares what kind, Penny?” Madeline said irritably. “It doesn’t matter about that. Katherine isn’t telling us anything that’s worth hearing. I have to admit, I was hoping for something a little more interesting than that.”

“I was hoping for something salacious or at least something bordering on scandalous,” Melba blurted out, and suddenly all four ladies were laughing.

“It wasn’t any of those things and all of you know it,” Katherine offered when their laughing subsided.

“Let’s be serious,” Penny said. “Did he say whether he would be staying in London now and attending the Season?”

“Or if he’s looking to make a match?” Melba questioned.

“Did he ask to call on you?”

“Or ask you to go for a ride in the park with him?”

Katherine gasped at the turn of the questions. “No, no, nothing like that, ladies. My goodness. We had just met. He wasn’t going to be telling me what his plans are.”

“Just tell us something he said,” Madeline argued.

“I’m sorry, perhaps one of you can get more information out of him. I’m afraid I failed miserably, but I—” Katherine stopped and smiled gratefully when she heard a faint
ding-a-ling
. “Oh, there’s the bell for dinner. I hope each of you is paired with an acceptable dinner partner. You all know that Auntie Lee will not accept any input from me no matter how hard I try. Now, I really must go. Uncle Willard will be waiting for me,” she said, holding firmly to her cane and hastily pushing her way between Melba and Penny without apology. “You know how perturbed he gets if I’m late to join him.”

“I was just coming to rescue you,” Aunt Leola said, easing up beside Katherine as she cleared the female blockade. “I could see your friends were wearing you to a frazzle.”

“Very much so.”

“They were quizzing you about the earl. Am I right?”

Katherine looked over at her tall, thin aunt, who always held her chin lifted in a regal tilt. “Yes, Auntie.” Katherine slowed her pace and added, “And I know you don’t ever ask a question that you don’t already know the answer to.”

“Thank you, dearie.” Auntie Lee’s eyes sparkled and she preened. “Of course you’re right, too. And you will be just as perceptive as I am one day, mark my words.”

Katherine thought of how she’d botched her conversation with Lord Greyhawke. “I shall count on that, Auntie, for I fear I haven’t developed that trait yet.”

Lady Leola, as most people called Katherine’s aunt, was lovely for her near sixty years, with wide-set eyes almost as green as Katherine’s. Her father’s sister had never been extravagant with her clothing, jewelry, or lifestyle. She’d never needed to be. She carried herself as if she were the most beautiful and most important person in the room, no matter how she was dressed or where she went. And Katherine knew that was how her Aunt Leola felt.

“So what did you tell your fluttering and chattering friends about the earl?”

“Nothing.”

“Perfect,” Auntie Lee said, giving Katherine another smile. “Ah, there’s Viscount Treadfield. I must give him the disappointing news that I couldn’t seat him beside the duke this evening because His Grace needs to talk to the lord mayor about a matter that will soon be coming up for a vote in Parliament. It’s not true, of course, but I can’t have anyone thinking they can tell me where they intend to sit at the duke’s dinner table. See you inside, dearie.”

Aunt Leola peeled away from Katherine as easily as she’d glided up beside her moments ago. Katherine shook her head, smiled, and kept walking.

Since the age of seven, Katherine had lived quietly with her elderly uncle the Duke of Quillsbury; his brother, her Uncle Willard; and their widowed sister, her Aunt Leola. Very quietly. Katherine had seldom had anyone her age to play with when she was young. On rare occasions, distant family members or friends would visit her uncle in whichever of his many houses they might be residing at the time, and they would bring children. But that didn’t happen often.

For a long time after she went to live with her uncle, she found herself wanting to scream for no other reason than to hear some noise. Her aunt and uncles were quiet. The servants, tutors, and her maid were all quiet. Even the old clock that stood in the vestibule of the aged manor house chimed so softly that she couldn’t hear it unless she was standing in front of it.

Before the accident, Katherine had lived with her parents and three older siblings. Their house was never quiet until after bedtime and seldom then. Even at night, if she awakened, she might hear one of her siblings talking in their sleep or her governess snoring. But since the accident, there were too many nights to count when she lay awake in her bed wishing that she could hear the sounds of her sisters’ and her brother’s laughter and their voices just one more time.

So even though she couldn’t dance, would never dance, she loved coming to the parties and balls and watching others twirl and swirl so effortlessly around the dance floor. She embraced the packed rooms of people hustling and bustling about. The loud music, boisterous laughter, and hum of chatter invigorated her and reminded her that her goal was to marry and have many children laughing, playing, and running throughout the house. The only thing that had kept Katherine from that goal so far was finding a man she wanted to father the half-dozen children she intended to have. And she was working on a list of possible gentlemen so that she could accomplish that goal and keep her promise to her uncle Quillsbury that she would be betrothed by the end of the Season.

A glance toward the tall, arched double doors that led into the long, narrow dining room showed her uncle Willard waiting patiently for her. Lord Willard’s gray hair was thinning at his crown, and deep lines fanned the edges of his eyes, but he hadn’t lost his straight spine or noble, distinguished presence. He was several inches shorter and more slight of build than his elder brother the duke and much more cantankerous of late. The older he got, the more snappish he became. He’d spent most of his adult life in the military and was a stickler for discipline, expecting everyone to follow his command. Since she was a child, he’d been able to scold her with just a look, so she’d learned early never to be late for dinner.

She’d seldom seen Uncle Willard when she’d first come to live at the duke’s house. She’d spent most of her time in bed recovering from her injuries, and he was often gone on an assignment for the military. When she was older, she realized Uncle Willard actually enjoyed having her in the house when he was there, to read to him, play chess with him, or on rare occasions play the pianoforte for him in the evenings after dinner.

Whenever they had conversations, he never rebuked her for speaking her mind, and she never failed to be honest with him about whatever matter they might be discussing at the time. He had a brilliant mind, and many were the times she would have loved to engage him in discussions about his work as a military officer, politics, or even science. But he would have none of that. He thought such topics too unsavory for her. Literature, poetry, and music were the only safe subjects of conversation for young ladies as far as he was concerned.