No Place for an Angel

by Gail Whitiker

  ‘A very pleasant one, my lord, thank you,’ Catherine replied for the benefit of the marquess’s servants riding atop the carriage. ‘We seem to be making good time.’

  ‘I suspect we will reach Newbury in time for dinner. We can put up at the George and Pelican. The rooms are comfortable and they serve an excellent roast beef.’

  Unsure of how she felt about the prospect of sharing a meal with Valbourg, Catherine nevertheless nodded her agreement and returned her attention to her book as the carriage set off again.

  ‘A charming man, Lord Valbourg,’ Mrs Rankin said casually. ‘What a coincidence he should be travelling to Gloucester the same day as us. And that he should catch up with us on the road.’

  ‘Yes, isn’t it,’ Catherine said, keeping her eyes on the page.

  ‘Of course, we are riding in his father’s carriage, so perhaps he feels obligated to check on our progress. And to make arrangements for our dinner and accommodation.’

  ‘I suspect he does.’ Catherine turned the page. ‘He travels these roads more often than we do and so knows better than most where to stop for such things.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure that’s all it is.’

  Catherine heard the note of amusement in the other woman’s voice, but by the time she looked up, Mrs Rankin’s eyes were already closed.

  She breathed a sigh of frustration and returned her attention to her book. Clearly, Lily wasn’t the only one prone to imagining romantic fantasies where none existed.

  * * *

  At midday, they stopped for a meal at a small country inn perched on the brow of a hill. Mrs Rankin went inside straight away, but, grateful for the opportunity to stretch her legs, Catherine walked to the edge of the property and stood gazing across the rolling countryside. She had almost forgotten how sweet the country air was, blissfully unpolluted by coal dust or the stench of sewage. And it was quiet. No clatter of carts and carriages, no chattering voices, just the sound of birdsong and the rustle of the afternoon breeze through the trees.

  ‘You should travel to the country more often,’ Valbourg remarked. ‘That is by far the most contented smile I have ever seen on your face.’

  Catherine kept her eyes on the view, determined to maintain an emotional distance between herself and Valbourg. ‘I had forgotten how refreshing it is to be able to take a deep breath of fresh air and not feel it catch in your throat.’

  ‘Agreed, but it’s not just that,’ he replied. ‘You seem more at ease here than you did in London. I always had the feeling you were looking over your shoulder.’

  ‘I was. You said yourself, a single woman has to be aware of what is going on around her. Especially when there are men willing to wager on her virtue.’

  ‘You were guarded before I told you about the wager,’ Valbourg said. ‘Have you some other reason for being fearful?’

  ‘Not fearful. Just...cautious.’

  His expression tightened. ‘Has this something to do with your past?’

  ‘To a degree.’ Catherine stared into the distance, tired of pretending that everything was all right. ‘There are people who are interested in what I do and with whom I spend my time.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I’ve seen them.’

  ‘Why haven’t you told me about this before?’ Valbourg asked.

  ‘Because it has nothing to do with you.’

  ‘Are we not friends?’

  Catherine turned to look at him. ‘I hadn’t thought of us in that way, no. You are who and what you are and I am who and what I am.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I cannot be concerned about you. If someone is watching you, I’ll take steps to put an end to it.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ Catherine informed him. ‘It will be coming to an end soon.’

  ‘Really.’ His tone was patently disbelieving. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because I know why they are watching me. And, no, I do not intend to tell you what those reasons are.’

  ‘But if this should turn dangerous—’

  ‘It won’t. This is a private matter, Valbourg, and a personal one,’ Catherine assured him. ‘My safety is not at risk.’ Only her future happiness. ‘And now, I suggest we return to the inn and have something to eat. I am anxious to continue on, as I’m sure you are.’

  She knew from the expression on his face that he wasn’t pleased with her answer, but this time, she didn’t care. She had no intention of enlightening Valbourg further as to the identity of Stubbs and Moody, or to explain her reasons for coming to the country. There was no simple way of telling a man like him that she was going to collect the son she had given up at birth and hopefully to start her life over with him.

  She doubted any man would be able to understand something like that.

  * * *

  The rest of the trip was uneventful. Valbourg secured two rooms at the George and Pelican, as well as a private dining room where he and Catherine partook of a most satisfactory meal. Mrs Rankin, as feared, had not benefited from the journey and had gone to bed early, preferring to take supper on a tray in her room.

  Guiltily, Catherine didn’t miss the woman’s presence, given that Valbourg went out of his way to be a charming dinner companion. He seemed determined to distract her and made no mention of the past, the men who were watching her or her reasons for travelling to the country. Instead, he entertained her with stories about his childhood, regaling her with anecdotes about his brother and older sister, with whom he was not close, and his younger sister Mary, with whom he was. But it was Sarah, the sister who had died, of whom he had the fondest memories.

  ‘Sarah wasn’t anything like Mary or Dorothy,’ Valbourg said when the remnants of their meal had been cleared away. ‘She was determined to do things her own way, but never in a manner that made it seem as though she was doing it to flaunt our parents’ wishes. She simply knew her own mind and refused to be pushed in any direction she had no desire to go.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like typical behaviour for the youngest daughter in a family like yours,’ Catherine said. ‘Most girls are far more biddable.’

  ‘Were you?’

  ‘I like to think I was. I loved my parents dearly, but I suppose I did have a bit of a wayward streak. Otherwise I wouldn’t have ended up in London singing for my supper.’

  Or bearing a child at the age of seventeen.

  ‘With a voice like yours, it would have been a crime had you not sung for your supper,’ Valbourg said. ‘When did you start singing?’

  ‘To be honest, I can’t remember a time when I did not. Mama and I used to sing duets when I was little, and I sang in the church choir from the time I was eight.’

  ‘And no one ever remarked about how amazing your voice was?’

  ‘I’m not sure anyone heard me,’ Catherine said. ‘I never sang solos. I was far too shy.’

  ‘Yet now you get up on stage and sing in front of thousands of people. How were you able to overcome your shyness enough to allow you to do that?’

  ‘Theo helped me. He made me see that when I was on stage, I actually became someone else,’ Catherine explained. ‘He said it wasn’t me singing any more, but the character I was playing. Somehow, that allowed me to feel more at ease and to concentrate on my performance.’

  ‘I’m glad he was able to do so.’ Valbourg smiled, the creases at the corners of his eyes becoming more pronounced—and making him look even more attractive. ‘Otherwise, you would have deprived London of a most formidable talent.’

  ‘To say nothing of the fact that you and I would never have—’ Catherine broke off, too late realising what she had almost said and how it might be interpreted. ‘Forgive me. I didn’t mean to suggest—’

  ‘What? That I, too, recognise how fortunate it is that we met? Or that getting to kn
ow you better hasn’t brought me a great deal of pleasure?’ Valbourg said. ‘Because it has.’

  The air around Catherine thinned and it suddenly became difficult to breathe. ‘You don’t have to say that. You don’t even like me all that much.’

  ‘Why would you say that?’

  ‘Because you keep insisting I find another man to be my lover.’

  ‘Only because I cannot. You need a man who is able to take care of you, Catherine,’ Valbourg said. ‘One who has no restrictions on what he does in his life. I can’t be that man. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you...because I do. And a great deal more than I should.’

  He uttered the last quietly, but Catherine heard every word. She also heard the regret he was unable to conceal. He liked her, even though his conduct led her to believe otherwise.

  She wasn’t surprised when he stood up and said, ‘I think it’s time we turned in.’

  Catherine nodded, the pounding of her heart deafening in her ears. ‘Thank you for dinner, Lord Valbourg.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ He didn’t touch her. He simply bowed and said, ‘Sleep well. We leave at half past seven.’

  ‘I shall be ready.’

  And she would, Catherine promised herself. Because the earlier they left, the sooner they would reach Gloucester and the sooner this enforced intimacy with Valbourg would come to an end.

  Chapter Five

  They arrived on the outskirts of Gloucester the following day, having stopped only once to change horses. Valbourg rode the entire way, sometimes within sight of the carriage, sometimes disappearing into the distance ahead. He did not try to engage Catherine in conversation again, and when they parted, it was only to remind her that he was looking forward to seeing her at Swansdowne the following evening.

  Catherine said she would be there around nine and then sat back against the velvet cushions and closed her eyes. She had no desire to enter into a conversation with Mrs Rankin. The woman was far too intuitive when it came to other people’s emotions. She was able to detect by the slightest shift in tonal inflection, or changes in facial expression, how other people were feeling—and she was very seldom wrong. That meant trouble when it came to Valbourg because Catherine was finding it harder and harder to pretend he wasn’t having an effect on her.

  The truth was, time spent with Valbourg was both exhilarating and exhausting. Exhausting because she was constantly aware of having to watch what she said, but exhilarating because every moment she spent in his company made her feel alive. Last night, he had made her laugh, he had made her think and he had made her feel things. Things she didn’t want to feel. Things she had no right to feel...and that was why she had to bring it to an end. Despite what he had said to her over dinner, there was no point imagining his feelings for her might lead to anything permanent between them. Not given his family’s expectations and her own plans when it came to Thomas. Her son would need her every day and every day she intended to be there for him; devoting her life to fulfilling the role she had set out upon five long years ago.

  That wasn’t to say there weren’t inherent problems with that situation as well, Catherine reminded herself. Thomas had no idea she was his mother. The Haileys had insisted that she refer to herself as a friend of the family’s during her twice-annual visits, explaining that anything else would only confuse Thomas and make him very unhappy. At no time was she to intimate that she knew who Thomas’s father was or that she had been in any way acquainted with him.

  Yet now she was coming back into the boy’s life as his mother. How was she to approach that conversation? Thomas would be shocked when he learned the truth, but would his overriding emotion be one of happiness or despair? He had spent the first five years of his life with the Haileys. He had seen Catherine less than ten times over that same period. And it was only during the last four visits that he seemed to remember who she was.

  Now she was coming to take him away; effectively removing him from the only home and family he had ever known. How would any normal five-year-old child react to such an upheaval in his life?

  * * *

  Catherine arrived in the market square in Gloucester to find Gwendolyn Marsh waiting for her in a stylish new carriage that, much to Catherine’s surprise, the lady drove herself.

  ‘I’ve always wanted to learn how to tool the ribbons,’ Gwen said, setting off as soon as the three of them were comfortably settled. ‘So I approached a gentleman who was selling his carriage and asked him how much he wanted for it. He said he would give it to me if I allowed him to show me how to drive. I decided that was a fair request and agreed. It has worked out very well for both of us.’

  ‘I tend to think you got the better of the deal,’ Catherine said, holding on to her bonnet as they clipped along. ‘The gentleman is without a carriage and with nothing in his pocket to show for it.’

  ‘True, but given that he proposed to me two weeks later, I suppose he considered it a worthwhile investment.’

  ‘Proposed!’ Catherine glanced at her friend in delight. ‘Did you accept?’

  ‘Heavens, no, though I suspect he will ask again.’ Gwen winked at her. ‘He is a most persistent gentleman.’

  Catherine laughed and suddenly felt lighter in spirit than she had in weeks. Being with Gwendolyn was as refreshing as breathing the clean country air. Both filled her with optimism, and cheered her, as did their eventual arrival at Hollyhock Cottage, Gwen’s charming country home. Over two hundred years old, the stone cottage had been lovingly restored and made into a warm, inviting home that welcomed family and guests alike.

  Catherine climbed the stairs to her old room and smiled when she opened the door to find that nothing had changed. The desk and the chest of drawers were in the same place, the cheval glass stood next to the four-poster bed, and the same blue-and-white curtains hung at the window. Only the bedspread of white lace and blue edging was new.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, having changed out of her travelling clothes and into more appropriate attire, Catherine closed her bedroom door and walked down the hall to Mrs Rankin’s room.

  ‘Are you all right, Margaret?’ she asked through the closed door.

  A moment later it opened. ‘I’m fine,’ Mrs Rankin said, though there wasn’t a trace of colour in her face. ‘I’m just going to rest up for a bit. I think the journey must have tired me out.’

  ‘I’m sure it did,’ Catherine said. ‘I’ll have a dinner tray sent up, shall I? That way, you won’t have to get dressed and go downstairs.’

  ‘Oh, that would be nice. Mrs Searling invited me to join her for dinner, but I said it might be better if we waited until tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll be right as rain by then.’

  ‘I’m sure you will. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  Catherine closed the door and then went downstairs to find Gwendolyn waiting for her in the drawing room with two glasses of sherry and a tray of cheese pastries. ‘Sorry to have kept you waiting, Gwen.’

  ‘My dearest girl, you don’t owe me any apologies. I’m just delighted you’re finally here. And I can’t believe how little you’ve changed,’ she said as Catherine sat down across from her. ‘Except to grow more beautiful. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were in love.’

  ‘Which, I can assure you, I am not,’ Catherine said, quickly thrusting images of Valbourg’s face from her mind. ‘You were right to say I can encourage neither prince nor pauper. If I had, I wouldn’t be here today in the hopes of regaining custody of Thomas tomorrow.’

  ‘But have princes or paupers been knocking at your door?’

  ‘Constantly. And they have all been sent away with the same response,’ Catherine said, determined to keep the moment light.

  ‘Still, they did come, as I warned you they would,’ Gwen said. ‘You are too beautiful to be left alone, Catherine, and whe
n you sing, men see the passion in your eyes and wish to possess it. It has always been the way. But once you have Thomas, you will be free to entertain their advances. Or perhaps you already have. I couldn’t help but notice that you arrived in a very stylish barouche bearing a very fine coat of arms.’

  ‘Compliments of the Marquess of Alderbury,’ Catherine admitted. ‘Or rather, his son.’

  Gwen’s eyes widened. ‘Valbourg?’

  ‘Yes. Do you know him?’

  ‘We met several years ago in London. Sadly, his sister had just died and the family was in mourning, but I remember thinking what a handsome man he was even then. Did he ever marry?’

  ‘No, though his name has been connected of late with that of Lady Susan Wimsley,’ Catherine said in an offhand manner.

  ‘She would be fortunate to secure his affection,’ Gwen said. ‘Valbourg has long been one of London’s most eligible bachelors, and I suspect his father is anxious that he marry, given that Valbourg is the legal guardian of his late sister’s child, Sebastian.’

  Catherine stared at her friend in astonishment. ‘He is?’

  ‘You didn’t know?’

  ‘No one had any reason to tell me.’

  ‘It was the talk of the town when it happened,’ Gwen said. ‘Shortly after Lady Sarah died, her four-year-old son went to live with Valbourg and, as far as I know, is still there.’

  ‘But is it not unusual for a single man to be given the charge of such a young boy?’ Catherine said. ‘Surely someone else in the family would have been better equipped to look after him.’

  ‘I’m not sure anyone was given the chance. As I recall, it was Lady Sarah’s wish that Valbourg look after the boy.’

  ‘And Valbourg agreed?’ Catherine asked in surprise.

  ‘Yes, though I am sure it turned his life upside down,’ Gwen said with a chuckle. ‘He had been quite the rake to that point. Gambling, drinking, carousing. The usual vices of a young man in his position. But he gave it all up and settled down to the life of a responsible family man. All he was missing was a wife.’