Married to the Marquess

by Rebecca Connolly

  “Do not be unfeeling towards him, Whitlock,” she hissed. “He may remain here however long he chooses. If you would like to leave, then be my…”

  “I would like to retire now,” Lord Dartwell announced in his quiet voice.

  They both turned to look at him in surprise. “You would?” Katherine asked, looking confused.

  He nodded. “What’s the use? No one really misses her. They’re only here for the food.”

  Derek had to bite his lips together to keep from grinning or laughing, and quickly clasped his hand behind his back, as he also had the sudden urge to poke Kate in the shoulder.

  “Besides,” he continued, “I’m hungry myself.” And with that, he turned and walked away.

  Derek very properly offered his arm to Katherine, who very reluctantly took it. “Have I ever mentioned how much I like your father?” he asked rather brightly.

  “Shut up, Whitlock,” she muttered.

  A satisfied smirk crossed his lips, which faded as he saw that Sir Nigel and Lady Aurelia were crossing over the room to meet them. Of all the people in the world he couldn’t bear to converse with, these two were at the top of the list. Sir Nigel never said anything worth hearing, though he seemed to think his whole purpose in life was to grant his wife’s every request, and to speak to anybody nearby about whatever he could think about for however long he could think about it.

  Aurelia was not much better. Everything should have been her idea, everybody should do things to her satisfaction, every fashionable item would look better on her, which Derek knew for a fact that it would not, as Aurelia more often than not looked as though someone had tried to stuff a pig into a dress. He also had no doubt that people were much wiser than he gave them credit for, as nobody ever asked Lady Aurelia’s opinion on anything.

  He held his breath as the approached, as if that would make them avoid speaking with him.

  He had no such luck.

  “Whitlock!” Nigel cried joyously, as if they had not just spent the last two hours in the exact same places, and if those places had not revolved around the funeral for the mother of their wives.

  “Nigel,” Derek answered with a nod, trying to hurry Katherine along just a little bit more, though she seemed to be moving a touch faster on her own.

  “Whitlock, it is so good to see you,” Aurelia gushed, very nearly hauling her husband along to keep speed with them.

  “And you as well, Aurelia. May I say how lovely you are looking this morning?” He bit the inside of his cheek as he felt more than heard Kate groan next to him. He knew better than to say such things, but really, sometimes Aurelia said the most delightfully insipid things that it was worth asking just to hear it.

  “Oh, I daresay,” Aurelia replied, pretending to blush, and not very convincingly, “this is a mourning dress, Whitlock. Nobody looks lovely in a mourning dress, not even pretty Katherine. Look at how that black color simply washes her out! Ugh, I cannot even begin to imagine what it must feel like to look so pallid.”

  Kate stiffened next to him, but still said nothing, which was much to her credit. He didn’t even like his wife and he felt his ire rising.

  “The service was quite good, didn’t you think, Whitlock?” Nigel asked peering around his wife, which took some effort, given that he was so large that peering around anything took effort, and Aurelia was hardly small.

  “Oh, but it would have been so much better if I had been in charge of things,” Aurelia broke in. “Nigel told me there were no flowers, no music, and the minister who spoke? So drab and little and hardly worth looking at. I should have chosen that Mr. Emery who is the clergyman over where we live. He is quite attractive.”

  “Everything was just as Mother specified,” Katherine managed through her teeth. “Down to the minister.”

  “Yes, well, Mother would not have known if things had been different, would she?” Aurelia said without concern. “After all, we were the ones who had to attend, not she. No, I should have done the whole thing. It would have been quite a triumph.”

  “Right you are, my love,” Nigel said with an adoring look that was so gruesome that Derek actually winced.

  “I didn’t know that funerals were meant to be triumphs,” Derek murmured, mostly for Kate’s benefit, and, sure enough, one small corner of her mouth ticked, ever so slightly.

  “Oh, Whitlock,” Aurelia said on a rather annoying high-pitched giggle. “You are such a silly man. Now, if you do not mind, I should like to speak to my sister for a moment.”

  Derek shot a look at Kate, who looked back at him with almost panicked eyes. “Oh, but your father has decided to retire, and Katherine must as well,” he said quickly, wondering what was possessing him to take his wife’s side.

  “Oh, Father can wait a few more moments, and so can Katherine,” Aurelia said, taking her sister’s arm and separating both of them from their husbands. “Just a little sisterly chat for a moment. It will not take long, I promise. You and Nigel can talk while we do so, it has been so long since you have been here, I am sure there is much to catch up on.”

  With an odd sense of reluctance, he let Kate go, fearing very much for the state in which she would be returned to him. Then he turned to the man he was left to converse with, and he wondered who would be in a fouler mood when all this was over.

  “Aurelia, I really do not think that now is the time to…”

  “Katherine, I do not care what you think now is the time for,” Aurelia overrode in a tone so serious, and so very unlike her normal timbre, that Katherine actually did not think of interrupting. “There are more important things at stake at this moment than you can even bear to think of.”

  Knowing her sister’s tendency towards the dramatic, Katherine only offered a small, “Oh?” and waited for the rest to unfurl. When it became apparent that Aurelia expected to hear more of a response than that, she added, “What things?”

  “Your reputation, for one. And your husband’s for another.”

  A cold feeling swept through Katherine’s frame. She had spent the last five years very carefully managing each and every detail of her life, and quite a bit of Whitlock’s, so that there was nothing but respect and admiration surrounding their names. She was not foolish or naïve enough to think that people believed theirs was a romantic marriage; she knew full well that the public was aware of their distaste for each other, but perhaps not to the full extent.

  But if somehow, someway, she had made a false step somewhere, and now all of her work would be for naught, that would be a disaster tantamount to the world crumbling beneath her feet.

  “What is it?” she whispered in fear.

  “I was standing over near Lady Greversham, who looked absolutely appalling, did you see that hat she had on?” Aurelia shuddered, as if the mere recollection gave her chills. “Horrifying. I would never be seen in anything so outré.”

  “Aurelia,” Katherine bit out as patiently as she could, which was not very. She should have known that the severity in her sister’s demeanor would not last.

  “Oh, yes, yes, sorry, distracted by the horror. As I said, I was standing near Lady Greversham, who was conversing with Miss Milhern and Mrs. Cardew. And the gossip they were spreading, and at our lovely wake service, I know,” she said, holding up a hand to ward off Katherine’s apparent offense, which was not even forthcoming, “they should not have been so rude, and I had half a mind to turn about and scold them most soundly, but I was in too much of a state to do so. At any rate, they were whispering in the most horrid fashion.”

  “About what?” She could almost not even bear to ask. What could she possibly have done to draw comment from these women?

  Aurelia quirked one brow, and smirked. “Your husband.”

  “Whitlock?” Katherine asked slowly, her mind feeling very sluggish.

  “Unless you have another husband, that would be the one, yes.”

  Katherine ignored the snide comment for the time being. “No, I mean, what could Whitlock have done? H
e is so well liked by everybody.” Except her, but that was no matter.

  Aurelia huffed with impatience. “He came, Katherine.”

  “To the funeral?”

  “To London. Honestly, Katherine, do you know anything of people?”

  “Apparently not. Why is his coming to London cause for comment? He does so every year.”

  “Yes,” Aurelia said, drawing out the s for a long moment, “but he does that at the same time every year. He is here suddenly to be with you.”

  “For our mother’s funeral,” Katherine said, taking on Aurelia’s repeated need for emphasis just this once. “It has nothing to do with me, I can assure you.”

  “Does it not? Everybody knew our mother detested him, and that Whitlock was only barely polite to her face. Why would a man as powerful as he come down to London purely to attend the funeral of the woman for whom he held the greatest contempt?”

  Katherine’s mouth worked for a few moments, her mind ever so slowly working through the wasteland that used to be her thoughts. “What are they saying?” she whispered.

  “That the marquess has finally come to produce the heir to his dukedom.”

  The breath was stolen from Katherine’s lungs as the words pierced her. She would almost prefer that the gossip be about something awful, some lie that could be refuted by a few well-placed individuals with proper knowledge of fact. Speculation on what her husband was doing in London on short notice was one thing; predicting that he was come to do his husbandly duties and sire an heir was entirely another.

  It was positively mortifying. She did not doubt that people wondered when they would start their family, but she hardly expected it to be an item of such great concern and conversation. Did they think that when she and Whitlock finally produced children was any of their business, or that their level of intimacy was something to be speculated? Children would come when they were ready for them, and not a moment before.

  And she did want children, very much. But she could hardly bear the children of a man she detested so completely without some serious reflection and preparation before even contemplating taking on such measures. Perhaps it was silly of her, but she wanted to enjoy raising her children. She wanted to be able to ensure that Whitlock would make a good father, and that he thought she would make a good mother.

  At the moment, she was not convinced of either.

  A duchess never shirks her duty, no matter how distasteful.

  She groaned at that particular rule of her mother’s, but knew it was true. Her main duty would be to ensure that the duke’s line continued on, and the only way to do that was through her husband.

  She was only three and twenty, surely they could worry about children later.

  But if the members of Society were going to discuss it amongst themselves…

  “Katherine!”

  She shook herself as she realized that her sister had been attempting to get her attention for some time now. “Yes?”

  “Good heavens, where is your mind at the moment?”

  Even Katherine did not have a good response for that.

  “I asked you how long your husband is going to be in Town.”

  “I do not know,” she admitted, gnawing at her bottom lip. “We have not discussed it yet. I have been a little occupied with…”

  “Well, you had better ensure that he remains for some time, or else worse things will be spoken of concerning the two of you, and of you in particular.”

  “Of me?”

  “Darling girl,” Aurelia said with a mocking laugh and a roll of her eyes, “I never imagined that you could be so very stupid as far as these things were concerned. Do you honestly believe that people will consider a lack of his attentions to you something to do with him? No, no, they will be very severe with you, Katherine. Whether or not you two decide to become adults and produce some children, which you really should, dear, it’s not good for you to be so occupied with business affairs, is beside the point. Appearances are everything. If you cannot manage to keep your husband around for more than a few days…” She trailed off and shrugged. “Have you seen your husband, Katherine? There is not a woman in London or any other part of the country who would hesitate to do what you will not.”

  “That is nobody’s business but my own,” Katherine protested in a hissing voice, though her stomach clenched at her sister’s words. She knew it was true, and she was quite certain Aurelia herself would have done it. “Whitlock and I are…”

  “Taking far too long,” Aurelia interrupted with a flapping of her pudgy hand. “I do not very much care or mind such things, Katherine, as you well know. I am discretion herself.”

  Katherine almost snorted in spite of her turmoil.

  “But I can only do so much to stem the tide of rumors,” she continued. “I will do what I can, I assure you, but the rest must come from you. Keep Whitlock in town however you can, and then nobody will think that you have been putting him off in favor of furthering your own influence in Society.”

  “Is that what they think?” Katherine asked, putting a hand to her throat and feeling suddenly very queasy.

  Aurelia pretended to look surprised. “Did I say that? Oh, dear, I had not intended to reveal such a horrible falsehood. Well, I suppose it is better that you know than for it to remain a secret any longer.” She heaved a sigh and looked back over to their husbands. “Well, I certainly feel much better having discussed this with you, Katherine. My burden is so much lighter now. Shall we return to our husbands?”

  Katherine did not, and could not, respond as her sister led her back to where the men stood waiting. She ignored the trite comments on Aurelia’s part, as it was in her nature to think herself so kind and generous when she was anything but, and her derogatory comments on the subject of her husband were the most commonplace things in her collection of rants.

  She groaned in her mind at what now lay before her, atop everything else. What would Whitlock say? How would she even bring up the subject? Her cheeks were flaming at the mere thought of how that conversation would go, how would it be when she actually had to do it? She could not even bear to look at him as she approached, though the moment her hand was transferred back into his arm, she knew that he was in just as foul a mood as she was. For the very first time in her life, and she highly suspected the last, she was grateful that Nigel had married her sister. One could always count on him to be dull and rambling and maddening in his tepidity.

  With the swiftest farewells ever known to mankind, Whitlock nearly shoved her out of the room, himself impossibly quick to follow, and then they waited for their coach to be readied and loaded. It was time to return to their own home. If the rumors Aurelia had spoken of were true, she could not stay away any longer.

  Tomorrow, Katherine decided. She would discuss the subject of his staying with Whitlock tomorrow. Today she needed to think.

  Chapter Five

  After what was quite possibly the worst night of sleep she had ever received, Katherine thought it prudent to give up the charade of attempting to continue sleeping and go down for some breakfast. Perhaps having a little something in her stomach would aid her mind. It needed all the help it could get.

  She had run through every scenario she could in her mind, practiced at least thirty different ways to approach the subject of his stay, and tried to produce no less than seven very sincere and innocent expressions, and none of the attempts had been worth very much. She would have to tell him something at some point, and it was going to have to be soon. Time was not something she had the luxury of taking for granted.

  At the moment, she found that what she lacked more than time was courage, which was a strange sensation. There was not much that actually made her want to cower in a corner somewhere.

  Leaving her room in the black mourning gown she detested, and with her hair pulled tightly back as she always kept it, she made her way downstairs. She caught sight of the maids and asked, “Jemima, has Lord Whitlock been down to eat yet?” She fought th
e urge to cross her fingers and hoped desperately that he had not.

  “Yes, milady,” the girl responded with a quick bob. “He and the Earl of Beverton and Mr. Gerrard are just finishing in the breakfast room.”

  Blast. She did not want to see Whitlock and two of his friends this morning. Colin Gerrard was one of those people that one either loved or hated, and Katherine was not one that loved him. The Earl of Beverton, on the other hand, was generally a very pleasant man, though Katherine knew that his opinion of her was formed by his association with Whitlock, and therefore, he was somewhere between terrified she would lash out and bite him and disgusted by the very sight of her.

  The feeling was mutual. She further did not wish to see the earl this morning, for his wife had called every day since she had arrived, and some days twice, and had left a card every time. At this rate, she would have a stack of the countess’s cards that was larger than her own.

  But now she had to face that woman’s husband as well as her own, with the addition of a loon at that.

  She would merely have to ask if Whitlock would speak with her privately, that is all. Surely he would grant his wife that request.

  With a final release of breath, she pushed open the door and found the three of them laughing uproariously about something, and she knew instantly that there would have been no preparation she could have made that would have given her more ease.

  It took them all a moment to notice her approach, but once they did, her husband stood hastily, and was quickly followed by the other two. Well, at least they had manners. For the moment.

  “Good morning, Kate!” Derek crowed aloud. His friends bowed politely, but he refrained, no doubt hoping to garner a response.

  He did. She stiffened and fixed her cold, dark eyes upon him. “I prefer Katherine.”

  “Well, I prefer Kate,” he stated as he and his friends sat back down. Colin looked excited about the potential fight that was brewing. Beverton, on the other hand, seemed remarkably ill at ease.