The Rebel Bride

by Catherine Coulter

  “Kate, my dear, I realize that you and the earl have had some sort of misunderstanding. But surely you must see that your marriage to him would bring you the greatest advantages. Come, child, don’t be so upset.” Lord, how had she ever allowed Julien to embroil her in such a wretched tangle? She’d always had a weakness for the boy, and look where it had landed her.

  Kate turned away, angry at herself for being such a fool and at the earl for placing her willy-nilly in such an untenable position. It was on the tip of her tongue to unleash her anger and frustration at Lady Bellingham, but she realized the good woman really had as little to say in the matter as she did.

  At the sound of Lady Bellingham’s pained breathing, she turned quickly back.

  “Please, ma’am, I’m sorry you’re so upset by this matter. Here, let me fetch you your vinaigrette.”

  Lady Bellingham closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillows Kate had carefully placed behind her head. She managed to say with some semblance of calm, “Kate, I vow you will much enjoy yourself. We are to see John Philip Kemble perform Macbeth at Drury Lane. The earl will arrive at eight o’clock this evening, and after the play we shall have a late supper at the Piazza, a most delightful place, my dear, I promise. It will be enjoyable, fascinating, really, and the earl is so very, well, manly and really rather charming.”

  Lady Bellingham halted her monologue, for Kate was staring blankly ahead of her, seemingly oblivious of what Lady Bellingham was saying.

  Drat Julien. Why couldn’t he have chosen a girl to wed who was at least not averse to his suit? Why must he have a girl who positively loathed him?

  “At eight o’clock, did you say, ma’am?”

  “Yes, my dear.” Her hostess smiled. Finally, she thought, relieved, Kate is coming around to accepting the situation. And although she was quite pale and her green eyes looked strangely blank, she seemed now, at least, quite composed.

  “Very well, ma’am,” She bundled the gowns in her arms. “I do suppose I shall very much enjoy seeing Kemble.”

  Lady Bellingham didn’t notice the bitterness in Kate’s voice and silently congratulated herself on her deft handling of the situation.

  13

  Julien rose from his dressing table, satisfied with the exquisite result he’d achieved with his cravat, and allowed Timmens to remove an infinitesimal speck of dust from his black-satin evening coat.

  “Does my appearance meet with your approval, Timmens? Ah, before you answer, please remove that Friday-face. It will make my cravat limp. Perhaps it would be a fine idea if you never married.”

  “There can be no one to outshine your lordship,” Timmens said, eyes straight ahead. He’d discovered long ago that if he attempted to respond to his master’s little jests, he fell into such a floundering tangle of words he was quite discomfited for days afterward. It appeared to him that the earl was quite amused if he simply pretended ignorance at his lordship’s humor and treated his every utterance with the utmost seriousness.

  “Let’s hope you’re right, Timmens,” Julien remarked as he drew on his evening gloves. “Oh, yes, and don’t wait up for me.” Even though his valet dutifully nodded, Julien knew he would be waiting no matter the lateness of the hour, but he never failed to remind his valet not to do it.

  It was with a light step that Julien descended the carpeted stairs to the elegantly marbled front hallway. He looked about him for a brief moment before nodding to a footman to open the front doors. It wouldn’t be long now, he thought with satisfaction, before he would know if Kate found his town house to her liking.

  Bladen, elegantly clad in the St. Clair scarlet and white livery, hurried to open the door of the carriage for his master.

  “Bladen, I find that I’m somewhat early. Pray inform Wilbury that he need be in no hurry.” Julien sat back comfortably against the red-velvet cushions, stretching his long legs diagonally to the seat opposite him.

  Wilbury was surprised by this instruction, being used to driving at a spanking pace no matter the occasion. He shrugged his shoulders and gently urged the magnificent matched bays to move slowly forward.

  Julien smiled in anticipation of his long-awaited meeting with his future wife. It had been with some difficulty that he’d forced himself not to pay her a visit immediately upon her arrival in London. He realized that he must give her time, time primarily to discover that it was he who was responsible for bringing her here, and time to adjust to the idea that he had no intention whatsoever of letting her go. He knew full well that he’d placed her in a situation where her choices were very limited. She couldn’t return to Brandon Hall. He guessed that she was far too well-bred to behave in an openly churlish manner toward Lady Bellingham. He knew she would be furious at his treatment, but he quelled any pangs of conscience, certain that he was acting in her best interest and, of course, in accordance with his own wishes. He didn’t like the taste of failure. He would make certain he never tasted it again.

  He did, however, reproach himself momentarily about his devious maneuver of placing Eliza in Lady Bellingham’s household to act as Kate’s personal maid. He smiled in the dim light of his carriage at what Eliza had told him about Kate’s behavior after her meeting with Lady Bellingham. Kate had been a caged tiger, Eliza had informed him, pacing her bedroom, hurling invectives at his head, until finally, her anger spent, she had grown quiet. “Too quiet, if you know what I mean, my lord. She’s smart, is Miss Katharine, and she’s no coward. She’s madder at you than my ma ever was at my pa, even when he was drunk.”

  Actually, Eliza’s description had fit well with his own prediction of Kate’s reaction. Well, he would soon see. He had chosen Kemble’s Macbeth deliberately for their first meeting, fairly certain that Lady Bellingham would drop off to sleep by the second act, leaving Kate for all practical purposes alone with him. She wouldn’t be able to yell at him for fear of waking her kind hostess, nor would she be able to leave the box, for she was well aware that such behavior would cause endless speculation. Besides, if she left the box, where would she go?

  He grinned quietly to himself, remembering the speculation he himself had caused when he had invited Hugh and Percy to dine with him upon his return to London. That they had thought his scheme a little mad, in fact, became obvious as the evening wore on.

  Hugh had finally said, “You must forgive us, Julien, for appearing to think your behavior strange.”

  “Beyond damned strange, if you ask me,” Percy said.

  Hugh said, “It’s just that we’ve never seen you go to such lengths over a lady.”

  Hugh’s mildly spoken observation brought a quick smile to Julien’s face. “Do not trouble yourselves,” he said cheerfully, “for believe me, I’ve quite given up trying to explain my damnably strange behavior. But I will have her, and I plan to do whatever necessary to get her. I fear that’s all there is to it.”

  Hugh grinned. “Well, it appears that we must again offer you our congratulations.”

  Both men raised their glasses and Percy said, “To a well-fought and successful campaign. May the best man—or lady—win.”

  “The chit doesn’t stand a chance,” Hugh said. “No matter that red hair of hers.”

  “I hope she serves you up some nasty turns before you nab her, Julien. It would be good for your character.”

  Actually, he thought she’d given him enough of a nasty turn already. He wondered how many more she’d give him.

  Julien roused himself and pulled the white-satin curtain away from the carriage window. Lord, he thought, Wilbury was certainly taking him at his word. He settled back again against the luxurious cushions and let his mind wander to Yvette and Lady Sarah, reflecting with a certain degree of relief that he had no more to worry about in regard to either of them. He had most willingly given his blessing to Lord Riverton in his pursuit of Yvette. But the Lady Sarah had been a more serious matter.

  “Julien, my dear, I’d quite thought that you’d decided to immure yourself forever in the coun
try.” Sarah had greeted him in her high, breathless voice. Always aware of gossiping servants, she had led him to a small parlor on the second floor of Lord Ponsonby’s mansion in Portsmouth Square. She was elegantly dressed in a riding habit of blue velvet and looked to be on the verge of leaving.

  “You’re going out?” He said, as he took her small hand for a brief moment and raised it to his lips.

  She made a small, fluttering gesture, fanning her hand in front of her, and gave him an arch smile. “It will do Lord Davenport no harm to wait half an hour,” she said softly.

  Julien realized that she hoped to provoke him to jealousy, but he felt only relief at the mention of Lord Davenport. A man of great address was Sir Edward. Julien had never before thought of the affected viscount with such fondness.

  Sarah moved away from him and sat down gracefully on a small sofa, patting the place beside her.

  “Come, Julien, sit down. You make me quite nervous standing there like a great silent bear.”

  “Good Lord, Sarah. A bear?” He grinned at the unlikely simile. One of the lady’s greatest charms lay in her ability to make peculiar, yet delightful, comparisons.

  “That isn’t at all important. Come, my dear, what’s on your mind? Surely you’re not here for an afternoon tryst?”

  Julien didn’t answer immediately. He was rather taken off guard when she filled the silence in a rather flat voice, saying, “My God, so that’s it. You’ve met another lady.”

  How the devil could she possibly tell? Did women have special powers that enabled them to see through a man instantly? It was unnerving. “You’re astute, Sarah. Indeed I’ve come to tell you, and hope that you will wish me happy.”

  Her blue eyes widened and she stared at him openmouthed. “You . . . you plan to marry? You? This isn’t just another flirtation?”

  “Surely it isn’t as great a surprise or shock as all that.” He saw what he thought was hurt in her eyes before she turned her head away. He didn’t wish to admit it, but he knew that this abrupt ending of their liaison was not only a blow to her pride but also to her heart. At least he believed so. But who knew with women?

  “Sarah, I’m indeed sorry, but that’s the way of it.” He spoke gently but was aware of a great impatience to be gone. Although Sarah tended to become romantically involved with her lovers, she had known as well as he that their affair would end in time. He was only sorry, knowing Sarah as he did, that it was not she who broke off their relationship.

  “What is this remarkable girl’s name?”

  “You don’t know her. She has lived all her life in the country. In fact, her father’s estate lies near to St. Clair. She will be coming to London to stay with Lady Bellingham. Ah, yes, her name is Katharine.”

  She heard a new note in his voice, deepening it, making it somehow tender. She turned back to him. Wonder and a goodly dose of incredulity were written on her face. “My God, Julien, you are in love with a girl from the country? An innocent? Good heavens, no one will believe it. Not you, my lord, who fancy your pleasures from ladies who know what’s what and what they’re about.”

  He frowned at that, disliking to see himself in such a light, but said, “Yes, I suppose I am in love with a girl from the country who is very innocent. But she isn’t stupid or ignorant or boring.”

  “And you have come to end our affair,” she stated flatly.

  “Yes.”

  She rose abruptly and pressed her fingertips against her temples. “It won’t last, you know. You’ll tire of her as you do all your women. She might be a perfect saint, but it will happen. And when you’re bored? You’ll have a wife, and a wife isn’t tossed aside as is a lover or a mistress. Well, you’ll do as you please no matter what I say. It seems, my lord, that we have little else to say to one another.”

  Julien also stood up. In a swift motion he leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead. He gazed deep into her china-blue eyes and said quietly, “I hope you will be kind to Katharine. She knows no one in London.”

  That wasn’t bloody likely, she thought, but forced a very charming smile. “Of course I shall be kind to her, Julien. I wish you the best, you know that. And your Katharine. You had best go now before I become the fool.”

  It wasn’t lost on Julien that she glanced covertly at the clock as she spoke.

  Julien sat up with a start and saw Bladen patiently holding open the door of his carriage for him to alight.

  “Thought you’d fallen asleep, my lord,” Bladen said.

  “Very nearly,” Julien said, as he stepped down on the flagstone in front of the Bellingham mansion. He called to Wilbury, “Walk the horses, Davie, I can’t be certain how long I will be.”

  Julien was quickly admitted and shown to the drawing room.

  “Oh, Julien, dear me, you have arrived, and quite none too soon. Oh dear, yes, come in, come in.” Lady Bellingham straightened her dowager’s lavender turban over the small, crimped curls and turned distractedly to him.

  “I hope I find you quite well, Lady Bella,” he said, his voice and expression at their charming best, crossing to where she sat and lightly touching his lips to her gloved fingers. He raised his eyebrows in question.

  “Don’t stare down your nose at me, Julien. I vow I can’t help it if Katharine must needs spend hours getting dressed. And I thought that she’d changed her mind toward you. I should have known the two of you would cut up my peace. What can she be doing?”

  Julien laughed and moved over to stand next to the fireplace. “Tell me more.”

  “A more ill-matched pair I have yet to see. Do help yourself to a glass of sherry. Lord knows what the girl is doing. Probably plotting to poison your supper.”

  Julien did as he was bid, careful to pour a very full glass for Lady Bellingham. She was fond of her sherry, particularly when she was undergoing an agitation of the nerves.

  He handed her a glass and eased himself into a chair opposite her. “Have you been waiting long, ma’am?”

  “Stupid question, my boy. You were expected at eight o’clock. It’s now eight-thirty, and I feel at least two years older.”

  “The performance doesn’t begin until nine-thirty. We’ve lots of time.”

  “That is not the point, as you well know, young man. Whatever your mama would say to your antics I don’t know. Why must a man be so perverse as to pick a chit who wants to see him with his throat cut?” She quickly downed a sizable gulp of sherry.

  “Actually, I haven’t yet spoken to her.” He added quickly at the look of surprise in Lady Bella’s eyes, “Never fear, ma’am. I shall pay her a visit as soon as our engagement is to be announced in the Gazette.”

  “At the rate you’re proceeding, your hair will be as gray as mine.” She heaved a deep sigh and swallowed the rest of her sherry.

  When Julien had paid Lady Bellingham his unexpected visit almost three weeks ago, she had been eager to fall in with his plan. She had proudly seen her dear Anne, the last of her numerous brood, wed to the young Viscount Walbrough during the past summer and had grown quite bored resting her bones at home in the evenings. She had known Julien’s mama before her marriage to Julien’s papa, and she’d watched Julien over the years politely but disinterestedly turn away from each new season’s crop of girls making their come-outs, including her own dear daughters. The thought of again being involved with a courtship, and particularly the idea of meeting the girl who had finally managed to bring his lordship to heel, had made her quite animated. As for the tenuous connection she shared with the Brandon family, that bothered her not at all. Indeed, she wasn’t at all certain that Julien was right, that there was indeed a connection. Her only concern had been that Katharine would speak with that horrible northern accent and thus make both of them a laughingstock among the ton.

  When Katharine had arrived on her doorstep, clad in the most horrid and outdated of clothes, she had groped for her vinaigrette, believing that the worst of her fears had been realized. The girl spoke in a soft, cultured voice,
which was somewhat of a relief, but Lady Bellingham didn’t set aside her vinaigrette until Kate proudly announced that she had a thousand guineas with which to purchase a new wardrobe. Her enthusiastic response was catching, and Katharine herself unbent considerably. But what a surprise it had been to Lady Bellingham when at every mention of the earl’s name, the girl’s magnificent green eyes had flashed red.

  Julien asked Lady Bellingham matter-of-factly, “Has Katharine been a sad trial to you, ma’am?”

  “Good gracious, no, Julien. It’s just that, well, she’s quite independent, but a dear girl, so bright and smiling—at least most of the time, when you’re not the topic of conversation. She will lead you a merry chase, Julien, that’s for sure. I only hope I am still alive to see it when it finally happens, but I’m not at all sure it will happen, given the way things are going now—or not going.”

  “Believe me, ma’am, she’s been confusing me, leaving me to twist and turn in the wind since the first time I met her, when she died at my feet.”