When a Lord Needs a Lady

by Jane Goodger

  Katherine twisted her gloves in her hand. “I thought you were happy. I aspired to have a marriage like yours, but it was all a lie.”

  “We have a good marriage. Better than most. You must get romantic notions of marriage out of your head, my dear. Just look at Lord Avonleigh and that silly Claudia. Do you think for one minute they will be happy together?”

  Katherine shook her head, hating that the mere mention of his name caused such an ache in her heart. “No, I don’t.”

  “Yet they are both getting precisely what they want, aren’t they.”

  The next two weeks were spent at three different country estates. Some of the guests had also been at Lord and Lady Haverslys’ but the Von Haupts and Marjorie were not among them. Katherine wrote to Marjorie at her home, even knowing she wouldn’t get the letters until her return. She missed her friend and was in such a state, she could hardly garner the energy to make new ones.

  She spent far too many nights alone in her rooms, and her mother, thinking she was still upset about the affair, let her. She was upset about the affair. She looked back on her childhood and could not remember a single thing that suggested her parents were anything but happy together. They had not been demonstrative with each other, that was true, but how many older couples were? She couldn’t remember ever seeing any of her friends’ parents touching each other, unless it was to be helped down from a carriage or to walk in to supper together. Were all marriages frauds? Surely someone was happy.

  They were heading out to yet another house party in Nottingham. Rufford Abbey was a home of little historic interest and less grandeur, but its owner was a colorful old bachelor who was well-liked among the ton. Sir John Stiley, Baron of Rufford, was unmarried and quite old—he was fifty-six—and Katherine hoped her mother had no secret hopes of a match. Goodness, he was older than her father by several years.

  The Abbey seemed impossibly large, and, Katherine thought, rather ugly. It looked more like a hospital to her—a very large hospital—but the grounds were lovely and she supposed it was as good a place as any to stay until she was able to go home. Each time she mentioned returning to New York, her mother put on a sour face. No doubt because their departure would mean leaving the general behind. But for Katherine, it meant returning home and pretending England had never happened. She knew her mother still hoped she would find a titled gentleman, and she had a feeling her small respite from socializing was about to end. During this ride, her mother had chatted nonstop about who was supposed to be attending. Thankfully, Lord Avonleigh’s name was not mentioned, and Katherine could not bring herself to ask after him.

  It had been two weeks since she’d seen him. She’d had a brief glimpse of him through a window as he’d been talking with Lord Haversly. She could still remember what he’d been wearing—a dark gray jacket over a burgundy waistcoat—the way his hair had gleamed in the sun, how he’d bent his head just slightly to accommodate Lord Haversly’s shorter stature. She hadn’t said good-bye, though she had longed to. The last words he’d spoken directly to her were, “Don’t think for one minute that I am not suffering. I am.”

  Was he? As much as she?

  “Oh drat,” Elizabeth said as they were stepping down from the carriage. She was watching as another carriage pulled up behind theirs. “The Von Haupts. Shall they plague us all fall? One would think now that the engagement is announced, they could return home and gloat there.”

  Katherine watched in near terror as first Mrs. Von Haupt stepped down, then Claudia. She stared at the door as the two women shook out their skirts, her heart beating madly in her chest, waiting for Graham to exit. But the footman closed the door, and Katherine nearly collapsed with relief. Or disappointment. No, surely it was relief.

  Of course, Claudia saw them nearly at once and smiled and waved. Her mother said something to her and Claudia dropped her hand, but continued to wave secretly, her hand at her side and partially hidden by her skirt. Katherine couldn’t help but smile. She truly wanted to dislike Claudia, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  Despite Mrs. Von Haupt’s obvious objection, Claudia escaped to come say hello while her mother kept busy directing the footmen and greeting Sir Stiley, an imposing man with a robust beard and impressively curled mustache.

  “I’ve been dreadfully bored these past weeks,” Claudia said. “English girls can be so snobbish. Even when they learned I was engaged to a marquess, they hardly would speak to me.” She looked bewildered by this turn of events. “Mother says they’ll be nicer when we’re married, but I’m not so certain. It was purely awful. I do wish you were there. I could have used a bit of your bravery.”

  “Certainly Lord Avonleigh helped ease your boredom,” Katherine said, hoping she sounded nonchalant. She was even more foolish than she could have imagined herself to be, but she couldn’t keep herself from asking after him.

  “Oh, I haven’t seen him since the announcement,” Claudia said, as if this wasn’t a bit strange. “I imagine he’ll be here, though. Mother said he’s visiting a friend nearby. A Lord Braddock, I think.”

  The two girls followed their mothers in and headed up the stairs, following the housekeeper to their rooms.

  “Come visit with me, will you?” Claudia asked.

  Katherine hesitated before agreeing. She supposed keeping Claudia company was better than moping in her room and dreading the moment she would see Graham again.

  “This is lovely,” Katherine said, looking around the opulent interior and thinking the opposite. The room was done in dark reds and golds, with a large, heavily-carved bed, dark rugs, and velvet curtains that, while in fine shape, look like they belonged in another century.

  Claudia wrinkled her nose. “It’s rather . . .”

  “Stuffy?”

  Claudia giggled. “I miss my room back home. It’s white and blue. My bedroom overlooks our garden and I do miss seeing my flowers bloom. I suppose most of them are dead by now.” She walked over to the window, looked out, and sighed. “English gardens are so symmetrical. Have you noticed?”

  “I have,” Katherine said, joining her by the window.

  Suddenly, Claudia began to cry, loud, wet sobs that seemed to have come from nowhere. She flung herself into Katherine’s arms, her body racked by a grief that seemed profound.

  “My goodness,” Katherine said, rubbing Claudia’s heaving back, “whatever are these tears for?”

  “I want to go home,” Claudia wailed. “I don’t want to get married, and especially not to Lord Avonleigh. He doesn’t like me, I can tell. He said the meanest thing.”

  Katherine drew back, thinking that Graham could be a bit mean when he wanted to be. “What did he say?”

  Claudia shook her head as if it were too horrible to contemplate, and fished a handkerchief out of her reticule.

  “What? What did that cad say?”

  “That I couldn’t convert the ballroom. He was adamant. He wouldn’t even discuss it. He said a ballroom would be a frivolous expense and”—she sniffed loudly—“he said his first obligation was to his tenants. As if a bunch of farmers were more important than me.”

  Claudia’s maid entered the room, ready to unpack Claudia’s things, and Katherine vigorously shook her head, sending her away. “You must know how important Lord Avonleigh’s tenants are to him,” Katherine said gently. “He no doubt feels an obligation to repair their houses and make certain the roads are well-tended.”

  Claudia drew back. “But I’m his wife. Or will be. And the only thing I want is a ballroom so I can throw parties.” Her face crumpled again. “Parties that no one will attend because they all hate me!”

  Katherine didn’t roll her eyes until she had again hugged Claudia, who seemed to be getting a second wind of misery.

  “Father said he’d pay for the ballroom. But Lord Avonleigh refused. He hates me, too.”

  “He doesn’t hate you, Claudia. He’s simply very attached to the theater.”

  Claudia stepped back and wiped her nos
e. She was not a pretty crier, Katherine thought, then felt a bit guilty for that thought. Claudia sat down on the edge of the awful bed, looking like a young girl who’d just learned her birthday party had been cancelled.

  “I don’t want to marry him,” she said softly. “I want to go home.” Another tear slipped from her eye, which was more heartbreaking than the earlier sobbing. Katherine did feel sorry for Claudia.

  “I want to go home, too,” Katherine said with a small laugh. “If only they had titles in America, we wouldn’t have to be here.”

  Claudia let out a sigh. “There’s nothing I can do. I just have to marry him unless I can come up with a plan. Help me, Katherine. You’re so smart, you can think of something.”

  Katherine could not believe what Claudia was asking of her. “What on earth can I do?”

  “Something,” Claudia wailed. “Please, just think. If you cannot, then I will manage somehow. Please, Katherine, promise me you’ll at least try.”

  Claudia clutched at Katherine’s hand rather painfully, and to get the girl to calm down and let go, she said, “Very well. I will try to come up with a plan. But I do believe you should try to make the most of this situation.” Oh, she wanted to throttle the girl. Didn’t she know how very lucky she was?

  “Oh, thank you. I know you’ll think of something. Otherwise, I’ll have to live my entire life in that awful house without a ballroom, and with no friends. Nothing to keep me company but babies. And I don’t even like babies. And do you know how babies are made? It’s disgusting.”

  Katherine was so stunned, so flummoxed by the statement, it was all she could do to keep from laughing.

  “I don’t think it’s entirely disgusting. Who said that it is?”

  “Mother, of course.” She wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something unpleasant. “She told me all about it.” She sighed again. “He’ll want an heir and I’ll have to submit a few times, I suppose.”

  “Has Lord Avonleigh kissed you?”

  “On the hand.” She rubbed her right hand with her left, as if she could still feel his lips there—and it wasn’t a nice feeling.

  Katherine felt giddy with relief. “You’ll grow to like one another, I’m sure,” she said, feeling generous. Perhaps it was wrong and petty of her, but she was a bit pleased Graham would not share with Claudia what he could have shared with her. “You must, Claudia.”

  Claudia shook her head. “I’d do anything to stop this thing. But there’s nothing I can think of. What can I do, Katherine?”

  “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. That’s a good first step,” Katherine said, a bit more sharply than she’d meant to. But honestly, how could the girl sit here and complain about marrying Graham? She should be doing a jig, not crying.

  “I’ll feel better when I’m home. We’re getting married in New York in the spring. At Trinity. Mother said it would be lovely.”

  A small bit of dread settled into the pit of Katherine’s stomach. She’d be home in New York, as well, and it would be impossible to avoid news and gossip of what would likely be the wedding of the year. A thought suddenly occurred to her. Would Claudia invite her? Her mother would never include the Wrights on their guest list, but would Claudia insist? Her mother might be a bit more compliant to her daughter’s requests once in New York. No doubt Mrs. Von Haupt would want to flaunt her daughter’s success.

  Yes, she would assuredly be invited and would be unable to come up with an excuse that her mother would believe. As much as her mother loathed Mrs. Von Haupt, she would see the invitation as a coup.

  “I was wondering,” Claudia said, looking earnest and too young to be marrying anyone at all.

  “Yes?”

  “Would you be one of my bridesmaids? Unless I can come up with a plan to stop the wedding, I will need a few. Mother said I could have twelve.”

  Perhaps by then, this terrible longing would be gone. Perhaps when she saw Graham during the pre-wedding festivities, she would feel nothing. She might even look at him and wonder what she had ever seen in him.

  Or she might fall into hysterics.

  “I’d be honored to be in your wedding party,” Katherine said.

  Claudia clapped her hands, all tears gone.

  A knock on the door drew their attention, and thinking it was the maid returning to unpack Claudia’s things, Katherine called out for her to enter. Instead of the maid, Marjorie walked through the door, all smiles.

  “Thank goodness you are here,” she said. “I fear we are the only people here who aren’t ancient. Although more guests are expected in the next few days.” She turned to Claudia. “Is your betrothed expected?”

  “I don’t know. I only know he’s nearby visiting a friend. I imagine he will stop by.”

  “I’m certain he will, if he’s so close,” Marjorie said, looking about the room, and rubbing her hands on her arms as if chilled. She gave Claudia a long look, for it was obvious she’d been crying, but she said nothing. “I don’t like this place. I remember staying here a few years ago. It seems oppressive to me. And cold, even though it’s no colder than any other old house, I suppose.” She turned toward Claudia and Katherine. “Do you know there’s a ghost here? Perhaps even two? I’ve never seen them myself, but my mother swears she has.”

  Katherine was delighted. “Truly? What kind of ghost?”

  “Don’t tell me you like the idea,” Marjorie said.

  “Absolutely. At least there will be some excitement—even if it’s all balderdash. Who is the ghost supposed to be?”

  “Well,” Marjorie said with an impish grin, clearly enjoying her role as a storyteller, “it’s said there is a monk prowling about. He’s so fearsome, a man once saw him and died from fright. I saw the church registry myself. It said something about a man seeing the Abbey ghost and dying. Can you imagine?”

  Katherine laughed. “No, I can’t. But imagine if there is such a thing? You said there were two ghosts?”

  Marjorie waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, the other one is just a little old lady, not fearsome at all.”

  “But still, a ghost.”

  Claudia frowned fiercely. “I don’t like the idea of sleeping here if there is a ghost running about.”

  “Don’t worry,” Katherine said, “it’s likely just a lot of silliness. You know how people are. They hear or see something that can’t immediately be explained and jump to the conclusion it was a ghost rather than the wind or a shadow.”

  “But don’t you feel something odd here? Something . . . ominous?” Marjorie asked.

  “Only the ugly décor,” Katherine said, making Claudia laugh. Katherine was actually intrigued by the ghost, but she could sense Claudia was quite afraid, so she tried to make it all seem like silly old stories.

  “At two this afternoon, Sir John is giving a tour of the Abbey,” Marjorie said. “It should be great fun.”

  They all agreed to meet in the home’s banqueting hall, where the tour was set to begin.

  Katherine found the English fascination with history a bit amusing. Perhaps it was because everything in New York was so very new. Since they’d been in England, they’d toured churches, mansions, palaces, and ruins endlessly. They were all blending together in Katherine’s mind, and the thought that she might actually stumble upon a ghost made this tour at least slightly intriguing.

  Just before two, Katherine made her way down the stairs and followed the voices to a rather large group of visitors who had gathered for the tour. The banquet hall was a long, dark room, with heavily molded paneling, mosaic brick floors, and tapestries that looked as if they’d been hanging in the great hall for centuries. Sir John proudly showed them off, and those around her dutifully looked impressed. Or perhaps they actually were impressed.

  “My father pieced together the tapestries himself,” Sir John said with obvious pride.

  “I think they need a good cleaning,” Katherine whispered to Claudia, who giggled. Marjorie shushed them, and Katherine gave her a look of innocence. She kn
ew Marjorie well enough to understand she would not have laughed at her joke. Marjorie took her Englishness very seriously, and her English history even more so.

  “Oh my, look at that armor. It looks quite fearsome,” Katherine said aloud.

  “Indeed, Miss Wright,” Sir John said, “the men who wore such armor were to be reckoned with. The armor itself is quite heavy. The mail alone weighs nearly thirty pounds.”

  At one end of the room was perhaps the largest fireplace Katherine had ever seen. She could have stood inside it and jumped up and down and not touched the top. She couldn’t imagine why one would need a fireplace that large, unless it was to cook an entire cow at once. She made that comment to Claudia, who pressed her lips together to stifle a laugh, and earned another stern look from Marjorie. Katherine pulled a face at her friend, and Marjorie’s body shook with stifled laughter.

  While the banquet hall was impressive, Katherine couldn’t help but whisper amusing quips into Claudia’s ear until the poor girl begged her to stop. They visited a room where King Charles I and King Charles II once slept, and the chapel, musty-smelling and rather dreary. The walls were covered with more tapestries, and in the very center was a tomb, which Katherine found rather gruesome. It was dated 1309 and was for a monk. She couldn’t help but picture a skeleton beneath her feet, its perpetual grin ghoulish.

  It was when they were in the chapel that Katherine walked over to a window and looked out—only to see Graham dismounting from his horse. She doubted many people looking out that dirty, wavy glass would have recognized him, but she immediately knew it was he by the way he carried himself. Blood drained from her face and she turned away, breathing heavily.