When a Lord Needs a Lady

by Jane Goodger

  “Tell me, Katherine. Do you like him even a little?”

  “I love him,” she said miserably. She felt the bed dip as her mother sat down next to her. Then she lay down and gave her a much-needed hug.

  “If that’s true, you’ll get through this. Does he love you?” Katherine swallowed. “I think he might, though he’s never said he does. I do know he didn’t want to marry Claudia.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Katherine’s face crumpled as she remembered the pain in his voice that day at Lord and Lady Haverslys’. She wondered if she should tell her mother that she’d met him in Brighton, that they’d known each other far longer, and far more intimately than her mother could ever suspect. Oh goodness, that certainly would be a very bad idea. “After he announced his engagement to Claudia, he told me he was suffering.” She turned her face toward her mother. “And now he’s suffering even more. I don’t want him to suffer,” she wailed, and buried her head against her mother’s shoulder.

  “There, there, now, sweet pea,” her mother said, using the endearment she’d used when Katherine was small. “Everything will work out just fine.”

  Graham sat in his room, a glass of brandy dangling from his fingers as he stared into the fire. It was eleven and the house was mostly quiet. No doubt everyone was in their rooms excitedly talking about what an idiot the Marquess of Avonleigh was. Or perhaps they were shocked by his indiscretion. Or his lack of honor. All of those scenarios were so far removed from any gossip that had ever been attached to him before, it was astonishing.

  There was a soft knock on his door, and Graham wearily pushed his body up to answer it. He was stunned when he saw Lady Summerfield outside his door, her daughter, Lady Marjorie, slightly behind her. “Good evening, Lord Avonleigh. May we have a word with you? My daughter has something to say,” Lady Summerfield said.

  Graham nodded, and stepped back to allow the two women into his room.

  “This is a terrible night for you, I’m certain, and my daughter is about to make it a bit worse, I fear,” Lady Summerfield said ominously. “Tell him, dear. He needs to know.”

  “It will do no good now,” Lady Marjorie said. “And I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “Please just say it,” Graham said, nearly wincing at his sharp tone.

  “I like Miss Wright. I truly do. But I hardly know her, not really. And given this evening’s events . . .” She looked at her mother, who nodded for her to continue. “When we were at Briarbrook, during the picnic, Miss Wright said something that in hindsight seems rather . . . disturbing. I didn’t think she was like some of those other American girls, but now I fear I may have been wrong. I feel so disloyal saying anything, but in good conscience, I believe I must. Do you remember when we were all walking along the lake and you and Miss Wright went into that clearing to see the deer?”

  Graham remembered every detail vividly, and he nodded.

  “I warned her that she shouldn’t allow herself to be alone with you, with any man, that it could be dangerous and lead to a situation much like you are in now. And she said—I quite remember this because I was so very angry—that perhaps she would make such an event happen. That being married to a marquess wouldn’t be so horrid.”

  That terrible hollowness in his gut grew exponentially. “I see.”

  “I’m certain she didn’t mean it. I mean, not the way it sounds. She did say she was jesting.”

  Graham gave the young woman a steady look. “Then why did her words make you angry?”

  Again, she darted a look to her mother. “I didn’t think she understood the import of such a scandal. Of what it could mean for both of you. But the Katherine I know would not do such a thing,” she finished in a rush. “Katherine has never given any indication that she wanted a title.”

  “But her mother certainly has, my dear,” Lady Summerfield said gently. “Katherine may not be like all those title-hungry American girls, but I fear her mother is exactly like all those title-hungry mamas.”

  “Thank you, ladies,” Graham said.

  The two women left and Graham stood completely still for a long moment. Then, in one violent movement, he threw his brandy into the fireplace, shattering the glass.

  Katherine awoke the next morning to Clara shaking her gently. She grabbed her pillow and covered her head, unwilling to face the day.

  “The Von Haupts are leaving, miss,” Clara said. “And Miss Von Haupt will not leave until she sees you.”

  Katherine threw off the pillow and sat up, horrified. “I can’t!” “You certainly can,” Clara said firmly. “You’ve cooked your goose and now you must eat it.”

  Katherine scowled at her maid. “Very well. Is she coming up here or am I going to her?”

  “She’s waiting in the entry hall and her mother is already in the carriage, but she refuses to leave without seeing you. Here,” Clara said, holding up her simplest dress, “put this on and let’s get this over with.”

  Within minutes, Katherine was dressed and her hair piled in a simple bun. She looked at Clara, misery clear in her expression. “This is going to be exceedingly unpleasant. At least her mother is already in the carriage.”

  Katherine walked down the long hall and peeked over the balcony to see Claudia, charming in a lavender traveling outfit, waiting at the base of the interminably long staircase. What could she possibly say to Claudia? She’d ruined the poor girl’s life.

  She was halfway down the stairs when Claudia heard her descent, and she turned, a brilliant smile upon her face. What in all that was holy was Claudia smiling about?

  As Katherine made it to the bottom, Claudia scampered over, holding out two hands in greeting. “I can’t believe you did that for me,” she gushed. “I feel like it’s my birthday and Christmas, rolled into one!”

  “What?”

  “Oh, don’t look so distressed, you silly girl. This is what I wanted. Did you think I’d be angry? It was my idea, after all. I just can’t believe you would do that for me.” Then, in a whisper, she said, “I think I’m in love with Mr. Coulton and I do believe he feels the same. We’re going to London and he’s following tomorrow. I might be a viscountess and he’s ever so nice. Oh Katherine,” she said, hugging her. “Thank you. Thank you.”

  And then, Claudia whirled away and left Katherine standing there, quite dazed.

  Above her, watching that rather curious scene from the balcony, was Graham. Mr. Chase had come to him not moments before, having heard Miss Von Haupt was demanding to see Miss Wright before she left. Fearing a horrible and potentially scandalous scene, Graham had been on his way to attempt to stop the women from coming to blows, but stopped dead at the sight of the two women smiling at each other below him. Claudia looked radiantly happy.

  How very odd.

  Graham clutched the railing until his knuckles turned white as the meaning of what he was watching slowly dawned on him. He could not hear what the two women were saying, but it was obvious they were far from enemies. Indeed, they looked to be the best of friends. And when Claudia embraced Katherine, when she clearly said “Thank you” next to her ear, it felt like a hard blow to his gut, so much, in fact, he staggered backward.

  Thank you? Thank you?

  The blood drained from his head so quickly, he actually felt momentarily dizzy. My God, he was such a fool. Such a stupid, gullible idiot.

  He turned blindly away from the railing, somehow making it back to his room, where Mr. Chase stood, his face registering immediate concern when Graham lurched in. Graham went directly to the window and threw it open, letting the misty, cool air bathe his skin.

  “Sir? What is it? What has happened?”

  “You were right about her all along, Everett.”

  “I’m so sorry, sir.”

  “I’ve been made a damned fool of. How could I have been so blind?”

  Graham swayed at the window, and, growing alarmed, Mr. Chase rushed to his side, making Graham laugh bitterly. “Don’t worry, Chase, I’m not thr
owing myself out the window. I’ll face the music. I’ll do my duty. But she will pay for doing this thing. She wanted a title? By God, she’ll rue the day she got this one.”

  Chapter 13

  “He’s gone?”

  Elizabeth’s face was grim. “To London. To procure a special license and wait for your father. We’re to go on to Avonleigh and await them both.”

  “Father is coming?” Katherine asked. “Of course, Father is coming. Is Lucy?”

  “She’s in school, dear. We can hardly take her out for a month to attend this wedding. Such as it is.”

  Katherine sat at a writing desk and her mother hovered behind her. “I . . . I want to apologize to you, Katherine. I have been inattentive, the worst sort of mother to allow this to happen. While I pray things will work out in the end, this is not the way it should have happened. These things do blow over, dear, but for now we shall do as Lord Avonleigh suggests.”

  Katherine clutched her hands in front of her, pressing her fists against her roiling stomach. “Where is Avonleigh?” she asked, sounding very much like a lost child, for that was precisely what she felt like. She had done this. She had acted recklessly, and now both of their lives were forever ruined. Graham would resent her forever for destroying his legacy, and she had lost her first love.

  “In Northumberland, dear.”

  “And where is that?”

  Elizabeth let out a soft laugh. “I haven’t any idea. I imagine, given its name, it is somewhere north of here. I do know it takes several days’ travel to get there, even by rail.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’ve heard . . .” Elizabeth hesitated slightly. “I’ve heard it’s a bit rustic, dear.”

  “I shouldn’t worry about that,” Katherine said, hoping it was a hovel without any modern conveniences. It was only what she deserved. She wasn’t such a martyr to lay all the blame upon her feet, but she had used no caution at all when dealing with Graham. How many times had they been alone? It was as if they had been playing a game of chance, one they were certain to lose. With so much at stake, how could they have allowed this to happen?

  Katherine longed to talk to Graham so she would know how he was feeling. Angry, likely, with himself. Horrified, no doubt, to have lost everything because of one single act of weakness. But perhaps he was not altogether unhappy with the thought of marrying her. After all, though he might not have told her he loved her, she knew he desired her. That was something, was it not?

  But he was gone and she would likely not see him until he reached Avonleigh with her father. Goodness, she wondered how that meeting would go. Her father had been opposed to this trip, even though he had agreed to fund it. Her mother had ultimately convinced him that Katherine’s marriage to a titled gentleman would boost their social status, and that would lead to more prestige in the business world. If Father was anything, he was a driven and ambitious man.

  Katherine’s eyes burned, but no tears fell, for which she was grateful. She was sick of crying.

  The women turned when a knock sounded on the door, and Elizabeth called out for whoever it was to enter. A man neither had ever seen before entered.

  “Mrs. Wright, Miss Wright, I am Everett Chase, Lord Avonleigh’s valet. I shall be accompanying you to Northumberland and assisting the staff to ready the house for his lordship’s arrival.”

  Katherine stood. “You are the valet,” she said, with a small smile, putting the slightest emphasis on the last word. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Chase.”

  The old valet gave her a curiously hard look before pulling out his watch. “We leave tomorrow morning. I do hope that gives you ladies enough time to pack.”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said. “More than enough time.”

  He gave them a small bow and departed, closing the door silently behind him.

  “Oh dear, I fear Mr. Chase doesn’t like me at all,” Katherine said. “I shall endeavor to win him over, then.”

  Winning over Mr. Chase proved to be an insurmountable task. The man was exceedingly, almost painfully, polite. And yet through that politeness, Katherine suspected he disliked her. It shouldn’t bother her so, as her mother pointed out, but it did. She knew, perhaps more than anyone, how important this man was to Graham, and the fact he disliked her was bothersome.

  “What does it matter if the valet likes you or not?” Elizabeth asked, testy over the entire subject. They were sitting in a first-class train car headed north to Hexham, where they would have to take a coach to Avonleigh. It was a long and tedious journey, but the English rails were many, reducing the amount of time in a coach, for which they were grateful. Still, it seemed the train was constantly stopping to switch tracks or slowing for no apparent reason the two women could discern.

  Mr. Chase was in a different car, but checked on the two women frequently. And politely.

  “Can you not see how much he dislikes us?” Katherine said after one such visit.

  “I have no idea what you are talking about, dear. He was exceedingly polite.”

  “It’s more than politeness. I sense a coldness. And the other servants will follow his lead, you know. I am the downfall of them. No doubt they were making plans for improvements or adding to their numbers. With Lord Avonleigh marrying me instead of Claudia, they will be bitterly disappointed. It’s only natural that they would despise me.”

  Elizabeth let out a heavy sigh, apparently irritated with the conversation. “They are hardly your friends, Katherine; they are your servants. I can’t see that it matters.”

  Clara eyed the valet darkly. He sat next to Patty, Mrs. Wright’s personal maid, whom she had always loathed. Because of her position as lady’s maid to Mrs. Wright, she put on airs that were quite beyond what a lady’s maid should. But she was old, so perhaps that was her problem. And perhaps Clara pointing out how lovely the silver looked in her brown hair annoyed the woman. She certainly hoped so. Clara smiled smugly to herself remembering Patty’s look of thinly veiled dislike.

  Mr. Chase made it quite clear he wanted nothing to do with either woman. All attempts at conversation were cleanly shut off like a dripping water spigot. But Clara, who was feeling a large amount of anxiety over this trip, persisted.

  “What size is the staff at Avonleigh?” she asked. It was a normal enough question, but Mr. Chase looked at her as if she’d asked how much gold was in the coffers.

  “Large enough to care for the home,” he said without inflection.

  “And the servants’ accommodations, are they nice?”

  “Certainly adequate.”

  “Is there a village nearby? In New York we were never without something do to on our day off.”

  “Yes.”

  “What size is the village?”

  “Small.” He said the word with a look that clearly said, “Now shut up.” Which Clara finally did, even as her stomach twisted nervously.

  She was beginning to get annoyed, never mind a bit frightened. When she’d set out on this trip, Miss Wright had assured her they would be returning home. And now she found herself traveling even farther away from her family, from her home. She knew Miss Wright was going to ask her to stay, but she wasn’t sure what she was going to say. As much as she loved Miss Wright, she wanted to go home. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life in a foreign country where she could hardly understand what half the people were saying. But how could Clara abandon Miss Wright when she needed her most?

  At least Patty knew she was going home, the witch. That was likely why she was sitting on the valet’s side, looking so smug. She got to go home. But even if Clara went back with Mrs. Wright, she wouldn’t have a job. Unless . . .

  She smiled. Miss Lucy was getting to an age when she would need a personal maid. It was perfect. Lucy was a good girl and had the most beautiful blond hair. Just thinking about styling it made Clara’s hands twitch. Yes, she would speak to Mrs. Wright and ask her about being Miss Lucy’s maid. She pushed down a small amount of guilt for leaving Miss Wright. But why
should she suffer for another’s mistake?

  Graham held the cable from Mr. Wright in his hand as he waited in his hired coach for the gentleman to disembark the steamship Oceanic. Anyone passing by his coach would have looked in to see a gentleman relaxed, his head back on the seat, his top hat pulled over his eyes as if he was taking a nap. In reality, Graham was trying to shut out the world and his thoughts and having very little luck. He’d met with his solicitor, who’d grimly given him an update of his finances. He had little choice but to lease Bryant Park—and that would put only a small dent in his expenses. Finding a tenant would be difficult, the gentleman had kindly pointed out, because so few updates to the home and grounds had been made. No wealthy merchant would want to live in a house with no ballroom and only partial gas lighting. Its close proximity to London might help, he’d said, but Graham got the distinct feeling the man was giving him a bit of hope when there was none. Too many other, grander, and more modern homes were available, so it was unlikely anyone would lease the run-down manor house.

  Graham took his hat off and placed it on the seat next to him to look out the window for an angry father trying to find an interminably stupid fool. Good God, he could only imagine the man’s reaction when he’d received Mrs. Wright’s cable that he was to leave New York immediately to attend his daughter’s hasty wedding. He had no idea what Mrs. Wright had written, and only prayed the cost of sending the cable had prevented the woman from going into too much detail. That night when he’d pressed against Katherine, when he’d tasted her, heard her sounds of pleasure, had been just ten days ago. Ten days of regret, anger, hurt, and doubt that combined in his stomach like a rotten stew, making eating nearly impossible. He looked like hell and felt worse. Even his solicitor had taken one look at him and inquired after his health. It certainly hadn’t helped that he was using the hotel’s valet instead of his own. But Chase was doing more good for him escorting his lovely bride to her new home than he could with Graham. Frankly, Graham wasn’t certain he could have stomached the looks of disappointment from the man. Chase had warned him even in Brighton that he was taking the wrong path. Yet he’d persisted and persisted and now the entire future of his legacy was in jeopardy