by Jane Goodger
“No one will have her now. She’ll be completely cut off from society. Lucy’s reputation will suffer, too, you know,” Mrs. Wright said dramatically. “Katherine’s prospects are completely ruined.”
Graham had had enough. “Katherine’s prospects? She’s managed to trap a marquess into marriage. You should all be doing a victory jig, not acting as if she’s being forced to marry a stable boy.”
“Trap!” Katherine said, looking shocked.
“Oh, don’t pretend otherwise,” he snapped.
Her delicate brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?” Graham clenched his jaw. “This is a discussion for another time. I do apologize,” he said, giving the small group an overly formal bow. “I will allow you to visit while I make arrangements for the wedding tomorrow. We dine at eight.”
He heard Katherine call his name, but he continued through the door, unable to stand looking at her one more moment.
“Welcome home, sir,” Mr. Chase said as Graham walked into his room.
“Thank you.” Distracted, Graham handed Mr. Chase his coat, which he’d been hanging on to since entering his home. He’d been worried that if he’d handed off his coat to Mr. Stanfield, the poor man would have collapsed beneath the weight of it. He went to the adjoining room and looked in.
“Mrs. Wright is there. Miss Wright thought her mother would be more comfortable in it and said it would be improper for her to take the room next to yours until you are married.”
“It’s a bit late for propriety, but all right. Where is she?”
“Down the hall. We had some beds taken down from the attic.” Graham poured water from a pitcher into a basin and splashed it on his face, getting rid of at least some of the grime from his travels. What he truly needed was a bath, but he could hardly ask Mrs. Alcourt and Mr. Stanfield to prepare it. When he’d come home in the past, he’d simply taken a bar of soap and gone to the lake to take a breath-stealing bath in the cold waters. When he was done drying his face, he braced his hands on either side of the washstand and stared into the water at his reflection. “I understand you took Miss Wright to the poorhouse. How went that visit?”
“Very well, sir. She now knows you walk on water.”
Graham chuckled. He was a rather popular fellow there, especially after Stanley Bosh showed up telling them horror stories of a poorhouse in London that he’d “escaped” from. With every tale he told, the esteem the residents held for Graham increased until he was now deemed the most benevolent of men.
“I wish her father thought so. He loathes me.”
Mr. Chase was aghast. “Why would that be, sir?”
“I suppose from his perspective, he’s a right to his anger. I did compromise his daughter. And now she is forced to live here. With me. Even if it was entirely Miss Wright’s idea, he doesn’t know that. He’s put the blame fully on me.”
“About that, sir . . .” Mr. Chase paused as if uncertain whether to continue.
“Yes, Mr. Chase?”
“It’s only that for a girl who cares only for a title, she seems terribly aware that you have been wronged.”
“Of course she’s aware of it. She did wrong me.”
Chase shook his head. “Let us say I understand how you were charmed. After spending some time with her, I find it increasingly difficult to dislike her,” the old man said, blushing a bit.
Graham looked at his valet and grinned. “Succumbed to a pretty face, did you?”
Chase gave him a withering look.
“It doesn’t matter, for she is marrying me tomorrow, unless her father whisks her away. He just might at that.” The thought sat like a lead ball in his stomach. He wanted to remain angry with her, but seeing her today only confused him more. She didn’t look triumphant when she’d seen him or even fearful. She’d looked happy.
Why would she look happy when she knew he must be angry?
Katherine pushed her fork into her over-buttered, under-salted turnips. She should have declined the root, but the old butler had had such a time getting the serving plate steady enough for her to take a portion, she felt she had to take a bit. And then, just as she was about to remove a small portion, he shifted and she’d ended up getting far more on her plate than she wanted. Now it sat, a congealing turnipy blob, waiting for her to take a second bite.
“I imagine one of the first things you’ll do, Katherine, is find a proper cook,” Elizabeth said, after a long bout of chewing the stringy, tough roast beef. If it ever had been a good cut of beef, any goodness had been cooked right out of it.
“Mrs. Alcourt does try, Mother, but it is not her strength,” Katherine said, shooting a small smile toward Graham. He had yet to look her in the eye, and her heart fell another notch. Why was he being so cool toward her? Was he so very disappointed that he was being forced into this marriage? She understood he was bitterly disappointed about the money—and she could not blame him for that—but she’d thought he at least liked her enough to be mildly pleased. She looked back to her plate, feeling her eyes burn slightly. Her father always ate like a man angry about something, sharp, jabbing movements that often amused Katherine. But tonight she sensed true anger in his manner and she wondered what had made him so. Every once in a while he’d glare at Graham, so it became quite clear to Katherine that her father was angry with him.
“How long are you staying after the wedding?” Katherine asked.
“We’re leaving immediately,” her father said, staring at the wine with distaste. Her father didn’t care for wine, and the watered-down stuff they’d been served was particularly awful.
“But surely you can stay for a time. You’ve only just arrived in England.”
Her mother gently put her fork down. “Your father and I are traveling to London to spend a week there to take in the sights, then we’re returning home. We want to get home before the seas get too rough, and we don’t like being so far from Lucy. By the way, has Clara said anything to you about leaving with us?”
Clara leaving, too? “No, she didn’t,” she said in a small voice. “Well, dear, she feels just terrible about it, but she never thought to stay in England. Her life and family are in New York. And I do think she’s sweet on Harrison.”
“She is?” Clara had never told her, and she’d never suspected. Why had she thought that her life would become Clara’s? She’d always thought of Clara as more of a friend than a servant, but obviously the divide between them was far greater than she’d believed. Of course Clara would want to go home. Katherine shook her head at her own thoughts. “She was probably afraid to tell me. She knew I’d be sad.” She swallowed against a growing lump in her throat and forced a smile. “But I shall get on well enough. I’m sure there’s a girl in the village who will do nicely.”
She looked at Graham for his agreement, but he continued to stare at the half-full wineglass dangling from his hand.
While the others at the table continued to force the food into their mouths, Katherine gave up and laid her fork by her dish. Everything was wrong. Her father shouldn’t be angry. Graham shouldn’t be so cold. Clara shouldn’t be leaving.
Tomorrow was her wedding day, not her funeral, but that was what it was beginning to feel like. She’d been looking forward to seeing Graham again, to talking to him to see how he felt about everything that had transpired. But it had been impossible to be alone with him with her mother and father watching over her—and Graham pointedly keeping his distance.
To Katherine’s horror, her eyes filled with tears and no matter how hard she tried to blink them away, a single tear fell with a small plink onto her plate. Her head down, she prayed no one knew she was crying; it would only upset her parents, who already were distraught about this hurried marriage. She gripped the fork and forced herself to take a small bite of beef, hoping the distraction of chewing would stop any more tears.
“I do apologize,” Graham said, pushing his chair from the table abruptly. “But I fear the trip here has done me in. I hope you will excuse me.
”
Katherine kept her head down as if the food on her plate was of utmost interest, but she was keenly aware of Graham walking toward her on his way out of the dining room. As he passed, he pressed a handkerchief into her hand and left without a word.
Like the house itself, the tiny chapel on the grounds was utterly charming. Everyone had pitched in to clean it for the wedding, and when Katherine entered the building, the midmorning light shined through sparkling stained-glass windows. There was no organ music, no attendants, no observers but Mrs. Alcourt, Mr. Stanfield, who appeared to be sleeping, and Mr. Chase. Graham stood stoically at the small altar as the vicar, a young man with frightfully red hair, rocked heel to toe while he waited. Right before walking down the short aisle, her father forced her to look at him by placing his hands gently on each side of her head. “You don’t have to do this.”
Katherine lifted her chin. “I want to do this, Father. I love him.”
Katherine nearly laughed at the look her father gave her. “Did you truly think I would marry a man, no matter what the circumstances, if I did not love him?”
“Oh Katy,” he said, his voice ragged. He hugged her to him as if what she’d said broke his heart.
Katherine gave him a searching look when he pulled away, but he’d put on a stoic expression as if, indeed, he were leading his daughter to the gallows with as much dignity as he could muster.
Before she knew it, for it was quite a small chapel, Katherine was standing next to Graham. He darted her a quick look before turning to the vicar, who’d apparently been instructed to perform the briefest ceremony possible. For before Katherine even knew what had happened, the man was pronouncing them married and Graham was leading her to the side where they could both sign the license. They hadn’t even been instructed to kiss.
Mrs. Alcourt, bless her, tried to serve a wedding luncheon, but it was as unpalatable as the dinner the night before. Katherine heard her father mutter something to the effect it was a good thing they were leaving later in the day because he was about to starve to death.
Graham removed himself from their group almost immediately following the meal, leaving Katherine both depressed and dismayed.
“Father,” she said when he was gone, “did something happen between the two of you? Graham is quite unlike himself.”
“I made it no secret I don’t like him, if that’s what you mean.”
“Why? Graham did nothing wrong. If anyone is to blame, it is I. I’m the one who had him follow me into the library.”
Her father looked stunned. “I didn’t realize.”
“And Graham didn’t tell you?”
“No,” her father said, shaking his head thoughtfully. “But that doesn’t excuse his actions. He told me about meeting you in Brighton, about pursuing you at that house party. That was inexcusable behavior for a man who was engaged.”
“He wasn’t engaged at the time.”
Her father frowned down at her. “Was there not an understanding between Miss Von Haupt and him?”
“Yes, but . . .” Katherine shrugged her shoulders. “We were both foolish. We rather liked each other, but as is obvious, Graham desperately needed an heiress. I knew that, but it didn’t stop me from falling in love with him. Or acting very, very foolishly.”
“And has he told you he loves you?”
Katherine furrowed her brow. “No,” she said softly.
“I thought not. I have two things to tell you, Katherine. One is that I love you and don’t want you hurt. No father wants to see his daughter living like a pauper. But I cannot stomach giving that man one penny of my hard-earned money. I’m sorry, Katherine, but I’ve made up my mind.”
Katherine felt the blood drain from her face. “You’ll give us nothing? You cannot be so cruel.”
“You will receive enough allowance to keep you in pretty dresses, but he will receive nothing. And if I find that you’ve been giving it to him, I will cut you off.”
“But I don’t care about pretty dresses. I only care that Graham can do at least some good to help his people. He can do so much with so little. I visited the poorhouse today and you should have seen what he’s done there. They practically worship him. You saw the town, the house. These people depend upon him for jobs. They need his help.” Katherine looked to her mother. “Mother, you cannot let Father do this. All along I’ve counted on that dowry. You promised it to me. I’ve got the title you wanted, now I want the money I’m due. You cannot do this. At least with my dowry we could have done a little good.”
“If he was so desperate to help his people, then he should have been a bit more careful with his money. And kept himself in check and married the Von Haupt girl.”
Katherine gasped, outraged by her father’s stand. “You have no idea what he’s been through. If you did, you wouldn’t do this thing.”
“Bart, really, must you be so stubborn,” Elizabeth said.
“It is not stubbornness. I simply refuse to reward immoral and reckless behavior.”
“You of all people should understand how he felt,” Elizabeth said. At his look of dismay, she quickly said, “Don’t worry, Katherine knows. And don’t look at me that way. She’s a grown woman.”
Her father glared at her mother, and for the first time in her life, she saw raw pain in both their eyes. “I loved Janice. It is not the same at all.”
“How can you be so certain Lord Avonleigh does not love our Katherine?”
“Because he told me himself. He had no intention of marrying Katherine even though he was trying to seduce her. A man in love would never . . .” He stopped and Katherine’s mother finished for him.
“. . . marry a woman he didn’t love?” She raised one eyebrow.
“It’s not the same and you well know it. I loved her and she knew I loved her. It’s not the same.”
As there were very few rooms in the house to look for Graham, Bartholomew found him easily enough. Graham looked up and grimaced when his new father-in-law entered his room looking like he had murder on his mind. He’d been talking quietly with Mr. Chase, reminiscing about when he’d been a boy and had often disappeared for hours into the forest surrounding Avonleigh.
“If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ll see to your boots, shall I?”
Graham gave his valet a fond look. “Of course. Thank you, Chase,” he said, putting soft emphasis on the words to let him know he was thanking his valet for far more than polishing his boots. When Chase was gone, Bartholomew immediately went to the point.
“We’re leaving shortly. But before I do, I’m going to tell you what I told Katherine. There is no dowry. Nothing. I will give my daughter an allowance, but you are not to touch it.”
One more devastating blow, which Graham took in stride. Why not?
“You’ve nothing to say?”
Graham shook his head. “You owe me nothing and it is your prerogative to withhold Katherine’s dowry.”
“Damn, you’re a cold bastard,” Bartholomew said with disgust.
Graham stared at the older man and gave a small, mocking bow of his head.
“So, you don’t care about money suddenly?”
“I do, but I also recognize the futility of asking for it,” Graham said, walking to the window to look out.
“Something’s been bothering me. When you met my daughter, you were not engaged.”
“No.”
“Did you pursue her?”
Graham looked at the older man, and shook his head slightly even as he said, “Yes, I did. It was unforgiveable but, yes, I did.”
Mr. Wright moved his jaw as if he were chewing his words before letting them out of his mouth. “Why?”
“Why? Because, forgive me, sir, but your daughter is lovely and . . . I was drawn to her, I suppose. I knew nothing could come of it, but I persisted.”
“You didn’t answer my question. I want to know what is in you that made it permissible to pursue my daughter when you were for all intents and purposes, an engaged man.” Graha
m could see the rage building in the man, but he knew no answer he could give would make him happy.
“I have no answer for that.”
Bartholomew looked annoyed by this response. “Think, young man. Why?”
“I tell you I don’t know.”
“You do,” Mr. Wright shouted. “Why? Why pursue her? Are you a rake bent on seduction?”
“No,” Graham said, horrified by the notion.
“Are you without morals? Do you make a habit of seducing innocent girls?”
“No sir.”
“Then why, damn it. Why?”
“Because she made me happy,” Graham shouted, anger and frustration pouring out of him.
Bartholomew crossed his arms with a satisfied grin on his smug face, and Graham barely held himself back from striking the man.
“Now, was that so difficult to admit?”
God, yes. “It is no excuse for what I did. I knew I could not marry her and yet I couldn’t stop myself. I am . . . ashamed.” When he said those words, a wave of regret washed over him. Perhaps Katherine had schemed, had trapped him, but by God, he had walked almost willingly into that trap.
“You love her.” It almost sounded like an accusation.
Graham stared out the window, and tapped one knuckle against the cold pane. “I suppose I do.”
Bartholomew gave him a hard look that softened just slightly before leaving the room.
The Wrights were leaving, and so Graham stood dutifully by his new wife as they said their good-byes. Mr. Wright shook his hand grimly. Oddly enough, he stopped in front of Mr. Chase and shook his hand, as well, before embracing his daughter.
“I’ll leave you to your good-byes,” Graham said, before turning to Katherine. “I’ll see you later this evening.”
“Of course.”