by Darcy Burke
“And you were all alone.”
“Yes.”
Ryder was silent for several moments, then he said quietly, “The country can be quite dreary.”
It had very nearly conquered her usually joyful spirits, what with the silence and rain for days on end. “Oh, yes. And I had days to contemplate the fact I condemned myself to my situation. I did have one luxury though.
“My father, though he was still furious with me and would not see me for going against his wishes, loved my sense of learning. He arranged for all the London papers to be delivered to my home. It was a godsend.”
“You must be very well-versed on the nation’s affairs,” Ryder quipped.
Kate smiled at his attempt at humor and gently slapped his shoulder. “I am and of those abroad. But you know the parts I read with most relish?”
He let out a long suffering sigh. “I’m almost afraid.”
“And you should be. I read the gossip columns with a great deal of satisfaction. I lived life through them, imagining myself to be one of the scandalous people who did as they saw fit. And may I say, you were quite an inspiration.”
“Oh god,” he groaned.
“I read of your escapades with the ladies and dashing doings with the men and thought how I’d like to meet you.”
“And from that you arrived on my door?”
“Not entirely.” This was the bit she was most uncertain about confessing. Kate drew in a quick breath, then rushed out, “Two ladies came down from London. One of them, quite a titter, relayed a bit of sport you’d given her.”
Ryder flung an arm up over his head, tucking it beneath his neck. “Oh, Kathryn, I’m not sure I want to hear this.”
She eyed him the dark, only making out his strong profile. “I don’t need to continue.”
He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her shoulder. “Go on.”
“She said you’d been quite handy when she’d been accosted in the park and you’d joined her in her carriage. Heaven, she’d said. Utter heaven.”
Ryder drew in a big breath then let it out in a whistle. “This has to be the strangest conversation a husband and wife have ever had. You wanted me due to reports from another woman.”
She frowned. “You must understand, I’d only had unpleasant experiences and with one man. And it. . .” She tried to think of words to describe how horrible it had been without revealing how little control she had.
“I think I should dig Darrell up and cut his guts out.”
“There’s no need.” Though she couldn’t hide her own happiness at his care of her. “The worms have done it for you. At any rate, I couldn’t imagine heaven with a man. But the lady was quite adamant that was what you’d given her. It became very important to me that I also experience it. All I wanted was one night with a man who could make me feel pleasure. I wanted to know life was wonderful and not the depressing never ending stretch of loneliness I had known.”
Ryder leaned in towards her. “You’re very surprising, Kathryn.”
She blinked against the darkness, not sure what that meant. “I don’t understand.”
“You never complain. For the most part, you always seem happy and yet you’ve had a sad life.”
Kate bit her lower lip. She’d fought so hard to not let the pain of her life with Percy overtake her happiness. “One can either laugh or cry. I choose laughter. It’s much better for one’s soul, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice a little deeper than before.
“I made a decision when Percy died that I would live my life without looking back. And I haven’t.” But it hadn’t been easy leaving that girl behind, the one who had done as her father ordered and who accepted her husband’s dislike with pained resignation.
“You’re truly a wonder, darling.”
“Thank you.” She glanced up at him. Given all the trouble she put him through, she asked, “Is that a compliment?”
“Yes, Kathryn. More women should be like you.”
“More women should learn from my mistakes,” she said gravely. “I certainly have.”
“And what have you learned?”
She hesitated. Could she tell him? Could she tell him that even on her father’s death bed, he called her a fool and that he made it clear he felt no sympathy for her since she’d been foolish enough to believe in love? “It doesn’t really matter. All that matters is I’m here now.”
Ryder remained silent and then he rolled onto his side.
The sudden loss of his body was sharply painful. Had she angered him? It wasn’t as if he had ever bared his soul to her. Kathryn stared up at the ceiling, trying not to read more into his actions than was there. But despite herself, she couldn’t help wanting the heat of him.
And then he reached backward and took her arm, pulling her to spoon against his back. He tucked her arm around his middle. Sighing with relief, Kate rested her face against his broad back. Though she didn’t truly understand it, she hated the idea of him closing himself off to her. And with this one little gesture, he reassured her all was well.
And it would be.
Chapter Twenty-three
If Kate ever had thoughts one might perish from too much happiness, she’d been proven wrong. Every day, new delights were arranged for her. And she had Imogen to urge her to new heights of decadence.
But her greatest corruptor was none other than her husband. Jewelers came to the house, plying her with gems and gold till she shone like a chandelier. She and Imogen sat about the salon, like sultans, being waited upon hand and foot as Madame Sophie brought forth her finest materials for them to select for new gowns.
It was a never ending parade of presents. Whenever she started to pull back, Ryder would somehow mysteriously appear with a fresh bottle of champagne, a host of servants behind him with trays of the most delicious foods and a coaxing smile, accompanied by the words that no one was going to call him a neglectful husband.
It was frightfully endearing the way he peppered her with gifts. Shoes and fans, gloves and hats, all arrived for her selection.
Kate and Imogen took it all in stride, clapping her hands and comparing green silk against pink silk. They put lace and silver braiding up to their faces trying to decide which suited best, and then choosing to take both.
But most overwhelming of all, Ryder wouldn’t let her pay a penny. She tried, lord knew she had, but at the mere mention of it, he lifted a black brow and silenced her on the subject.
He bought her books and furniture from France. The rarest orchids filled her room every day. And when she wasn’t attending a party with her husband or receiving his gifts, she was in bed with him. She barely ever slept. Life had become an endless whirl of pleasure. They chattered like two children who finally found friends. Each morning they dined together, discussed the paper together. He rode and insisted she ride in the carriage as they went out to the park.
It was as if both of them had been starved for human company and affection and finally they’d been admitted to the banquet of happiness.
Kate didn’t quite know what to make of it. All she knew was she was happier than she’d ever been. And her heart, traitorous little thing it was, was slowly softening. Every time Ryder came into a room, she couldn’t stop her gaze from turning to him, just as he looked to her.
When he was gone, she longed for him. When they were together she was completely content.
In short, it was terrifying.
She’d promised herself she would never let herself grow weak under a man’s attentions again. But he was positively relentless.
Each little action he took was designed to make her happier, more comfortable. If she preferred fish to meat, they had fish five out of seven days. If she liked strawberries, a dozen dishes were prepared with the fruit. If she voiced she liked Marlowe, every one of his works would arrive in a crate with her name on it.
Who was ever given such care?
With each day, Kate felt safer, more secu
re and firmly believed she’d been deemed the luckiest woman in the world. And any day he would tell her more about himself. He would discuss the things that hurt him, just as she told him about Percy.
But the days stretched by and the end of the season neared. Though they talked endlessly, he never mentioned his past or anything that might trouble him. And each day he relegated her to the edges of his life, she grew more and more determined to find a way to be closer to him.
Then as June began to close, the presents continued, but his presence began to fade. Every day, he spent a little less time with her. He smiled less, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The carefree happiness that had begun to brighten his dark face, disappeared. Instead, she saw the duke she first met. The one who roared at his butler through his door.
And Kate felt panic. For the first time in her life, she knew real and true panic.
Today was a perfect example. He sat across from her at the breakfast table, his fork perched in his hand, but no food was upon it. He stared at the porcelain plate as if he might bore a hole through it, and his food remained cold and untouched.
Kate couldn’t bring herself to eat. When she tried a bite of eggs, they turned to glue in her mouth, and she had to use all her effort to chew and swallow.
This Ryder sat silent in his black clothes and wore that blasted pale ribbon she couldn’t quite bring herself to ask about. She was a coward for not speaking of the little slip of fabric. But she was afraid that if she did, he might regress altogether. And he said nothing. This was not the man she had spent the last month with, and she had no idea what to say to him. Still, she had to try. She could not lose the friend who had come to be so dear to her. She could not. She could not go back to that loneliness.
“Shall we go for a ride today?” she ventured, hating herself for the slight brittle cheer in her voice.
He didn’t answer.
“Ryder?”
He looked up suddenly, his black eyes empty and flat. “Pardon?”
She swallowed, her stomach rolling. “A ride?”
He looked to the window for a moment, contemplating the sun and then he looked at the door as if it offered freedom. “No. No, thank you. You should go.” Pushing back his chair, he strode to her and absently pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Enjoy the day.”
As he silently left the room, Kate murmured to herself, “But where are you going?”
Sitting in silence, the tick of the clock upon the sideboard grated on her nerves. She gripped the edge of the table and ground her teeth down. She would not cry. Crying fixed nothing. Crying was for fools.
Even so, her throat began to tighten. She forced herself to take a shuddering breath. She didn’t even need to ask where he’d gone. She already knew. Like every day, he went up to his room and shut the door.
And let no one, absolutely no one, inside.
It was like a metaphor for his life.
Well, she wasn’t going to have it. She wasn’t about to let her dearest friend descend into such darkness. But first she had to find out why he changed with such suddenness.
Kate shoved back from the chair and strode out into the halls. Determination marked her every step as she went in search of their butler. She could have just rang, but frustration was humming through her to the point she thought she might scream.
And screaming, like crying, wouldn’t solve a blasted thing. She already let Ryder’s actions pass too long without seeking answers.
She went through hall after hall, her slippered shoes padding along the parquet and carpeted floors. At last she came to the downstairs and wound her way through the plain servant halls.
“Grieves!” she called.
A few of the maids stopped like frightened rabbits as they spotted her. Belatedly, they dropped into curtsies.
“Have you seen Grieves?” she demanded.
The girls pointed down the hall. Kate nodded and charged off. There were several doors with tall windows, and she squinted through each, trying to spot the butler.
Why in the devil did she have to live in such large house?
At last, she came to a door with an especially polished brass knob and spotted the white haired old man bent over a ledger through the sparklingly clear window. Without knocking, she pushed the door open.
The old man’s head snapped up and his mouth opened and closed like a flopping fish upon the bank. “Your—Your Grace.” He started to stand, the movement slow and laborious for his aging joints.
“No, Grieves, please don’t rise.” She folded her hands together, unsure of how to start. She glanced at the plain, straight backed chair before his desk. “May I sit?”
Grieves’ shaggy brows drew together in consternation. He eyed the chair then her, then the chair again. Clearly, a duchess had never asked to sit on the other side of a desk in his presence. “Of course, Your Grace.”
She hurried into his office and plunked herself down without ado, her skirts rustling. “You’ve known the duke for some time.” It was a statement and not a question.
Grieves closed the large, leather bound ledger and stroked the cover slowly. “I have indeed.”
Lord, she wished she could just come out with it, but even she had to admit a degree of tact was needed. “Then you have recognized his recent behavior?”
Immediately, Grieves’ face shuttered. He placed the ledger aside and clasped his hands before him on the desk. “I don’t know what you mean, I’m sure, Your Grace.”
Kate blew out a breath and inched her chair forward. “I don’t have time for this, Grieves. It pains me greatly to see your master in this condition.” How could she convince the old man of her intentions, and even worse, could she discuss the state of the duke? “Please, I wish to help him.”
Grieves’ old face smoothed a bit and sympathy filled his eyes. Quickly, he looked to the windows as if fearing Ryder might march down and catch him. “Oh madam, I wish you could help him, and I thought you had. He’s been so happy these many weeks.” The butler inclined his white head. “All due to you.”
“Thank you,” Kate said quickly, wishing to get straight to the matter. “But now?”
Grieves let out a great sigh, rather like a bellow’s pump as he leaned back. “He’s been like this for years now, Your Grace. Ever since. . .” The butler caught himself and glanced at the door.
“Yes?” she urged. It was so odd, feeling like a conspirator in her husband’s house. But that was exactly what she was. A conspirator for his happiness. And yet, it felt a little wrong sitting here, asking for his most personal information.
Grieves stood and quickly closed the door. He turned back towards her, his face creased with age and sadness. “Ever since his first duchess, Lady Jane, passed away.”
Kate’s mouth dried. He’d been married. She’d known it. Mrs. Barton had even intimated his devoted nature to the lady’s memory. But he never once let her believe he’d been passionately in love with the lady. In fact, he never once said her name. “He’s been shutting himself away for that long?”
Grieves nodded. “Sometimes for a day, sometimes a month at a time.”
Kate looked down at her hands and whispered, “Good Lord.” Her dark knight was dark indeed. But he had such life in him to waste it in this manner.
“I shouldn’t speak of it,” the butler said, his voice a hoarse whisper.
Kate turned pleading eyes up to him. “Please, I know so little.” It hurt so to confess it, but she needed to help Ryder. “He tells me nothing.”
After a moment, Grieves nodded, his mouth pursing around no doubt painful words. “I’ve known him all his life. ’Tis why he trusts me.” Shaking his head, Grieves gave her his back. “Oh, madam, I shouldn’t.”
“If you care about His Grace, you should. I cannot bear to see him thus.”
“You shall have to. For it is always worse this time of year.”
At last, Kate couldn’t bear to sit any longer. The energy which had driven her to seek this man out d
rove her to stand. “But why?”
Grieves shrugged and crossed back to his desk. “’Tis the end of the Season.”
“What does that have anything to do with—”
“Pardon, Your Grace, but Lady Jane, poor sweet soul, died in July. Of smallpox. She’d caught it nursing His Grace’s tenants.”
“Oh.” The sound escaped Kate’s lips, her chest squeezing with a ridiculous jealousy and sorrow at Ryder’s pain.
“The duke, well, he’d been on his own, both his parents dying when he was young.” Grieves’ hands twisted together, a sign of his unease at their discussion. “And the former duchess, she was so kind to him, helping him recover grieving for them.”
The sadness of it sucked the energy out of her, and she found herself holding onto the high back of the chair. Was he still in love with her? Mrs. Barton claimed his heart still belonged to her.
Kate pressed her lips together. She’d always known she could not give her love to him. And this was exactly why. In all possibility, he would never love her. Ryder had known so much pain. “But why does he do this to himself?”
The butler looked at her for a moment, then began coughing. His skin turned red, and he lowered himself into his chair. Sucking in a breath, his gnarled fingers curled into fists. “God, the memory of it, Your Grace. I still remember the day of her death. The duke came storming out of Lady Jane’s room. He didn’t say a word, not one. But not a picture nor a book was left undamaged in his study such was his grief.”
“What?” Kate demanded. He never mentioned his wife’s death or really any of his life before they’d met. But like so many things she’d blithely ignored in marrying Ryder, she was becoming fully aware.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but I’m betraying confidences. I cannot tell you more.”
“I understand.” Though she longed to ask more questions regarding his father’s death, they should be questions for her husband. Questions he most likely did not wish her to ask. “Is there no way to bring him out of this?”
“Not that I’ve seen. It used to be right brutal the first two years after her death. Now, we just wait and see. But I’m sure it won’t be so bad, what with you here. He cares about your happiness. He comes out of his room in the mornings.”