Kent Ashton's Backstory (Prequel to Catching Kent)

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  That evening before Kent’s parents headed out of the house, his father knocked on Kent’s open bedchamber door. Kent glanced from where he sat by the window, trying to lose himself in the book he was reading.

  Reluctant, he focused on his father. “What?”

  “Your mother and I are going to the opera. We let the servants have a night off. Mr. Johnson will be here soon to get the book I borrowed. Make sure you’re waiting in the parlor so you hear him when he knocks.”

  “Alright.”

  It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He tossed the book aside, rose from his chair and followed his father to the parlor.

  “Your mother and I will be home in a couple hours.” His father set the book on the table in front of the couch. “This is the book you’ll give Mr. Johnson.”

  Kent nodded and plopped on the couch. After his parents left, he kicked off his shoes and settled onto his back. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, aware of how quiet it was when all he could hear was the ticking of the clock in the corner of the room. He took a deep breath, blinking back his tears.

  His gaze went to the liquor cabinet.

  Drinking wine at dinner was no longer as common as it’d once been since his father lost most of his money in a poor investment, but they still had some on hand for special occasions. Granted, this wasn’t a special occasion, but he’d heard alcohol could dull any man’s pain. And he wanted nothing more than to be numb, even if it was for one night.

  He glanced at the clock. Mr. Johnson hadn’t shown up yet, but since he’d be coming by soon, a little wine wouldn’t hurt. Then after Mr. Johnson left, he could drink more and go to bed. He’d find another bottle to replace the one his parents bought and no one would be the wiser.

  His plan in place, he went to the cabinet and selected one of the bottles toward the back. Once he was settled back on the couch, he started drinking it. He sipped it at first, mindful to listen for Mr. Johnson’s arrival, but the clock ticked on and he sipped more and more.

  By the time the knock on the door finally came, he felt lightheaded. He wasn’t sure if Mr. Johnson would realize he’d been drinking, but at this point, he didn’t care. His life had been singlehandedly destroyed because a stranger stuck his nose in where it didn’t belong. He placed the bottle on the table and grabbed the book. He stumbled once on the way to the door but managed to answer it, surprised when he didn’t see Mr. Johnson.

  “Rebecca? What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “My father had to meet with a business partner,” she replied. “I came to pick up his book.”

  He held it out to her. “Here it is.”

  She took the book but didn’t leave. “Are you alright?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She hesitated but nodded and headed back down the porch.

  He shut the door and returned to the parlor, glancing at the clock. His parents wouldn’t be home for at least another hour. Picking up the bottle, he plopped down on the settee and drank more wine. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The wine did a good job of dulling the pain. By now, he hardly felt anything.

  Someone sat next to him, and he looked over in time to see Rebecca’s concerned expression. “Kent, what’s wrong? Did I speak out of line at the bank yesterday?”

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t you.”

  None of it was her fault. His father manipulated so much of his life. Why he thought his life would be any different after leaving New York, he didn’t know. His father had made up his mind, and he was determined to use him to get as much money as possible.

  She took the bottle from him. “Even so, I feel like I did something wrong. You were so nervous at the bank.” She glanced around the room. “If you’re going to drink, it’d be better if you did it from a glass.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he assured her as she carried the bottle to the glasses on another table and poured some wine into a glass. He closed his eyes, aware that the room was beginning to spin around him. “It’s my father. He lives to make my life miserable.”

  “Does he?”

  “Yes. All he wants to do is control everything I do. I don’t know why he even let me believe I could marry Ann.” He bitterly laughed. “He’s the one who told your father I wanted to be with you instead of Ann. That’s why it’s not your fault. How could you have known differently?”

  “Oh, so then you didn’t fancy me at all.”

  Noting the disappointment in her voice, he winced. “I’m sorry. Will you forgive me for lying to you yesterday?”

  She sat next to him and handed him a glass of wine. “There’s nothing to forgive. You were in an awkward situation. What were you supposed to do? Be rude and tell me in a public setting that you didn’t care for me? I would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed.”

  “It’s not that I don’t care for you at all.” He sighed and ran his thumb along the glass. “You’ve always been kind to me.”

  She smiled and clasped her hands in her lap. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wished you cared for me the way you do for Ann, but I know we can’t help the way we feel. And Ann adores you. She’ll be very good to you.”

  He shook his head, uncertain of the future. Would Ann be willing to give up everything to be with him? There was no way her father would give him her dowry now, and he couldn’t afford to give her the things she desired until the investments matured. A year seemed like such a long time to wait until he could marry her. And would his parents even wait that long to see him secure a wife?

  He drank his wine and glanced at Rebecca. “You can have a glass if you want.”

  “Oh, I’m not thirsty.” After he finished the glass, she asked, “Would you like some more?”

  “How much is left in the bottle?”

  “About another glass worth.”

  “Might as well finish it.”

  Before he could go to the bottle, she took his glass. “I’ll get it for you.”

  When she returned, he took the full glass and stared at the dark liquid. It was definitely soothing to drink alcohol. His body had relaxed to the point where he no longer cared about the day’s events. He glanced at Rebecca. “Thank you,” he lifted the glass, “for giving me more.” He drank half the glass. “I don’t deserve your kindness.”

  “Nonsense.” She touched his knee, giving it a light squeeze.

  His body responded to her touch, the alcohol only intensifying the pleasure from her simple action. There was no way she could be aware of his reaction to her. And that was why he had to send her home, before he did something they’d both regret. With a yawn, he placed his glass on the table and struggled to his feet. “You should go home.”

  Though she remained seated, she grabbed her father’s book and said, “You’re right. It’s not wise for me to be here when no one else is in the house.”

  He yawned again and blinked to clear his vision.

  “Help me up?” she asked, raising her hand.

  “Of course.” Had he been sober, he was sure he would have remembered his manners. He clasped his hand around hers and helped her to her feet. He blinked again and his vision blurred to the point where he thought he saw two of her. He needed to get to bed.

  She placed her hand on his chest. “Kent, are you feeling alright?”

  “I,” he blinked again, “feel,” the room spun, “fine.” Then everything went black.

  ***

  “What is going on here?”

  Kent bolted up, unaware of where he was or how he got there. All he could see was a bright light as his father yelled in outrage. His head throbbed with piercing pain, and he thought he might vomit so he settled back onto the bed. A bed? Gulping down the bile in his throat, he opened his eyes and blinked back the blurry objects around him.

  Strong hands clasped his shoulders and pulled him back into a sitting position. “Do you realize what you’ve done? Do you think the Johnsons will be happy when they hear about this?”

>   The room swam around Kent, making him grab his head and groan.

  “I… I…” Rebecca stammered.

  Kent forced his eyes open and stared dumbly at Rebecca who was next to him, holding a blanket up to her chin, tears in her eyes, her lower lip trembling. His gaze went to himself. The blanket was draped over his waist, but he didn’t need to look under the blanket to know he was naked. And they were both in his bed. His startled gaze returned to his father whose face was bright red, his nostrils flaring with anger.

  “This is inexcusable,” his father finally said, rage simmering just beneath the surface. “Thank goodness your mother stopped by at a friend’s so she didn’t have to see this. It’s scandalous. Unbelievably scandalous!”

  “I-I’m sorry.” Kent swallowed. His throat felt dry. He could barely form the words to speak, but even so, any apology would have been hollow. The last thing he remembered was helping Rebecca to her feet in the parlor. He’d meant to see her to the door but then… Everything was blank. Was this the kind of thing that happened when a man got drunk? He acted abhorrently then forgot all about it? Glancing at Rebecca who was crying, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re going to make things right,” his father barked, bringing his attention back to him. “You’re going to marry her.”

  Without thinking, he nodded. “Of course. Yes,” he glanced at Rebecca again and hoped to reassure her that he’d treat her honorably from this point forward. “I’ll marry you. And I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

  He quickly looked away from her. She had to hate him for what he did. She’d been no match for him if he forced her to be with him. He didn’t even want to think about it. His stomach churned and he thought he’d vomit for sure, but somehow he managed to keep it down.

  His father walked to the other side of the bed and wrapped another blanket around Rebecca’s shoulders. “We are terribly sorry, my dear. You may dress behind the dressing screen. I’ll make sure my son doesn’t do anything else inappropriate.”

  Kent shut his eyes, unable to bear the weight of his shame. Of all the things he might have done, he never thought he’d do anything like this. Never again. He’d never drink alcohol ever again. It caused nothing but grief and while he would willingly do the right thing, it had cost him what he loved most: Ann.

  Chapter Seven

  Kent took a deep breath to steel his resolve before he knocked on the door. He had to do this. It was no longer a question of what he wanted to do. It was now a matter of doing the right thing. If he could take back the previous night, he’d do it in a heartbeat. But he couldn’t, and no amount of wishing he could turn back the clock would make it so. It was his sin to bear, and he’d bear it for the rest of his life. Resigned to his fate, he knocked on the Statesmans’ front door again.

  One of Ann’s servants answered the door and he asked to see her, hoping her father wasn’t there, though after today, her father should be happy. Kent would be out of Ann’s life. Swallowing back some tears, he followed her servant into the parlor and waited for her.

  He scanned the parlor, recalling the times he’d come over to show her pictures and talk about New York. They’d made plans in this room, plans for the future that wouldn’t come to pass. Letting out a heavy sigh, he removed his hat. He felt as if he was at a funeral and in some ways, he was. He’d come to end the best thing that ever happened to him.

  One of Ann’s female servants came into the parlor, followed by Ann, and it took all of his willpower not to get on his knees and beg her forgiveness. This was going to hurt her, something he once swore he’d never do.

  “Good afternoon, Kent,” she greeted, her smile lighting up her face. “It’s good to see you. Will you sit down?”

  “No thank you, Miss Ann,” he replied then, in shame, he lowered his gaze.

  She remained standing, shifting uneasily from one foot to another, and after a long moment, she asked, “Did you have a bad day?”

  “No. I...I have to tell you something.” He took another deep breath, doing his best to ignore the way the clock ticked, ever reminding him he’d never get to be in her parlor again. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

  “Is someone in your family ill?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “What is it?”

  He had to do this. There was no choice. He gripped his hat and forced out, “I cannot call on you again.”

  “What?” she asked, her jaw dropped in shock.

  “I love Rebecca Johnson,” he quickly said, hoping she didn’t notice the way he winced, “and I intend to marry her.”

  “How... When...?”

  “It just happened. I didn’t plan it. I don’t think anyone can plan things like this.”

  If only he hadn’t drank alcohol, then this wouldn’t be happening. But wishing it was no use. Before he could break down and beg her forgiveness for how things turned out, he headed for the front door. His father and Rebecca had agreed that no one—not even Rebecca’s parents—would know about him being in bed with her, and that meant he couldn’t tell anyone, not even Ann. Besides, if Ann knew, she’d lose all respect for him, and then she’d never love him. That would be worse. Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted Ann to always love him, even if he couldn’t be with her.

  Clearing his throat, he forced out, “I hope there won’t be any hard feelings between us. I’ll see you in church tomorrow. Good-bye, Miss Statesman.”

  He noted the way she winced and gritted his teeth as he opened the door and left her house. Once he made it down the steps of her porch, he closed his eyes and steadied his nerves. It wouldn’t do to cry. Men didn’t cry, at least not in front of onlookers. When he could trust himself, he opened his eyes and proceeded down the sidewalk, putting one step forward, resigned to the future that loomed ahead of him.

  ***

  “Did you end your courtship with Miss Statesman?”

  Kent paused as he cut into his steak, debating whether or not to make eye contact with his father. Why did his father feel it necessary to ask him such a personal question during dinner?

  His mother finished sipping her wine and placed the glass on the table. “You decided not to marry Ann?”

  Kent glanced her way, noting her surprise. His father hadn’t told her anything about Rebecca? He turned his gaze to his father who wiped his mouth with a napkin before setting it back on his lap.

  “Kent is going to ask Mr. Johnson if he can court Rebecca. He plans to do that tomorrow.” His father looked at him. “Don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course,” Kent quietly replied.

  “What caused this change of heart?” his mother asked.

  Unsure of what to say, Kent turned his attention back to his father who waved his hand. “Love,” his father told her. “As simple as it is, love has changed his mind. He has decided he’d rather marry Rebecca. A fine choice, if I say so myself.”

  She shrugged and poked her potato with a fork. “Ann or Rebecca, it’s all the same to me. I suppose the mother is always the last to know these things when she has a son.” She smiled at Kent. “Rebecca is a fine choice. Well done, Kent.”

  Though he returned her smile, it was hard to eat the rest of his meal. He would have thought his father would be insisting he marry Rebecca at once considering the circumstances. He watched as his father continued to eat as if nothing horrible had happened the previous night. He knew better than to say anything in front of his mother since his father was determined to keep the situation as quiet as possible. As difficult as it was, he managed to finish the rest of the meal.

  But after dinner was over and his father retired to the informal parlor, he followed him, shutting the door for privacy.

  “I don’t believe I asked to speak with you,” his father said, reclining in his favorite chair and picking up the newspaper.

  “Shouldn’t I be making plans to marry Rebecca as soon as possible?” Kent asked, keeping his voice low.

  “That’s not necessary.” He open
ed the paper and put his feet on the ottoman. “But you did end your courtship with Ann?”

  “Yes. I did that this morning.”

  “Good. You will go to Mr. Johnson tomorrow and ask to court Rebecca. We’re going to do this the right way. She deserves to be courted for a year before you marry her. Now that we’ve secured those investments, we can afford to wait.”

  “But aren’t you worried there’ll be a baby? I don’t want anyone finding out about this.” Most of all, Ann.

  His father lowered the paper and sighed. “You bring up a good point.” He paused then continued, “If it turns out Rebecca’s with child, you will marry her and go to New York. That will protect her virtue. No one needs to know she conceived before you married.”

  “But her parents will know.”

  “Kent, you worry for nothing. The chances of Rebecca getting with child from one time are so small that you needn’t give it a second thought.”

  “But it only takes one time—”

  His father groaned and crossed his arms. “If it turns out she’s with child, we’ll deal with the situation then. In the meantime, you will ask to court her.”

  Knowing his father wouldn’t budge, Kent finally nodded and left the room.

  ***

  “Rebecca, I…” Kent shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced around her formal parlor, his gaze unwittingly going to the piano that had been the focal point of the dinner parties their parents subjected them to in the past. Forcing his mind off the piano, he turned to face her, still too ashamed to make eye contact with her.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to sit?” Rebecca asked, gesturing to the chair next to where she sat.

  How could she sound so casual about everything? True, she knew he’d come here to make things right, but after the way he’d taken advantage of her… His stomach tightened and he felt sick. He couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror. Of all the things he thought he was capable of, treating a lady as one would a common whore wasn’t one of them. He rubbed his stomach and decided he’d better sit down. If he didn’t, he might lose his breakfast.