“He’d been unconscious for a year.”
Only chirping birds and clopping hooves punctuated the silence as the puzzle of her circumstances fell completely into place. He thought to mention her sedation—Stoney would appreciate the humor of the bizarre situation—but he already felt like a bloody idiot.
“She said I scare her at times.” It came out in a rush, the final obstacle.
“The last weeks must have held frightening moments for you both.”
“That’s true. You should have seen the welts she left on Hedges’ face. She learned to defend herself very quickly. It was…remarkable.” And a bit frightening. Not that he thought she would turn on him, but he had seen her in action. Even for a thin woman, she had done some harm, and he respected her abilities, glad to know she wasn’t helpless without him by her side. A well-muscled man many times her strength, particularly one wearing bloodied clothing and ranting as he had done at Gorham House, had to be frightening to her. That was only logical.
He’d never been happier to feel like a fool, and a grin replaced his frown. “Forget the girls tonight. I’m returning to London as soon as I’ve dispensed with the fetid Miss Draper—two nights, no more.”
Chapter Twenty-two
The lioness waits,
Seeking exoneration.
Will he forgive her?
Cathryn crept out her front door at first light the next morning and glanced about for reporters. None came forth, and she hurried down the street carrying her suitcase. A coach left at eight for Newtown Green, and she would be on it, just after she posted her letter to Julian detailing why they belonged together. Seeing Violet had given her new clarity. She only hoped her intuition was correct and Julian wanted her back. Her constant prayer was that he would come for her at her father’s home, in just a few days time.
Her shoulders ached by the time she reached the coaching station an hour later, but the walk had been invigorating. Buying her ticket from the whiskered attendant, she heard her name called behind her. By the time she finished her transaction, there were three reporters gathered around her.
“Lady Sibley, you were rumored to be at Gorham House. Is it as decadent as they say?”
She knew enough to give no response. Anything she said would be twisted to suit their needs. She would tell them what she wanted them to know, in her own time.
“Lord Ahlquist was spotted near York two days past. Has he gone to ask his mother to bless your union?”
That was interesting news. Still no response.
“Why aren’t you with him?”
“Where are you headed today?”
“She bought a ticket for Newtown Green,” offered the stationmaster.
Cathryn shot him a disgusted look as she pushed past the reporters to sit in the waiting room. She might as well feed them some information she wished known, in case Julian was looking for her. “I’m going to visit my father, Baron Bradford, for a few days.” She unclipped her cloak and displayed her brooch. “I’m wearing Lord Ahlquist's gift, his grandmother’s cameo.”
All three reporters hurried to make a sketch before she changed her mind. “So the betrothal stands?”
She cocked her head and gave them a look she hoped said, of course, you simpletons, why else would I wear his gift in public?
The call came for her coach, and she flashed the men a smile stating all was well with her world.
“Did the earl kill Baron Hedges?”
Her resolve to remain placid burst. “No! The baron was crushed by his horse, a grim reminder to ride slowly on dark country roads.”
“But the earl was there when he died.”
“The inquest proved his innocence.” She picked up her bag and headed towards the coaches. “The earl is not a violent man. Please quote me correctly on that. The Earl of Trenchford is not a violent man.”
* * * * *
Julian was having lunch at an inn near Cambridge two days later when he saw the Morning Post from the previous day.
Lady Sibley Defends Earl of Trenchford’s Character read the headline. A sketch of a winsome Cathryn wearing his cameo accompanied the short piece. Dear heavens, how he missed her. “Lady Cathryn Sibley attested repeatedly that the Earl of Trenchford was not a violent man, in spite of the attacks and death that have vexed him all month. On her way to visit her ailing father in Newtown Green, Lady Sibley offered these exclusive comments to our reporter.
“After Baron Hedges’ unfortunate demise, the earl and I grew tired of the decadence of Gorham House. Lord Ahlquist went to ask his mother, the Marchioness, for her blessing on our impending union. I only hope my dear papa lives long enough to witness our vows.”
The press was notoriously unreliable, but this rag rarely made stories from nothing. It was even possible Cathryn was sending a message of exoneration. She did not believe Julian to be a violent man. She wanted their betrothal to stand. He grinned as he finished the article, his spirit lighter than it had been in days.
His coachman sat across from him finishing a bowl of soup. When Julian looked up, he caught the man watching him with a smile.
“Can we make Newtown Green today?”
Holmes thought for a moment. “By midnight, if the weather holds.”
Julian handed over the paper as he rose. “I’ll send a dispatch ahead requesting two rooms.” Taking a deep breath, he realized his wound did not pinch for the first time in a week. “I’ll take a turn at the reins for the next hour.”
Holmes’ face dropped. “After the last time, I thought you’d had your fill.”
Julian laughed. “Mrs. Aubrey drove two full hours. I only want a bit of exercise.” He was feeling bloody marvelous.
* * * * *
Cathryn left Bradford Manor after breakfast and cut across the dried meadow into the village of Newtown Green, where she planned to visit the vicar and renew old acquaintances. The path led to the end of the main street, just beyond the church and graveyard. A stiff wind tugged at her bonnet ties and whipped her cloak around her. She nearly passed the cemetery without a glance, but a dark movement near Geoffrey’s headstone caught her eye. Thinking it might be a reporter intent on unearthing some new fact and possibly causing mischief, she pushed open the creaky iron gate and headed to investigate.
Cathryn’s heart sank when she spied Edna Lewin on her knees pinching the dead buds from a mass of golden chrysanthemums planted around the marble headstone. Cropped brown hair stuck out from beneath her plain black bonnet, and her cape lay around her on the cold ground. The love reflected in each careful pruning, and the despondency surrounding the frail woman, made Cathryn’s compassion bloom. Edna had loved Geoffrey ages before Cathryn knew him. Edna loved Geoffrey even now, when Cathryn’s feelings for him lay dormant.
Julian was all she’d thought of for days.
Perhaps it’s time to put that part of my past behind me. And Edna needs a friend. She cleared her throat and her former housekeeper glanced up. The last weeks had not been kind to Edna, and her drawn face and sunken eyes attested to the depths of her misery. The air crackled between them in uncertain tension, until Cathryn broke the spell. “Thank you for doing that. Geoffrey loved well-tended flowers.”
Edna appeared stunned.
Cathryn walked towards her and held out her hand. “Mrs. Lewin, I bear you no ill will. Our lives are intertwined, and I’ve missed you terribly.”
Tired eyes filled with tears as Edna accepted the proffered hand. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, milady, but I’ll accept it, if that’s what you wish.”
Coarse, strong fingers reminded Cathryn of all this woman had done for her over the years. “I do. I want you to come home.”
“Mr. Lewin and I are…separated.”
“I see. I’m sorry.”
“And he sent Molly and Victor to his mother’s in the north. I’m not to communicate with them until he tells me I may.”
Cathryn led the way to a stone bench under a nearby tree and sat, patting the seat beside her. “Do they know w
hy?”
“He says I disgraced the family. He called me a…whore.”
No woman wants that. “Oh, Edna, you were a victim of circumstance, I think.”
An awkward silence ensued.
“Loving Geoffrey was my first memory,” Edna finally whispered in a confessional tone, “but I was weak to keep seeing him.”
“He was weak as well, and love is too often unkind.”
“I never meant to hurt you, or the first Lady Sibley. I just couldn’t deny him…” She appeared conscience-stricken and deeply in need of repentance.
Perhaps this was the time to expunge the sins. “Every Monday?”
The disclosure came slowly. “Nearly…in the spare servant’s room, when Nathan went to see his mum. We thought no one knew. We never meant to hurt no one.”
Cathryn stared unseeingly into the distance as she digested this bit of information. It was bitter to consider, and expunction was slow to arrive. A noise from the road caught her attention, a welcome distraction. An enormous private carriage came into view around the corner.
Jumping to her feet, Cathryn forgot the task at hand. Could it be Julian so quickly? If he’d been en route to London when he saw the Post… She hurried towards the gate.
“Is it Lord Ahlquist, milady?”
“Perhaps. We had a row, but I—”
A turn in the road showed the side of the coach—and a ducal seal.
“Oh, no. It’s the Duke of Clarendon.” He likely has a copy of the Sapphos, and his intentions are almost certainly not benign. And Julian, even if he wished to come to my rescue, might still be in York.
The coachman spotted the two women and began to slow his team.
“Mrs. Lewin, I need your help. I believe the duke means me harm.” Her mind scrambled as the coach came to a halt.
Be ready to defend myself.
Call for Fiona.
“Have you heard of Gorham House?”
“Mrs. Burns’ residence?”
“Yes. It’s less than two hours south of here and very near the Duke of Clarendon’s estate.”
“Not your father?”
She shook her head. “No.” Her father was nearly blind from years spent studying one ancient text after another. Her brother was, frankly, a bit of a dullard, and unlikely to act decisively, particularly in the face of such a daunting title. The duke was a thief of the highest order. She might be stolen away by nightfall.
What to tell Edna?
A burly footman jumped off the carriage and made his way to her side before he bowed. “Lady Sibley?”
“Yes.”
“His Grace requests an audience.”
“Of course,” she said. Edna appeared frozen, and Cathryn prayed she could rely on her as she whispered, “Go south as quickly as you can. They’re my friends, they’ll know what to do.”
Speaking louder for the footman’s benefit, she hoped her fear did not show as she continued to instruct Edna. “Please send someone to inform my father of my whereabouts. And leave messages for Lord Ahlquist as well.”
A beefy hand reached out to take her elbow, and she sidestepped out of the way. “But do not delay on your primary task, do you understand?” Leaning in as she passed the trembling woman, she whispered hotly, “Go swiftly. Now!”
Edna turned and fled into the cemetery, slamming the rusty gate behind her. Cathryn saw her duck around the back of the church and hoped she would seek Father Langdon’s help. She slowly climbed the steps into the duke’s luxurious coach, feeling very much like a damsel in distress.
The duke’s feeble grin welcomed her, and he gestured for her to join him on his side of the expansive blue velvet-lined coach. “Lady Sibley, what a pleasant surprise finding you along the road. We were coming to fetch you at Bradford Manor.”
Her heart pounded wildly as she gave the obligatory deferential curtsy, which was more of an awkward bow in the entry of the carriage. “Duke.” Hoping to sit across from him, she glanced in the opposite direction and found herself facing Dr. Benjamin Kinsley. His handsome visage glowed at her, and she nearly lost her balance trying to retreat.
He reached out to steady her as she reconsidered her options. His steely grip was an unwelcome reminder of their brief intimacies, the cause of all her current woes. Her temper flared and she tensed. He tightened his grip, making her very aware of how vulnerable she was.
A homely, husky man squirmed in formal attire next to the doctor, and she reluctantly acquiesced to the duke’s request as the coach began to move.
She was barely settled when the duke grabbed her knee and squeezed quite hard, causing her discomfort even through her cloak and gown. His voice was brittle. “You know the doctor, I understand.”
“He treated Sir Geoffrey for several years.” And bled him to death as he bled our savings dry. She looked at the doctor as she spoke and glimpsed a lecherous nature she’d never before observed.
All three men chuckled, and she flushed as she thought of what details the doctor might have disclosed. The duke’s hold on her tightened to painful as he continued with a bitter edge to his voice. “He treated the ladies of the household as well.”
Cathryn shifted but could not break his clawlike grasp on her kneecap. “Sir, you’re hurting me.”
He released her with a sniff. “I have plans for you.” As if nothing untoward was occurring, the nobleman reached into his jacket pocket and produced a copy of her Sappho’s translations. “Your name is on these.”
Resisting the urge to rub her sore knee, she glanced at the doctor, who was staring intently at the duke as if his fortune depended on the man’s every action. “Yes, I worked on those the first years of my marriage.” The men shared an incredulous look, so she continued, “My father tutored me himself.”
“Did Sir Geoffrey give you permission to publish them?”
“I haven’t published them.”
“They belong to his estate.”
She loathed the idea that all a wife’s possessions became the husband’s, and his heir’s. Some women lost gowns and gifts if the heir cared to be mean-spirited.
“What is your interest in my meager translations, sir?”
He shrugged a slender shoulder. “Some men collect art or horses, and I’ve done both. Now I collect translations, granting my personal stamp of endorsement to worthy works. In a hundred years, I want people to remember me as a great benefactor and patron of the finer arts.” With the resources at his disposal, he was not exaggerating the scope of his influence. He would be a terrible enemy on all fronts.
The doctor surprised her when he spoke. “Is Lady Sibley’s work worthy?”
She was glad he’d asked and wondered at his intention as the duke considered his response. “She shows promise, particularly with feminine topics.”
The doctor and his husky seatmate granted her admiring looks before regaining their neutral appearance. She wondered how to use the duke’s interest but needed more information. He saved her asking when he continued, “I understand you’re familiar with the Digenis Acritas?”
His coach turned off the main road, and she recognized the route towards his estate, Waverly Castle. “Yes. Sir Geoffrey and I read both versions aloud the year before he grew ill.”
For several minutes, the duke quizzed her on various aspects of the epic folksong, and her pride demanded she answer to the best of her abilities.
The doctor and henchman bore glazed expressions when the duke cleared his throat loudly to recapture their attention. “You’ll do very well.” The relief in his voice was palpable. “As my wife, you shall bring a feminine aspect to certain parts of Hedges’ work, and we shall produce a first-class translation to last a millennium.”
His wife? The man was insane.
No, the man was a ruthless, self-centered, supremely powerful duke. Very likely, no one ever denied him anything. To do so would spell ruin.
The claw clutched her knee again, just shy of inflicting pain. “You’re through with Ahlquist. I hear
d he returned to his mistress last week, and his mother has the Duke of Iverly’s sister in mind for him.”
Would Julian have sought another so soon? Only six days had past. No, she would not believe that of him. His heart was too wounded, she knew him that well. “We had a row.” She struggled to keep calm. “But we are on the mend. My heart is not open to another alliance.”
His grip tightened, and she clenched her teeth against the pain. “Don’t ever lie to me. He’s been publicly unfaithful to you, and you don’t seem the sort to forgive such indiscretions so soon in an affair.”
She clamped her hand over his and prayed the man was bluffing. “You’re correct, sir. I would never marry a man I found abusive in any way.”
He glanced at her hand on his, and his hold loosened. “I forget myself, Lady Sibley.” She exhaled sharply as the pain subsided to a hot throb. “I acquired a bad habit from my grandfather. When I want something, I grab for it.” The wiry man assumed what she supposed was his most virile stance, while she rubbed her aching kneecap. “The doctor will examine you to ensure you do not carry Ahlquist’s bastard, and we will marry in a fortnight.”
She flushed at the intrusion on her privacy. “In a fortnight, I will know without the doctor’s…assistance.”
“Very well, but you will remain my guest until that time.”
How to refuse a callous duke? She stopped rubbing her leg and concentrated on the task. “My father and brother are expecting me.”
“Send them word. You’re not a prisoner. You may have guests.” He peered at her as if inspecting his purchase. “You’re to be a duchess. Most women would show a bit of gratitude.”
She glanced at the doctor, and he turned to face out the window, as did the henchman. She would find no allies here. The duke lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of her glove. She suppressed a shiver and met his gray eyes. He dropped her hand and his voice grew vaguely seductive. “I’m a patient man—you have two weeks to warm to me.” He grabbed her chin, nearly pinching her. “I would prefer the doctor not have to sedate you on our wedding night.”
Despair tugged at her, and her mind struggled to remain afloat. “I believe Lord Ahlquist and I still have an understanding.” She broke away from him and unhooked her neck clasp, revealing the cameo and taking strength from her own words. “This is from the Ahlquist jewels. We had a misunderstanding but nothing irreparable.”
SoundsofLove Page 28