To date, however, he’d learned nothing. When he’d first traveled to Little Brookings a month and a half ago he’d figured his task would be simple: he’d find Andrew Hilton, threaten him a bit, bloody his nose if need be, and that would be that. But now with Hilton out of the picture and Kate refusing to be at all helpful…still, the list was already getting shorter. Owens the coachman had been crossed off almost immediately after Ben had suggested he be put on—he’d only insisted that Kate write him down to be ornery in the first place. Gregory Sithwell, her solicitor, had also been removed from the list. Ben had met with him earlier that week and thought the man seemed far too honest and concerned for Kate’s well-being to be any sort of threat. Ben had had no trouble bringing her up as a topic of discussion—as his wife’s solicitor, Sithwell now worked for him, too. He’d merely told Sithwell that he was concerned about her involvement in the company, that he wondered if it didn’t expose her to a certain amount of danger, both to her person and her reputation. He’d then waited to gauge his reaction, and it was just what Ben would have wanted. Sithwell agreed with him. Nodded, said that Kate’s father had perhaps indulged her a bit too much. He’d expressed his hope that, although Ben had signed the contract, he would find some way for Kate to step back a bit and hand the reins over to someone else. It would be difficult, Sithwell had conceded. That company meant everything to her. And she mustn’t be forced to step down completely; she was good at what she did and to do so would destroy her. She just needed to…well, share her duties a bit better. That was how he’d put it, and Ben agreed. He also, for once, agreed with Kate: Sithwell was honorable, sincere and innocent.
At that moment, Ben noticed a bluff, red-cheeked and rather convivial-looking man standing near him, muttering to himself quietly. Seeing Ben, he halted his muttering with an apologetic blush. “Good evening, my lord,” he said, stepping forward slightly and bowing his head. “I haven’t had the pleasure yet of being introduced to you.”
Ben was slightly taken aback by the man’s forwardness, but supposed that things were a bit more relaxed so far from London. “Oh? How do you do—”
“Hastings. Richard Hastings. I live just over yonder,” the man explained, pointing in the direction of the hall, “just on the other side of the rectory.”
Ben momentarily forgot the man’s rudeness. He couldn’t believe his luck, especially after the disappointing evening that he’d been having so far. Richard Hastings, one of Kate’s prime suspects, introducing himself. It certainly saved Ben a bit of work. “Um…west, that is?” he asked.
The man grinned benignly. “West, indeed.”
Ben nodded as if he were mulling this information over. His interpretation of this meeting as luck was beginning to change because, as Kate had warned, the man hardly seemed capable of committing any sort of crime.
Hastings cleared his throat. “Well, Lord Sinclair…I know it’s not really my place to say so, but I am relieved that Miss Sutcliff…er, I mean—”
“Lady Sinclair.”
“Yes, Lady Sinclair. I’m relieved that she’s finally wed. And wed to you, that is, of course. Never thought it would happen. No one had much hope, in fact.”
“Is that so?” Ben asked curiously.
Hastings began to shift his weight as if he were frightened of causing offense. “What I mean is, Lady Sinclair is lovely and kind…and much admired by everyone in the village. But no one thought she’d ever…how shall I put it…”
“Condescend to marriage?”
Hastings smiled broadly at Ben’s assistance. “Condescend. Yes. That’s the word exactly. A stubborn girl who’s determined to be in charge of her own life, I’d say. We were all wondering not only if it would happen, but also what sort of man would…well—”
“Take her on?” Ben queried. He knew the answer: only a raving madman, obviously.
Hastings nodded with enthusiasm, rocking back on his heels in pleasure so that his round belly protruded from his coat.
“And who, may I ask, is ‘we’?”
“Oh, sorry, Lord Sinclair. I meant my wife and I…also George Smith—now he edits the Little Brookings Weekly Idler—and Mrs. Aubrey down the lane, the Misses Powell, Squire Humphries, the vicar…well, the better sort of Little Brookings generally. They’re all here tonight if you haven’t yet met them. I hope you aren’t offended, but it’s been the talk of the town since she turned about sixteen. You see, we haven’t a surfeit of beautiful, unmarried young ladies in the village so one can’t help but speculate.”
“I see.”
“Might I venture a question, my lord?”
Ben figured the man would anyway, so nodded.
“Well…do you plan to curtail her activities?”
Like devil worship? a perverse voice asked inside his head, although to Hastings he merely asked, “To which activities do you refer?”
“Well, we all rather hoped that, now she’s married, she’d perhaps stay at home a bit more…be more domestic, perhaps. I don’t mean to be impertinent, of course…”
Ben thought he was definitely being impertinent but sensed Hastings was looking for agreement and would open up more if he got it. “I have been thinking long and hard about this issue, Mr. Hastings,” he said reassuringly.
Hastings beamed. “I’m pleased to hear it, my lord. Perhaps I could suggest…well, you see, a group of ladies in town spend several afternoons a week together embroidering church vestments and the like—I think they’re working on an altar cloth at the moment—and for this Vicar Sampson is most grateful. Perhaps Lady Sinclair would like to join them one day? It’s good company, too, or so m’wife informs me. The ladies talk of their children, gowns, flowers, puppies…men, of course, but I’m sure Lady Sinclair is too much the, er, lady, to indulge in that sort of gossip.”
Ben nodded slowly. He very much disliked women who talked only of clothing and children, but played along with Hastings. “I can think of no more proper subject of conversation for a wife than puppies and flowers. I will certainly suggest she joins these ladies someday soon.”
Hastings’s florid face brightened with pleasure again. “I’m pleased to hear that, my lord. I’ve often worried about Lady Sinclair. A boatyard is no place for a young lady to go wandering around.”
Ben leaned in, keenly interested. “You know about my wife’s interest in her father’s company?”
Hastings looked mildly taken aback. “Didn’t know she was interested in the company, per se…thought she just did it to be ornery. Some have suggested,” he leaned in and lowered his voice, “that she just enjoys male company.”
Ben narrowed his eyes angrily at the man’s gall. “But you wouldn’t say that, would you, Hastings?”
“Oh, never. Not I. Her father, although too indulgent, was a great man. I would never dream of saying anything to offend him or his family. It’s just, well…” he paused, trying carefully to plan his words, “I often feared that it could set a bad example to the rest of the town for a young lady of the aristocracy to be so headstrong. She should be setting an example for her inferiors. Vicar Sampson, in particular, has worried that her behavior will lead to some sort of female rebellion.”
“And there will be no one to embroider his altar cloths.”
Hastings nodded. “Precisely, Lord Sinclair. You understand so well.”
“You have nothing to fear any longer. She will behave herself in the future.”
“I’m grateful, my lord, that she’s married a man not scared of taking her firmly in hand.”
Ben nodded in agreement, thinking as he did so that Hastings really was a fatuous old goat. Disingenuously, he said, “That’s been my plan all along, of course. By the by, did you ever do anything to…indicate your feelings of disapproval?”
“I wouldn’t presume! I was friendly with her father, as I say, but I don’t suppose he would have taken too kindly to my advice. I should have said nothing to you, Lord Sinclair, but I figured…well…since you married the vixen it’s only to be
expected that you also intend to rein her in.”
Ben frowned at Hastings’s mixed metaphor but didn’t comment. He played, instead, to what he thought Hastings would like to hear. If he had attempted in any way to harm or intimidate Kate, this was one way to find out. “I have already instructed my wife to stay out of the boatyard, you will be pleased to know.”
Hastings opened his mouth to answer but closed it abruptly, merely nodding instead. Ben thought he saw him glance nervously around his shoulder. Hastings picked a bit of lint from his jacket and changed the subject. “Cabbage has done well this year.”
“Oh?” Ben asked. He was already beginning to lose interest. Hastings was innocuous enough, and quite obviously innocent as well. He didn’t want to be impolite, but as the man started to expound on the price of runner beans he had to put an end to the conversation.
“Yes, well, it’s been a pleasure, Mr. Hastings, but I really must go find my wife.”
He turned to leave and almost walked into her.
Ben wondered how long Kate had been standing behind him. From her dark expression, he reckoned she’d overheard the worst of the conversation. Before she could spit at him, he held out his arm.
“Dance with me, Kate.”
She merely stared at him, her mouth ajar in disbelief. Dance with him? Was he serious? She didn’t move, didn’t speak. Her body felt frozen with shock, but inside she boiled with fury.
Ben sensed that she was mere seconds from exploding. Before she could scream, he leaned in toward her, his voice laced with warning. “Look, Kate, just take my hand and dance with me. You can’t yell at me here.”
Numbly, she took his hand and they moved onto the dance floor. After several moments of angry silence, Ben began to wonder if she would bring the subject up herself, or if he should prod her a bit. The things he’d said had been damning indeed, but he would expect her to know that he had a reason for saying them. She couldn’t possibly think he really felt that way about her, could she? Maybe he should introduce a completely uncontroversial subject and she’d just forget about it.
“Have you been enjoying yourself?”
“No.”
He gave up. “Yes, well, at least you’re feeling garrulous tonight. What a pleasant change from your usual manner.”
“You seem to be saying enough for both of us.”
“Will you let me explain?” he asked, spinning her around so that her back faced the room. If any of their guests saw her expression just then…
“I’m not interested in your explanation.”
“You look interested,” he retorted, leaning in close.
She couldn’t deny that. That bit of conversation she’d overheard had been the most interesting—and enlightening—thing she’d heard in years. Why had she ever dared to hope that he might be different, that he might actually want a wife who had a brain, an opinion and a strong will? “You are not welcome here. I’ve told you that before. I will not have you telling me what to do.”
“You’re not listening to me, Kate.”
“Not listening? I heard exactly what you said. Richard Hastings, I’ll have you know, is one of the biggest gossips in town. Everything you just told him will be common knowledge tomorrow. He’s probably spreading the word as we speak.”
“I had hoped as much.”
“Really?” she snarled. “You want to humiliate me on a grand scale?”
Ben was quickly losing his temper. If she’d only just listen to him for one minute he could explain. He shouldn’t even have to explain. She should just trust him. “I want to publicize the fact that things are changing, that I have taken over your father’s company. If anyone is still trying to harm you, perhaps that will dissuade him from making another attempt.”
“Oh? And do you think that you have taken over?”
Her anger, Ben saw, was slowly being replaced with hurt. He could see it in her wide, fathomless indigo eyes, and he could feel it in his own heart. How he hated being the one to have to tell her the truth. She wasn’t oblivious to reality, but she never wanted to acknowledge it. “No, Kate, I don’t. But how do you intend to do all this on your own?”
She had no answer for that question, so replied with a question of her own. “Do you really think that anyone here can hate me so much they’d want to harm me? You may not believe it, but I’m quite well-liked. I’ve been congratulated several times this evening.”
“Congratulated for what?”
She blushed. “For marrying.”
“And do you know why?”
She knew perfectly. She said nothing.
“Because everyone thinks you’re a willful brat,” he answered for her. “They think you need controlling.”
That was true and she’d been aware of it for a long time. But for him to agree with everyone else…that was just what she’d been afraid of. “That’s a lie.”
He didn’t answer.
“So your plan is to change that, is that right, Ben? You plan to make me behave…to make me act like a proper wife.”
He didn’t have any plans to change anything. She was a willful brat, but she was his. He’d gotten used to her being that way and suspected it was the reason he liked her in the first place. Ben had no interest in women who agreed with every word he said, and he’d married her precisely because she didn’t, because he loved her. But before he had the opportunity to defend himself, she said, “I will never be a good wife to you. I will not embroider altar cloths, if that’s what you want.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Kate, who ever said that was what I wanted?”
“You did. I heard you. That’s exactly what you told Richard Hastings. You told him you were going to change me. You said you would forbid me to go to the boatyard. You said you would do it because you are my husband and you can. Do you deny it?”
He could deny nothing. He’d said all those things. He hadn’t meant a single word, though. It had all been for Hastings’s benefit. He just couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t understand that. How could she possibly suspect him of such underhandedness? Was it possible she could have such a low opinion of him? “You’ll recall, Kate, that long before I became your husband, I was your brother’s best friend. If you won’t believe that my intentions to you are honorable, then at least acknowledge that I would do nothing to jeopardize my friendship with him.”
“You forfeited his friendship anyway. You had no compunctions about seducing me. How can I believe you? Why did you marry me in the first place?”
“Would you like me to leave, Kate?” he asked rather suddenly, his voice flat, his eyes cold and emotionless.
Her head jerked in surprise and she stopped dancing. She hadn’t been prepared for those words. Was he really offering to leave? That was what she’d been asking for, wasn’t it? She’d never felt as betrayed as she felt at that moment; when she’d overheard him speaking to Richard Hastings she’d wanted to…well, to die, to cease to exist, to dissolve. She’d been beginning to trust him—she’d been fighting it, but she had all the same. She’d been expecting the worst but praying the whole time that he just might love her for who she was. “I think we’ll both agree that I’m pretty safe here,” she said slowly. “If you would like to leave then I think you should.”
Ben nodded. He felt hollow. His question had been a last resort; he’d been giving her a chance to ask him to stay. He needed desperately to hear those words. He’d wanted his marriage to work, but he’d been a fool, apparently.
Yet could he really leave? She obviously hated having him there. He could go back to London and back to his old life. He could go anywhere: to the Indies, East and West; to Jamaica; Egypt; Greece…he needn’t just stay, doggedly waiting for her to come round. Strangely, he didn’t have the familiar urge to travel, but he could force himself to go; it had always cured him before. She obviously wouldn’t allow him to share her life and he didn’t think he had much chance of regaining her trust. But would she be safe if he left? Maybe he was just being stubborn by i
nsisting on this futile investigation. Maybe he’d just been using his suspicion as an excuse to stay with her. But it was well-known now that Kate had married; he’d also done his part that evening to advertise that he was in control and that she was no longer an easy target. Besides, as she’d pointed out, who in Little Brookings was capable of harming her anyway?
Perhaps Andrew Hilton had been behind everything after all. During their meeting, Ben had felt certain the man was telling the truth, but maybe he was simply a brilliant actor. At any rate, Ben knew that he had scared him off and that he would never be a threat again. So what was keeping him here?
“Then I’ll leave, Kate,” he said, hating the finality of those words, wishing he could revoke them the instant they left his lips.
With that, he bowed and walked off. He left the drawing room completely, Kate standing without a partner in the middle of the floor. It was impolite in the extreme, but he didn’t care. He would return to London in the morning anyway, and he could figure out there what to do next. Kate could deal with any gossip his sudden departure aroused—she’d brought it on herself anyway.
As he left the drawing room, Kate watched him, feeling desolate, unmindful of the curious stares cast her way. She bit her lip to stop its quivering. This was exactly what she’d asked for, wasn’t it? So why did she feel like her life was over?
Chapter Twenty
February 1818
Kate had always rather disparaged women who devoted their lives to the perfection of wifely talents and feminine graces. Of course, if she’d been any good at these things she probably wouldn’t have disparaged them quite so freely; she had several friends, in fact, who were both wifely and feminine, and it had never impinged on her good opinion of them. These characteristics were perfectly fine for others…just not for her. And indeed, she’d never felt the lack until now.
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