by Pam Roller
Before the day ended, she was certain he would tell her the truth about himself.
Chapter Seventeen
Rain pummeled the coach with relentless fury. Deep ruts in the muddy road jostled them so badly that several times Millie was thrown against Katherine, who clutched the leather loop over the window with both hands. Alex, sat across from them, struggling to remain still, feet flat on the floorboard, hands pressed to the seat. A day later and he still hadn’t explained his intentions to Katherine. He’d said nothing of marriage, or of finding her a Jewish physician. Silence was familiar ground. Although he possessed a voice, he wasn’t accustomed to using it in heart-felt disclosures and had only issued instructions to pack for London.
After Millie’s third whimper of pain and Katherine’s futile attempts to shield herself, he said, “Katherine, move across to sit beside me.”
She appeared decidedly uncertain and not a little annoyed, and he could hardly blame her. He’d hurried her into the coach with the barest explanation. Justifying his actions was also an alien state.
To try and allay her fears, he smiled. “I am not bouncing around like Millie. Come to this side before you are covered with bruises.”
As she half-stood to move across the coach, it lurched to the right, and she raised her hands to catch herself.
“Steady now.” Alex caught her around her waist and pulled her down beside him, noting her stiffness. He did not immediately release her.
She pulled away from him and leaned forward, and drew a folded piece of paper from her small satchel. Watching him, she held it out.
“You have questions,” he said, taking the note with a pang of guilt. He should have told her why he was taking her on this journey.
The carriage lurched again and she was thrown to the side, and would have bumped her head had he not grabbed her again. He tucked her arm into his to keep her secure. Millie now held the strap with both hands.
“We’ll discuss my plans in a moment,” Alex said. He kept his voice firm. “For now, I will tell you that this morning, I discovered your prying in one of my ledgers.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t flinch from his steady gaze.
Alex couldn’t help smiling. “’Twasn’t I who made all the mistakes. You met my dishonest steward in that book. He died several months ago, in town.” Watching the trickling shadows on her face created by the rain through the windows, he continued. “The first errors began around the date when my wife first showed signs of madness. Apparently, he took advantage of my distraction and trust, and pocketed much of my profits for the next few months. I have not the patience to go back and correct all my books.”
Katherine might be willing to offer her help in correcting his ledgers, but right now she wanted answers. She pointed to Alex’s waistcoat pocket.
“Yes. Your letter.” He took it out—almost tearing it in half in another lurch from the coach wheels—and read, “‘As you know, my inability to speak leaves me unable to fully express my thoughts’—I know this, Katherine. You compensate by knocking me about.” With a wry glance at her heating cheeks, he continued. “‘I know not your intentions. Lord Wiltshire warned me that the doctor you are seeking is inept and dangerous to my well-being.’“
Alex stopped. Pain passed over his features and his eyes swept across the page as if reading the lines again. The light faded from his eyes and his mouth resumed its tightness. He didn’t argue or explain himself, but instead read the rest of her letter in silence.
There was little else she had written—only that she hoped his intentions were honorable as she had done nothing to deserve his malice. The unwritten words, those that stayed hidden in her heart, spoke of her draw toward him, the perplexing mix of longing and uncertainty.
Now he raised his face, his expression naked and open, and Katherine’s heart went out to the dejected man beneath the aloof exterior.
“I have none but honorable intentions, Katherine. Do you truly think me a man of malice?” His eyes searched hers.
Her mouth moved. No.
His relief showed in the relaxing of his jaw. “Such lovely lips,” he said, gazing at her mouth. “How I long to hear you speak.” He was silent for a moment, and then said so quietly that she had to strain to hear him over the pounding rain, “I seek the most talented doctor that I can find to heal you. This is the reason we travel to London.”
Katherine’s hand rose slowly to her throat, where a lump had formed. Alex had no obligation to the king save providing her food and shelter, yet he would try to help her speak again.
Was there any way to express her gratitude?
There was. Taking his face in both her hands, she pulled him down to her and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
Chapter Eighteen
When the bleak gray sky began to fade to black, Alex directed the carriage to stop at Three Hooves Inn, a well-tended building but for the mud-spattered pebbled path that led to its planked door. He covered Katherine with his cloak and hastened her in from the rain.
Later, they entered the public eating room where he ordered a meat pasty for each of them and a pitcher of strong ale to share.
He waited until the serving girl left before he spoke. Discussing his feelings was a foreign experience, but he had to be honest with her. “I have done nothing to earn your trust. I thought it unnecessary when I received the king’s letter explaining why you were coming to my home.”
Katherine watched him steadily.
“My servant told me you listened at my study door the other night while I spoke with Lord Wiltshire. No, do not be embarrassed,” he added when Katherine lowered her eyes. “I have grown quite used to your curious nature. But you heard only part of the conversation, apparently. Sam told me you left before the baron and I argued.”
The ale arrived, and he drank. Katherine lifted her own cup with both hands and sipped the heady liquid. She kept an even expression, yet he saw the inquisitiveness in her eyes.
“Lord Wiltshire disagreed with me about the doctor. He desired your silence. ’Tis why I tore up the marriage contract.” He shook his head and added, “I was wrong in thinking I could marry you off to someone like that.” Or anyone, an insistent voice spoke up in his mind.
Eyes narrowed in speculation, Katherine wrapped her fingers around her tankard and slowly drummed it.
Alex licked his lips and took a breath. “The doctor I seek is Jewish. The king might think I doubted the skill of the royal physician who examined you. This is why I concealed my reason for our journey to London. I did not even tell Elizabeth.”
He saw the slight shift of Katherine’s head, the dawning of understanding in her eyes. Lifting a quill that she brought with her along with ink and paper, she dipped it and wrote, The baron made it seem that you wish to harm me.
“Harm you?” he exclaimed, frowning, when he read her words. “No. The baron simply distrusts Jews.” He leaned toward her then, his voice low and tense. “I will tell you why I want to help you, Katherine. My wife, Mary, went insane. She thought I wanted to kill her. She ran from me, jumped out her window. I found her broken and bleeding on the ground. I want to help you because—” He passed a hand over his face and took a choking breath. “—because I could not help her. I want to think I can make a difference. If we fail, if you never get your voice back...well then, at least we tried.”
Gripping the quill as if frozen, Katherine stared at him.
“But hear me,” Alex continued, keeping his words soft although they wanted to rip straight from his soul, “I made a pact with myself the night she died. No woman will ever shred me in two like she did. No woman will cause me pain. ’Tis why I wanted you married and gone from my life.”
Unused to this emotion, Alex paused gratefully as the serving girl arrived with platters of food. The venison pasty, a seasoned meat concoction wrapped in dough, was hot and fresh from the oven. He stabbed into it with his three-pronged fork and spread around the meaty juice that bubbled up through the holes and
sent a savory steam into the air.
But Katherine reached over and jabbed his hand hard with the point of her quill.
Alex dropped his fork in surprise. Clearly unsatisfied with his explanation, she flicked her paper across to him.
The words jolted him with their directness. “Why, you ask? Why not give love a chance?” He grunted his impatience. “That doesn’t matter. You needn’t be concerned with my feelings, Katherine. I wish only to help you regain your voice. ’Tis something I would do for anyone under my care. Do not take it as a token of affection.”
Katherine’s mouth tensed in frustration, and she spent the next few minutes cutting up her pasty with vicious strokes of her knife. Several times she looked at the quill as if she would respond, but didn’t lift it.
Alex watched her. If only he could convince her that she wouldn’t be happy with him. Mary had proven that.
Finally, she set down her fork and wrote while he refilled their tankards.
I would not cause you pain.
Startled, he studied her expression, warm and wanting. Did her feelings run so deep? Had Agnes, in her comments to Edward in the herbarium, been accurate?
“I know that you wish to settle into a loving marriage,” he said softly. “I cannot provide that for you, Katherine. I will not.”
The warmth vanished from her eyes. Setting her mouth into a thin line, she scribbled, I did not ask.
“Then you understand that you and I will never be together.” As soon as the words left his lips, the familiar sorrow attacked him, chipping away at the ice that clung stubbornly his emotions. He gritted his teeth and crushed the feeling with all his might.
She waited, watching him, her eyes questioning.
He leaned toward her and his voice was a strangled whisper. “Listen to me. I want no one. I love no one. I want to remain alone.”
Katherine acquiesced his words with neither compassion nor indifference. Instead, her eyes narrowed in anger. Your choice, she wrote, and then jabbed a finger at her earlier words.
“No, you did not ask. And yes. ’Tis my choice.” He took a deep breath and summoned his long-practiced pragmatism. Clearing his throat, he adopted a passive tone. “As I said, I made a mistake with the baron. He is an old man. I will choose someone younger who can give you children. And I promise that you will have the final say in the matter. Mayhap you will even fall in love.”
She frowned and wrote, I do not want children.
Surprised, Alex was silent for a long moment, observing the stoic finality in her stiff posture. Her head was bent as she picked at the remains of her pasty.
“Look at me, Katherine.”
When she did, he saw tears brimming on the edges of her eyes. The shame filling her face stunned him.
“What happened to you?” Then, the reason struck him. “Ah. The fire. It destroyed your womb.”
Katherine shook her head. Two children, neighbors, she wrote. Trapped. Died. She held up her hand with the thick pink scar slashed across her palm. Then, she pulled the paper toward her again and added, door handle.
Alex made a sound under his breath. “How terrible. When you tried to open the door to get to them, the handle seared your palm.”
She nodded.
“The children died because you couldn’t get to them. And now you feel you do not deserve children. Is that it?”
Katherine didn’t respond, and wouldn’t meet his gaze.
He leaned in, wishing he could pull her into his arms to comfort her. “’Tis not your fault. You did what you could. Did no one else help you? The children’s parents? Where was your father?”
All dead.
Yes, her traitorous father was dead, and that was why she was with him right now. He took her hand and watched it disappear in his. It was time to tell her what he knew about her past.
When she looked up at him, however, he found that the words, however gently he could say them, wouldn’t come. Why add more suffering to what she had already been through? The information could wait.
He noticed then that her gaze slid from him to a point just off his right shoulder. Her hand within his clenched.
Alex turned. There at the door stood Ellis Potts, Earl of Rochester—Katherine’s ex-betrothed.
“Why, there sits Lord Drayton with his prize,” Rochester called out with a laugh. “Have you exacted your revenge?”
Chapter Nineteen
Katherine fell straight into a coughing fit. Ellis. What was he doing here? The shock of seeing the man who had broken their betrothal because of her injury was almost more than she could bear after hearing that Alex would never allow her into his life.
And what was this talk of revenge?
The earl curled his lips into an arrogant smile and sauntered to the table. “Do you travel to London or have you just been there?”
“Going,” Alex snapped. He stood, rigid as a lion scenting prey, and turned to Katherine. “Would you like to leave, my lady?”
Taking calming breaths with her hand over her chest, Katherine nodded and rose, observing the fine silver embroidery that glistened on Ellis’ blue satin jacket and petticoat breeches. By his side stood a woman with black hair, richly dressed in lime green with pink underskirt and pink ribbons on her full sleeves.
Both of them looked as if they should be making merry at Whitehall instead of visiting this humble inn.
“Then we have just missed you, I am afraid,” Ellis said. He turned to his companion and introduced her as Mrs. Rosemary Mallet. “Mrs. Mallet, these are acquaintances of mine, Lady Katherine Seymour and Lord Drayton, Alexander Fletcher.”
“Your servant, Madam,” Alex said, and bowed.
Acquaintance. In the weeks since he had put her in his carriage and walked into his house without a backward glance, Katherine had been reduced to an acquaintance. She returned his smirk with contempt.
Mrs. Mallet’s eyes sparkled. “Lord Rochester has—”
Ellis placed a possessive hand on her arm. “We are traveling to an estate in the country.”
Ellis’ voice was coarse from too many nights of drinking and raucous yelling. And had he grown fat in the weeks since she had seen him? No. He hadn’t changed. Katherine had simply grown used to seeing the tall, athletic build of the man beside her.
Ellis glanced at her hands and then down at the table before inclining his head toward Alex. “She doesn’t have her slate, I see. Thank heaven. That squeaky chalk—why, my teeth rattled each time she used it. “Tell me, did it bother you so much that you banned her from it?”
Katherine leaned down and plucked up the quill. How she wished she had her slate and chalk. She would ensure that Ellis’ teeth rattled right out of his mouth.
“Of course not,” Alex said. “It fell and broke accidentally.”
Ellis chuckled. “Accidentally. Good one, Drayton. Should have destroyed it myself.”
“I didn’t say I destroyed it.” Heat laced Alex’s voice.
Katherine straightened with her paper and waved her hand for attention.
Ellis gave her a familiar condescending glance, and sighed. “Oh, gads. I haven’t missed this.”
Poltroon! How she wished she could spit the word at him.
Alex read her words and locked eyes with her. “We’ll talk later. Now is not the time.”
Something in his eyes kept her from insisting on an immediate explanation about this revenge Ellis spoke of. With growing unease, she lowered the paper.
Ellis had also read it. “I am surprised you’ve waited, Drayton. But why tell the mute now? What’s the occasion?”
The mute? The mute? Appalled, Katherine glared at Ellis. He’d never referred to her thus. Not in her presence, anyway.
Ellis knew he’d caused a stir. He smiled and regarded Alex, who towered him by a head or more, with mischievous challenge in his eyes.
Alex’s hand moved with cool surety to his sword hilt. “If you wish to play, Rochester, the muddy ground outside will make for an amusing duel. Es
pecially when I bury your face in the muck.”
Ellis blanched. He was clearly unused to being called on his words. “Dueling is illegal,” he sputtered. “The king made it so just last year. ’Twould land us both in the Tower.”
“If you please, sir, your table is ready,” the serving girl said from behind him.
Ellis regained his poise by snarling at her. “I am talking to friends. You will wait.”
Around them, people had stopped their conversations and began watching the exchange.
“We are not your friends, Rochester,” Alex said. “And the next time you refer to my betrothed as ‘the mute,’ I will challenge you whether it is illegal or not.”
Katherine heard only one word from that declaration.
“You will do no such thing. Do you know who I am?” Ellis’ face was pale.
“Oh, yes,” Alex said, placing his arm around Katherine’s shoulders. “I know perfectly well who the bloody hell you are, and what you did to her.”
Ellis was quiet for a moment, his eyes sliding from Alex to Katherine and back again. He smiled, and his voice became velvet. “Lord Drayton, would you care to have a drink with me later?”
Katherine shot the earl a look of suspicion. What was he doing?
“Certainly,” Alex replied. I will meet you here after our ladies have gone to sleep.”
“Until later, then.” Alex turned to Katherine. “Come, my lady. I will see you to your room so you may rest.”
“Surely resting is not what you have in mind, Lord Drayton,” Ellis said. “Enjoy yourself. I already had my fill of her.”
Katherine whirled back to Ellis, her hand raised to slap the lying words from his mouth. Alex caught her arm at the elbow and tucked it deftly under his.
“I will handle this,” he murmured in her ear. He turned and gathered the papers, quill, and ink from the table, then paid for their meal and steered Katherine from the room. “A bumblebee in a cow turd thinks himself a king,” he said to her as they ascended the steps. “What a pretentious ass.”