A deep red full-length cape, trimmed with white fur, enveloped the figure that emerged. The woman took a step forward, and then stopped and turned her face upward to gaze at the window where Catherine was seated. Even across the distance between them, Catherine could see the exotic face inside the hood, framed by dark curls. The woman was very beautiful. With no way to tell if her own face could be seen just as easily, Catherine remained still, unwilling to draw attention to herself. The visitor continued to look upwards a few moments longer, and then with a swish of her cape she turned and disappeared through the front door.
A sudden sense of foreboding had Catherine rubbing her forearms briskly. She scolded herself for her foolishness, but decided to return to the warmth of the fire nevertheless. Seated once more on the chaise, she wrapped a shawl about her shoulders, unsurprised by its ineffectiveness. The chill she felt had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.
Catherine could feel no connection to the woman from the carriage, and was convinced she did not know her. Unfortunately she could not say with any degree of certainty that the reverse was also true. Perhaps the woman knew her? She considered the look on the woman’s face as she gazed up at the window. Someone like that Catherine would surely remember. Though confident the woman had no claim on her past, she could not, however, shake the unsettling feeling that she was inexplicably entwined with her present and her future.
* * * *
A knock on the study door rescued Rian from the reports he was reading. Liam had left a number of documents regarding a wide variety of holdings within the family’s possession for his perusal. He had been both amazed and humbled at the extent to which the family wealth had been increased, as well as his brother’s ideas for new areas of growth. However, even Rian could only take so much reading in a single sitting. The footman who entered bearing a note was a welcome interruption. Breaking the seal on the folded parchment, Rian opened the note. He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then asked, “Is Lady Howard’s man waiting for a reply?”
The footman arched a brow. “Her ladyship is waiting in the drawing room, sir.”
Rian grunted. He hadn’t realized the note had been delivered in person, and for a moment wondered if failing to tell him had been deliberate on the servant’s part. Deciding he was making too much of what was no more than an oversight, Rian thanked the man before dismissing him. Still his parting expression was worth taking note of. It told him he ought not to discount the possibility of fireworks.
As the door closed Rian’s eyes dropped to the communication in his hand. Written in Isabel’s bold, distinctive hand, it bore two words only:
Forgive me.
Unsure if the referral was to a past event or something yet to come, he placed the note on the desk. The only way to find out anything with Isabel was to ask her.
She was pouring herself a cup of tea, and paused to smile at him as he entered the room. The aromatic brew was quite pleasing, and he accepted when Isabel indicated a second cup on the tray. It was as if their last meeting had never occurred, and if Isabel chose not to raise the matter, then he most certainly would not.
“How nice of you to brave the cold,” Rian commented. Isabel offered her cheek to be kissed and he obliged. To refuse would be rude, and he preferred to avoid a display of temper under his brother’s roof. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if Isabel was going to make another attempt to change his mind regarding their relationship. If so, then she really was overdressed this time. Although it would do her no good no matter what she wore, Rian had the perfect foil against temptation: Mrs. Hatch.
“It was not snowing when I left. Had it been, I might have reconsidered,” she added with a laugh, handing him the cup.
“Well, no matter, you are here now.” Rian took a seat opposite her. The choice was deliberate. He did not wish to be reminded of what had happened the last time they shared the comfort of a couch.
As if reading his thoughts Isabel acknowledged him with a smile that brimmed shamelessly with the promise of sex.
“So what brings you to my door?” he asked.
“I thought perhaps you might be in need of a minor diversion from all your matrimonial duties.”
Now it was his turn to smile. As far as he knew, none of Felicity’s family disapproved of her choice so the notion of having to kidnap her back from disgruntled relatives, a primary function of the best man, was very slim indeed. But he was feeling generous so he said, “Actually, a diversion would be most welcome.”
Rian had no need to be rescued from anything marital in origin, but he was in sore need of being saved from annual yields, percentages and ideas for projected increase in cash flow. He recognized the importance of such documents, and knew they demanded his full attention, but it was hard going. Especially when his mind refused to cooperate and insisted on drifting.
He had been somewhat vexed to learn that Mrs. Hatch had made Catherine aware of the ‘history’ between them. He’d wanted to wait until she was stronger before revealing his role in this part of her recovery, but once he got over his initial dismay, he realized the debt he owed the housekeeper. In truth he was completely ill-suited to deal with such a situation. With poise, and the innate empathy of her sex, Mrs. Hatch had managed to disclose the facts with far less damage to Catherine’s fragile mental state than his telling would have caused. Now Catherine had time to absorb and hopefully understand his involvement.
“…and so I was thinking it might be helpful if I were to meet her.”
Jolted back to the present, Rian realized he hadn’t been listening to anything Isabel had said. “Meet who?” he asked.
“Your guest of course.” Sipping her tea, Isabel looked at him over the rim of the cup. “Honestly, Rian, I should be insulted. You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”
He had the decency to look sheepish as he apologized, and quickly caught up with the thread of missed conversation. “What benefit would be gained by meeting her?” he asked suspiciously.
Isabel shrugged and narrowed her eyes slightly. “Did it ever occur to you that I might know her? She wouldn’t be the first young woman to have fallen victim to a love affair gone wrong. Perhaps the young man got cold feet, or perhaps she did, and is now too ashamed to face a disapproving parent or the threat of scandal.”
Given the severity of Catherine’s injuries it was obvious something had gone horribly wrong, but Rian had his doubts it was the type of affaire de coeur Isabel was suggesting. “I don’t think that’s the situation here,” he said grimly.
“I was merely using that as an example.” She placed her cup back in its saucer, and put it down. “The point I’m trying to make is that I may recognize her, may know her family. Unless of course there’s some reason you don’t want me to see her?”
“Have you heard of someone missing a daughter?” Rian asked, brushing aside Isabel’s concern.
“That’s hardly the sort of detail any family wishes to make common knowledge, Rian.” Isabel got to her feet. “So it is settled then. Why don’t you take me up to meet her?”
“Take you up?” He hesitated, unable to shake the feeling Isabel’s motives were not as altruistic as they seemed.
She made a sound that was part impatience, part exasperation. “Rian, if the girl has injuries, I can hardly expect her to come to me.”
Moving toward the door, she left him with no recourse but to follow.
Chapter 27
Having mentioned Rian’s generous offer to search the library for something she might like to read, Catherine had been surprised when the young maid, Tilly, took it upon herself to find her a book. She spent the better part of a day running between floors, bringing one armful of books after another for Catherine’s perusal. After the sixth or possibly seventh trip, Rian had intervened. Relieving the young girl of the half-dozen books in her arms, he gave her a single novel in their stead. Though nearly twenty years had passed since its first publication, when he had read it himself, Rian tho
ught it would be something Catherine might enjoy. Tilly had tactfully placed it at the very top of the modest collection now gracing the table in Catherine’s bedroom.
She had stared long and hard at the title, but Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World. In Four Parts. By Lemuel Gulliver, First a Surgeon, and then a Captain of Several Ships brought no spark of recognition. Neither did the name Jonathan Swift, who was not only the author but a clergyman, no less. Still, it proved to be a delightfully entertaining diversion, which Catherine knew she would have no difficulty in reading to the end. Now she lifted her head as a light knock on the door interrupted her. Mrs. Hatch entered the room followed by Rian, and the beautiful woman from the carriage. Marking her page with a length of ribbon, Catherine closed the book and set it aside.
Warmth flushed her face as she gazed at Rian, but the look he gave in return was one of bored indifference. Ah, so that was how it was to be between them now. She lowered her eyes in disappointment even though she was not terribly surprised. It was to be expected now that he knew she was aware of the part he’d played in the worst moments of her illness. The least she could do was let him see she did not hold him at fault, and hope he gave her the same consideration. She raised her eyes in time to see the sudden change of expression on Rian’s face. The fiercely arched brow, coupled with a look of exasperation said his show of unconcern had nothing to do with her. It was for the benefit of the woman now clinging to his arm. The same woman who had, until a few moments ago, been watching his face closely.
Unsure why Rian would feel the need to mask his emotions, if indeed that was what he was doing, Catherine nevertheless allowed a small smile to lift the corners of her mouth before turning her attention to his guest.
The smile on the woman’s face was all wrong. It was too perfect, as if she had spent a great deal of time before a looking glass, and practiced how wide to stretch her lips to achieve the desired effect. It was a smile that carried no warmth. An impression verified by the glittering hardness of the brilliant green eyes that now looked back at Catherine. From the proprietary way she held Rian’s arm there could be no doubt of her place in his affection. A fact that both surprised and disconcerted Catherine.
Since learning Rian was to be married, she had spent far too many moments imagining what his bride-to-be might look like. There was no denying this woman was beautiful enough, but Catherine had hoped his choice would also be…less polished. A glance at Rian’s face made her think perhaps she had mistaken the nature of their relationship, but it was hard to ignore the physical familiarity he allowed the woman to enjoy. Such an obvious display of affection would only be granted under very specific circumstances. Mrs. Hatch interrupted Catherine’s speculations by telling her, “Lady Howard has asked to meet with you in the hope she might be acquainted with your family.”
Though the housekeeper gave away nothing by her expression, and her tone was respectful, Catherine could tell she didn’t give a fig about anything Lady Howard hoped for. And she didn’t like her. Not at all.
“Do you really think so?” she asked in a low voice as Mrs. Hatch came to fuss with the shawl about Catherine’s shoulders. Her reply was a strange harrumphing sound. Whatever Rian’s feelings for the beautiful woman, they were not shared by everyone with an interest in his life, which made Catherine wonder if the marriage was possibly an arranged match. Something Rian felt honor bound to go through with.
The man in question now stepped forward, and made the formal introduction. “Allow me to present Lady Isabel Howard.”
Isabel seated herself in the chair placed close to the foot of the chaise, and Catherine stared at her with frank curiosity before looking back up at Rian. That was it? Just Lady Isabel Howard and nothing else? No explanation of her place in his affections?
She waited, fully expecting Rian to return the compliment by introducing her to his fiancée, but he seemed strangely loathe to do so. Catherine wondered if she had misread his expression. Could she really have fallen so low in his esteem that Rian no longer deemed her worthy of common politeness? A bubble of anger began to well up inside her. Pulling her brows together she was about to rectify the situation when she caught Rian’s eye as he stood behind Isabel. Aware of her intentions, he stopped her with an alarming scowl. For whatever reason, he did not want the beautiful Lady Howard to know who she was, and it dawned on Catherine that Mrs. Hatch had also avoided using her name. Very well then, if they expected her to play along she would do her best.
Foregoing any pretense at manners, Catherine turned to the elegantly dressed woman and asked bluntly, “Do you know me? Am I familiar to you?”
“It is possible,” Isabel said, glancing over her shoulder at Rian, who had replaced the scowl with an expression of mild concern. “I’m certain we have never met before, but there is a familiarity about your eyes and the shape of your mouth. Are you related to the Bristows of Pembroke, perhaps?”
Catherine shook her head.
“Ah well,” Isabel continued, “let’s see if you recognize any other families.” She recited a number of names.
Some were prominent enough for even Rian to recognize, but most meant nothing to him, which was not so surprising when he considered how long he had been away. The rise and fall of aristocratic families was of little importance to him. But he couldn’t fail to see none dislodged the blank look on Catherine’s face.
“Not even one name is recognizable?” Isabel feigned surprise, though she would have fallen off her chair if Catherine had declared a kinship to any family she mentioned. The ones that Rian acknowledged had a direct claim to the throne, while the rest were complete fabrications.
“I’m sorry,” Catherine apologized, “but I don’t know any of them.”
Unconcerned by the lack of success, Rian interrupted. “Well, it was certainly worth a try. Come now Isabel, we don’t want to tire her anymore.”
“Oh, I don’t think she’s tired at all, are you, dear?” Isabel parted her lips, and gave another version of the unsettling smile.
This time Catherine could see it was evasive and deceitful, and it sent a shiver down her back. She was unsure of what Lady Howard had in mind, but she doubted she would try anything with Rian present. Slowly she shook her head in response to the question she’d been asked.
Isabel rose from her seat and in another display of possessiveness, took hold of Rian’s arm, and walked him to the door. “Darling, why don’t you wait for me downstairs? This will only take a moment, I promise, but I want to ask the dear girl a few more questions that are more personal in nature. Questions I think she would prefer you did not hear.”
Rian looked past Isabel at Catherine. It had been almost a week since he had last seen her, and he now had the unsettling feeling that allowing Isabel to meet Catherine was a horrible mistake he would come to regret. But Catherine stared back at him calmly enough. Blue eyes met his brown ones, and for a brief moment he let his concern show. The barest shake of her head, and he would escort Lady Howard from the room. But Catherine’s own curiosity was gnawing at her, and she wondered what her ladyship had to say that she did not want Rian to hear. She gave him a small nod and an even smaller smile.
“Very well then,” he said, turning his attention back to Isabel. “I will wait for you downstairs.”
“There’s a good boy!” Isabel ushered him from the room, and was about to close the door when she paused, hand on her hip, fingers drumming. “I’d prefer it if we were quite alone,” she said icily, throwing her remark at Mrs. Hatch, who stood quietly, almost unnoticed, by the window.
Ignoring Isabel, the housekeeper stepped forward and took Catherine’s hands in her own. “Do you want me to go, lass?” she asked.
As with Rian, Catherine knew she had but to ask and nothing her ladyship said or did would make the housekeeper leave the room. “It’s all right, Mrs. Hatch. I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine.” The older woman refused to acknowledge her ladyship’s presence as she departed the room.
Isabel leaned against the closed door, and studied the face that now looked back at her from across the room. It was a calm and open countenance, seemingly incapable of any duplicity. With a soft rustle of skirts, she made her way to the window where Catherine had sat earlier. The snow continued to fall, forming drifts on the ledge.
“What was it your ladyship wanted to ask me?” Catherine asked as a prickle of unease skittered across her shoulders.
“Absolutely nothing,” Isabel snapped in a viper’s voice, “for you have nothing to say that is of any interest to me.” She turned around, her entire demeanor changing as she glared at Catherine. “You’re quite the jade aren’t you? Still, this game you’re playing will have only one outcome, ducky. A one way trip to Newgate.”
Taken aback by Isabel’s sudden transformation and the incomprehensible threat of jail, Catherine stammered, “G-game? I-I’m sure I d-don’t know what your ladyship means.”
“You think me soft in the head, girl?” All pretense of civility on Isabel’s part vanished. “You’re a clever harlot, I’ll grant you that, and you seem to have fooled all the other simpletons in this house. Even the master is distracted by your questionable charm, but believe me when I say you possess neither the beauty nor the intelligence to command his affection for much longer. Continue with this charade of a memory loss for as long as you wish, but it will all come to naught.” She dropped her voice and hissed, “You will never have him because he is mine, and I never give up what belongs to me.”
Stunned by the enmity in Isabel’s tone, Catherine shook her head. She needed to be certain she understood. That there was no possible misunderstanding. “Have who?” she asked with just enough bewilderment to enrage.
Mischance (Corsets and Carriages) Page 20