‘Did you “scorn” her?’
‘No. I simply walked away from a liaison that was in its death throes anyway. If she ever thought I would hang about her skirts until she gave me my congé she was very wide of the mark.’ There was a cold harshness to his tone that made Kitty wince. He frowned. ‘You think me cruel? I assure you I am not. Her heart was not engaged any more than mine. I have never been the sort of man who makes women fall madly in love with him and then casts them aside like a discarded neckcloth.’
‘So your “seduction” of me is simply to make me fall into your bed, not in love with you?’ Kitty tried to look him in the eye and failed. Had she done so she would have seen his look of confusion, because the easy answer of ‘yes’ was incorrect.
‘Not exactly,’ was his response after a moment’s silence. His voice softened. ‘You are my wife.’
‘And thus “ought” to be in love with you, however little you may return the feeling?’ She sounded bitter, and he reached for her hand.
‘Why are you doing this, Kitty?’
‘Doing what, my lord?’ She looked at her hand in his as if it were no longer part of her.
‘Twisting the metaphorical knife into your own flesh.’
‘Perhaps…’ She shrugged, ‘Oh, perhaps to make it less awful when you do so.’
‘You think me that… unpleasant?’ His free hand lifted her chin so that he could look straight at her. ‘You termed me “a devil” when we first met, but do you think me that despicably callous?’
She coloured, pulled her hand away, and her voice faltered. ‘I acquit you of malicious intent, but since you want the “liaison” to be transient…’
‘I never said it was what I wanted. It is just that I have no experience of any other form of relationship, Kitty, and I would not make you a promise I would not know how to keep.’
‘Such convenient honesty.’
‘Damnably inconvenient honesty, I should say,’ he took her hand again, and though she did not resist he felt her stiffen. ‘I am experienced in many things, good and bad, Kitty, but know as little of marriage as you do. I make no secret of wanting a physical relationship, could say indeed that it is my right, but I have not forced myself upon you, save perhaps That Night, and then I did not appreciate…’ His voice tailed off. He had tried to erase the memory of failure, to which he was unused. At each point he had thought she would begin to respond as he expected, as he was used to women responding to him. He had never thought that a woman might find the experience unpleasant, and since Kitty had, his own ‘success’ meant little to him.
She looked at the floor.
‘There is no blame in it, Kitty, not yours at least, and the worst you can say of me was that I was rather thoughtless because in this particular instance I was as “innocent” as you.’
‘Innocent? With your reputation, my lord?’
‘Perhaps not the ideal term, but yes.’ He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the palm. ‘Devil I may be, but not a monster, as I hope you will discover. If I do not please you, then I do not please myself, understand?’
She nodded but frowned. She only half understood, and that, he thought later, was a major part of the problem.
18
Whilst Kitty had not enjoyed the confrontation, if such it could be termed, she did not find her husband’s explanation anything other than convincing, and so castigated herself for her lack of faith. She resolved to hold her head up high and refute any very pointed comments. These were rare, but two days later, at Lady Wisbech’s ball, she did round on Lady Bidford, who smiled in a very superior way and murmured about ‘how fortunate one is when one’s husband does not disappoint one’.
‘Indeed.’ Kitty’s smile achieved the feat of being even more superior. ‘You are certainly not destined for disappointment with my brother Bidford. You will find him even more dull, humourless and tight-fisted than when you became enamoured of those “qualities” at the first.’
Lady Bidford’s smile froze.
‘It was not my husband to whom I was referring,’ she hissed.
‘Oh dear. Well you will still find what I say is true. After all, I had to put up with him all my life until I was so fortunate as to marry.’ She stressed the ‘fortunate’, and Lady Bidford sneered.
‘“Fortunate” to be married to a… a… persistent womaniser?’
‘Well, he has a “past” of course,’ admitted Kitty, casually, ‘but you really ought not to listen to the lies of the disappointed cast-offs, and if the sole object of a womaniser is his wife, should she not feel this is a good thing?’ There was a pause. ‘I am sorry, naturally you would not know.’ Kitty sounded sympathetic.
Annabel Bidford appeared to inflate with indignation, and then gave up all pretence of disguising her meaning.
‘It is you who does not know. I could laugh. Your husband is still entangled with his mistress and you are in ignorance.’
‘Oh, “entangled” is just the right word. He has such difficulties since she cannot accept the past is the past.’ Kitty’s eyes glittered.
‘It is repellent.’
‘Then best you keep away from him. I can safely remove you and Bidford from our guest list, no doubt.’ The animosity was open.
‘Most definitely.’
‘Oh good.’ Kitty turned away, feeling both angry and jubilant, only to find Sir Geoffrey Knowle at her side within seconds, bearing a glass.
‘I noticed you, Lady Ledbury, and thought you might be in need… You look a trifle agitated.’
‘Oh, thank you, Sir Geoffrey. It is naughty of me to let it be so obvious, but really, my new sister-in-law was trying to gloat over salacious gossip and… I will say no more.’
‘Thereby being more discreet than she is. You deserve your refreshment, ma’am.’ He bowed slightly as he handed her the glass. ‘At the risk of appearing forward, might I say that the fairer sex is not noted for its discretion, and a confidence is rarely kept. Men are better at keeping things close, and should you ever feel the need to unburden yourself, you may be assured that I would listen only.’
This unusual offer took Kitty by surprise, but she thanked him. It was not one she had any idea of taking up.
‘That is… very kind of you, Sir Geoffrey. I am sure I could trust you, if needed.’
She might not have said this had she seen him, a mere quarter of an hour later, in a low-voiced conversation with Lady Yarningale.
*
Sir Geoffrey Knowle was not a man who stood out in a crowd. In fact he did not even stand out when standing on his own. His conversation veered between staggeringly mundane and staggeringly frank, as Lady Ledbury had discovered, and Polite Society smiled at him behind his back. However, his very invisibility gave him pleasure, because it enabled him to do what he was good at, very good at, and that was observing. The gentlemen might describe him as a ‘dull dog’, and the ladies, depending upon how charitable they felt, as ‘solid and respectable’, ‘shy’, or ‘a tactless bore’, but none took enough notice of him to see that he absorbed every piece of gossip he overheard, watched people with the intensity of a botanist studying specimens, or seemed to have noticed that he had a habit of opening his pocket watch and mumbling at it.
Lady Yarningale would have been the very last woman in London to take any interest in him, but the reverse was not true. Sir Geoffrey was not, however, smitten with her very obvious charms. He saw in her a potential ally, a fact which left that lady perfectly astounded when he told her. He sought her out at a time when she had withdrawn briefly from the dance floor to draw breath. He appeared, quite silently, at her elbow, again bearing a glass.
‘May I offer you refreshment, my lady. I know you drink nothing but champagne at balls, and this is a particularly good one, champagne that is.’
He proffered the glass. Lady Yarningale blinked, and accepted. He sat upon a chair next to her, at which point she raised an eyebrow. She did not think an act of very minor gallantry gave him the right to bore
her to death. His topic of conversation was not, however, what she had anticipated, and far from boring.
‘Your efforts to reclaim Lord Ledbury have proved singularly unsuccessful, thus far.’
She opened her mouth to give a hefty set down, but closed it again as he lifted a hand to halt her. She had no idea afterwards why she obeyed.
‘I do not say this with any pleasure, ma’am, but instead of driving an admirable wedge between him and his wife, you seem to have united them more firmly. Gossip alone, it seems, will not shake the bond.’
Lady Yarningale stared at him, her champagne glass half way to her lips.
‘What interest could it be to you, sir? Whatever else, Lady Ledbury is not likely to cease to hold that title. You are too late on that score.’
‘My motives need not concern you, ma’am, but my offer of assistance may. Only by the “evidence” of her own eyes will Lady Ledbury believe her husband perfidious, and that can be arranged far more effectively between two. You alone will find it difficult to time any “encounter” with Lord Ledbury with his wife being able to observe it. What I can do is guarantee that she will do so, and, outraged, she is likely to set him at a distance.’
‘And he would turn back to me.’ Lady Yarningale spoke almost to herself.
‘I cannot vouch for that, but even if he did not, you would have a sweet revenge, would you not?’
‘Yes, I would.’
He could see her imagining this, and gave a tight smile.
‘Then I suggest we meet in, let us say Green Park, tomorrow at two, and decide how best this may be achieved.’
He made her a slightly awkward bow, and withdrew, leaving Louisa Yarningale in a very thoughtful frame of mind. The last few days had been uncomfortable, as it became clear that the Ledburys were not at odds, and in fact even closer than many had imagined. Those who disliked Lady Yarningale saw the tables turned upon her, and smirked. This added to her desire to bring down George Ledbury, either grovelling at her feet as she dismissed him, or having the pleasure of seeing him lose what he now enjoyed. He had caught her eye the previous evening, just for a moment, and his glance spoke volumes. It was triumphant, dismissive of her as nothing, and had a quality that she had never seen in him; a touch of pure joy. That had shaken her the most, and that she sought to destroy.
*
Kitty reported the deletion of the Bidfords from the invitations at breakfast next morning.
‘I know that it will please you, my lord.’
‘It does, but it is not long since that you were telling me that we had to maintain the pretence of getting along. What has changed?’
‘Ah,’ Kitty coloured, ‘well, she made comments that were insufferable and I may have encouraged her to cry off.’
‘Only “may”, my dear? I am sure if that was your intent then there would have been no doubt as to the outcome. Do not be shy. I am sure I will be entertained by this.’
He did smile when she revealed a little of what had passed between them, but he was also angered, since he was well able to fill in Kitty’s gaps. If he had to appear uxorious he would, just to quash the lies that, he was now perfectly sure, emanated from Louisa Yarningale. They had reached such proportions that ignoring them alone would not make them melt away.
‘I think you will find me boringly attentive in the next week or so, just to put rumour to bed once and for all, of course, not because I enjoy being with you so very much.’ His expression said the reverse.
‘I shall endeavour not to tread upon you, should I find you under my feet, sir.’ Kitty responded in kind.
‘Oh, I will not be under your feet, Kitty, but “at” them.’
She lost all power of reply and turned an even deeper shade of pink.
*
It was three evenings later when the Ledburys graced Lady Easebourne’s ball. Kitty was looking her best, wearing the jewels that had been her wedding gift, and with a perfect glow of happiness about her. Her lord gave a very good impression of being besotted, in a controlled way that made many ladies sigh. In fact George Ledbury was a confused man, being unused to the emotions to which he was now subject. It had been so simple at the beginning. He would seduce his wife because it would be enjoyable and he felt in some way that he owed it to her, after their initial debacle of a wedding night. At what point this had developed into something else he could not say, but it had. He was, of course, counting down the days until the papering of Kitty’s new bedchamber meant that she could move into it, and not only her. If there was a small voice within him that said he should long ago have demanded that she spend the night in his bed, that voice was ignored. This way, his saner self told him, it would be entirely of her volition, and he now wanted it to be not just good, but perfect. What had hit him with the force of an avalanche in the last week, was that Kitty had become his focus, not in the way his conquests had done, but in a way which was entirely novel to him. Had anyone asked him if he wished to protect any of his amours, he would have given the sensible reply that if they stood in physical danger, it would be less than honourable not to do so, but he wanted to protect his wife from far more than that. He wanted her to be happy, free from care, from worry. The act he was putting on for the benefit of Polite Society was not in fact an act at all, merely an exaggeration of his real feelings. The only thing he did not consider was that he was in love. He told himself that what was different was that he had found a genuine friendship with a woman, and a deep affection that transcended the simple desire for her body.
Kitty did not deceive herself in the slightest. This was the dream come true, finding that understanding and bond which underpinned the rest of their relationship. She too was checking the progress of the renovations in her bedchamber, and with a sense of excitement rather than trepidation.
*
Lady Easebourne’s ball was one of the ‘squeezes’. Everyone would ensure that they at the least looked in, and three lesser ladies who had the misfortune to have selected the same evening for parties were to find their rooms sadly thin of company. Lady Yarningale’s social knowledge had meant that she could accurately predict that the Ledburys would be present, and the invitation list was large enough to have included Sir Geoffrey Knowle. Their encounter in Green Park had been most profitable, and whilst no plan could be foolproof, both eagerly anticipated the Easebourne ball. Sir Geoffrey arrived early, and being unacquainted with the house, spent some time in reconnaissance. Lady Yarningale arrived fashionably late, and only by the merest nod acknowledged Sir Geoffrey’s presence. However, some minutes later he might have been seen, all apology, having nearly bumped into her in a doorway. At this point she passed him a screwed up note. It was important that they were not seen to be in collusion, and Lady Yarningale had already seen that the Ledburys had arrived.
However solicitous the earl wished to appear, it would be bad form to cling to his wife like a limpet all evening, and the pair split up, having arranged to dance the waltz before supper together. Lord Ledbury was uncharacteristically benign, and even danced a country dance with a young lady in her second Season, to whom his hostess presented him as a suitable partner. Lady Easebourne thought she had achieved a miracle. It was upon returning from the dance floor that he found himself facing Lady Yarningale.
‘Really, my lord, you have managed a whole dance with the hopeless Winfrith girl and not reduced her to a jelly. Bravo!’ He looked at her coldly, and said nothing. ‘Fie, George, do not be disagreeable.’
‘I have nothing to say to you, madam.’
‘No, but if you value your sweet little dab of a wife, you will attend to what I have to say to you, my lord.’
‘Is that a threat?’
‘Not at all. Why should I threaten? It is actually an act of kindness to save her embarrassing herself, and you.’
‘So?’
‘Not in so public a place. People might talk and you would hate to be seen with me again, no doubt. I will be by the bay window at the end of the upper hall passage in
five minutes. Do not be late.’
She flitted away, and Sir Geoffrey, observing them, stroked his pocket watch and smiled, before going in search of Lady Ledbury.
*
Lord Ledbury went to the rendezvous tight lipped, and expecting some form of blackmail rather than kindly advice. What he did not expect was Louisa Yarningale to talk in half sentences for several minutes, and then, with a laugh, to fling her arms about his neck and press her body tightly to him. His reaction was instinctive and physical. He had been thinking of his Kitty, and his body was yearning. Louisa’s voluptuous charms overcame him for a brief instant, and his arms closed about her, and the lips she offered for kissing were kissed. Even as they met the revulsion set in. This was not what he wanted, the woman he wanted.
It was then, as he pulled back, that he saw his wife.
*
Sir Geoffrey found Lady Ledbury in conversation with an older lady who was describing how the waters at Bath had eased her arthritic joints. Lady Ledbury cast him a glance that begged him to rescue her. He did this by the simple expedient of claiming that Lady Jersey was looking for her.
‘I would be happy to take you to her, ma’am,’ he offered.
Kitty acquiesced with relief.
‘Thank you, Sir Geoffrey. I think what my husband once said about Bath must be true. I have absolutely no wish to go there.’
‘It is not as bad and full of invalids as you might think, Lady Ledbury.’ Sir Geoffrey guided her arm and led her up one floor. ‘Now, I am sure she was…’
At that moment Kitty heard a low laugh and half turned. At the end of the passageway, in shadow but silhouetted against the window, beyond which flambeaux illuminated the square, was her husband. Pressed close to him, her lips now locked to his, was Louisa Yarningale. Kitty felt as if her heart had stopped. After an interminable moment she took a ragged intake of breath, and gripped Sir Geoffrey’s arm.
The Devil You Know Page 22