A Companion in Joy

by Dorothy Mack

  “You deny it then?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then perhaps you’d care to explain the meaning of that tender scene I witnessed?”

  This time the silence was a nervy, palpable entity. Kate’s shoulders sank, and she slumped slightly from the petrified position she had been maintaining on the edge of her chair. She could see how that scene must have appeared, of course, and she could never explain it without betraying Robin’s confidence. Her voice reflected the helplessness that was beginning to creep over her as her mind raced ahead.

  “I am sorry, Torvil, the meeting was perfectly innocent. But I cannot explain why I visited Robin without breaking a confidence.” She looked up, unconsciously pleading for understanding, but realized from his uncompromising attitude the futility of such a plea under the circumstances.

  “Do you deny that you have been meeting Robin in the afternoons when your busy social schedule has kept you from home until almost dinnertime?”

  She clasped her hands together tightly in her lap, knowing she was committed to playing out the whole dreadful farce to its inevitable conclusion. All emotion was erased from her countenance as she moistened dry lips with the tip of her tongue before answering, “Yes, I do deny it. Today was the first time I have been to Robin’s lodgings, and it was not for the purpose of making love.”

  “And do you also deny that Robin has been visiting you here?”

  “In your own house with your servants present? Really, Torvil!”

  “Do you deny it?”

  “Of course I do,” she repeated dully.

  “Even when I remind you that on one occasion at least, there was another witness?”

  She looked at him questioningly.

  “Have you forgotten the day Robin had the misfortune to call while Lady Jersey was here?”

  She had forgotten of course, and she bit her lip before admitting it, while protesting, “A simple morning call. Any number of gentlemen pay calls on me, as well as on every other lady in town.”

  “Perhaps, but you did not cherish a tendre for any number of gentlemen before your marriage, did you?”

  “Of course I did not. What are you implying?”

  He made a weary gesture with his hand as if pushing something infinitely distasteful away from him. “Perhaps it will serve to cut this unpleasant discussion short if I tell you something you haven’t known before. That day in your mother’s drawing room was not the first time I had seen you.”

  Kate flashed him a startled look, wondering suddenly if he might have seen her behind those palms at the Westerwood ball. Before she could begin to cogitate on the implications of this, however, he was proceeding, “I had gone to Almack’s the previous evening for the express purpose of making your acquaintance. Robin pointed you out to me and was preparing to perform the introduction when you looked up and saw him. I saw your expression, and it did not require extraordinary sensibility to realize that you were far from indifferent to him. It was there for anyone to see.”

  Hearing him say this, Kate was surprised to find she could barely recall having once been very taken with Robin’s charms. So much had happened since those days of innocence. She could not begin to deal yet with all the ramifications of Nicholas’s revelations, but one question flashed into her head and demanded immediate utterance.

  “Then why, if you thought I loved Robin, did you make me an offer?”

  Nicholas smiled in that peculiarly nasty way he had.

  “I asked Robin later that night if he returned your affection. I was prepared to step aside, no matter what my father wished, if this were so, but he assured me that you were not in his style.” The obvious intent to wound caused Kate’s colour to rise again, but she met his contemptuous gaze unflinchingly.

  “I see. You believe I have pursued your brother then?” she inquired.

  “Shall we just say that perhaps he feels a safely married woman is less dangerous and more interesting than an impressionable girl?”

  It must run in the family.

  Did I actually say that? Kate wondered frantically, then relaxed as Nicholas remained silent, watching her relentlessly as she struggled to absorb all that he had flung at her in the last few minutes. She withdrew her glance. One thing had become unavoidably apparent. Nicholas had built up such a case against her in his own mind that even if she broke faith with Robin and told her husband of his brother’s debt, there was no guarantee that he would believe her in the face of what he thought was evidence of her perfidy. In any case, some of the things he had said were quite unforgivable. If there were any indication that it was his heart and not his masculine vanity that was bruised, she would tell him the truth, knowing that Robin would understand the necessity, but as things were she no longer felt any inclination to defend herself. Solely for Robin’s sake she repeated, “I can see that nothing I might say will convince you that you are wrong; nevertheless, for the sake of your brother’s honour, if not my own, I must tell you again that you are quite mistaken in all your conclusions.” She straightened her shoulders and looked squarely at him. “What do you intend to do?”

  Her question, or her utter calm, seemed to unsettle him a bit. He looked undecided for a moment, then answered harshly, “First, let me hasten to reassure you that in future it will not be necessary for you either to endure my touch or pretend a headache to evade it. I trust I make myself clear?”

  “Very clear.”

  “On the other hand, this is not an unmixed blessing for you because I really cannot bring myself to the indulgence of permitting my wife to have a lover. Quite a Gothic attitude I freely admit, my dear, but there you have it. There will be no need for you to warn Robin of this; I intend seeing him myself tonight.”

  “You won’t, you know,” she replied conversationally. “He has already left on a trip to Ireland.”

  “The devil he has!” For the first time, the control Nicholas had imposed on his temper cracked a bit and Kate caught a glimpse of the fury simmering below the sarcastic exterior. With respect to herself, it seemed he could contain his natural anger because she mattered little to him, but Robin was his brother and his betrayal hurt. It was just one additional and quite unnecessary proof of how mistaken she had been when she had believed that Nicholas had come to care for her. She stood up, grateful that her legs would support her, and presented an expressionless mask to the man who had briefly been her husband.

  “I would not expect you to take my word for this, of course. You must do as you see fit. Now, if you will excuse me, I find I do not, after all, desire any dinner. May I bid you goodnight?” She stood politely, waiting for him to go, and after an instant when she wondered if she read murder in the smouldering glance he bent on her and braced herself for whatever came next, he bowed stiffly and went out without a word.

  In the next two days, conversation between Nicholas and Kate was strictly limited to those times when the servants were in hearing distance. Through good luck, or more probably good management, they did not even meet on the day following the showdown in Kate’s boudoir. She was grateful for the breathing space this afforded her to reassess the whole situation. The attack Nicholas had launched against her had been so totally unexpected and so groundless that she had experienced the greatest difficulty in accepting that he was indeed serious in the accusations he had hurled at her. Her cool reception and refutation of the charges stemmed in part from this lingering disbelief. Nicholas had never manifested the least suspicion that he disliked or distrusted the friendliness between his wife and brother, and his attitude last night had evidenced more of the cold scorn of disgust than the hot flame of jealousy.

  The more Kate dwelt on the situation in retrospect, the greater the sense of absurdity. She was still of two minds as to whether Nicholas actually believed the charges he had made against her. One fact, however, had become glaringly apparent. No one save a colossal hypocrite could have created that scene while indulging in the exact same behaviour himself. Perhaps society alwa
ys judged errant wives more severely than philandering husbands, but somehow she would not have expected Nicholas to be guilty of this particular brand of hypocrisy. Still, in a way it had helped ease her own heartache. Today she found it quite easy to dislike her husband intensely, and there was certainly a sense of relief that all need for pretence between them was over. He was now as anxious as she to avoid the intimacies of marriage with a partner whose affections were not exclusively directed toward the only person entitled to them. After the turmoil and torment that had followed upon her meeting with Lady Montaigne, Kate found the next few days strangely bland and serene. She went about her ordinary routine with a quiet composure that resulted quite naturally from this present feeling of insulation from emotional stress.

  The season was rapidly drawing to a close now as families began to withdraw from town in increasingly greater numbers. Her mother and Deborah were scheduled to leave for an extended visit to a favourite cousin of Lady Langston’s in a few days. Roger had already departed for Broadwoods, and Lord Sedgeley was making plans to spend the summer months at his principal estate in Hampshire. Nothing further had been said about their own tentative visit to Sussex, but Kate scarcely gave the matter a thought. She was existing in a carefully maintained vacuum, where no additional slings and arrows of fortune might penetrate her hard-won immunity. She paid farewell visits to her departing relatives, smilingly referred their requests for definite news of her plans to her husband, and lightly parried all invitations to pay visits later in the summer.

  On the third day following their quarrel, Nicholas sent word by a servant that he would like to see her in his library at her convenience. In due course Kate presented herself. After the briefest of greetings, Nicholas came directly to the point.

  “I have just received a communication from my grandfather. He was thrown from his horse last week and sustained a broken leg.” He paused at Kate’s sympathetic murmur, then continued, “The leg has completely immobilized him, of course, and judging by his letter, he is feeling quite persecuted by a cruel fate. He suggests we might like to pay him a short visit to raise his spirits.” Again he paused, aware that Kate’s air of concern had changed to a slight look of perturbation. His knowing smile succeeded in erasing all expression from her face as she waited for him to continue.

  “My reaction was very like yours. It might be a bit awkward, to say the least, to try to project an image of newly married bliss in front of a shrewd old fox like Grandfather. However, it might answer if only one of us were to pay him a visit.” He waited until her averted gaze swung back to his face.

  So far she had voiced none of her reactions, but now she asked, “Which one?”

  “Well, if I went we should have to make new plans for you. I suppose you could join your mother and sister for the summer, or your brother even, but this would be bound to give rise to certain conjectures that you might find … uncomfortable at this point.” He paused again, saw he had her silent and undivided attention, and proceeded to detail his thinking on the subject.

  “On the other hand, Grandfather took a great liking to you at the wedding, which I believed to be mutual.” He raised questioning brows and accepted her affirmative nod with satisfaction. “If you were to pay him a visit, there would be no need to explain that our change of plans did not include me. We can simply allow everyone to accept that we have both gone to Kent for the summer months.”

  “Which leaves you where?” Kate inquired, meeting his eyes directly.

  “I am flattered that my whereabouts should be of interest to you, my dear.”

  “It would be as well to have something to say in case your grandfather should inquire.” Kate’s voice matched her husband’s in mocking civility.

  He answered shortly, “The estate in Sussex still needs some attention, and I’ll come up to Kent occasionally to keep Grandfather from getting suspicious.”

  “And of course you can always cite business as a reason for coming back to town at any time,” she suggested smoothly.

  “If I needed a reason,” he concurred affably. “May I consider the matter as settled then? You are willing to go to Kent?”

  “I am, but I have a hunch that Hawthorne will balk. She was none too pleased at the idea of being immured on the estate in Sussex, even with the promise of a house party as an enticement.”

  The viscount permitted a trace of impatience to show. “I’ll dismiss her with a big bonus and a sterling character to stop her tongue. You’ve not been comfortable with her superior airs right from the start. Why should you be forced to endure her notions of what your relationship should be? You may find someone here or let Grandfather’s housekeeper select a temporary abigail for you when you get to Kent.”

  “You make it sound so simple,” said Kate wryly.

  “It is simple. You and Hawthorne are incompatible, so Hawthorne must go.”

  On hearing this pragmatic sentiment, Kate’s glance fell and there was another pregnant little silence which Nicholas ended by proposing a tentative schedule for Kate’s short journey. She sat in an attentive posture, but her real attention was concentrated on an inner voice that persisted in likening his efficiency in getting rid of an unsuitable maid to the dispatch with which he was divesting himself of the unwanted presence of an unsuitable wife.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Less than twenty-four hours after Kate had bidden Lady Langston and Deborah an affectionate farewell, she was preparing to follow them into the country. The luxurious carriage that had been a wedding present from her father-in-law was being loaded with baggage as she checked off the items on her list. An hour before, she and Hawthorne had come to a final parting of their ways with punctilious civility and no regrets on either side. Since the drive to Lord Bartram’s estate could be accomplished in under three hours, Nicholas had agreed that she could dispense with the services of a maid until she reached Hickory House. With exquisite detachment, she watched her husband giving final instructions to the outrider who would accompany the carriage on the short journey. An unmistakable hiss of annoyance drew her attention to the closed basket at her feet, where Ulysses unreservedly expressed his feelings at being thus confined. The delicate alliance between Nicholas and Kate in the matter of her smooth departure had trembled on the brink of disintegration when the question of Ulysses’ future residence had arisen. None of Nicholas’s logical arguments, delivered in carefully reasonable tones, about the disinclination of the feline species for traveling in wheeled vehicles had made the least impression on Kate’s stubborn insistence on carrying Ulysses off to Kent with her. For an instant the air had hung heavy with portent, but then Nicholas had shrugged in defeat, having no longer any taste for brangling with the pale-faced girl who had briefly given him such joy. His sole desire now was to see her off the premises so that her face would not be a constant reminder of what he had lost. He didn’t even want to think about his marriage for a time until the wounds Kate had dealt him had scarred over.

  At last, vehicle, horses, and passengers, both human and animal, were ready. Nicholas assisted his wife into the coach with an air of devotion that was assumed for the benefit of the servants, kissed her hand in an old-fashioned gesture, and mouthed a few platitudes about a good journey. Kate’s replies were barely audible, and the amber gaze looked anywhere but at her husband. As the coachman gave the team the office to start, Nicholas stared after the departing carriage and felt nothing save a great relief. He turned on his heel and walked back into the house, whereupon he shut himself up in his library for the next several hours. He managed to get through a good deal of work, but eventually the silence became oppressive and he decided against dining at home. Changing to evening rig became a process to dawdle over while he debated what to do with the evening that stretched ahead of him. On a sudden impulse, he opened the door to Kate’s bedchamber and stepped over the threshold. The room looked strangely barren, though a swift glance around assured him that there was nothing missing but a set of crystal-backed brushes f
rom the dressing table and the miniature of her father that she kept on the bedside table. He took a deep breath and inhaled a faint scent that he associated with Kate, light and sweet and reminiscent of some flower that he could not quite identify — and didn’t wish to identify, he reminded himself savagely. His brows drew together and his lips thinned somewhat as he ran a finger idly over the smooth surface of a mahogany chest. Unthinkingly, he pulled open the top drawer. It was empty save for a silver gilt jewel casket, which gave him pause. A strange item for a woman to leave behind. With one finger he pushed up the lid and stood staring at the string of matched pearls and the heart-shaped pin that gleamed within. An expression of pure rage distorted his features as he dropped the lid and shoved the drawer closed before striding back into his own room, where he crossed purposefully to an ebony highboy. There was a jeweller’s box in the third drawer, which he removed. A quick glance reassured him as to the contents before he put the box in a pocket and left the room by the hall door.

  Cécile was dressing for an evening party when he arrived, but she received him in her boudoir, garbed in a black lace dressing gown that complemented her red hair and emphasized the clear whiteness of her skin. She smiled slowly at the viscount in the mirror of her dressing table, and when her maid had discreetly withdrawn, turned to him with both hands extended in an invitation that he accepted after an imperceptible hesitation.

  “Nick, darling, how wonderful you look!”

  Nicholas was flatteringly prompt in returning the compliment. Cécile exclaimed with delight over the diamond and pearl bracelet and immediately donned it, demanding his assistance in securing the clasp. She studied his dark head bent over this task with an enigmatic little smile that he did not see.

  “It has been so long, Nick,” she murmured, allowing a faint hint of reproach to creep into the beautifully pitched voice. “Your ‘few days’ turned into a fortnight almost. I missed you terribly.”