Heat flooded Kitty's face as she turned forward in her chair and studied the stitching on the edge of the white tablecloth. He expected her to invite him? How could he think she could do something so brazen? It was utterly impossible. “I could never do such a thing,” she whispered.
Phineas shrugged, and the gesture appeared forlorn even from the corner of her eye. He dropped the napkin he had been fiddling with on his plate and sat up. “Then I suppose my cousin will inherit.”
7
Phineas paced the library in an attempt to cool down and apply himself to rational thought. His wife had been a vision when she walked into the breakfast room, and Phineas had had to set down his coffee cup before he dropped it on the tablecloth. If he had found her lovely in her wedding dress, there was something more bewitching about her stunning green dress against her red hair, and the domestic picture it presented as she served herself breakfast. His one thought was to walk around the table, take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. Of course, the footman had been there. And then, of course, this sort of thing was just not done.
It was nevertheless a form of torture. Phineas still could not accustom himself to the fact that he was married to such an exquisite creature. She was nothing like what his parents had hinted at over the course of his lifetime—that to marry outside the gentry was to court those smelling of the shop. Kitty had come and sat at Phineas's side as though she wanted to be near him, her floral scent tantalizing his senses. Then she had asked the question, prompting Phineas to blurt out the noble resolution he had crafted last night after their disastrous dinner. That he would wait upon her invitation.
Phineas was beginning to think he was a fool of no small proportion.
How had he gone and committed himself to not approaching her until he had received permission to do so? How was he supposed to woo her if he was waiting for her to make the first move? No gesture on his part would appear innocent. It had seemed like a good idea last night when he was still hot under the collar from their quarrel. It was only upon seeing her reaction in the cold light of day that he realized what a hopeless thing he was asking of her. She could not extend such a bold invitation to someone she barely knew, never mind that they were joined before God and King. No gently bred woman could do such a thing.
Phineas strode over to his reading chair and picked up the book he had been laboring through for the past month and placed it back on the shelf with a vicious shove. Life was too short to read Machiavelli for pleasure. There was only one thing for him to do. Phineas sat in his chair and dropped his chin in his hand. He would have to win Kitty’s heart so she could speak those words, or he’d have to die of frustration. Hopefully, he could succeed in wooing her without laying himself open to ridicule by being excessively vulnerable.
At the end of the morning, Kitty and Mrs. Morley came up the stairwell leading from the kitchen, with Kitty inquiring about the variety of dried herbs found at Giddenhall, and Mrs. Morley answering her. This second domestic scene of their first morning as man and wife delighted his senses. Kitty looked up and met his eyes. He saw hesitation there, but he did not see fear or indifference. That was already a step in the right direction. He moved to join them.
“My lady, if you are finished with Mrs. Morley, shall we visit the grounds? Or perhaps you would care to have some tea first?”
Kitty shook her head. “My breakfast was satisfying. However, let me go and fetch my cloak, for the air is rather sharp. I felt it creep in from the windows in the larder.”
“Very well, then. I will fetch my own which is in the study, and then we will be comfortable.” He smiled, and Kitty returned it before moving to the staircase. She was really a delight to behold with her delicate chin and her hair as elegant as a crown. Her voice was well-modulated and hinted at a fine upbringing. Phineas was beginning to realize he had not given her enough credit for her education.
He was in the corridor when his wife joined him. The footman held open the door for them, and they walked outside and down the circular stairwell to the gravel path at the bottom. Phineas chewed his lip before glancing at Kitty and held out his arm. “You said you are not accustomed to walking on anyone's arm indoors, but would you take my arm for our walk?”
There was a pause where he nervously held his breath, but in the end she did take his arm as they began to walk. A silence fell between them that Phineas was anxious to fill but did not know how to begin.
This was the first step in their courtship—for he could look at it as nothing other than that. If he was going to win her, he would have to court her. When Phineas had arranged this marriage, courtship was something he had hoped to evade. After all, he had studiously avoided the notion in all the Seasons he'd been in London. There were enough lures cast his way to flatter him, but he was not one of those highly sought after beaux, despite his title. The thought of having to woo a woman with artificial words and gestures was repugnant to him. And the thought of expressing words that came straight from his heart—that could be rejected or laughed over in private company—was equally impossible. He now found himself in the unique and unenviable position of being forced into the very situation from which he’d fled.
They rounded the corner of the estate, and Phineas lifted his arm to encompass the scene before them. “The meadow slopes downward to a stream that runs along the bottom of the hill. The woods you see on the other side of the meadow extend for some miles. All this is part of Giddenhall Estate, which was bequeathed to me by my maternal grandmother. I have been in the habit of assisting my father to run Midlington, and the estate attached to my courtesy title, Hayworth. But it is this estate which holds my interest, for it is all my own.”
He cocked his head at her. “If you'd like—either today or at another point—we may go for a ride, and I will show you the tenants that support the estate.” He pointed beyond the meadow. “There. East of here. I hope I will not be bringing up a sore subject when I tell you that your settlement will allow me to make significant improvements on the tenants’ houses, and I imagine they will greet our presence with pleasure once they learn of it.”
Kitty smiled and shook her head. “I believe in this instance, the money is better served in your hands than in my brother’s. He does not have tenants to look after, only workers. However, I suspect he is not overly concerned with their well-being.”
She looked up at him, and the direct gaze stopped his breath. “I will not complain of the arrangement you made with my brother. I was angry, and you received the force of it yesterday. However, I understand the world which we inhabit. A man must live upon something, and a calculating businessman such as my brother will not lose an opportunity to marry off a sister if it will benefit his dealings. I am merely the pawn in such a game.”
She moved forward again, and a twinge of discomfort pinched at Phineas. It had never once occurred to him what it must feel like to have so little control over one’s own destiny. True, his father liked to keep a tight rein on him, but one day he would inherit and would be Earl with no one to give him orders. Phineas had to try to set her mind at ease. “You will not be a pawn in my household. You will have a rightful place.”
She gave a brief smile and met his look fleetingly. Phineas was not sure how well she believed him, but he would be stupid to think he could fix everything with a few well-placed words on the second day of their marriage. “Would you care to ride today? To visit the tenants? The steward has set plans in motion to begin the improvements, but it would be a pleasure to announce the news to the tenants directly.”
Kitty pulled her hand out of his arm with a troubled look. “I am sorry, my lord—Phineas—but I cannot ride.”
“Are you fearful of horses?” Phineas did not know of anyone who could not ride, women included. It was essential for someone living on an estate, even if merely to travel from one part of the land to the other. Perhaps for a merchant family there was no reason to become a proficient rider? He had much to learn about marriage with someone fro
m a different social circle than his own.
“I suppose I am a bit fearful of horses, but it is more that I never had an opportunity to learn.” Kitty put her hand back in his arm, and they moved forward in the direction of the stables. “When my father was still alive, he was more concerned with his business and making sure Erasmus was taught. When it came to me, he did not think riding as important as sewing samplers.” She shot Phineas a wry look. “I do not know what is so important about sewing samplers, but I assure you I possess every talent you might need in that area.”
Phineas smiled at that. He liked to hear teasing in her voice, as it promised a hint of friendship. It also hinted at intelligence. Stupid people could not make jokes.
“I see. Well, perhaps we can visit the stables and choose a mare for you, one who is gentle. My groom, Craddock, has been recently employed by the estate, so I cannot speak for his capability as a teacher. But if he is anything like my father’s groom, he will know how to give you lessons.” Phineas paused in his steps and looked at her. “If you'd like to learn, that is.”
“I believe I should like to,” she answered, allowing him to lead her forward again. “If it is something you frequently do, then I should care to learn more about it. After all, we come from such different worlds, whatever pastimes we may enjoy together should surely be promoted.”
Phineas hoped she was not being ironic when she spoke about their different worlds, throwing the unwisdom of his comments the night before back in his face. He ignored his suspicion and latched on to her words in sincerity. “Very true. It can only prove beneficial to discover interests we may share. Let us go then.”
They entered the stable together to find Craddock feeding one of the horses and rubbing his mane, as he crooned to him. He looked up as Phineas and Kitty blocked the light streaming into the stable, casting a shadow across his face.
Craddock pulled his cap off his head and bowed. “Good afternoon, my lord. My lady.” He flicked a glance at Kitty before meeting Phineas’s gaze. Spreading his legs apart in a comfortable stance, he waited for instruction.
Phineas pulled his mouth down in irritation. Perhaps the groom simply needed to accustom himself to the way the estate worked, but there was a familiarity to him Phineas could not like. He was accustomed to servants showing more respect. However, it had not been an easy matter to fill the household with the necessary servants on short notice, and the groom deserved a proper trial period.
“Lady Hayworth will need to learn to ride a horse, and I am assuming that is something you can do? Is there a sidesaddle to be had?”
The groom returned his gaze to Kitty and rested it there before giving a short nod. “I have experience teaching ladies to ride. There is a sidesaddle, my lord, but it is old. The girth will hold, but I don't believe my lady will find it stylish.”
His wife remained silent so Phineas responded. “I will see that we order a new saddle for her. Why don’t you lead us to a horse suitable for a lady. I was thinking either Fancy or Fawn.”
Craddock assessed Kitty and gestured forward. “Right this way, my lady. Fancy has an odd kick to her gallop, though she’s generally well-behaved, and Fawn is on the docile side. You might like beginning with Fawn.”
They had reached Fancy’s stall, and Kitty pulled her glove off and reached her hand up to let the horse sniff at her palm. At least she had the instinct not to present her fingers for biting. She rubbed the horse’s nose, and the mare bumped against her hand playfully. Craddock then led them over to Fawn where Kitty did the same thing. The mare eyed her with large brown eyes and stood patiently while Kitty rubbed her tan neck.
“She’s a Welsh Cob with a gentle nature,” Phineas said, watching his wife. The mare did not move as Kitty stroked the black mane, but the horse’s large eyes followed Kitty’s movements.
“I think you might be right. Fawn and I have taken a liking to each other. And it might be wise to start with a horse who doesn’t have an odd kick to the gallop.” She turned and smiled at Phineas, and he couldn’t help but respond. The effect her smile had on him left him dazed.
Craddock was also staring at Kitty, and Phineas cleared his throat to gain the man’s attention. “When can you begin?”
The groom looked down at his boot, then up again at Phineas and Kitty. “I don't mind. Whenever my lady has time, I can make myself available. I’ll ask one of the stable hands to exercise the horses if need be.”
Phineas sent his wife a questioning look, and she nodded. “I believe mornings are best. I will come just after breakfast. Around ten o'clock.”
“Yes, my lady.” Craddock bowed, before turning to enter Fawn’s stall.
Phineas led Kitty outside, and as they reached the sunlight, their breath coming out in puffs in the brisk air, he stopped short, struck by a thought. “Do you have a riding habit?”
Kitty ducked her head shyly, a mannerism he could not but find charming after the myriad emotions she had shown him in the last twenty-four hours, of which hostility and aloofness were the most prevalent.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” she replied. “A riding habit was one of the dresses I had made up in case I should need it. To own the truth, I assumed I would need to learn to ride at some point, for not everything is within walking distance the way it is in Bristol. I was unsure if there were places I would need to go that were not accessible by carriage.”
“So you thought to cover all eventualities,” he said.
When Kitty nodded, Phineas smiled and held out his arm to bring her to the grounds on the west side of the estate. “A heartening quality to have in a wife, I find.”
8
Visiting the grounds with Phineas had been an amiable experience, much to Kitty’s surprise. In any case, there had been nothing in their conversation that brought her to tears. A positive development indeed, she thought wryly. He seemed to have been choosing his topics carefully with an aim to discover what interested her—a fact that touched her, since no male relation of hers had ever done the same.
The remainder of the day had followed along the same lines as their wedding day. They went their separate ways in the afternoon then met for dinner at six, where the conversation was stilted before the servants and flowed more freely over dessert when they were alone. And still—no tears.
Finally, the walk to her bedroom door, where he’d bid her goodnight in a civil manner then went to his own door. She heard the floorboards creek with her husband’s footsteps in his room, and again the rustling of sheets. She saw the light disappear from under the crack in their adjoining door when he must have blown out the candle. Somehow, Kitty thought he still might visit, and when he did not, was strangely restless in her own sheets while waiting for sleep to come.
The next morning, Kitty sprang out of bed, wishing to look her best for breakfast. She rang for Sterling to assist her into her riding habit and style her hair, which the maid did with efficiency. Her maid was not chatty, but she performed her work well. Phineas was coming out of the breakfast room, and he stilled as she approached, his eyes resting on her. She fixed her gaze on his hand, still holding the door and gave a shy smile.
“Good morning.” Phineas bowed and let the door fall closed, his expression soft. “I see you are ready for your riding lesson. I fear I will not be able to join you this morning, which is undoubtedly my loss, for I would have liked that very much. I am to meet Mr. Ameson, my steward, and he is expecting me at the tenants’ houses in a half-hour.”
“I see.” Kitty offered him another smile to cover the twinge of disappointment that sprang up. She opened her mouth to ask when he might be available, before stopping herself short. Such a thing smacked of desperation. “Well, I shall not keep you then.”
He held her gaze a moment longer before reaching across her to open the door. The footman in the breakfast room sprang forward to perform the office, and Phineas turned to go.
“Oh, my lady—” Kitty turned and lifted her eyes to meet his, and he said, “It did not
occur to me until this morning, but you might very well receive visits today. I imagine some of the local families will wish to call on you. I am told the Duttons hold influence in the town, and Mrs. Dutton will likely make the first gesture. Others of the gentry will certainly come as well, once they know we have taken up residence. I should have thought to give you some instructions, but you might learn the names from Mrs. Morley. Otherwise, we may talk more about it tonight.”
Kitty nodded her agreement, and her husband left. The intimacy of meeting for dinner calmed her. It showed they belonged to one another, and this new life was hers. She entered the breakfast room where she ate in silence and noticed for the first time that the room smelled faintly of paint. It must have been refurbished before her arrival.
The air was brisk and cloudy with a faint scent of chimney smoke. Leaves skittered across the path before being swept up by the wind. Kitty was beginning to view her circumstances with more cheer, considering her new husband did not appear to be a tyrant, and—if she was being perfectly honest with herself—was pleasing to look at. His expression was habitually grave with a permanent crease between his brows, and his lips firm, but when he smiled his eyes seemed to dance. Kitty laughed at the fanciful thought.
In the stables, Craddock was tightening the saddle girth on Fawn. “Good morning, my lady.” He met her gaze squarely when he smiled and did not remove his cap or bow before her, which she imagined he might do for someone who was born to the peerage. It was the same forwardness he had treated her to when she’d first arrived at the estate and the servants were presented. She maintained an indifferent expression rather than smile back. She could not fool herself about her origins, but she could not like being shown disrespect.
“Good morning, Craddock. I see you have Fawn ready for me. How shall we begin our lessons?”
His Disinclined Bride (Seasons of Change Book 7) Page 7