His Disinclined Bride (Seasons of Change Book 7)

by Jennie Goutet

  “And do you realize what has kept such a thing from happening?” He pulled Kitty to a stop because they were near the entrance, and although his heart was beating fast, he had to find out where she stood on the matter.

  “You spoke of … spoke of invitations and such, but…”

  “Do you think you are starting to warm up to the idea?” Phineas asked, eagerly, now facing her.

  “The idea?” Her eyes darted from him to the people around them, revealing her terror at the direction the conversation was taking.

  He knew he should bring the discussion to a stop. It wasn't fair to put this on her when they were not even in their own home. But having come thus far, he could not stop now. “Kitty,” he murmured low in her ear. “You know you need only say the word.”

  Kitty looked at him, her jaw stiff. “I cannot do what you ask of me. I was not raised to be bold in that way.” In a few words she had dashed Phineas's hopes to the ground.

  He gulped. “What do you think it would take for you to be able to say those words?” Please don't say more time, he silently pleaded.

  Two women, barely out of the schoolroom, if looks could be trusted, walked by Phineas and Kitty, staring at each of them curiously. Kitty darted a glance at them then hid her face from Phineas by staring at the ground. He waited, his breath coming in shallow bursts.

  At last, she clasped her hands and spoke to the ground. He almost did not catch what she said. “I should like to hear tender words from you, Phineas. I would like to know how you feel about me, that you …”

  Phineas reared back to stare at her. Her words had died away, but he thought he understood what she expected of him. She wanted to hear that he loved her. Her serious eyes were now fixed on him. That was not a request he had expected to encounter when he’d had his marriage arranged. Why did she insist on words when he showed her every day in action? He took a deep breath and looked up, still conscious of the weight of her stare.

  “I don't think I can say those words just now,” he muttered, taking a step closer to allow a middle-aged couple to access the entrance of the Pump Room.

  She dropped her eyes. “Then I believe we are at an impasse.”

  Phineas paused for another moment to contain his frustration. How could she be so stubborn? The words she asked of him were much more difficult than the ones he asked of her. She needed to be patient with him. Phineas gave a long exhale. His next reflection was disagreeable as it pointed the accusing finger at his own actions. It was wholly unfair to press her for change when they were in a home not their own. He took her elbow and led her in silence to the entrance of the Pump Room.

  A footman opened the dark red wooden doors, and they stepped inside. He felt his wife’s furtive glances and softened. It had not been his wisest move to broach the subject of their intimate marital relationship on the city streets of Bath. Phineas leaned down to whisper. “We will let the matter rest.”

  Kitty turned to him, her expression relieved, and she opened her mouth to speak—

  “Oh, Phineas, you are here, too.” Teresa Bromley was standing near the entrance and she had spied them both. “I am introducing your wife to a few friends and putting her into Mr. King’s book. She said you have not yet had time to see to it, so I hope you will allow me to be of service.”

  Phineas bowed before Teresa. “I am much obliged to you for that. It’s what I should have done a couple days ago, but I was caught up with my father’s affairs. Is Bromley here?”

  “No. He only comes to the Pump Room when I drag him—and with much moaning.” Teresa laughed. “But we will see you both at your family’s house tonight.”

  Phineas bid them farewell, noting that Kitty’s face had almost returned to its normal color. She offered him a tentative smile before turning back to Teresa, which reassured him somewhat. She would not hold it against him for pressuring her.

  One thing still troubled him. Outside, a gust of wind had him huddling into his tail coat. The clouds had gathered in the short time they had been inside, and it seemed almost cold enough for snow. He turned reluctant steps toward Parkson’s office to go over the finances of Midlington estate, as he had promised his father. He really did not have the mind for it.

  His thoughts turned instead to the conversation he had had with Kitty. True, he should not have pressed her under such circumstances. It was too soon—even though they had been married weeks, and it was not soon enough for his liking. But if he was truly going to be honorable and give her back the power she lost when she was bartered in marriage, he needed not to pressure her before she was ready. However, why had she not trusted him enough to tell him that his mother had placed her in a small room, far from him, against her wishes? He could have addressed the situation, although not—he supposed—without a bit of awkwardness, as doing so equaled forcing her hand to give him that blasted invitation he was waiting for.

  And why had she not trusted Phineas earlier to tell him about Craddock, now that he thought of it? He would have got rid of the groom without a second’s hesitation had he known the man had made advances. She did not trust Phineas. Yet he showed her day after day that he trusted her by waiting. When would she finally honor him with her trust?

  22

  The instant Phineas completed his work with Parkson, he wasted no time in returning home. He did not have much of it before he would need to be ready for the dinner that preceded the ball. In his room, Harris was brushing out the creases of his coat.

  “My lord, please have a glance at what I’ve laid out for you for this evening and let me know if you approve of it. I will assist you in dressing as soon as you are ready.”

  Phineas glanced at the white breeches, paired with the dark gray coat. Harris had selected a white cravat with an onyx pin that would be perfect. He would no longer have to worry about pulling himself together in such a clumsy manner with hastily tied cravats and loose-fitting coats. Perhaps this would be an additional temptation to his wife. “It will do very well,” he said.

  When he was properly attired, he went to join his mother downstairs, who was directing servants to place the remaining candles in the chandeliers. They wouldn’t begin lighting them in the small ballroom until just before the guests began to arrive.

  His mother pursed her lips as she went over the guest list a final time. “We have one last-minute addition that we have to fit around the table. I had not realized that the Earl of Hawkins and his wife were in town. We are not greatly acquainted, but I had to send them an invitation, and they have sent their acceptance. They will have to take precedence over some of the other guests. It’s a shame we have to put your wife in such a prominent place at the table, but I suppose we must do so since the object of the ball is to present her.”

  Lady Midlington’s voice carried, and Phineas saw a maid glance her way with keen eyes. She would likely regale the story to the other servants downstairs. Phineas could not believe his ears. He crossed the room to speak to his mother in a low voice, so that at least the servants wouldn’t have a family brawl to dissect over their supper.

  “Mother, I am astonished you would say such a thing, and I hope you don’t do so in Kitty’s hearing. She is my wife, and she deserves the place of honor. I never want you to say such a thing of her again.”

  “You are overly sensitive,” his mother said, although she had the grace to look conscious of her error. “Facts are facts, and she does not rank as highly as some of our other guests. For goodness sake, we have a duke's daughter, who is married to a baron and must place her lower than Katherine. It should not be.” She frowned at him before running her fingers over the list. “But you must see that I am making a great deal of effort to present her.”

  “If only I could be assured that the effort was not more for you to avoid being exposed to gossip than it was for her, I would be gratified.”

  His mother did not deign to answer this. Phineas decided to leave her to the last-minute preparations since the guests were very shortly to arrive.
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  Kitty stood at the foot of the stairs. Her dress was white with a pale green embroidered overlay, and gold drops dangled from her ears, echoing the auburn strands of her hair mixed in with the red. Phineas walked up to her and laid his hand on the bannister as he studied her. Her face was pinched.

  “What is it?”

  She shook her head. “It is of no matter. The guests are to arrive any moment, are they not? Your mother requested we be in place so I might receive them.”

  Phineas did not trust she was telling him everything. There was a troubled look on her face, and he hoped she had not heard what his mother had said. However, the sound of the first guests arriving forced him to put off a conversation. “Let us go then.” Phineas brought Kitty to take her place in line next to his parents, who had gathered in the entryway.

  The guests arrived in a steady stream, and Phineas made sure to introduce each one to Kitty with a bit of whispered information so she could place them if they met again. Robert and Teresa Bromley appeared, and it was the first time he saw a genuine smile on Kitty’s face. As the Bromleys moved down the receiving line, Phineas introduced Robert to his father, who explained how he’d met Bromley Senior.

  It did not take long for the final guests to straggle in since the select ball would open with a dinner that could not be put off. The duke’s daughter his mother had been speaking of arrived with her baron husband, and Phineas did not think she would mind at all being seated in a less prominent position. The same could not be said for the Hawkins, who appeared to expect every attention paid to them—never mind that they did not outrank the Midlingtons.

  The last guests to arrive were Lord and Lady Leighton, followed by their daughter, Lady Jane. Phineas suppressed a groan. He should have guessed they would be invited because it would be rude not to include them, but he wished it had been possible to do so anyway. He’d always felt the pressure to court her—not only from the Leightons, but from Lady Jane, herself. There was nothing in her to inspire him. Her coloring was pale and her hair flat and insipid. It was certainly not her thin frame he longed to pull into a mad embrace. His wife smiled as the Leightons came in, innocent of any history or expectations between the two families.

  “May I introduce Lord and Lady Leighton, and their daughter, Lady Jane,” Phineas said. Kitty curtsied.

  “So this is your wife, eh? We had not heard of any engagement before you tied the knot. It must have been quite a secret—or a rushed affair, hm?” Lord Leighton leered at Kitty in a way that caused her to look up to Phineas doubtfully. He wanted to thrash Lord Leighton. Thank heavens Phineas had escaped from being joined to this family.

  “Not a rushed affair. More of a secret,” Phineas responded with a bland smile. “Lady Jane.” He bowed before her and she glanced at Kitty, then at him, before offering a quick, reproachful smile. She followed her parents into the drawing room.

  Phineas was spared from having to explain who they were, as the guests were quickly escorted into the dining room where the footmen pulled out chairs for them. Soon the sounds of dishes clinking and soft conversation filled the room. At the close of the second course, Lord Midlington got to his feet and lifted a glass in Phineas and Kitty’s direction. “As you all know, this ball is to introduce our new daughter into Society. Please join me in welcoming Lady Hayworth.”

  All the men stood and raised their glasses, and Phineas glanced at Kitty who inclined her head in acknowledgment. Every man in the room had to see what a prize he had. Only the most callous of them could accuse him of having married beneath him. She was a diamond of the first water.

  The gentlemen sat, and conversation resumed. Kitty’s face was still tinged pink. Apparently she was not someone who enjoyed attention, which was just fine for him. He preferred their quiet dinners at Giddenhall to all this fuss. He leaned in. “You are doing just fine.”

  She returned an enigmatic look and took a small sip of water. “You are kind.”

  Phineas turned back to his plate, sensing that somehow his comment had been misinterpreted. Her reaction was cordial, but not overly warm. He wished he could get her alone and find out what was behind her reserved demeanor. Perhaps his mother had been difficult, or the duress of meeting so many people at once was causing her to close up. It was frustrating being married to a woman who did not give up her reflections willingly.

  At the close of the dinner, a separate smaller room was set up for those men who wished to drink port. Phineas was obliged to go, but he stayed as little as he dared before reclaiming his position at Kitty’s side. The pinched look was back on her face. He leaned in to whisper to her, “You can dance, can you not?”

  Her look lightened. She glanced at him, her eyes showing half-humor, half-exasperation. “Of course I can dance, Phineas.”

  “Of course you can,” he repeated. “We will lead the guests in dancing. I forgot to tell you about that, but I hope it will be of no matter.”

  She shook her head wordlessly, following him to their place at the head of the line as the musicians completed the music that accompanied the crowds milling in. At last, Phineas would be able to take her in his arms and would not need to let go until the set was finished.

  23

  Kitty lay her hand in Phineas’s outstretched hand as he led her to the top of the ballroom. Other couples took their place next to them, forming a line. Kitty looked for the only couple she could claim as acquaintances, but the Bromleys were on the far end. They would not cross paths in this dance.

  Lady Jane, whom Phineas had introduced to her as the guests poured in—whose father had made veiled comments about the nature of their marriage—took her place next to Kitty. Strains of the violins and cello began, and Kitty met Phineas in the middle of the line, clasping his hand and turning around him. Though Phineas was one who should naturally have cause for confidence, given his title, there was an endearing gaucheness to her husband. In truth, it was what she liked best about him. It had led her to assume his dancing would follow suit, but Phineas moved with a grace she had not expected from him.

  The dance brought Kitty around Lady Jane, and she caught her eye and smiled. It was not returned. Instead, Lady Jane averted her face in an obvious snub. Phineas had not seen the exchange, but the conscious look on the gentleman squiring Lady Jane showed he had seen it. Kitty could not understand what she had done to deserve the cut. This was supposed to be a ball in her honor, and all she wished for was to run back to the anonymity and comfort of Giddenhall, with Phineas and Samuel to share her company.

  Kitty followed the steps numbly, barely feeling the touch of Phineas’s hand as they completed the dance. She’d have to have a word with her husband and find out who this Lady Jane was and why she was determined to set Kitty in her place. She had certainly done nothing to deserve it, but she felt the sting of every barb in a way Mrs. Dutton had not succeeded.

  Phineas escorted Kitty to the sidelines and stood next to her as new couples formed for a set. “I imagine there will be many who will want to claim your hand. I am glad to be the first. May I get you something to drink?”

  How could he leave? Did he not see she was in distress? She could not let him do it. Kitty lay her hand on Phineas's arm and pulled him to a place that was more secluded. There was only the empty corridor behind them, leading to the family’s private quarters. “Who is Lady Jane? You introduced me to her, and her father made a cryptic observation about our marriage. She just gave me the cut direct during the dance. Is it because I am not of the ton?”

  Phineas’s brows snapped together, but he had no chance to respond because Lady Midlington, coming up from behind them, had overheard the question and answered it. “Lady Jane was supposed to be Phineas’s intended.” She paused at Kitty’s side, watching the couples weaving through the line on the dance floor in front of them. “Everyone thought she would be, too, but he chose you instead. I believe Lady Jane is not inclined toward friendship for that reason.”

  Phineas shot his mother a quelling look. “Lad
y Jane received no hint from me that such a match would take place. It existed only in the desires of our parents.”

  “But you know very well that the match would have suited our families best. We have been friends for many years, and we come from the same circles.” Lady Midlington glanced at Kitty, and her gaze softened a fraction. “Of course, what is done is done. Phineas is married to you now, and we must get over our disappointment. But it is not surprising that we should require some time to do so, and that Lady Jane should feel it as well.”

  “Mother,” Phineas said quietly. “This is not a discussion for the ballroom. In fact, I wish it were not being discussed at all.”

  A slight buzzing filled Kitty’s ears, as she reeled from the litany of insults. It was as though Lord and Lady Midlington expected that she should apologize for having dashed all their hopes for Phineas’s future. But what had Kitty to do with the affair? It had all been arranged between her brother and Phineas. In fact, from what she could gather, Phineas’s man of business had approached Erasmus first. She had nothing to apologize for.

  Kitty straightened. “As you say, my lady, what is done is done. I am very sorry to have contributed to your disappointment, but it was not of my doing. However, I should like to be treated with respect as your son’s wife. It will serve him no good to settle for less.” She glanced at Phineas, who had a crease between his brows as he studied her—as if he could not understand why she was upset. Yet he had done nothing more than to dismiss Lady Jane’s expectations as false and tell his mother to save the conversation for a more opportune moment.

  “You are right,” Lady Midlington said. “It will not do for our daughter-in-law to be cut by anyone of the ton. I will have a word with some of the ladies here and say how pleased I am with the match. That ought to set tongues wagging to good purpose.” Phineas’s mother fixed her lips in a firm line and marched off.