Phineas gave Kitty a tentative smile. “She will see to it that you don’t receive any such treatment from another member of Society.”
“Hm.” Kitty kept her expression closed.
“What is it?”
Phineas had turned to look at her, and she lifted her face to his, a flash of anger causing her cheeks to go hot. But this wasn’t the place to say anything. She shook her head. “Nothing.”
Phineas had been considerate as he introduced the guests, and it had been nice to dance with him. She’d had to admit, as they performed the figures, that he was nothing short of dashing in his tailored coat and crisply tied cravat. But he did not seem to comprehend her distress. Surely he could not imagine his mother as an ally.
Kitty was solicited several times to dance before begging a pause to take refreshment on the sidelines. Robert Bromley had partnered her once. He had been attentive and gracious, while also making her laugh. While many of the guests were so distinguished Kitty felt the chasm between them, Robert was different. It was a credit to Phineas that he had chosen him for a friend.
A few furtive glances came Kitty’s way from various people attending the ball. It appeared that none of them were willing to offend the Midlingtons by expressing disapproval, but that an equal number of them found something to gossip over in Phineas's choice of a wife. Although she knew he was not the first peer to marry solely for money, it was hard to recall that fact when she was viewed as an oddity. It was as if she had reeled him in for what she would gain by the match, when in fact it had been the other way around. Kitty sipped her ratafia, taking refuge in the small crowd on the sidelines.
“How does it feel to have managed to snatch one of Bath's few eligible bachelors?” Lady Jane appeared at her side. Although she was richly attired in a red silk dress, her skeletal white shoulders and spare bosom made it seem as though she lived off other people’s downfall rather than food as normal people did.
Kitty inhaled quietly and tried to rein in her temper. “I am sure it appears to you as though I am crying victory for having married a viscount—as if I’d set out to catch him. But I assure you it was no such thing. He approached my brother about the match.”
Lady Jane turned, her eyes wide with interest. “Oh, is that so? I thought Hayworth said it was a love match. Or, at least that’s what he hinted at when he spoke of keeping things a secret—why he did not offer for … anyone more closely acquainted.” She snapped her fan open and waved it, though the cold from the outdoors had kept the crowded room from growing too warm. “So, in fact, he sought the match from your brother?”
Kitty blinked slowly. She did not turn to Lady Jane for fear her embarrassment and confusion would be all too evident. He had said that in the receiving line, and she had forgotten. Once again, Kitty would have to lie about the true nature of their relationship. “We were acquainted, and our affections had grown. However, it would not be right to seek my hand in marriage without speaking to my brother first.”
“Hm.” Lady Jane did not look convinced and continued to wave her fan back and forth in sharp movements. “You hardly look like a couple that began as a love match. Has it begun to sour already?” Her mouth took on a pout. “I imagine it must be difficult to maintain a peaceful union when based on such differing social statuses.”
Another voice joined in the conversation, and Kitty went limp with relief when she saw it belonged to Teresa Bromley. “In such matches, most of the affection is carried on behind the scenes.” Teresa returned Lady Jane’s smile with a bland one of her own. “As you know, Jane, I married beneath me according to Society. However, no one can deny our affection for one another. It is just that we do not display it publicly like people who have no manners.” Teresa leaned in. “You must acquit Lady Hayworth of falsifying the facts just because it does not appear to you that she and Lord Hayworth are in love. They, too, prefer to keep their private matters from public consumption.”
“What Lady Teresa said is quite true,” Kitty said, emboldened. “Of course, she and I are on friendlier terms, and she has been witness to the warmth in my marriage that is otherwise hidden from public eye.”
Teresa held out her arm for Kitty. “Lady Jane, I do hope you will excuse us. Lady Midlington is looking for Kitty.”
She allowed Teresa to lead her to a section of the room that held less people, and Kitty flashed her a grateful smile. “I cannot thank you enough for rescuing me back there. I did not know how to deflect her unnecessary attention.”
“Jane and I went to school together. She is not well-liked. I cannot be surprised that Phineas did not fall for her, but it is clear he is smitten with you.” Teresa squeezed Kitty's arm tighter and gave her a conspiratorial smile.
“Since we are becoming better acquainted, I must confide in you that looks are deceptive. He has not spoken of love.” Kitty stopped with a shy smile unable to say more.
“Men generally find it hard to do so, I believe.” Teresa glanced at Kitty. “How did your match come about?”
“Oh, it was nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose. I believe my husband…” Kitty could not finish the thought—could not admit that her husband had sought the alliance purely from a mercenary ambition. To do so would throw him to the wolves and trample her own reputation as well.
She began again. “Erasmus, my brother, was looking for ways to connect his…” This was impossible. She could never get the words out. How could she speak in such base terms about a marriage that had begun as a contract, but which had begun to grow into something else?
Teresa saved her from replying. “It was a match arranged by two gentlemen for monetary purposes, which has fortunately begun to grow in affection.”
Kitty relaxed her shoulders and nodded. Teresa had understood the matter at a glance.
“Well, that is the way of many matches,” Teresa said in a matter-of-fact voice, “and there's no reason that the marriage cannot prosper despite the beginning.”
At two in the morning, people began to take their leave. Kitty had done her best to smile and talk to everyone, although the reserve some people maintained gave expression to their thoughts regarding the match. She could not help but wonder what they expected to achieve by alienating Lord Hayworth’s wife. They could not think she would put up with such treatment in silence? As soon as the thought sprang to her mind, her conscience smote her. Well, that’s just what you’ve been doing.
At last, only Lord Midlington was left with Phineas and Kitty near the refreshment tables, while Lady Midlington directed the servants to scrape the melted wax from the floors and pick up the fallen napkins and bits of sandwiches that had been served at midnight to boost the flagging energy of the crowds.
“Well, that is now out of the way. I faced Lord and Lady Leighton and put this whole sordid affair behind us.” Lord Midlington glowered at Phineas. “I daresay they shall come around to the idea, but it was not a very nice trick you turned on me. It made for very awkward conversation when I had to go tell Lord Leighton about the match. I suppose now they can see for themselves you have tied the knot and will stop hinting at breach of contract.”
Phineas did not react to his father’s words, and Kitty stared at him, compelling him with her eyes to say something. His father had called her welcoming ball “sordid” and went on about how disappointed he was in having to explain their marriage to a peer. But Phineas appeared lost in thought and did not glance her way.
Lord Midlington sighed, the night’s events seeming to loosen his tongue. “Whether they believed our story about a love match is another thing. Then again, I would not wish you to hang upon one another in a vulgar display.”
Lord Midlington walked toward the exit, glancing back at Kitty. “But we've done the thing. That ought to settle the gossipmongers. Everyone can see for themselves that we have not only welcomed you as a daughter but have held a ball in your honor. We’ve done this kindness for you, Katherine. I suppose you will never know what it cost us to settle for something oth
er than what we’d considered ideal, but we can only look forward.”
Phineas had remained silent, his face impossible to read. Could he not see that his father was insulting her? She was not their ideal. She ought to be grateful the earl and his wife noticed her at all. Kitty silently urged him to meet her gaze. She longed to know what he made of his father’s offensive and bizarre discourse.
Lord Midlington walked over to the table that still had two untouched glasses of wine. He picked one up and drank it. “Once you’ve given my son an heir, all will be forgotten.” At last, Phineas looked at Kitty and smiled.
A smile? Kitty swallowed and averted her eyes. She could not trust herself to respond with anything like grace.
With such a dull audience, Phineas’s father exhaled, as if disappointed. “I have some affairs to see to before I retire. Good night.”
Lady Midlington began to follow her husband out the door but stopped just short of the exit. “I will declare tonight’s ball a success, however. As much as I would have liked to have hosted one under different circumstances, you behaved well, Katherine. There was nothing to be ashamed of.”
There was no answering that. It was not worth it for Kitty to antagonize her mother-in-law, although she thought her husband could do so very well without losing his status. He remained obstinately silent, his arms folded, and his gaze appearing to see right through his mother. When the door shut behind Lady Midlington, Phineas seemed to snap to life. He gestured to the door, and they exited, climbing the stairs in silence.
Kitty was too exhausted to make conversation, and too discouraged after the afternoon she’d spent with her mother-in-law, followed by the evening spent among the wolves of Society. Phineas had only exacerbated her feelings by questioning whether she was capable of dancing and condescending enough to tell her she hadn’t embarrassed him at dinner. You’re doing just fine. A growing sense of irritation filled her breast. They stopped in front of her door.
“My parents are coming around to the idea of our marriage.” Phineas had finally broken his silence, but they were not the words Kitty expected. An apology would have been an excellent beginning.
“I am not so sure,” she said carefully. “Your mother was bemoaning having to give me a prominent place at the table when the daughter of a duke would be dining with us.”
Phineas widened his eyes. “You overheard that conversation?” When Kitty nodded, he blew out through pursed lips. “That explains your troubled look. I wish you had said something then. But you must not have heard what I replied to my mother. I did defend you, Kitty.”
“But that is just the problem. I am a wife who needs to be defended—because I’m not good enough for Lord and Lady Midlington’s son. And what is particularly goading is that I was more successfully defended by Teresa Bromley tonight, whom I have just met, than I was by my own husband.”
Phineas faced her squarely and put both his hands on her arms. “No, no—you don’t need defending. You were a vision tonight. Everyone thought it. And I was heartened by my father’s words. I had been starting to fear that there was no chance of my parents accepting you. But you heard him—as soon as you give me an heir, my parents will be reconciled to the idea of you joining our family.”
Kitty looked at him with wide eyes, her jaw slack. “Do you think those words were conciliatory? I thought they were rude.”
Phineas studied her more closely. “Rude? Both my parents said how glad they were that the party was a success.”
“So it could settle the gossipmongers.”
Phineas knit his brows. “And they said you behaved beautifully—which was the truth!—and that no one could have anything negative to say about you.”
Kitty glared at him and put a hand on her hip. “Because they assumed that since I am not born of the gentry, I could not possibly know how to conduct myself. And some of your own remarks have shown me you think the same.”
“I don’t think it.” Phineas shook his head, as if unable to wrap his mind around her accusations. “But … but my parents said once they had a grandchild to dote on, nothing more would be spoken of your background. It shows there is hope for you all to rub along well.”
“Yes.” Kitty bestowed upon him an artificial smile. “Their acceptance is conditional upon the fact that I give you an heir.”
“But you do plan to give me an heir, so what is there to worry about?” Phineas’s voice had gone up a notch.
Kitty's jaw grew rigid with indignation, and it took her a minute before she could get the words out. “If you cannot figure that out…” She opened the door behind her and turned to face him, eyes glaring, “I can assure you, there will be no heir.” She shut the door behind her with a loud clack.
24
That had not gone well. Phineas’s steps were heavy as he made his way to his room. For the entire ball, he had looked at Kitty with pride. What an exquisite creature she was—far more elegant than any other woman present; there really could be no comparison. He could think of nothing but her.
After having successfully opened the ball with Kitty, her hands light in his as she turned graceful steps around him, he had imagined that his wife was as charmed by the ball as he was—that the romantic atmosphere would take effect and sprout the desire in her to deepen their relationship. As it was, he knew himself to be the envy of every man present.
He had completely missed the barbs—had barely heard what his parents were saying when the party came to a close—as he dwelled on the idea of taking their romantic night to a satisfying conclusion. Now, as he examined her reproaches, his parents’ words did not seem so generous as they had appeared in the moment. In fact, every compliment was laced with a cut. And he had not protected her.
He knew his parents—knew they were far from perfect. He even knew he had much to regret over their lack of love for one another. Whatever had come between them when they were young in their marriage had destroyed any hope of affection, and he had been a victim of their indifference. However, they had made an attempt to approve of Kitty and had even thrown a ball in her honor. It was only after he’d received a piece of her outrage that Phineas was forced to admit that neither the ball, nor his parents—and no, not even he—had given her the respect that was her due as his wife.
He turned the doorknob to his familiar, empty room. The valet had laid a fire for him before retiring, as requested. Phineas pulled the pin out of his cravat, which had begun to strangle him, and untied it. He paced back and forth in his room, as the memory of the day his parents’ marriage had changed—a memory he’d suppressed because it threatened to sink him into gloom every time he remembered it—filled his mind. Except that now there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He had escaped from his nurse that morning and had run to the library, eager to share his catch from the trout pond. He wanted to show his father his biggest fish yet, sure that it would bring him the smile of approval that was a prize for kings, given how rare it came.
Phineas had not been entirely sure his mother would approve of his bringing a dead fish inside the home, but that fear was the easier one to grapple with. The hardest and most subtle was whether the fish would be big enough to impress his father. Voices inside the library stopped him in his tracks.
“I wish you will have your say and be done with it.”
He had peeked through the crack in the door and seen his father, wearing the same expression as when he scolded Phineas, his arms folded on his chest.
“You would rather I not say anything at all. You would rather I turn a blind eye to your affairs.” His mother was sitting somewhere out of sight.
“Yes, to be perfectly honest. My affairs are none of your concern. Most women know better than to bring them up.”
“Perhaps most women would not, but we were a love match, Edward. We married for love. I did not expect you to seek affection in the arms of another woman.” His mother’s sob had reached his ears, and even as a man, Phineas could still remember the tendrils of
dread that had crept up his spine. Why was his mother crying? Something must be terribly wrong.
“Have done with your tears, if you will. I was blinded by your beauty, but such a thing can not last long. You have given me one son, and he is a paltry example of a boy. You have given me no other heir for the past six years.”
“You are spilling your seed into your lightskirts. How do you expect me to give you another child?”
His parents’ voices had raised in volume, and when Phineas heard his father walk toward the door, he ducked behind a tall vase. His father had come only to slam the door, but he could still hear their muffled voices.
“You should be grateful. You’ve married well and are the envy of many women. A countess, living in a fine mansion. You did not bring anything into this marriage other than your beauty. Console yourself with your son now.”
“Phineas?” His young heart had shrieked in alarm at the disgust he heard in his mother’s voice. “You say he is a poor example of a son? You did not have to spend countless nights comforting him from nightmares or coddling him back to good health. You were not even here. He has given me nothing but trouble. Less freedom, less sleep, a painful birth that does not bear speaking of … I never wanted children. I only bore one for you, and I was prepared to give you more.”
“Well, as he is my only heir, apply yourself, if you will, to coddling him less. If ever I saw a less appealing scrap of a boy … I will have to hire a tutor who can turn him into more of a young man before I send him off to school.” Phineas’s heart had beaten loudly in his ears.
“Oh, he is now fully in your hands. As you imply, a mother’s role is done by now. It is the father who shapes him, unless the father is too busy squandering the son’s inheritance on mistresses.”
Phineas heard the sounds of his mother coming to her feet. He feared she would walk toward the staircase, where she would discover that he’d heard everything. He had no time to hide, but sank back further behind the vase, holding the dead fish to his chest.
His Disinclined Bride (Seasons of Change Book 7) Page 21