His mother opened the door. “Whatever you do, don’t expect me to come to your bed. I don’t plan to share it with other women.”
With that, she slammed the door behind her and walked the opposite way to the drawing room where she exited into the gardens. Phineas stood a moment longer, not daring to breathe. When he heard the sounds of servants climbing up from the kitchen, he dropped the fish in the vase and ran up the stairs. His innocence had died that day, along with his heart’s assurance.
Now, Phineas sat and dropped his face into his hands. He had tried so hard to win his wife over. He followed Bromley’s advice and had bought her gifts. He had given her full power over the intimacy of their relations to make up for the power that was stolen from her when she’d had her future arranged without her consent. He’d sat with Kitty, and talked to her; he admired her…
You haven’t given her the tender words she asked for. You haven’t told her you love her.
The accusation shot through his conscience, and Phineas leapt to his feet. Of course he couldn’t tell her he loved her. Who did such a thing, unless it came as a whispered, strangled confession deep in the night when she was asleep and could not hear? He resumed his pacing and glanced at the bronze shaving bowl, having a sudden urge to hurl it through the window pane. But that would be costly to replace and embarrassing to explain. Plus, it might land on the head of some poor unfortunate below. Instead, he grabbed the tall post of his bed and shook it hard, then threw himself down on the tick mattress, not bothering to take off his shoes. His marriage was just as doomed as his parents’ was—except they, at least, had gotten a child out of it.
A knock on his door interrupted the silence, and Phineas pulled himself up to his elbows then darted out of bed. In a few strides, he had opened the door and was staring down at his wife, who was holding a candle, dressed in her night shift with a dark blue dressing gown tied loosely over the front. Her head was bare, and her long hair was tied in a thick red braid. Phineas gulped.
They stared at each other for a moment, and Kitty’s gaze dropped down to his bare neck and open shirt. A blush lit her face, and she directed her gaze to his chin where it remained. “I would like a wedding breakfast.” She inhaled quickly. “Or perhaps not a wedding breakfast where we would again be the center of attention. But a meal in our own home, where we can celebrate our marriage and invite the people we like.”
Phineas’s mind tried to absorb her request, as much as her sudden appearance. A wedding breakfast was actually a good idea, now that she mentioned it. His wife should have had one in the first place. But she wished it to be intimate enough that she was not made to feel all eyes were on her. How would he accomplish such a thing? Who would they invite?
And … why had she come back after he had failed to protect her? He did not deserve such a thing.
Kitty took one glance at his face and creased brow then looked down the corridor and back at him. “I would like the breakfast to be at Giddenhall with friends only in attendance. And I want to replace Mrs. Morley. She is a dreadful housekeeper, and I do not wish to be looked down upon in my own home.”
“It shall be done,” Phineas said softly. Was this an olive branch? Were olive branches sometimes offered in marriage?
“I would like to have you teach me to ride, and to become an excellent rider—and to accompany you on your social visits, and even on hunts … that is, do you hunt?”
Phineas nodded. “I do,” he said, hope again inflating his lungs. He stood upright and leaned against the door jamb. A smile played about on his face. She had come to him! “Any other requests I might fulfil, my lady? You have only to ask.” An awareness that his words held an unintended double meaning stole Phineas’s breath. Would she ask?
Kitty sniffed and looked at her hands before glancing up at Phineas. Her eyes were shiny, and he could not be sure whether it wasn’t from tears.
“I should like to become a mother.”
The words slammed into Phineas’s chest and he tensed. As if on its own, his hand reached for the door and opened it wider. Kitty’s eyes grew round when she saw the gesture, and she took a step back.
“Soon.” Her voice came out in a squeak. She backed up toward the staircase, her eyes still on him, and a tiny smile lighting her face. Phineas saw the amusement—and the apology—in her eyes. She was going to be the death of him.
In two strides he was in front of her, and he caught her hand in his. He held it, caressing her fingers until the spark of apprehension disappeared from her brows. He took her other hand and pulled her closer. She came willingly. Skimming his hands up her arms, he grazed them over her shoulder and up her neck until he was cradling her face. Her eyes went wide, but she did not move. He leaned down and kissed her, pulling her toward him and giving himself into his longing for one brief moment. She kissed him back, and he felt no resistance.
But Phineas had given his word. He broke away and took a step back, and then another until he was again in front of his room. Her eyes fluttered open.
“Soon,” he repeated, firmly.
She walked the rest of the way to the staircase, her gait unsteady, and Phineas could not resist calling out again, loud enough that she would hear, but not enough to disturb the servants. “Lady Hayworth.” She turned back slowly, her small dimpled smile still in place.
“I have decided that it will be judicious to return to Giddenhall tomorrow. Will you honor me with your presence on the journey?” Phineas had his hand on the door and was leaning out into the corridor for one last glimpse of his beautiful, playful, torturously elusive wife, whose visit had removed the painful weight from his chest. His breath expanded and lifted like one of those hot air balloons he had once seen demonstrated at Oxford.
“With pleasure, my lord.” Kitty dipped into a small curtsy and began climbing the steps.
Phineas closed the door behind him, unable to understand how he could go from such a point of bitter despair—a marriage failed before it had got off the ground—to one of such hope. He would not think about what might have happened if her last request had been the invitation he had thought it at first. As it was, sleep would not come easily tonight.
But he had been given a taste of love and a taste of hope. Kitty had forgiven him before he had even gathered the courage to ask for it. Then she had kissed him back. Perhaps the inclinations of his bride would not be so very long in changing.
The next day, breakfast was served late, and Phineas discovered both his parents at the table. “Good morning, Mother. Father.”
“Good morning, Phineas. I trust you slept well.” His mother stirred cream into her coffee and set the spoon down on the saucer. His father remained silent.
Phineas filled his plate on the sideboard, barely glancing at what he had taken. His mind was filled with the determination to set things straight with his parents and not to waste the rare opportunity of finding both parents in the same room. He brought his plate to a seat where he could see them both and poured a cup of coffee while he tried to sort out how to begin. At last he looked up.
“I should like to discuss something with both of you, and I find it convenient to do so now while you are both here.” And Kitty is not, he added silently in his mind.
“Over breakfast?” His father’s ironic glare would not deter Phineas.
“Why not? I have decided to return to Giddenhall today, but before we leave, I wish to speak to you about Kitty.”
“What have you to say about her unless it is to thank us?” His father’s cutlery was poised above his plate. “We gave a ball in her honor, although she is not from our circle. Other families might have rejected her outright.”
“It would have been a—” Phineas cut himself short. He had been about to say a foolish thing to do, but that would not reconcile himself to his parents. “It would have been unnecessary. She came with money, she has good breeding—and handing the inheritance over to Bartholomew simply because you did not appreciate your son’s choice of a wife woul
d have been going to the extreme, in my opinion. It is not as if you could give him the earldom, too.” Phineas sipped his hot, bitter coffee to bolster himself for the rest.
“We have been very good about this quirk of yours to marry beneath you. I do not know what more you want of us.” His father cut his sausage and rammed a piece in his mouth while his mother pulled her cup of coffee closer without drinking it, her expression unreadable.
“I merely wish to notify you that I will not accept any disparaging words about my wife spoken in my hearing, or hers. If you wish to pour out your disappointment into your friends’ ears, there is nothing I can do to stop you.” He sent his mother a pointed look. “I do not want to hear disappointment expressed over the fact that my wife must take precedence over a duke’s daughter, who is married to a baron. My wife is a viscountess, and one day she will be a countess.”
Phineas frowned, fearing he had gone too far. “Not that I wish for that to occur any time soon.” He now turned his regard to his father who, surprisingly, had not cut him off with a quick retort.
“And yes, she will bear me a fine heir, but I do not wish to hear that she will become acceptable to you only when that happens. If either Kitty or I hear more of these kinds of things, you will not meet the heir, or any of the other children born to us, because we will not come to visit you. In that case, Midlington Estate will have to run itself, Father, between you and your steward—with the knowledge that it will eventually fall into my hands to be reaped or ruined.”
The door opened, and Kitty stepped into the room, her eyes wary when the stiff posture of the room’s occupants was born upon her. She dipped a curtsy and wordlessly reached for a plate on the sideboard. She looked to Phineas as though she were ready to take flight.
“Good morning,” Phineas said, and he smiled at her when she met his gaze. It seemed to reassure her, because she returned it, along with a soft greeting.
“There will be freshly cooked eggs coming in a moment.” Phineas’s mother sipped her coffee. “If you should care to wait.”
Kitty risked a glance at Lady Midlington, then at Phineas. “Thank you, my lady. I will.”
She sat, and poured a cup of tea from a pot that had been steeping on the table. Phineas noticed that her hands trembled a bit, but she managed to pour the tea without spilling any. His wife could not know this, but his mother’s seemingly benign comment was a peace offering. She would not apologize, but she would not be hostile.
Lord Midlington stood. Of course his father would not take his words to heart—Phineas had not expected such an easy victory—but his father would soon learn how seriously Phineas had meant them. If he wished to have a relationship with his son and his grandchildren, he must accept his son’s wife.
“I must see to today’s correspondence,” Lord Midlington said. “I understand you are to leave. You are sure you both will not stay for Christmas?”
Phineas swallowed carefully, fearing he would choke on the bite of bread that was in his mouth. Had he heard his father correctly when he’d specified them both?
He felt Kitty’s glance and turned to her. His surprise was reflected in her eyes. “We had agreed our first Christmas would be held at Giddenhall, did we not?” She nodded, and he returned his gaze to his father. “To tell the truth, we must be off. There is much to be done there with the Christmas boxes and feast for the tenants. However, we will be delighted to return to Bath for Twelfth Night if that would suit you.”
His mother pursed her lips and studied the blue fluted pattern on her saucer. “We ought to have the guest room redone by then. You must simply send word when you will arrive.”
“We will.” Phineas could hardly believe that his parents had been so easily won over. Had it only been wanting that he stand up for what was important in order for them to come around? Perhaps they were not so very obstinate as he had always thought. Time would tell, but this was a first step.
25
Kitty had Sterling pack her few gowns from their stay. Her maid would be leaving first with Phineas’s new valet in one of the earl’s borrowed coaches, which meant that Kitty would have a quiet ride with her husband. The thought filled her with contentment.
At the start of their marriage, Kitty could not have imagined arriving at a place in life where her husband equated comfort. The best she’d hoped for had been an uneasy truce. How it would have astonished her to know that her marriage now was not only something she’d grown accustomed to, but also something that felt like home.
They bid Lord and Lady Midlington farewell after breakfast and stepped into the coach to make a few morning visits before they headed back to their estate. Their first stop was at Mary and Erasmus's house, where they were shown into the drawing room.
“Come in. I am glad to see that you have returned for a visit. I was beginning to think you never would.” Mary removed the embroidery so Kitty could sit down. “Although, we had intended to invite you for another dinner party. Erasmus is home this morning, so you are in luck. He will have to leave this afternoon to oversee the shipments going out, but just now he is working from home in his library. I have told the footman to notify him that you are here.”
Phineas sat next to Kitty. “We cannot stay long. We have other calls to make before we are on our way to Giddenhall.”
“Oh, are you off already?” Mary’s lips formed a pout. “What a shame. I know Erasmus was planning on introducing you to more of his associates. It will be a great misfortune if you leave now.”
Kitty was accustomed to being conciliatory with her sister-in-law, but this could not stand. “Mary, my husband is not Erasmus's business associate. He is his brother-in-law. We come for social visits only, not to smooth the way for Erasmus to gain an edge in his business dealings.”
Mary had the grace to blush. “I did not intend to imply anything by what I said,” she said defensively. “It is only that we thought Lord Hayworth would like to meet men of influence.”
Kitty exchanged a swift glance with Phineas. “My husband already knows many men of influence. He has no need to meet more.” The door opened, and Erasmus walked in.
“Excellent. You are here.” Erasmus came forward to shake Phineas’s hand, ignoring Kitty completely. “We had intended to invite you to dinner—”
“Erasmus, never mind. They are on their way to Castle Combe and will not be able to join us for any more social engagements.” Mary attempted to catch Erasmus’s attention with a pointed look, but he did not appear to notice it.
“It is most inconvenient that you should leave just now. It is not for the social engagements that I wished to invite you, but for something of far greater importance. I am working on a deal with some men of influence who particularly wish to meet you. If you leave just now, it puts my deal at risk.”
Kitty saw her husband tense, and although she wished to leap to his defense again, she knew he would prefer to have his own say. To her surprise, Phineas put his arm around her on the settee and rested it on her shoulder. Mary’s eyes widened at the display of affection.
“I am afraid I will not be able to assist you in this affair, and you will remember that our arrangement did not include any such thing. You wished to have your sister wed to a title, and I wished to have a settlement that would allow me to develop my estate.” He glanced at Kitty. “I admit I gained much more than I bargained for, but I still hold to no business dealings. There were none mentioned in the contract.” He gave Kitty’s shoulder a little squeeze.
Erasmus turned red around his shirt points. “I did not intend for you to do anything in particular for those men. I only meant to remind you that my relationship to you would smooth the way in this deal. I know how to conduct my own business affairs.”
“I know you are quite capable of running a business. As Carter said, no one who doubles his father's fortune in a few short years could be lacking in business sense.” Kitty admired the grace with which Phineas complimented her brother, and it seemed to mollify him somewhat. �
��I only wish to express that the benefit you reap from our relationship is one of title and connections rather than service. You may address me as Hayworth and speak about our relationship. You can spread it about that Samuel is coming back to visit…”
“About the visits, I do believe that is a very fine idea.” Erasmus pursed his lips. “I have a mind for Samuel to join me later on in the business, and it will be good if he gets on well with the boys at Harrow. The right connections, and all that. When might you be able to take him?”
“We will be returning to Bath for Twelfth Night. Perhaps we might make a similar arrangement to meet here, and we will bring him with us when we leave for Giddenhall,” Phineas said. “If that suits you.”
The servant brought the platter of tea, and Mary stood to take the tea leaves from their locked cabinet. “I should like some distance between Samuel and his cousins. The notion suits me very well.”
“Never mind about Sam and our children, Mary,” Erasmus said, curtly. He turned back to Phineas. “I care most that Samuel is able to mix well with his peers at school. I believe he can achieve such a thing by staying with you.”
Phineas brought his arm from Kitty’s shoulder and folded his hands. “Then we understand each other very well. I will acknowledge my family relationship to you, and you will not importune me by arranging for any more business dinners. Our meetings will be family visits, with an occasional dinner party that has some other purpose than to conduct business. We will take a higher hand in raising Samuel, because I know that Kitty wishes for it.” He added as an afterthought, “And I do like the boy, myself.”
“We have a deal then.” Erasmus nodded, a tad eagerly, Kitty thought. She would have to make sure her brother knew his place in their future visits—and that Samuel did not become a commodity that Erasmus used to achieve his own ends.
His Disinclined Bride (Seasons of Change Book 7) Page 22