Blame It on Bath: The Truth About the Duke Page 9

  “Oh, no!” Her mother’s eyes rounded. “Leaving? Of course you may not go! We must have a wedding breakfast—Katherine, whatever are you wearing? And your hair is simply frightful. Lucien, dear, send for tea, so we may get to know my new son-in-law better. Katherine, do go up and change into something more flattering.”

  “This is my best dress, Mama,” Katherine said. Her mother blinked at the dress as if she’d never seen it before. “And I will change, but into my traveling clothes.”

  Mrs. Hollenbrook’s eyes welled up. She put one hand to her lips. “You cannot go,” she said plaintively. “Can a mother not celebrate her daughter’s wedding? You must stay the night at the very least. We must send word to the newspapers—my daughter, married to a Durham! You’ll need wedding clothes, Katherine, and really, my dear, you must call on at least a few people—imagine, a Durham! Everyone will want to meet him, dearest. We’ll be invited to dine everywhere, and it would be very bad of us not to accept. No, you simply cannot leave before the end of the week.”

  “No, Mama,” Katherine tried to say.

  A tear leaked from her mother’s eye, then another. It looked natural, but Gerard had a feeling Mrs. Hollenbrook could weep on a moment’s notice. “Katherine, dear, how can you be so cruel to your mother? And at such a happy time. Lucien, you must help me persuade her.”

  “Clearly I am not good at persuading her,” replied Howe, still glowering at Katherine. Gerard wondered again that she could stand this torrent of pressure and pleas. Perhaps this was why she chose to sneak off in the dark of night to propose her bargain to him.

  “As much as it pains me, dear madam,” he said, stepping into the breach once more, “we must be off. My affairs require it. However, I feel certain there will be a great ball at Durham House later this Season to celebrate; my brothers will want to welcome my wife to our family just as warmly as you have added me to yours, and my aunt, the Countess of Dowling, will be over the moon at having another female in the family at last. I feel certain there will be celebration in excess, in due time. But for today, to my sorrow”—he lifted her hand to his lips—“we must say farewell.” He turned to his wife. “Kate, darling, we must be on our way.”

  “I—yes,” she said. “I shall go make sure Birdie packs everything.”

  He beamed at her. “Excellent. I’ll come with you.” And he walked out of the room, taking her with him despite the open astonishment on Mrs. Hollenbrook’s face and the thunderous scowl on Lord Howe’s.

  “Wait!” she exclaimed, as he hurried her up the stairs. “You don’t have to come with me!”

  “We’ll never get out of here if your mother has her way,” he muttered. “This room?”

  She nodded, and he turned into the open door near the stairs. It was a modest room, with all the severity of the drawing room below and little of the elegance. Mrs. Dennis was already digging in the bureau drawers, and she looked up in shock at his appearance in the room. “We’re traveling lightly,” he informed both women. “Whatever you can’t fit in one valise must stay behind. The rest will have to be sent on later.”

  “My lady needs a trunk at least,” protested Mrs. Dennis.

  Gerard cocked an eyebrow. “One valise,” he repeated. “And we leave within the hour.”

  His wife stared at him, dazed. “Birdie, you’d better go pack your own things,” she said at last. “I shall manage.”

  “Excellent thought,” Gerard said. “One valise, Mrs. Dennis.” She glared at him but whisked out the door. He turned to his wife. “What do you need?”

  She hesitated, then went to the bureau. “Unmentionables.”

  He grinned at her rigid back. “Very well.” He scooped up her hairbrush and comb from the dressing table and put them in the valise. There was very little in the room. “Are you taking this?” He picked up the book from the table by the chair. Tillotson’s Sermons. He tried not to make a face. God help him if he had to watch her read this every night.

  She took it from him and dropped it back on the table with a thump. “No.”

  “Good.”

  She glanced guardedly at him but continued packing. A stack of white linen went into the bag—unmentionables, of course—two pairs of plain sturdy shoes, and some dresses, all in plain, dark colors. “Do you not like bright colors?” he couldn’t help asking. Gerard didn’t think of himself as a dandy, but he felt like a peacock in his scarlet coat and white breeches, compared to his wife in her brown dress.

  “They don’t suit me.” She put a thick shawl into the valise. Gray, of course.

  “That wasn’t what I asked.” He looked at her critically. “I think red would suit you.”

  Her head whipped up. “Red!”

  “Yes. Perhaps blue as well. To match your eyes.”

  “I have a blue dress.” She touched one dress, a blue so deep it was almost black.

  “I meant something pretty,” he said bluntly.

  For a moment she said nothing, just stood staring into her valise. “You don’t have to try to make me prettier, Captain. It’s hopeless.”

  He crossed the room and lifted her chin, inspecting her features. “You’re not a beauty like your mother; is that what you’re trying to tell me? Well, don’t bother. I can see for myself very well how you look. If you prefer brown, I shan’t strip it from you. But for myself, I find a bit of color very beneficial to the spirits. You can’t have missed how dashing and magnificent I look in my red coat.” He purposely puffed out his chest, and a faint bit of pink came into her cheeks. He leaned down until their faces were very close. “You might try it, eh? Just one red dress, to humor me.”

  “Perhaps,” she murmured.

  He grinned. “Excellent. And my name is Gerard.” Then he kissed her. He meant it to be light and chaste since they really did need to be on their way soon. But this time she opened her mouth at once, and he couldn’t help tasting her. And there it was again, that flickering spark of passion. She didn’t precisely kiss him back, but she wasn’t a limp doll, either. Almost without thought, his arm went around her, and he drew her into him, deepening the kiss. He felt the tension in her shoulders and unconsciously spread his hand on her back, circling his fingers. The taut muscles under his fingertips softened, and then she all but melted into him. Her fingers curled into the folds of his sleeves, and she rose up against him.

  That was enough for Gerard. He slid his hand around the curve of her skull to hold her just so, and took ownership of her mouth. Aside from the soft bursts of her breath coming faster and faster against his skin, she didn’t flinch as he delved deep into her mouth, languorously sliding his tongue across hers. He shifted his grip to brush his thumb over her jaw. She had lovely, soft skin, and for the first time he felt a genuine urgency to explore the rest of her. She was a challenge, and by God he loved a challenge, but now she was also his wife—his to kiss, his to hold, his to bed, and his to bring to the pinnacle of pleasure . . .

  He lifted his head and looked down at her. Her eyelashes fluttered open, and for a moment her eyes were as deep and clear as the summer sky at twilight, not cold or reserved at all.

  “You always look so surprised when I kiss you,” he murmured. “Do you not like it?”

  She flinched as if she’d just been accused of some terrible crime. “I—I don’t know.”

  Gerard smiled a little. He couldn’t help it. “Don’t worry, love. You will.” He turned away to collect more for her valise, and in the mirror caught sight of her reflection. She stood very still, then raised one hand and hesitantly touched her lips. His eyes narrowed; what the devil was she thinking? But then she looked up and met his gaze in her mirror. Her hand fell, and she turned away.

  He stole a bemused glance at her over his shoulder. No man with any sense in his head made the mistake of thinking he understood women, but he was utterly mystified by this one. She had asked him to marry her but didn’t expect him to touch her. When he did, she responded with alacrity—shy and inexp
erienced she might be, but there was a thread of yearning in her kiss. The instant he released her, though, she acted as violated as a nun.

  Well. They had years to sort that out between them. Today he intended to finally escape London and begin his pursuit of the blackmailer before the scoundrel did any more damage to his family’s name. Personal pleasures would have to wait a while.

  Chapter 9

  Not until they were bundled into the hired coach did Katherine have time to really think about what had happened. Birdie kept yawning behind her hand until she finally dropped off to sleep two miles or so out of London. That left her in peace, finally alone to contemplate the consequences of her actions. The captain was riding his horse, and she could see him if she sat forward and craned her neck out the window. She’d already done it twice and refused to do it again. There was little reason to. He was stuck with her now, and she with him.

  She had never seen anyone manage her mother quite as well as he did. When the captain told her they planned to leave within an hour of arriving in Portman Square, Mama laid out every excuse Katherine expected. Normally people, particularly men, were so moved by Mama’s pleas that they gave in at once, or certainly once she began weeping so beautifully and so sadly. Somehow Captain de Lacey made Mama smile instead—mentioning a grand ball at Durham House was a master stroke—and got them out the door in exactly an hour. The same carriage they had ridden in to the church had evidently been hired to take them wherever he was going. After a detour through Holborn, where Mr. Tyrell wished them happy and duly recorded their marriage, the carriage turned west, driving past Hyde Park Corner and out of London. Katherine was sure she’d left behind a hundred things she would need, and Birdie seemed permanently outraged by his peremptory behavior; but somehow Katherine felt more relief than anything else. As expected, Lucien was no match for the tall and confident captain. Her new husband was like a force of nature. And just like that, she was being whisked away from her old constrained and quiet life to a new life, one of which she had absolutely no conception.

  It was a little unnerving, she supposed. Part of her was increasingly worried she’d gotten herself married to someone so different from herself that they would never understand each other. But she couldn’t deny that part of her was breathless with hope. He smiled at her, and kissed her, even when he didn’t need to for appearances’ sake. He called her Kate. He could be everything she hoped for . . .

  No sooner than this thought crossed her mind, Katherine reminded herself not to presume. Above all, theirs was a practical marriage. Their real future wouldn’t become apparent for weeks and months, when the novelty and first rush of gratitude had worn off on both sides. Lord Howe had been a kind husband in the beginning as well, no doubt from being so flush with cash again. She would do well to remind herself how he’d been after a few years of marriage, when he couldn’t wait to be off to London without her and looked bored and impatient every time she opened her mouth.

  The miles rolled on. It was just after noon when they started, and the captain didn’t show much interest in pausing to rest. They only stopped to change horses after a few hours, which gave Katherine and Birdie a welcome chance to stretch their legs and attend to other needs.

  “How much longer do you suppose we’re to ride?” Birdie asked, as they took a turn around the coaching yard. She looked a little pale and drawn, but at least she had ceased muttering indignantly.

  “I don’t know.” They were on the Bristol Road, but otherwise Katherine had no idea where they were headed. He hadn’t said, and she hadn’t asked.

  Birdie sighed, wincing as she walked. “Goodness, m’lady, I know he’s what you wanted, but he certainly is a man of action!”

  “I know,” Katherine replied, “and so far it’s worked out rather well for us. I never thought Lucien would just let us walk away like that.”

  “We’ve not heard the last from him, mark my words.” Birdie pressed her hands to her lower back and groaned. Katherine rolled her shoulders, trying to stretch discreetly. The captain had disappeared into the coaching inn when they arrived. She walked toward the door and spied him laughing with some other men in the taproom, a mug of ale in his hand. She wondered how he could do that, be so jovial with complete strangers. He was the son of a duke yet was talking so freely with coach drivers and farmers, one would never guess his origins. She knew people thought she was cold and aloof, but part of her longed to be able to laugh so freely, like he did. Perhaps she could learn the trick from him and not find herself always on the outer edge of every social gathering. She hoped she could puzzle it out before she gave her new husband a complete disgust of her, as she had done to her first husband.

  As she watched, a serving maid brought out a basket, batting her eyelashes and swishing her skirts as she handed it to the captain. Katherine felt her stomach clench as she watched for his reaction, but he merely smiled at the girl and drained his tankard before heading out the door, right toward where his bride stood spying on him. Katherine scurried back to Birdie’s side as he emerged into the late-afternoon sunlight and joined them.

  “Got some feeling back in your feet?” He grinned at her. “I apologize for the haste, but it can’t be helped.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Katherine, conscious of Birdie’s aching back.

  “Bath,” he said. “I need to find someone there.”

  “Bath is still seventy miles away!”

  “We’ll stop for the night in a few hours.” He walked them back to the carriage, newly harnessed to a fresh team of horses, and helped them both inside. He handed Katherine the covered basket. “My apologies we can’t stop for proper tea.” He winked at her and closed the door. A few moments later he was back on his own horse, directing the driver. With a jerk the carriage started forward again.

  “Well.” Birdie was digging in the basket. “At least he has some consideration.” She held up rolls, a wedge of cheese, some sliced cold tongue wrapped in a napkin, pears, and a corked jug that turned out to contain cider, tart and cool.

  “He has more than some consideration, Birdie.” Katherine’s eyes fell on the bouquet of pink roses, tucked in the seat corner. She’d kept them from the church. They weren’t even drooping yet. Where had he gotten roses on such short notice?

  “I know, madam,” Birdie said in a softer tone. “I pray he has far more of it than we’ve seen so far, even.”

  Katherine went still as she grasped Birdie’s meaning. Tonight was her wedding night. To a man she hardly knew. Her lips tingled as she recalled his kiss, how gentle and yet how masterful. And he said he planned to make love to her . . . tonight? In an inn on the side of the road? Would it be like his kiss, seductive and sweet, or would he do it just to get it over with? And what should she do? “That’s enough, Birdie,” she said coolly. Chastened, the abigail said nothing more of it.

  By the time they turned into another coaching inn, twilight was falling. When Katherine stepped down from the carriage, her knees almost buckled and gave out. The captain, holding her hand, caught her before she could fall and put his arm around her as he escorted her into the inn. He said a few words to the innkeeper, and soon they were being shown to a large room, plain but tidy, with a fire already laid in the hearth. Her husband helped her to the armchair near the fireplace.

  “Feeling a bit sore?” She nodded, and he flashed her a sympathetic look. “I’m very sorry for it. I have to see to my horse, but I can send for a bath if you’d like.”

  As tempting as it sounded, Katherine thought of his walking in on her as she bathed and shook her head. The servants had brought his luggage and hers into the room; naturally, since they were husband and wife now. “Thank you, no. I shall wash up as usual.”

  “Very good. I’ll arrange for dinner.” He left, and she heard his voice in the corridor outside, telling the innkeeper to send warm water for her to wash in and a large dinner with good wine. Birdie tapped at the door when his footsteps died away and slipped in
to the room at Katherine’s summons.

  “It’s about time we stopped,” she muttered. “Will you bathe, madam?”

  “Not tonight. We shall have another long day on the roads tomorrow.” Katherine caught Birdie’s wince. “Just help me undress, then you may go to bed, Birdie. I’ll arrange for a dinner tray for you.”

  “His Lordship already did so,” her servant said. “Just now, outside the door. I credit him this, madam, he’s taking proper care of you.”

  Katherine smiled thinly as she pushed herself back onto her stiff legs. “I take it you’re growing fonder of him, then.”

  Birdie sniffed. “I’d take a stick to him if he didn’t see to your comfort after the jolting he put us through today.”

  “You won’t take a stick to anyone, any more than you would have done to Lord Howe,” Katherine said sharply. She knew Birdie meant nothing by her words and would never dare carry them out, but if the captain overheard her, it could go very badly for Birdie. Lucien would have sacked her for far less. “Don’t say such nonsense.”

  Birdie pressed her lips together, but she came and started unlacing Katherine’s traveling dress. “He’s not the same sort as Lord Howe.”

  “Of course he’s not. That doesn’t mean you should forget yourself, even when he’s not around.” She pulled her arms out of the sleeves, and Birdie helped her wiggle out of the dress. She put on her nightdress and bundled up in her dressing gown. Servants came with wash water and got the fire going, which made the room cozy and warm in no time, and brought a large tray with dinner. Once she had washed up and Birdie had combed out her hair for the night, Katherine sent her abigail off to bed. With a worried but grateful look, Birdie left.

  She sat down at the small table and peeked under the covers of the dishes. She was hungry, and it smelled good. The captain had been gone a long time, and she didn’t know if he would expect her to wait for him. She held back as long as she could, but gradually the growling of her belly became too much to bear. It had been well over an hour since he left. Surely he would understand if she ate just a little. She lifted one cover again and sniffed.