A Sensible Lady: A Traditional Regency Romance (17 page)

“Nor did Richard live to see his son, if Miguel is indeed the son of Doña Elena Brampton.”

“Dear heavens!”

The full implication of Lord
Dracott’s
story dawned on Katherine.

“Dear heavens, indeed.”

Lord Dracott sat up straight in his chair.

“If Miguel is Richard’s legitimate son, Miguel, not Clive Brampton, is Richard’s heir.”

Katherine closed her eyes against the possibility of what she said.

“If Miguel is, indeed, Richard’s legitimate son, the question is, can Miguel be
proven
to be Richard’s legitimate son to the satisfaction of English courts, both clerical and civil.” Lord
Dracott’s
voice was solemn enough for a court. “Therein
lies
the problem, Miss Brampton.”

Katherine felt sick with dread at the thought of challenging Clive Brampton’s claims to the baronetcy.

She gathered up a nervous Princess and began to pace but motioned for Lord Dracott to remain seated.

“Perhaps it would be best for all concerned to go on as before,” Katherine said. “I do understand the problems that the
stain of illegitimacy bring
.
But how to go about establishing Miguel’s legitimacy?
I cannot tell you how happy I am to know that Richard acted honorably toward Miguel’s mother. But knowing it and proving it are two entirely different matters.”

Katherine shrugged.

“Aunt
Prunella
will be vindicated. She always believed in Richard. But heaven forbid she ever learn the truth. She would never be able to keep the secret.”

Katherine sat down and gave Princess a hug before putting her on the floor.

“Considering everything, Lord Dracott, do you not agree that perhaps the best course of action for all of us—Captain Hamilton, Mr. Wharton, you, and me—is to pledge to keep the matter a secret? I really cannot see challenging my cousin in court.”

Lord Dracott frowned and gripped the arms of his chair.

“I am certain, Miss
Brampton, that
you are speaking from shock, and perhaps fear for the boy. But you cannot seriously be proposing that the four of us collude in a lie, permitting a legitimate child to grow to adulthood enduring the taunts and handicaps of a bastard—pardon my saying the word in your presence, but it would be said behind your back and to Miguel’s face. When in truth, there is
every likelihood
that he is your brother’s legitimate son and heir.”

Katherine felt as if she had been slapped. Worse, she knew she was in the wrong. Fear had made her cowardly. Richard and Miguel deserved better of her.

“Of course you are right, Lord Dracott. I cannot imagine what I was thinking,” she managed in a hoarse whisper.

“Not only am I right on a moral level, Miss Brampton,
I am
also right on a practical level. Hamilton is trying to recall other officers who witnessed your brother’s marriage. He believes perhaps two or three survived the war and might, even now, be returning to England. And the chaplain who performed the ceremony could very well still be alive, and he is unlikely to forget marrying a British officer to an imperious Spanish
doña
during the march from Oporto to Talavera. Most likely the chaplain also has a written record of the marriage. So you see, Miss Brampton, it could very probably be only a matter of time, a chance meeting at a club or soiree, some reminiscing about old adventures, and the rumors would start, and things would be much more difficult to put right at a later date. What would have become of Miguel—and you—in the meantime?”

Yes,
Katherine thought. What was to become of Miguel, Aunt
Prunella
, and herself? She should be dancing for joy that Richard had married Miguel’s mother, that Miguel was Richard’s legitimate son. But those facts complicated her life in ways she could scarcely contemplate.

“No need to look so bleak, Miss Brampton. Believe me, as soon as Hamilton had told his story the other night, even while he was telling his story, Wharton and I knew the difficulty you would be in if the facts are as Hamilton presented them. And as soon as we explained matters to Hamilton, he understood, too. So we put our heads together to come up with a way for you to get through this tangle. A way that would protect both you and Miguel from Clive Brampton’s machinations, once an actual case for Miguel’s legitimacy is collected.”

Merciful heavens,
Katherine thought.
Can there be anything more humbling than to have one’s life planned out by three old drinking friends trading stories at a reunion?

“Which of you drew the short straw?”

Katherine blinked away tears. She knew the answer to her question. It explained Lord
Dracott’s
visit; his haircut, his freshly shaven face, his pressed coat and polished boots.

Lord Dracott looked puzzled for a moment, laughed, and quickly sobered when he studied Katherine’s face.

“You must not think that way, Miss Brampton.”

Katherine could scarcely credit the pleading tone in his voice.

“I know this is very awkward for you, Miss Brampton. I have put a case for our marriage to you before—Lizzie’s attachment to you, your comfort and familiarity with
Drayford
Vale… But, you must see, that with what is now suspected about your nephew’s status, it is imperative that you act quickly, both for yours and Miguel’s sake. Given the facts, the court will concern itself with his interests. At the very least, appoint a guardian for him, whether or not he is declared legitimate. But before the court can rule, both you and Miguel will need protection—and the wherewithal to present his case adequately. We agreed: Hamilton, Wharton and I, that I am best placed to provide for you and Miguel. To place the matter with a skilled attorney and counter any attempt on your cousin’s part to keep Miguel’s case from being heard. Surely you can see that.”

Katherine could see that. But she could not bear to look at Lord
Dracott’s
earnest face—the face she saw in her dreams. The face of the man she loved.
But did not love her.
She studied her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“I do see that. I understand what you are saying,” she whispered.

“And you are agreeing we should marry.”

“Yes. I am agreeing we should marry.”

Katherine looked up. Lord Dracott stood and took a ring out of his coat pocket. He did not indulge in the hypocrisy of kneeling before her, but took her left hand and, on her third finger, put on a heavy ring featuring a large emerald cabochon. It almost slipped off.

Lord Dracott frowned.

“It seems I have not taken the slenderness of your finger into account, Miss Brampton. I suppose I shall have to take it to be cut down.”

He sounded reluctant to make a permanent alteration in a piece of Dracott family jewelry for her sake.

“That will not be necessary, Lord Dracott,” Katherine said briskly. “I believe string or candle wax is the solution to the problem.”

“Perhaps we should tell Miss Summersville our news.”

“Of course,” Katherine agreed, feeling a constriction of her heart.

Aunt
Prunella
would assume it was a love match, although she would no doubt have preferred Katherine to marry Augustus Wharton.

The Reverend Mr. Augustus Wharton had neatly extracted himself from her marriage proposal,
Katherine thought wryly. What was it he had said? He was concerned that her affections might become attached elsewhere? The constriction of her heart became so tight, Katherine could scarcely breathe.

“Before we tell anyone, Lord Dracott, I think you need to reconsider what you are doing.”

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What would happen if, after we marry, your affections become attached—to another lady?”

Lord Dracott smiled and shook his head.

“No need to worry about that happening, Miss Brampton. As I told you before, I have no intention of ever again getting myself entangled in a romantic relationship.

Katherine appreciated Lord
Dracott’s
thoughtful asking for Aunt
Prunella’s
blessing of their betrothal. The aging spinster could not have been more gratified and flustered if she herself had been the recipient of his suit.

“How very kind, Lord Dracott.
I had never dreamed…” She held one hand to her heart while she dabbed her eyes with a delicate handkerchief.

“Katherine, my dear, you must be
in alt
.”

Aunt
Prunella
clasped Katherine to her sparrow like frame.

Hephzibah offered her good wishes.

Sally blushingly echoed Aunt
Prunella
.

Lord Dracott, seeing Miguel silently observing the scene, crouched to the boy’s eye level.

“Your Aunt Katherine,
Catarina
,
will soon become my wife, Miguel.
Which means that you will be living with us—and Lizzie, too—at the Hall.
Will you like that?”

Miguel smiled solemnly and nodded.

I must remember this moment,
Katherine thought.
However difficult it is to be the wife of a man I love, but who cannot love me, the memory of this moment will be happiness enough.

As Katherine and Lord Dracott walked together to where he had left his horse, Shadow, munching on grass in front of the Dower House, his conversation was of practicalities.

“I cannot have you trudging about the lanes of the parish, now that you are my affianced, Miss Brampton. If you have errands to run, use my dogcart. I shall instruct Clem that it is yours whenever you need it.”

“Thank you, Lord Dracott.”

“I will speak to Wharton about reading banns. Time is of the essence.”

Things were proceeding too fast for Katherine.

“Have you considered the possibility, Lord Dracott, that in spite of what we believe to be true, Miguel will not be legally accepted as Richard’s legitimate son?”

“That would not remove the wisdom of our marriage, Miss Brampton. Lizzie will still need a mother. Miguel will need protection and security more than ever. And, I…I will still need an heir.”

Turning to bid her good-bye, he took her hands in his, glancing down at the closed fist of her left hand. Katherine opened her hand revealing the heavy ring Lord Dracott had given her.

“Do what you can to make it fit. I want you to wear it.”

After kissing her lightly on the forehead, he was gone.

*****

That night, when Aunt
Prunella
and Miguel were sleeping peacefully, Katherine did not pace. Why should she? The problem of Miguel’s future—and hers—was solved. But, no matter how many times she turned her pillow, she could not sleep. Her mind was a whirl. Richard had married a highborn Spanish lady. Miguel was probably their son and the rightful heir to Oak End. Miguel, not Clive Brampton, was the rightful baronet.

Katherine would marry Lord Henry Dracott as soon as banns were read. This time, Katherine would not withdraw her promise to marry as she had with Clive Brampton.

How long would it take for Cousin Clive to hear the news of Katherine and Lord
Dracott’s
betrothal? Surely parish gossip would reach him by noon tomorrow at the very latest. He had returned from escorting his mother and sister to London, just as Leticia said he would. Leticia had said that his choice to remain in Sussex during the season was because of Katherine, that he had become obsessed with Katherine. Whatever would he say—or do—when he learned that she would marry Lord Dracott?

What Clive Brampton would say or do when he learned of the challenge to his title and inheritance from Richard was beyond contemplating. Heaven knew he would not miss the income—his mother had brought a fortune with her marriage to his father. Clive had inherited it when his father, Clarence Brampton, died. But Aunt Brampton’s fortune had come from commerce. What Clive Brampton had received with his inheritance from Richard was the patina of long-established gentry. Losing the luster of that patina—and the baronetcy that confirmed it—would be mortifying for Clive, who reveled in being addressed “Sir.”

Eager as Katherine was for her second cousin to be permanently out of her life, she blanched at the two humiliations he was soon to face. In her heart, she felt guilty that her security rested on another’s mortification. And it would not be the first time she had inflicted mortification on Clive Brampton.

When Katherine had withdrawn precipitously from marrying him, she had done nothing to save his pride. She had not told him directly why she was refusing to honor her promise to marry him. She had left that task to Mr.
Tramell
, the old vicar. She had been shocked and upset as only the very naïve can be. And that had made her thoughtless—and, yes—cowardly.

And though she could not regret fleeing to the Dower House when Clive had inherited Oak End, she knew her abrupt departure from the only home she had known inflicted exquisite embarrassment on the newly minted baronet at the very moment of his greatest social triumph.

Katherine sat up in bed and hugged her knees. She was no longer the easily shocked, naïve girl who had hidden behind an old priest rather than calmly explaining to her fiancé why she was breaking their engagement. This past year had presented a series of difficulties she could never have anticipated. And she had coped with each one—even the ones she had created herself. She was strong and could summon courage when it was needed.

There was nothing she could do to warn Sir Clive of the coming challenge to his title. But she could at least tell him directly about her engagement to Lord Dracott. She could afford to be thoughtful in that matter. What had Sir Clive called it?
The “ladylike” thing.
She would do the ladylike thing and spare him the embarrassment of learning of her engagement from a servant—or worse—in casual conversation in
Drayford
Village.

All it would take was a quick visit to Oak End tomorrow morning. No one need know about it beforehand.

Lord Henry Dracott would forbid it,
a little voice said.
But I have not yet promised to obey Lord Henry Dracott,
she told the little voice.

*****

Usually, Katherine’s prayers were for others: for Aunt
Prunella’s
health, for Miguel to speak. But, as she made her way through back lanes and shortcuts to Oak End the next morning, her prayers were for herself. If only she could reach Oak End, speak with Sir Clive, and return to the Dower House undetected, she would ask for nothing more.

Sally had been too excited to notice that Katherine had not eaten breakfast. She was thrilled that Katherine was finally shedding black and was eager to sort through Katherine’s long-neglected wardrobe and rescue what gowns she could.

“I don’t know why you insist on going out wearing that drab old black gown this morning, Miss Brampton. I could get one of your muslin gowns ready for you. You owe it to Lord Dracott to leave off mourning, Miss Brampton, you know you do.”

“This afternoon will be soon enough, Sally,” was all Katherine answered, as she kissed Miguel.

“And, if you have time, perhaps you could use some thread and candle wax to make this ring smaller, so I can wear it.”

Katherine handed Sally the emerald cabochon ring. The maid gasped.

“I’ve never seen such a ring, Miss Brampton! Lord Dracott must truly love you.”

Katherine blinked away tears.

“Do not be telling yourself fairy tales, Sally. Lord Dracott is marrying me for any number of perfectly good reasons, but love is not one of them.”

Sally looked up from studying the ring.

“With all respect, Miss Brampton, I believe what I believe.”

Sally and Aunt
Prunella
assumed that Katherine was going into the village. Katherine did not enlighten them about her true destination.

*****

She had not returned to the estate where she was born since removing to the Dower House last July; less than a year, but a lifetime ago. Katherine decided to approach the house from the east, through a spinney that would screen her presence. She considered entering her old home clandestinely, hoping to find Sir Clive before being discovered by a servant. But such a plan would only fuel gossip if and when her visit became generally known. If she were to claim innocence, she would have to act innocently. So she squared her shoulders and lowered the knocker on the front door.

When Mrs. Root, the old housekeeper, opened the door Katherine was faint with relief.

“Miss Katherine!”

The old lady beamed through tears.

Katherine put a finger to her lips.

“It is wonderful to see you again, Mrs. Root, but I am afraid I do not want my presence here known. Can I count on you?”

“Oh yes, Miss Katherine,” Mrs. Root answered conspiratorially.

“I must speak with Sir Clive.”

“I will fetch him for you, Miss Katherine. Just wait in the old sewing parlor. No one ever uses it anymore.”

Light streamed into the familiar room. The portrait of her great-grandmother still hung over the fireplace and a pair of porcelain dogs still flanked the hearth. Katherine had cut out the dress she was wearing on the large table in the middle of the room. She turned and gazed blindly out a window. She had been so focused on bracing herself for the interview with Clive
Brampton,
she had neglected to consider how emotionally draining it would be to visit her lost home once more.

“Katherine? I must confess I had not expected the pleasure of a visit from you.”

Sir Clive Brampton, immaculate as always, stood in the sewing parlor doorway, hands on hips, eyes narrowed.

“May I close the door, or do you wish it to remain open?”

“Please…please, do leave it open.”

Katherine would figure out later how to deal with Lord Dracott if servants heard the conversation through the open door and their gossip reached him. But meeting Sir Clive behind closed doors would strip the last shred of respectability from her visit.

She had intended to remain standing, tell Sir Clive that she was betrothed to Lord Dracott, and depart. But her knees threatened to buckle and she was forced to sit down. She chose a chair at the foot of the sewing table.

“Am I correct in assuming that you have not paid me this highly irregular call in order to accept my offer of marriage?”

Sir Clive Brampton strolled to the table where Katherine sat and leaned against it, arms folded across his chest.

“Yes…yes. That is…you are correct. In fact, I came to tell you, to let you know before it becomes general knowledge, that I have accepted an offer of marriage from Lord Henry Dracott.”

“Dracott?”

Sir Clive looked at Katherine speculatively and smiled. His smile was just short of a leer.

“My congratulations—not best wishes, as one usually offers a prospective bride—but congratulations. However have you managed this feat? Just what has been going on, back and forth, between the Dower House and Dracott Hall?”

“That is an unwarranted insinuation, Cousin Clive Brampton!”

How could she have thought she owed this man anything?

He raised an eyebrow and drew out a beautifully enameled snuffbox. He opened it in a fluid motion that Katherine knew required hours of practice, applied snuff to both nostrils and sneezed into a fine lawn handkerchief.

“You will forgive me, sweet
cuz
. I was somewhat taken aback by your news.
Had not seen a hint of
Dracott’s
special interest in your direction.”

Katherine could feel her face flush. She studied the table.

“That is because he has no special interest for you to see.”

Her voice was low, and to her dismay, she had to control its tendency to shake. She did not dare look directly at Sir Clive Brampton for fear of what he would read on her face.

He began to laugh and covered it with a cough.

“Do not talk nonsense, Katherine.
Dracott’s
heart might still rest under those grave markers in St. Chrysostom’s, but the rest of his body is very much alive.”