A Sensible Lady: A Traditional Regency Romance (18 page)

Katherine’s face went from warm to hot.

This time, he did not bother to hide his rueful laughter.

“Are you certain you made the right choice, Katherine, my sweet? I would wager that I am quite tame and biddable, compared with Dracott.”

Katherine forced herself to look directly at Sir Clive.

“I assure you that Lord Dracott and I have made a very sensible agreement.”

“Yes, yes, I can see the bargain. You gain security—a home for you, Miss Summersville, and, I assume, that Spanish child you insist is Richard’s; not to mention that undisciplined canine who assaults your visitors. Dracott gains a mother for that farouche daughter of his, and a mother for his heir—all without enduring the London Marriage Mart.

“But do not deceive yourself, sweet
cuz
, you will never have
him
.
He
still belongs to the fair Angela.”

Sir Clive shrugged and strolled to the parlor door. Katherine stood to leave.

“And when are the nuptials planned? You will forgive me if I decline the honor of giving you away.”

“Banns will be read Sunday—so within a month.”

Sir Clive abruptly closed the parlor door.

“Why the haste?
You have said repeatedly that you would not consider marriage until a full year of mourning had passed for Richard. I am beginning to suspect—no, strongly believe—that you have not told me the entire story behind your betrothal.”

Katherine grasped the table edge to steady herself.

“What a ridiculous flight of fancy on your part, Sir Clive. You just now listed the reasons why a marriage between Lord Dracott and me makes perfect sense!”

“But I will tell you what does not make perfect sense. The brevity of your engagement, if indeed there has been nothing going on between Dracott Hall and the Dower House.
And your presence here.
Why did you feel compelled to come here? Your visit puzzled me from the start. And then there is the look on your face. I would advise you to never try to tell Dracott an untruth—or a half-truth—for that matter. Your face is an open book, Katherine, my dear. And right now, guilt is written all over it.”

“There is nothing more to discuss about my engagement to Lord Dracott, Sir Clive. Now, if you will excuse me.”

Clive Brampton remained planted in front of the door.

“Just look me in the eye, Katherine, and tell me that you know nothing that would be of further interest to me.”

“I
said
, Cousin Clive, there is nothing more I wish to discuss.”

“That is a pity, Katherine, because I do not believe you. And I do not intend to open this door until you convince me that you are telling me the whole truth.”

Katherine’s brain felt like cotton wool. She struggled to review her options. The longer she remained in a closed room with Sir Clive Brampton, the greater the possibility that they would be discovered and she would be compromised.
That
would spell disaster. If Lord Dracott learned she had told Sir Clive about Richard’s marriage—
that
would also spell disaster. She was lost either way. There was one possible hope: if she convinced Clive to keep the defense of his inheritance within reasonable bounds, keep his behavior civil, Lord Dracott might forgive her the indiscretion of coming to Oak End.

She took a deep breath, slowly sat back down at the sewing table and folded her hands to stop their trembling.

“Very well, Cousin. On condition that you open the door, I will tell you what you want to know.”

He considered her request, shrugged, opened the door, and sat opposite her.

“Richard married a Spanish lady of noble birth early in the summer of 1809.”

Skepticism quickly followed shock on Clive Brampton’s face.

“And what is your source for such a tale? Has the trooper’s widow who foisted that child on you written you of a sudden recollection?”

“Captain Charles Hamilton witnessed the marriage.
Conducted by a priest of the Church of England.”

Clive Brampton’s face turned white, and then red.

“If you believe that you can put that strange silent child forward as Richard’s rightful heir, you have an even lighter grip on reality than I had thought.”

“There were other witnesses. And the priest, a chaplain for the British army in the Peninsula, will have a record of the marriage.”

Katherine had never before seen Clive Brampton look bereft. He stood, hands clasped behind his back, and walked slowly to a window that looked out on the lawn sloping down to the spinney. When he turned, his usual look of calculation had returned.

“But it is one thing to prove that Richard was legally married. It is quite another to prove to the satisfaction of a court that the boy—Miguel—you call him, is the son of Richard’s wife.”

“True, but now with the war over, we could go to Spain for evidence if need be.”

Katherine decided not to mention the initials on the ring and the partial signature on the ruined papers that had come with Miguel’s meager possessions.

“And, either way, I shall be placed in an untenable position: robbing a poor orphan of his inheritance, or being made a laughingstock for having to give up a title to which I am not entitled.”

There was a tone of resignation in Clive Brampton’s voice that encouraged Katherine.

“No one can blame you for accepting an inheritance that everyone believed was rightfully yours. No one will think the less of you if you insist that proper evidence be presented to back up a claim that Miguel is Richard’s legitimate son. And I would think if the evidence is accepted by the court, society will only respect you if you accept the evidence, too.”

Once more, Clive Brampton walked to the window and apparently studied the spinney. When he spoke, his voice was so low Katherine strained to hear him.

“I wonder if anyone has been punished as severely as I for a romp with a serving maid.”

When he turned, Katherine read defeat and resignation on his face.

“You might as well run along now, sweet
cuz
. You may tell Dracott that I will be hiring legal counsel to protect my interests. I will hire the best to be had. But I will not be staying around to discover my fate. I plan to go abroad for an extended time.”

Katherine walked quickly to the door.

“And extend my sympathies to Dracott. I was wrong about where his affections lie. He is clearly besotted with you to go to all this bother for Miguel’s sake. Being second in
your
affections
to a strange, silent child must be galling for him.”

Katherine knew her face was a study in shock. She heard Clive Brampton’s bitter laughter as she hurried down the hallway and out of her former home.

*****

Light of head from want of food, but light of heart for having escaped a potential disaster and having prevented another, Katherine made her way across Oak End property as quickly as she could. She concentrated on smothering another source of buoyancy: Clive Brampton’s certainty that Lord Henry Dracott was besotted with her. The idea was ridiculous. He had had every opportunity to tell her of any affection he might feel for her. Instead, he had taken pains to remind her that such feelings were impossible. But for a heartbeat, Sir Clive’s misapprehension had filled her with hope, a hope that she was having difficulty tamping down.

Instead of daydreaming of what could never be, she needed to concentrate on returning to the Dower House without being discovered. Once she was on Dracott land, she should be safe from uncomfortable questions if she encountered anyone.

But as she crossed the lane running along the border between the Brampton and Dracott estates, her heart froze. To her left was a familiar figure on a familiar horse: Lord Henry Dracott riding his big gray, Shadow.

He dismounted.

“Good morning, Miss Brampton. I have just spoken to Wharton about reading banns next Sunday. I trust that meets with your approval.”

“Yes…yes it does, Lord Dracott. I would like to linger and chat, but I must be going.”

Katherine hoped her smile looked sincere.

“But why the hurry, Miss Brampton?”

He glanced down the lane from which she had come, a puzzled look on his face.

“Why did you not ask for the dogcart, Miss Brampton? This is a good distance for you to walk from the Dower House.”

He was frowning.

“I distinctly recall telling you that I did not want my affianced bride to be trudging about the lanes of the parish on foot.”

Once more he looked down the lane from where she had come and glared down at her, hands on his hips.

“Why ever have you been visiting Oak End, Miss Brampton? I believe you owe me an explanation.”

Katherine briefly considered telling Lord Dracott that she had wanted to share the news of her betrothal with old servants who would wish her well.

“I would advise you to never try to tell Dracott an untruth—or a half-truth—for that matter
.
Your face is an open book
…
”
Sir Clive’s words echoed in her mind.

“I…I believed I owed it to Sir Clive Brampton to tell him in person of our betrothal.”

Lord
Dracott’s
face grew dark with anger. Katherine hurried her explanation before the storm broke.

“I had once been betrothed to him—two years ago, while you were in the Peninsula, and I broke the betrothal in a very cowardly manner—letting Mr.
Tramell
tell him. I wanted to be more direct, responsible…”

“I do believe your first responsibility at present, Miss Brampton, is to
me,
your
presently
betrothed. It is inexplicable that such a thought failed to occur to you. Can you understand, do you comprehend, Miss Brampton, the need for
absolute
discretion in what we are about? The next thing you will tell me is that you informed him that your nephew is Richard’s legitimate son!”

Katherine felt blood drain from her face. She swayed, willing herself not to faint. Lord Dracott gripped her arms so tightly it hurt.

“Do not start playing the fragile damsel with me, Miss Brampton!”

The pressure on her arms helped Katherine marshal her wits.

“I am not
playing
at anything, Lord Dracott. I suppose I cannot expect you to understand why I had to speak to Sir Clive in person. But I
assure
you that ladies must live with their consciences just as gentlemen must. And neither betrothal nor marriage will alter that fact—at least for me.”

Lord Dracott looked as if she had tossed a basin of cold water in his face. She decided to tell him everything while he remained speechless and she could still summon the nerve.

“You might as well know that I did, indeed, tell Sir Clive that his inheritance will be challenged. He plans to hire a lawyer, but he will do no more. In fact, he plans an extended trip abroad.”

“I suppose you expect me to thank you for smoothing the path and negotiating a settlement, Miss Brampton. But the risk you took, the jeopardy in which you placed us all—most especially the nephew you claim to love more than life itself—is simply not acceptable to me, nor, I believe, to any sensible person. There is a reason why the marriage ceremony will require you to promise to obey me, Miss Brampton. You had better come to terms with that!”

He finally let go his grip on her arms, but noticed the absence of the ring he had given her.

“And you may start, Miss Brampton, by wearing your betrothal ring. Perhaps it will remind you of your primary responsibility!”

Gus Wharton woke with the first cockcrow from across the village. He pulled on his clothes in the darkness, habit eliminating the necessity for even candlelight.
Charterson
, his old tutor, had warned Gus that if he intended to be true to his vocation, he would need to observe an hour of prayer and meditation at the beginning of every day.

“Before you pray for others,”
Charterson
had advised, “be certain to examine your own conscience and confess your own sins and shortcomings.”

As Gus descended the stairs, he did not have to probe to discover a pall on his spirits, a novel and unwelcome feeling, something he identified immediately: envy.

Harry had stopped by the vicarage yesterday morning to report that Miss Brampton had agreed to marry him as soon as banns were read. Gus had not seen his old friend in such good spirits since they were carefree youths let loose on London for the first time.

Harry spoke of the ring he had given Miss Brampton and a lady’s riding mare he planned to buy as a surprise gift for her.

It was clear to Gus, if not to Harry, that Harry was in love with Katherine Brampton. And Gus was reasonably certain that unless his friend made a complete muddle of things, Katherine Brampton would reciprocate his love—if she did not already. Miss Brampton’s failure to mention Lord Dracott on the afternoon of her proposal to Gus had hinted that something had occurred between her and Harry that she did not wish to discuss. Gus did not require much imagination to formulate the nature of just what might have occurred between the beautiful Katherine and her domineering landlord.

Gus was encouraged to discover that his envy did not include a secret wish for Dracott to do or say something to offend Miss Brampton. Indeed, Gus was relieved to discover that he hoped that Harry would refrain from doing or saying something that would give Katherine reason to beg off the betrothal. He wasn’t certain he could bear witnessing Harry’s reaction to Katherine’s rejection.

Why then could he not feel unalloyed happiness at their pending marriage? Gus searched his soul.

What he found was fear—fear that he would never find similar happiness. Fear that he would be required to live alone as penance for the lives he had spoiled: ladies he had seduced just because he knew a friend desired them, ladies who actually believed he loved them, ladies whose husbands really
did
believe their wives were visiting sick relatives…

The marvel was that Katherine Brampton actually trusted Gus. She was the first beautiful lady whose trust Gus had not betrayed. She was the first lady he had truly wanted that he had not had.

That realization stopped Gus in his steps between the vicarage and the church. The cloud of guilt lifted. Yes, he was jealous of Harry Dracott, but he was making progress. Perhaps one day…

As Gus pulled open the door leading into the memorial chapel in the south transept, there was just sufficient light to distinguish the large figure bent over, head in hands, in the front pew—Harry Dracott. Whatever had brought Harry to the chapel dedicated to the memory of his dead wife and infant son? His presence here was ominous. Everyone knew that Lord Dracott refused to enter the chapel—refused even to glance to the right when he had occasion to cross the transept while approaching the chancel. Harry showed no recognition of his presence. Gus fought the urge to flee.

This is what comes of congratulating yourself on your moral rehabilitation,
Gus told himself as he sank into the front pew across the aisle from where his friend sat in silent despair.

“I am not certain I can bear it.”

Harry’s voice was low and muffled. Gus could not decide if he was being addressed or if his friend was talking to himself.

“I’ve made a complete, total mess of things, Wharton.”

Harry leaned back against the pew, crossed his arms against his chest, and stretched out his long legs. His boots were just a few inches from the paver that marked his first wife’s grave.

“I refuse to believe that whatever you have done cannot be remedied,” Gus temporized.

Harry snorted and cast a withering glance at Gus.

“There are remedies and there are remedies. I suppose that in four weeks’ time, Miss Katherine Brampton and I shall be pronounced man and wife in this very church. She did not threaten to break off the engagement, and even if she did, a reminder of her nephew’s best interests would undoubtedly bring her round.”

What in the world had Harry Dracott said or done to Katherine Brampton to threaten a betrothal that was so much in her interests? Gus debated whether or not to ask the question aloud. The Greek and Latin texts he had read in preparation for becoming a priest had not offered any guidance for this situation.

“If that is the case, then the mess is not total. As you say, Miss Brampton will still go through with the marriage.
So all is not lost.
That is…unless you
intended
her to break it off…”

“And watch her get snapped up by Hamilton…or
you
?”

Harry glared at Gus through narrowed eyes.

None of this was making sense. Gus wondered fleetingly if his friend had lost his mind.

“I am afraid I do not understand. Apparently you have had some misunderstanding with Miss Brampton, but, if you wish to marry her and she still intends to marry you, I fail to see that any irreparable harm has been done.”

“No, you do not understand. But you cannot be expected to understand. I wanted—I
need
a reasonable, orderly sort of marriage with a sensible lady. That sort of marriage is all I can bear, all I can tolerate.”

Harry shook his head like a swimmer surfacing from under water, sat up straight, and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I had supposed Katherine Brampton to be as sensible a lady as one could hope to find.”

Gus had never heard his friend sound so wistful and forlorn.

“But, God as my witness…I do not think I can be blamed for being angry with her for the escapade she indulged in yesterday.”

Harry pounded the pew for emphasis. Gus felt relieved that the familiar Harry Dracott had returned.

“You could never guess what flight of fancy Miss Katherine Brampton indulged yesterday morning.”

Finally Gus felt he was on secure ground. All he had to do was be quiet and listen to Harry’s tale and reassure him that matters would sort themselves out.

“I was on my way to look at that mare I told you about, and whom
should I
spy entering the lane just up ahead but my newly affianced, Miss Katherine Brampton. And where do you suppose she had been? She had been visiting her old home, Oak End!”

“I am certain there was a perfectly innocent explanation…sharing her good fortune with old servants, perhaps,” Gus protested, breaking his resolve to remain silent for the entire story.

“That was my first thought—my hope. But one look at her face, though, made me know differently.”

Harry looked like a judge about to pronounce a death sentence.

“So I challenged her, and she readily admitted that she had gone to tell Clive Brampton of our pending marriage!
Claimed that she owed him the news in person because of past ‘cowardly’ behavior in breaking her engagement to him!”

Gus closed his eyes at the foolhardiness of what Katherine Brampton had done. But he knew for a fact that the deceptively quiet and gentle lady was anything but cowardly.

“That was a breathtaking risk she took,” Gus admitted.

“But that is not all. Clive Brampton smelled a rat. Or rather, I suspect, he read something on Miss Brampton’s face—as any school child could. And she felt obliged to reveal what is known about her nephew’s parentage! How she could put him in such jeopardy is beyond belief!”

“Clive would have threatened her with exposure of her visit to him—something along that line.”

Gus had scarcely said the words when his heart missed a beat.
Dear Lord. Do not let
there be a duel. Harry would kill Clive Brampton if there were a duel.

“I daresay it would not take much to panic Miss Brampton,” Harry admitted, “but she kept her wits about her enough to convince Clive Brampton to accept whatever the court decrees regarding the child, Miguel. Indeed, Brampton is planning an extended journey abroad.”

Gus took a deep breath in relief.

“I can understand your reaction to such a risky undertaking on Miss Brampton’s part, Dracott, but it sounds as if things worked out better than you could have hoped.”

Harry looked at Gus pityingly and shook his head.

“You really cannot understand, Wharton. This is not the first time Katherine Brampton and I have come to—how can I put it—an emphatic disagreement.”

Gus felt a grim sort of satisfaction. He had been right. There had been a missing piece to the puzzle of Katherine Brampton’s panicked marriage proposal to him. And, just as Gus had suspected, that puzzle piece was Harry Dracott.

“I might as well tell you—I say
,
is there not some rule that you may not tell another living soul what someone tells you in confidence? If I get a hint from Hamilton that you—”

“Try not to insult me, Dracott.”

Gus was not sure that he wanted to hear what Harry was about to tell him, but Gus was certain that Harry needed to tell whatever it was.

“Thing is, I managed to get off on the wrong foot with Miss Brampton at our first meeting—before I so much as arrived at the Hall. I had taken a shortcut through the woods on the far side of the lake. It was one of those sparkling September mornings. I was beyond plain happiness to be out of the slaughter and on my own land. And there, before my eyes, was the most beautiful vision imaginable. Katherine Brampton, titian curls about to tumble out of that precarious knot she tries to keep them in, a plain black dress clearly outlining her . . . attributes, skipping stones across the lake.”

Gus groaned inwardly. Harry had never been one for subtlety with ladies. He had never needed it, being the heir to a title, rich, almost handsome, and well over six feet tall.

“I am afraid I made what might be called ‘improper advances.’  And was roundly repelled, let me tell you. Imagine my chagrin when I learned her identity. I could never have recognized her as Richard Brampton’s sister. I had taken her for a servant girl.”

“And the entire parish knows Miss Brampton’s opinion of gentlemen who make improper advances to servant girls.”

“I did apologize to Miss Brampton the very next day, but it took some time for her mistrust of me to fade.”

“That would explain the lecture I received from you at Harvest Home about minding my behavior with ladies in general and Miss Brampton in particular. But it is difficult for me to see Katherine Brampton holding a grudge. Even if you blotted your copybook with her before, I am sure things can be mended now.”

“But that is not
all of the
story.”

Gus told himself he should have known.

“This winter—remember the day of the thaw? I encountered Miss Brampton just as I was burying Trinket, my old setter. We had a nice chat—about dogs, if I remember—and then…well, I asked her to marry me. I put it in reasonable terms. Our marriage makes sense: she is wonderful with Lizzie, and it is apparent that Miguel’s upbringing will require more financial resources than Miss Brampton could ever muster, whether or not he is found to be Richard’s legitimate son. And there is the necessity that I produce an heir. She asked for a little time to consider my proposal.

“I am certain she would have accepted, had it not been for a misunderstanding that we had the night of the search of the Dower House. She failed to tell me that she had Jimmy Stokes hidden in the house—even when I asked her directly if there was anything I needed to know.

“I’m afraid I told her in no uncertain terms that I would not tolerate dissimulation. And she told me there was no point in our marrying.”

That is when she panicked and asked me to marry her,
Gus realized.

“And so yesterday, before I could broach the subject of marriage once more, I had to apologize, and, I must say she apologized, too, very nicely.

“But dash it all, within less than a day, we are back at the same place—with Miss Brampton doing something completely out of line, my letting her know I will not tolerate her behavior; her telling me that, in effect, I am a tyrant; and parting on such bitter terms I cannot be certain of mending things.