Bluestocking Bride (15 page)

The Marquis of
Rutherston
came promptly on Friday afternoon to wait upon Catherine. He asked first for Lady Margaret to obtain her permission for a private interview with her niece. It was given with alacrity, and he was shown into a small parlor on the ground floor to await the girl whom all London knew had captured his heart.

She entered, bowed stiffly in his direction, and sat down as far from him as she possibly could, but as the room was small, she was in closer proximity to him than she had hoped to be.

"Lord
Rutherston
," was all the acknowledgment he was
given,
and Catherine fell silent.
Rutherston
sighed.

"You are angry with me, Catherine, and it's most unjust. You cannot believe that I sent my mother to you!"

"Did you not, my lord?" Her eyes glittered.

"I did not! I did not know! It was Charles who saw her carriage at your door and brought the news to me. I was incensed and went to her directly to warn her off."

Catherine said nothing, but was so much the picture of wounded pride that
Rutherston
forbade to smile.

"Will you not forgive her, Catherine? She was as vexed as I, believing
herself
to be the last person in London to be informed of my intentions. We have not been discreet, you and I. The whole world knows that there is something between us two." He got up and moved to the chair next to hers.

"Was it so bad, my love? My mother was pleased with the interview, and approves my choice."

Catherine was somewhat mollified by his words, but she had determined that he was not to be easily let
off.

"It wasn't bad, my lord, it was intolerable!"

"My name is Richard," he said firmly, and taking her hand, turned it over to kiss her palm. She snatched it away.

"I felt as if I were a brood mare."

He was startled into a laugh.

"Catherine! Do you never guard your tongue when you're with me?" He retrieved her hand and nibbled on a finger. "You wouldn't turn me down now, my love, would you? 1 should be the laughingstock of London."

"Do you like children, my . . . Richard?"

"What?"

"It's what your mother asked me."

"She didn't! Tell me she didn't, Catherine."

"Answer the question, Richard."

"Only if they are yours, my love, and you come to them through me." He began to kiss each finger separately.

"And would you rather ride than do anything, sir?"

"Catherine, you are tempting me to put you to the blush." She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it more firmly.

"Richard, I am in earnest. Why do you want to marry me?"

"What?"

"Answer me!"

"Catherine, you know how much I admire you!"

"Go on!"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am serious."

"Well, I admire the way you stand up to me."

"I? Stand up to you? One day I hope I may, but you know as well as I that I always lie down to you!"

"Then perhaps, my love, it is the thought of
your
lying down to me that entices me to make this rash offer!"

"You are . . . you are . . ."

"Yes, Catherine, what am I?"

"You are a passionate man, my lord."

She jumped up and walked away from him. "Perhaps one woman is not enough for a man of your warm temperament?"

"What?"

"Richard, will you stop saying 'What?' in that ridiculous way? I have asked you a question. Answer it, if you dare."

"Catherine, what are you talking about? You know that I love only you." He came to her and cradled her gently in his arms. "My passion is all for you." A thought struck him, and he pulled away.
"The woman in the park.
Is that what troubles you? I promise you, Catherine, since you have come into my life, I have become as celibate as a priest. I admit I am experienced, but you did not think, did you, that I was like the virgin
Hippolytus
?" His eyes held amusement.

"No, I knew that you were no
Hippolytus
. But I have a jealous nature, Richard. I could not be happy if I had to share . . . my husband."

"I am glad to hear you say so, you silly goose. I promise you Catherine, my passion, my love will be invested in our marriage. There will be nothing left over for anyone else."

"Oh, Richard, do you truly mean it?" She looked at him with such appeal that he was tempted to make love to her in earnest.

"Oh God, Catherine, don't you know what I feel for you? Of course, I mean it. And now, my love, will you not put an end to my suspense and tell me your answer?"

"I have forgotten the question."

"Catherine!" he roared.

"Yes, Richard, my answer is yes, if you . . ."

He stopped her lips with a kiss, but when Catherine felt his tongue pushing between her teeth, she pulled away in alarm.

"Richard, please don't! I mean it. Don't begin like that. Where will it end?"

He released her with a sigh. "Oh, Catherine, I have been waiting for you for so long. Are you going to make me wait another week?"

"Another week?
We cannot marry in one week!"

"We most certainly will!"

"But Richard, I have to let my parents know. I want to be married from my home. There are so many things that must be done."

"There is nothing that needs doing, my love. I applied to your father for his permission to wed you before I left Surrey. Your parents have been expecting your return, and I have had a Special License in my pocket since the day I arrived in town. I have no intentions of waiting for you a moment longer than I must. With or without a ring, I mean to have you, Catherine."

"You've had a Special License . . . you insuffer
able, arrogant, odious . . ." said Miss Harland in outrage.

"Catherine, this is not the time to stand up to me.
If you don't agree to our marrying within the week, I shall take you in my arms, and you are so right, my' love, where will it end?"
He reached for her, but she evaded his grasp.

"I agree. We marry in one week. Now leave me, and from now until the day we wed, Richard
Fotherville
, I promise that you will not find me
unchaperoned
."

"Oh, Catherine," he drawled, bowing over her hand to kiss her farewell.
"You coward!"

They were married quietly, one week later, in the old parish church in Breckenridge. Lucy and Norton had traveled down from London to stand up with them, but few other guests were invited. Lady Mary had returned to her home in Hampshire to await the birth of her child, and
Rutherston's
mother was content to receive Catherine to her bosom when they should return to town some three weeks later.

Catherine, solemnly repeating her wedding vows to love, cherish, honor and obey, cast a veiled glance at
Rutherston's
unsmiling face and thought that she had never seen him look so stern. And when he took her trembling hand in his to slip his ring on her finger, she looked up to meet his steady gaze, concealing nothing of what was in her heart, and all the depth of her emotion was written in her face for him to see. For a long moment he regarded her, in perfect comprehension, and when he smiled, a look of exultation suffused his face, and Catherine, seeing that look, felt her confidence waver. He leaned down to brush her lips with his, and his whispered, "My wife," evoked in her mind all the pride of possession of the primitive male, and she trembled in dread anticipation, knowing that her destiny was bound to a man whom she hardly knew.

Catherine had proposed
that
after the wedding they return to London with Lucy and Norton, but in this
Rutherston
demurred, and when she would have argued he had cut her short. They were to travel by coach to one of his smaller estates which lay a day's journey to the northwest, where,
Rutherston
averred, there were many matters that needed his attention, and that he had been an absentee landlord too long.

There was nothing that Catherine could say that would change his mind, and she could scarcely tell him that the real reason she wanted to return to town was that it made her uncomfortable to be too long alone in his company. He had sent the servants ahead with their baggage some days before in readiness for their arrival, and as soon as the wedding breakfast at
Ardo
House was consumed,
Rutherston
was impatient to be
off.

The journey was pleasant and uneventful,
Rutherston
pointing out all the places of interest on the way. She had been dreading their close proximity within the closed carriage, half fearful that, now she was wearing his ring, his ardor would be unrestrained, but everything about his manner allayed her fears. He was content merely to draw her hand through his arm, and never once uttered any kind of remark that was likely to draw a blush to her cheeks, and Catherine's
overstrung
nerves began to unwind and the smiles came more readily to her lips. It was exactly what
Rutherston
had intended, for he was conscious that his unguarded look in the church had been a tactical blunder.

It was close to dusk when their carriage approached the gates to
Fotherville
House, and Catherine looked out with interest to catch her first glimpse of what
Rutherston
had told her was his favorite residence. A gatekeeper liveried in bottle- green hurried from the lodge to open the wrought iron gates set between two stone pillars, and their carriage swung into a wide graveled driveway with an avenue of lime trees that framed the main approach to the house.

"Richard, it is quite lovely," Catherine breathed, as the house came into view. The glowing hues of the setting sun were caught and reflected in the many small-paned windows of the sandstone building, casting their fiery rays back to the golden dusk.

"It is a picture of perfect symmetry." Her voice held awe as well as admiration. The house was three stories high, with long windows on the first two floors looking out on acres of broad lawns that gave way to shrubbery and trees.

"Do you like it, Catherine?" He was watching her expression and seemed to find satisfaction in what he saw. "I hope you shall, for we shall spend much of our time here. My grandfather had it built as a sort of halfway house between London and our seat in Gloucestershire, and as a retreat from life at Court. I thought that the classical lines of the place would appeal to you, a lover of all things Greek."

"Your grandfather had excellent taste!"

"Oh, he had excellent help. His friend, Lord Burlington, found the right people to design the house and the grounds. Everything is more or less as it was when it was completed sixty years ago, except that my father and I have added to the collections over the years. Tomorrow, I shall show you the interior and the rest of the estate—if I can persuade you to ride with me—but I collect, you would rather do anything than ride?"

She had been looking out of the carriage window at the house while
Rutherston
had been speaking, but at his bantering words she turned with an impish grin on her face.

"Your mother told you?"

"No, my sister, the duchess.
I had the devil of a time persuading her that you were only funning when you implied that you detested horses. In Jane's estimation, it would never do for a
Fotherville
to get shackled to someone who could not ride with the best of them. But then, I have had the pleasure of seeing you in action. Jane has not." He grinned.

"And would it matter to you if I could not ride, Richard?" Catherine asked.

"Certainly not!
I would teach you!"

"Ah, but what if I had no wish to learn?"

Rutherston
was tempted to respond with a remark that would lure Catherine into one of the improper conversations that so delighted him, but he restrained himself. She was like an
overbred
filly ready to bolt at the first faint touch, and he was taking the greatest pains to catch her unawares. He ignored her question.

"Are you going to tell me what more you said to mislead my mother when she had so kindly condescended to interview the girl of my choice?"

"Enough to give the dowager a profound disgust of me, I'll be bound. Oh, Richard, was she terribly put out?"

"If she was, she didn't tell me. She was quite close about the whole affair. No, I heard the full, shocking story of your unruly conduct from
Arabella
. She, naturally, thought the episode highly diverting."