Evelyn Richardson (23 page)

“That is outside of enough!” Catherine jumped from the bed. “Help me on with my clothes, Lucy.”

And not ten minutes later she was confronting Lucian over rashers of bacon and eggs in the taproom. “There was no need for you to look after me, my lord. I thank you for doing so, of course, but I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, and…”

“—journeying back to Bath on your own. I know. But I mean to accompany you. There, see? I knew you would not be pleased to hear that.”

He rose and walked around the table to look anxiously down at her. “Yes, you are looking fit as a fiddle again, in spite of the knock on the head. But did it never occur to you that I might be doing this not for you, but for me?”

“For you?”

“Catherine,”—he took her hand in his—“you are one of the people I admire most in this world, and, as you know, there are precious few people I admire. I care what happens to you. I enjoy your company, and I want you healthy and happy so I can continue to do so. Now, as you undoubtedly spurned the chocolate that was sent up to you, let me order you some breakfast.”

And so it was that an hour later, after seeing that Lucy and the few belongings they had brought with them were settled in Catherine’s carriage, he handed her into his own and climbed in after her.

“I know that you think I have been odiously high-handed during this entire affair,” he began, settling himself comfortably in the seat opposite her.”

“Not odiously, perhaps, but certainly high-handed.”

“But I have a constitutional dislike of bullies and an even greater dislike of injustice, so I felt bound and determined to join you in the fight against both the bullying and the injustice that have been visited on you. However, I am not the only one who has been high-handed in this affair. The Countess of Morehampton has been equally determined to interfere on your behalf against the despicable ‘Ugolino,’ as I believe you call him.”

He leaned forward to take her right hand in both of his, “Let me explain to you about the Countess of Morehampton. I think that you can see, from her eagerness to throw us together, that I mean nothing to her and she means nothing to me. She never did mean anything to me beyond the fact that she was a gallant hard-working woman who was being brutally used by a selfish and despicable man.”

“Oh, I was attracted to her at first. She was clever and witty, a woman who for the most part thought for herself. Until then, I had never met anyone like her. My previous experiences with women, numerous though they might have been, all revolved around my physical attraction to them, and in turn the social and pecuniary advantages they thought they could reap from me by becoming either my wife or my mistress. Miranda Delahunt was different. She wanted to profit from my intelligence, to learn from my experience. She sought me out for advice, and I sought her out for intelligent conversation, until, that is, I met you.”

Lucian grasped Catherine’s hand more tightly and looked deep into her eyes, willing her to believe his every word. “With you I discovered the true joy of friendship, of being challenged by someone who could think and analyze and appreciate as well as I could. I came to admire your spirit, a spirit that refused to take advantage of birth and fortune but insisted on defining itself on its own terms. You were so like me in so many ways, hemmed in by your class and your wealth, longing to prove yourself by accomplishing something truly worthwhile, by giving something meaningful to the world. How could I not be immediately attracted to you; how could I not care about you?

“I am ashamed to say that when you appeared on my horizon, I rather forgot about Miranda until she came to me one day in desperation, frantic to escape from the oppressive cruelty of her husband. I knew her story, of course, that he had recognized her talents, brought her to London, and helped her to realize her potential. I knew she was not in love with him, but until then I had not been aware of the extent to which he had made her suffer simply because she was more successful than he was.

“It was the meanness of it all that tore at my heart. She freely acknowledged her debt to him, was more than willing to repay it, to give him all that she felt she owed him in return for her freedom, but that was not enough. He wanted her soul. He wanted complete and total control of her. He was so deeply jealous of her success that even though he himself had contributed to it, he was willing to destroy her, just to keep her from enjoying it, just to keep her from taking pride and pleasure in all that she had accomplished.

“In addition to making her suffer, mentally and physically, he had the advantage over her of being a man of the world, which he exploited to the fullest degree. I was sickened and enraged by what I saw, and naturally I offered her whatever assistance lay in my power to help her escape from the hell that her life had become. I had no way of knowing, of course, that I would become embroiled in her life to such a degree that I would be forced to flee the country. And because my disappearance was so closely connected to her and to her good name, I felt I was not at liberty to explain myself to anyone, whatever it might cost me. And believe me, Catherine, it cost me a great deal.”

Looking up into the gray eyes that bored into hers, Catherine could feel his resolve, feel his conviction that there had been no other course of action for him to take other than the one he had taken.

“Catherine, I am not excusing myself. I am only telling you this story to explain to you why I have acted as I have now, even though it may seem to you to be somewhat high-handed. I have seen what unscrupulous men can do to women’s lives, and how men who do not even have much power in the world can ruin the life of an intelligent and resourceful woman. That is why I am determined to help you defend yourself against the schemes of Lord Granville. And that is why I now offer you all the skills I have at my disposal to help you see to it that from now on you have the right to conduct your life as you see fit, without interference from anyone.”

He ran one hand distractedly through his thick, dark hair. “I can see that you are still not convinced. Do you know what I did when I at last returned from the continent?”

She shook her head slowly.

“I decided to be useful; I decided to do something serious with my life. I went to Lincoln’s Inn and for three years I dedicated myself to learning the law with the best of them. For three years I gave up every other pastime. My face disappeared from the gaming room at Brooks’s, the races at Newmarket, my box at the opera. As far as the
ton
was concerned, I might have remained on the continent, so little was I to be seen in its usual haunts. But when I was called before the bar, there was no one else called who had a more thorough knowledge of the law than I did. And since that time I have done my level best to put it to the best use I could.

He paused and stared out the window at the passing countryside for some time—for so long, in fact, that Catherine thought he had finished. But then he turned back to her with the oddest expression on his face, half-hesitant, half-defiant. “And do you know the one thought I have carried with me all these years? The measuring stick that I have used to judge myself?” His voice, usually deep, authoritative, and assured, wavered oddly as though he was unsure of himself.

“Nnnooo.” Again, Catherine shook her head slowly.

“It was the thought of all our discussions of the Speenhamland System, the Poor Laws, and the reforms we dreamt of, the schemes we came up with to improve society. I asked myself at every juncture,
What would she say? Would she approve of what I am doing?

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “And now I think you just might approve. The world does not know me, but it knows my work. I am known only as ‘The Scourge of the King’s Bench,’ not so much because of my clever advice, but because of my willingness to give counsel to those who have none, or those who are forced to mount their own defense without the wit or experience to do so. Perhaps my greatest triumph was to help a woman save herself from the jail sentence her husband thought he had so cleverly arranged by having her jewels stolen. They were jewels left to her by her mother, so they possessed considerable sentimental as well as monetary value. Now, the husband, knowing how eager she would be to bring about their return, arranged to have them stolen. Once they were gone, he, in the guise of sympathy, suggested that she advertise a reward for their return in the newspaper. But when the supposed thief came to collect the reward, the husband had not only the thief arrested but his wife as well, who having paid the reward was arrested as an accessory because she was offering money in return for what she knew to be stolen goods. In desperation, the poor woman turned to me and I suggested to her that since she had in fact paid a just value for these goods instead of one below or above, she could claim she was not an accessory. It is a very fine point of law indeed, but she won. I tell it to you now to prove to you that even something as seemingly simple as buying back one’s own jewels can lay one open to trouble in the eyes of the law. So I beg you, Catherine, please call on me immediately should Lord Granville make any further difficulties for you.”

She was too overwhelmed by it all—his story of the Countess of Morehampton, the tale of the woman and her jewels, her own recent upsetting experience—to do anything more than nod dumbly. And inconclusive as it was, Lucian was forced to be content with that.

For the rest of the journey, he did his best to distract her with questions about the academy, the curriculum she had selected, how she and the instructresses decided upon their materials, how she had arrived at the salaries she paid them, which educational theories she subscribed to. “For though I see much of Rousseau and Madame de Genlis behind your obvious desire to offer an education that will bring out the innate abilities of each individual pupil, you appear to differ from them in your equally obvious belief that women are just as capable of learning as men, and of learning more than the few skills that will make them delightful companions for their husbands. On the other hand, though you seem to believe, along with Hannah More, that a well-educated woman can have a profound influence on those around her, you seem to carry it a good deal further than she.”

It was Catherine’s turn to smile. “Far enough so that some day, I hope, there will no longer be women who will require rescuing from men. You had better hope, for your sake, my lord, that I do not succeed too well too soon.”

He laughed. “On the contrary, I would be delighted if your success were to deprive me of much of my work. You already seem to have succeeded to a considerable degree with my headstrong young niece, though how you accomplished it, I have yet to understand. Not only did she recently send me a letter describing several books she is reading, but my sister-in-law reports that young Foxworthy has returned to the vicinity and is comporting himself with what can only be described as sullenness and ill humor—clear indications that his suit did not prosper. I do not know what magic you and your academy worked, but I can only say I am exceedingly grateful.”

“No magic, my lord. Just showing her that exchanging one despot for another is not acquiring one’s liberty.”

“So you think me a despot, do you? Let me tell you, my girl, watching over Arabella’s welfare was not of my choosing. I would as soon as…” Then, catching sight of the twinkle in her eye, he chuckled. “Well, even you must admit that the girl is a handful.”

“That I do. But she is fortunate to have someone as clever as you to assume the burden of looking after her. Even she admits to that.”

“Arabella admitted that?”

Catherine nodded.

‘To you?” He was absurdly pleased and touched that she should mention it to him. “Thank you for that. And thank you for all you have done for her, and for me.”

He reached out a hand and tilted her chin so she was forced to look him squarely in the eye. “I am sorry I ever doubted you about Arabella and Foxworthy. I was a fool to do so. It has been so long since I had faith in anyone—but that is no excuse. Will you forgive me?”

She nodded, and for just a moment she had the oddest feeling that he was about to kiss her, but then he appeared to think better of it.

Chapter Twenty-six

They had both become so engrossed in their conversation that it hardly seemed as though any time at all had passed before they were turning into the gravel drive of the dower house.

“Thank you. It was extremely kind of you to rush to my aid as you did.” Catherine took Lucian’s hand as he helped her down from the carriage, but when she tried to retrieve it, he grasped it even more firmly in his and led her toward the rose garden.

“It was not kind. I was concerned about you.” He turned to face her, taking her other hand in his. “Catherine, I want you to succeed. I believe in what you are trying to accomplish. Do not dismiss me as though I were just some gallant who offered you the normal gentlemanly assistance. I care what happens to you and your dreams.”

“But why?”

“Because you want to make the world a better place, and so do I. We are alike in that, you and I, as we are alike in so many ways, ways that make us different from the rest of the world. Being different can be very lonely. I came to Oxfordshire because I did not want you to have to fight your battles alone. I wanted to share them with you. Even more important than hoping I might be able to help you triumph against Lord Granville’s despicable attempt to deter you from carrying out your purpose and continuing to run the academy. I wanted you to know you had my entire support. And I wanted to share the struggle with you.”

She stared at him mystified.

“Confound it all, Catherine, I care about your happiness, I care about your success, and I care about you!”

But still she appeared to remain unconvinced.

Completely and utterly frustrated, Lucian pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was meant to prove his commitment to her in a way that words could not, but the instant his lips touched hers, something happened. An overwhelming longing swept through him as he felt the smoothness of her skin under his hands as they slid from her waist up the slender column of her neck to cup her face. The scent of rosewater, the softness of her hair against his cheek, made him ache with a tenderness and a desire he had never known before.