The Notorious Widow (7 page)

Catherine bit her lip. Maybe it would work if she stayed behind. Rockhurst’s credit might defray doubts about her family.

She watched as he took advantage of the informal setting to draw everyone into the conversation, quizzing William about the recent harvest and asking Mary about the book she was reading. It was so good to see Mary talking that Catherine nearly protested when Laura interrupted with another plea for London
on-dits
, then launched a monologue that included descriptions of a ball Tessa had attended, the most recent tales about the Regent, a local confrontation between Squire Pott and his prize pig that had left the squire stuck in a mud wallow, and a contretemps in London during which Lord Blackthorn had supposedly disowned his heir – which was probably false, judging by Rockhurst’s expression.

Catherine frowned. Laura had been the area’s diamond before Jasper’s rumors put them all under suspicion, but tonight she had abandoned moderation, adopting the frenzied gaiety that had already cost her two suitors. As soon as they were alone, they must review proper manners.

* * * *

Blake finished his blancmange, then sighed in relief as the ladies left the room. The food had been excellent, but this dinner had seemed even longer than his last meal with the Regent. Laura had talked constantly – brightly, vivaciously, flirtatiously, but incessantly. Mary had rarely spoken except in response to questions, though he suspected that this was in self-defense. Laura corrected much of what she said, often sharply.

He had managed to start William talking about the estate at one point, but then the man had abruptly fallen silent. Had he recalled his reason for issuing this invitation, or had Laura kicked him under the table? Blake couldn’t tell. Nor could he think. His ears rang from endless chatter.

Catherine had offered occasional relief, conducting intelligent conversation on a variety of topics, but he’d soon realized that she intervened whenever he was too irritated with Laura to bear her prattle a moment longer. Each time, Laura had been more subdued when she reclaimed his attention, though it never lasted.

By the end of the meal, he had acquitted Mary of conspiring against him, but he had yet to decide on the others. William was as bad as any London matchmaker, extolling Laura’s virtues and drawing attention to her blonde hair and blue eyes. Catherine remained an enigma. He could not tell whether her efforts to deflect his attention were based on a hostess’s desire to set a guest at ease or a matchmaker’s determination to show her protégée in the best light.

He had no doubts about Laura. She posed a serious danger. Desperation lurked beneath her forced conviviality and bright chatter. Why was she unwed at the advanced age of twenty? She was pretty enough to attract offers despite her reduced circumstances, so he had to suspect a serious flaw. Girls who knew they would never see London chose the best of their local suitors. But whatever her former reasons, Jasper’s attacks promised her a bleak future. With scandal swirling about the family, he represented her only option.

Hours of icy responses and lengthy silences must have warned her that he had no intention of offering. She was too like the girls he saw in London every Season. A wife who never stopped talking would make his home intolerable. Mary would be better suited, though he had no interest in her, either. Again the image of Cousin Jacob surfaced. Perhaps he should introduce them.

William drained the last of his port, then led him to the drawing room.

Blake suggested that Laura demonstrate her mastery of Beethoven’s latest offering. Then he engaged William in a spirited discussion of agricultural reform.

Two sonatas later, Seabrook left on the flimsy excuse of speaking with Rob. Blake suggested that Laura entertain them with Mozart, then detached Mary from her book to ask about Catherine’s work in the parish and how the rumors were affecting it.

He slipped away before Laura finished the coda, not trusting her to perform another piece. At least she was talented. He would be listening to a lot of music in the days ahead.

CHAPTER FIVE

When Blake entered the library the next morning, he was not happy. Sleep had been a long time coming. He wanted to blame the lumpy bed, but he’d slept quite soundly on worse. The real culprit was his mind.

He had lain awake half the night as his thoughts spun in unproductive circles. If his encounter with Catherine had not muddled his thinking, he would have realized Seabrook had ulterior motives for this invitation. Men did not ask virtual strangers to investigate members of their family.

She had a most unsettling effect on him. He still couldn’t believe he had lost his temper and promised more than he could deliver. Yet that was not his only mistake. In Exeter, the black-haired woman and bright-eyed girl had occupied his thoughts even after he believed she was immoral. Why else had he failed to ask Mrs. Telcor or Mrs. Crumleigh about William’s family? It would have prepared him for the surprises he’d encountered at the manor.

Regrets were useless, of course. The past would never change, no matter how much he might wish it. He’d wasted more than a week on pointless invective after his father’s death, but he could not afford to make that mistake this time. Allowing his mind to drift, even pleasantly, would expose him to danger from Laura.

Spending time with Catherine posed a different problem. To redeem her reputation, he must learn as much as possible about her, Jasper, and the other victims. Yet lengthy discussions would feed the very gossip he sought to repress. Even keeping their meetings open would not help, for servants shared information about their masters. Some gossips would assume that he was her latest paramour. Others might recognize the truth, but that, too, was dangerous. He did not want Jasper to learn of his interest as yet.

Both William and Catherine had described Jasper as society’s darling. Thus people would refuse to cooperate if they thought he was seeking evidence against the man. Even worse, Jasper would consider him a threat and seek to discredit him. Both actions would make it much harder to fulfill his vow. So he must keep his purpose secret.

But hiding his association with Catherine would leave the impression that he was courting Laura, thus raising expectations – few would expect Mary to attract his attention. Even if Laura swore they were mutually disinterested, her credit would suffer if he left without making an offer.

Claiming long friendship with Seabrook – which was an exaggeration at best – would not eliminate expectations, for he had never called before. And anyone who had visited London would know that Seabrook was nothing like his other friends. In fact, anyone who had been in London recently would assume that he was using a tenuous connection to Seabrook to sample the favors of the delectable Catherine.

He swore. His reputation could easily ruin any chance of helping her. But there was nothing he could do about it. Cursing the past never worked. All he could do was address the present and take steps to see that problems did not recur in the future.

One of those problems was Catherine. When he had finally fallen asleep – only four hours ago – she had invaded his dreams, inviting him to share her passion and calling him twenty sorts of fool when he held back.

Temptation personified, he’d decided on awakening. He had been drawn to her since his first glimpse in Exeter, but he was not interested in a well-bred mistress encumbered with a child. Nor did he need a dream to remind him that avoiding intimacy was the only way to prevent mistakes that would destroy them both.

Now he closed the library door and joined her near the fire, welcoming its warmth. Charlie’s predicted storm had arrived at dawn, raising the damp chill typical of winter.

“I trust Sarah slept well and that Annie’s ankle is no worse,” he said, forgoing a formal greeting.

Her eyes widened, but she followed his lead. “Quite. The ankle is much improved, allowing her to resume her duties.”

“Then we can discuss Jasper’s revenges. You mentioned that he punishes any insult. I need details if I am to help.”

“I actually know very little.” She stared into the fire. “My husband considered him venal, though he never explained why. It wasn’t until after his death that I began hearing tales firsthand. The villagers often ask my advice. Others seek a friendly ear when they are troubled, some from as far away as Exeter.”

“So I understand.” Mary had described her activities.

Her hands twisted, drawing attention to her slender fingers. “Jenkins was the first case I discovered in detail. He has a tailor’s shop in Exeter. Jasper ordered a complete wardrobe from him – a little surprising, for he usually patronizes a tailor in Bath and occasionally sends his valet to London. Jenkins welcomed the business, of course. His customers are mostly merchants and gentry, so it puffed his consequence to dress a viscount’s heir.”

“I am sure it did. And I suppose purchase of fabric and thread put him in debt.”

“Exactly. He postponed other commissions so he could complete the order before Jasper returned from a house party.”

“Then Jasper refused to pay.”

But she was shaking her head. “Nothing so blatant. That would have tarnished his own image – he pretends to be the area’s benefactor, a gentleman whose honor is inviolable and whose magnanimity exceeds expectations. Of course he would pay – as soon as he was satisfied. But he no sooner took delivery than he had to send a jacket back because a sleeve hung poorly. Then there was the crooked seam on a waistcoat, too much shoulder padding, insufficient thigh padding—”

Blake shook his head. “What did he expect of a country tailor?”

“Exactly that,” she assured him. “As days turned to weeks and then months, Jasper kept up his complaints, postponing payment because he was not yet satisfied. Repairs left Jenkins no time to serve his other customers. Without income, he could not pay his creditors.”

“Diabolical,” he murmured.

She nodded. “Inevitably one of them complained to the magistrate, sending Jenkins to debtors’ prison. It took his family eight months to raise enough to free him.”

“The magistrate did not demand that Jasper pay his own debt?”

“Of course not. The magistrate is Lord Rankin. Why should he force his son to pay for inferior goods? Not that the request arose. He refused to allow Jasper’s name into a dispute between a tailor and a silk merchant. Though he has ignored his son since birth, he won’t hear a word against his heir, particularly from a tradesman.”

“Hardly unusual. But I have to question your basic assumptions. Many young men make the mistake of ordering clothes from an inferior tailor, then go through the frustrating process of trying to make them fit. I can recall half a dozen cases among my own friends, including a particularly hideous coat I ordered myself. So why do you think this situation was intentional?”

“Several reasons. First, Jasper had rarely purchased more than an occasional neckcloth from Jenkins in the past. Second, he has publicly worn none of the clothes Jenkins made. Not one item, though he has had them for more than a year.”

“Not one?” He raised a brow.

She shook her head. “Yet Jenkins is a good tailor. You can scoff about country tradesmen, but Sir Richard proclaims him the equal of all save Weston. Perhaps he exaggerates, but he is quite particular about his wardrobe.” She shifted a fire-screen to shield her face. “Third, Jenkins is known for sober styles and quality seams. His customers are tradesmen, clergy, solicitors, and the like. His coats have a quiet elegance that appeals to men like Sir Richard, but Jasper is a dandy enamored of bright colors, extreme styles, and flamboyant decoration.”

“I noticed,” he murmured, recalling the towering shirt points, oversized buttons, and excessive fobs favored by the man who had accosted Catherine in town. Such a man would not patronize a tailor who dressed vicars and barristers.

“Then there is character,” she continued. “Jasper contradicts many of Jenkins’s claims, yet I know Jenkins to be honest. He swears that Jasper plotted against him. I believe him.”

“Why?”

“Because he is honest.” Her hand gripped the chair arm.

He laid his atop it to calm her, then cursed as heat sizzled into his palm. “I meant why was Jasper trying to ruin him?” he explained, releasing her hand before he turned the friendly gesture into a caress. “What had Jenkins done?”

“Nothing. Jasper needed a scapegoat.” Despite the screen, her cheeks were red. Blake forced his eyes to the fire. Perhaps she also needed space, for she retreated to the window and stared out. “A month earlier, Jasper had ordered a waistcoat from Jenkins, specifying in great detail what he wanted – a friend’s letter had mentioned seeing such a garment in London, but Jasper didn’t have time to commission it from his usual tailor before leaving for a house party.”

“Was the waistcoat unsatisfactory?”

“That depends on your perspective. It was made exactly as Jasper had ordained, though Jenkins had tried to talk him into several changes. Jasper was delighted – until one of his friends disparaged his taste the first time he wore it.”

“What was wrong with it?”

“From Jenkins’s description, I would call it gaudy and wholly unsuitable for a formal occasion. Since Jasper has never accepted blame for anything in his life, he decided Jenkins had deliberately turned him into a laughingstock. By the time he returned home, he had convinced himself that Jenkins had twisted his suggestions, changing an elegant evening waistcoat into a costume suited only to a jester.”

“Petty. And disturbing if he actually believes it.”

“He does. One reason he deludes people so easily is that he first deludes himself, so he always sounds sincere.” Shivering from the chill near the window, she resumed her chair. “He is also sly. Last spring he seduced the chandler’s daughter, leaving her with child.”

“What had she done?” He folded his hands in his lap to prevent further touching.

“Nothing. His real target was the chandler himself. Amy’s ruin hurt Carruthers worse than if he’d lost his business. Once he discovered who was responsible, he was even more distraught, for he knew he had no recourse. Complaining would merely draw worse. He knows Jasper’s ways too well, for he has long watched him destroy others. He and Harold often discussed ways to manage him.”