The Viscount Needs a Wife (34 page)

“Yes, I love you!” He stood and pulled her into his arms, regardless of her piece of cake, which went flying. “I love you. I love you. I think I have for days, but I didn't recognize it.” He kissed her, and it was perfection, making it hard to end. “You've shaken my world, Kitty, but I assume it will steady in time.”

The light in her eyes turned wicked. “Are you sure?”

“No, damn you. And I thank God for it. I'll spend all possible time at the Abbey only because you'll be there. That need was a symptom I recognized.”

She laughed against his shoulder. “A disease, am I?”

“I'm feverish, but I want no cure.”

“Nor I.” She looked up, still aglow with laughter. “What does the Abbey matter when we have this? The dowager will be conquered, the place will be made warm, and the servants will share our joy.”

“Optimist.”

Her dog sneezed.

They both looked and saw Sillikin pawing at her nose, the piece of cake nearby. Kitty went to her to clean honey syrup off her nose with her handkerchief. “I told you you wouldn't like it.”

Kneeling there, haloed by firelight, she smiled up at him. “Even if we can't solve all the problems in a moment, we'll have my rooms and yours. We'll talk and play, and drink coffee and eat sticky cakes with our fingers.”

And enjoy many other pleasures,
she implied. It was a glimpse of heaven, but he couldn't entirely dismiss reality.

Reality be damned. He would make everything perfect for his brave and wonderful wife. Somehow.

K
itty couldn't believe how the sweetness of love filled her life. She couldn't stop smiling, especially as they spent the rest of the day together as if tied with strings. A persistent gray drizzle couldn't dampen their spirits at all.

They went to the town house, without entourage except for Sillikin, to go over it and make plans for the spring. Then she took him to Moor Street to meet Janet. To Kitty's amusement, her friend and her husband were soon engaged in an intense discussion of her future wardrobe. She tended to forget that the world saw him as a beau.

“And if I don't want Nile green with bronze sequins?” Kitty asked at one point.

“You'd be wrong,” Janet said.

Determined to assert some control, Kitty said, “You will
not
reline my mantle with more expensive fur.”

“Then I'll buy you a new one,” Braydon said, “and insist that you wear it at times.”

“How?”

“I'm your husband. I can beat you.”

“La, la!” Janet exclaimed laughing, and Kitty knew why. The way he'd said it had turned her hot, the wicked man.

For pride's sake, she had to say, “Sauce for the goose, sauce for the gander, sir.”

But he responded, “I won't object to wearing furs for you, my lady.”

Janet was so lost in giggles, she couldn't speak, but Kitty was sweating at the vision he'd summoned. Even Beauchamp Abbey wouldn't be able to chill these fires.

They went next to Westminster Hall, where duty and honor would oblige him to attend Parliament and push for steady reform.

“Standing here,” he said, “I realize that the title is a privilege as well as a burden. It will strengthen my hand for reform. The next years will be crucial,” he added apologetically, “and those in favor of reform will be beleaguered. I can't shirk the fight, which will take place here.”

“I understand, and I believe everything will work out for the best.”
Somehow,
she silently added.

As they returned home, she told him about Henry's leaving.

“She was only ever a temporary measure,” he said.

“And excellently thought of, but I'll miss her. I hope I can find someone as skilled, wise, and kind.”

“And willing to live mostly in the country. Johns hovers on flight at all times, especially now we're in Town, with other men tempting him.”

“Is he truly so important to you?” she asked.

“There's a great deal of tedious labor in fashion.”

“You make it look easy to be just so.”

He smiled. “And therein lies most of the work, which Johns does.”

“I can't believe you truly care.”

“But I do. A weakness, but deeply rooted. Would you rather I be scruffy?”

“I love you as you are.”

That required a kiss, even in a hackney carriage, and they arrived home probably appearing idiotic. Kitty
found she had a letter from Ruth, and sat in the drawing room to read the latest news from Beecham Dab. Yet again the lines were crossed. What new delights did Ruth have for her?

Soon expectation turned to dismay.

I'm fighting tears as I write this, Kitty, for our short time together was such a joy to me, but Andrew and I can't deny the call. We are too comfortable in Beecham Dab, with too few demands upon us, and we know we could make a true difference somewhere else.

Andrew will urge Dauntry to support some older clergyman to the living, perhaps one who's done noble service for most of his life and deserves a tranquil resting place. We have accepted a parish in the East End of London, so as you settle here, we will soon be there! If Marcus were still alive, we might have managed some fairly frequent meeting. There I am, crying again, but this is the right thing to do.

What of the children?
Kitty wanted to protest. The East End was mostly strung along the river and inhabited by those who served the shipping trade and sailors from all around the world. Many parts were rough and crime infested.

However, she recognized the cause of the unease she'd sensed in Ruth. Not trouble in her marriage, but questions about her life's purpose brought on in part by the death of Princess Charlotte. Kitty couldn't bear to read the rest for now.

“Why does my life always turn awry?” she asked Sillikin, then remembered she was trying to break herself of that habit. It wasn't hard now she had someone to
talk to. A friend. She had not only love, but also friendship in marriage, which was a blessing. But they would often be apart, and now Ruth would be lost to her, too. Was it something she brought upon herself?

Her marriage to Marcus had probably been rash, but she'd seen his need and responded to it. She'd had no choice other than to move to Cateril Manor, and she'd definitely needed to escape it. Impulsively, she'd found escape, and thus freedom and purpose with the delight of Ruth nearby. Now she'd be alone much of the time in a new prison.

Why couldn't Ruth and Andrew have moved somewhere else entirely? Birmingham, Liverpool, Africa! It would feel less cruel than their moving to London, where Kitty wanted to be but must leave.
The spring,
she told herself. She would be in London in the spring. That would be better than nothing.

“Bad news?” Braydon had come in.

It must be written on her face. “Ruth and Andrew have decided their path is too comfortable. They're leaving Beecham Dab for Shadwell, the better to minister to rascals and sinners.”

“Ah. Andrew had mentioned such a thing a time or two, but I didn't think he'd do it. Too saintly for his own good, or his family's.”

“I know. The children. But I can understand feeling underused, unfulfilled.”

“The Abbey won't make the most of your talents,” he agreed.

“At least I won't be short of work,” she said as cheerfully as she could. “Will you be able to return with me and stay over Christmastide? We'll make it merry and say a grand farewell to Andrew and Ruth. We still have a ball to arrange for the Abbey servants and tenants. After that, we'll hold a Christmas one for the whole parish.”

“Of course I'll return with you. How could I not? And Christmas brings mistletoe.”

That required a kiss, a lingering kiss, but it had to end. One benefit of the Abbey would be that her boudoir would be far from other rooms, and if they wanted to progress from kisses to sheets in the middle of the afternoon, no one would know.

Her thoughts turned to Christmas. “I wonder if there are any handsome young officers with nowhere to go for Christmas.”

“Kit Kat will pine for her entourage?” It was a tease, not an accusation.

“For Isabella! That would shake her out of vile servitude.”

“Perhaps too far. After being in seclusion, she'll fall in love with one or more on the spot.”

“More than one wouldn't be so bad.”

“Remember, she's a considerable heiress. Make sure they're decent fellows and would make tolerable husbands. I don't want to have to shoot anyone.”

“Would you?”

He seemed surprised. “Probably, but I'd try to be more subtle in dissuading and disposing.”

“Sometimes I forget,” she said.

“What?”

“That you were a soldier. One day I would like to hear about your military career.”

She felt the beginning of resistance, of the marble box, but then he said, “One day. A house party is a good plan. It could even be a kind of exorcism. Would you like to go to the theater again? Blanche is performing at Drury Lane, and our box is available.”

He'd slid away from her request, but there was time. A lifetime. Kitty beamed at him. “I can't wait!”

And barring any new emergency, he would return
with her. They'd have a month or so before a new separation. Anything could happen in a month.

*   *   *

Kitty knew they must return to Beauchamp Abbey, and so she set Thursday as the day.

Wednesday morning was taken up with interviewing six potential lady's maids. Kitty could be overwhelmed, not least by the need for employment she saw in some. The poor economy meant that even some fashionable people had had to cut expenses or go abroad, as the Duke of Kent had, to find cheaper places to live.

She had to be practical, however, and choose one who would suit. She knew she didn't want a maid who was younger than herself, even though one was lively and charming. She certainly didn't want a sour one, which crossed another off the list.

In the end she chose Miss Sarah Land, a woman of forty-two who seemed to have a calm, competent way about her. She'd been employed for fourteen years by a Mrs. Compton-Huffington, until that lady's sad death from an infected cut. Mr. Compton-Huffington gave her an excellent reference, and Kitty noted the fact that Miss Land had been allowed to live on in the family home until she found a new position. That spoke well of her and the family.

Henry asked some challenging questions about procedures and skills but was satisfied with the answers. Terms were agreed, and Sarah Land was to travel with Kitty back to Beauchamp Abbey, whereupon Henry would go north, back home.

Kitty could turn tearful over that, but she'd allow no such nonsense, and plunged into a last-minute flurry of shopping for perishable delicacies such as fruits and cheeses. She also purchased a large amount of candied fruits, in hopes of sweetening the dowager.

As she paused outside a greengrocer's, Edward was suddenly relieved of some of his teetering pile of packages by an officer.

Edison.

Kitty suffered a flutter of panic, but she was on a busy street in daylight.

“Thank you, Captain. I'm in a mania of shopping, for we leave for Beauchamp tomorrow.”

“Dauntry goes with you?”

“Of course.” She couldn't dismiss him when he held some of her purchases hostage. She could only pray he wouldn't enact a scene on Oxford Street.

“I, too, leave Town,” he said.

“To spend Christmas with your family?” With relief, she saw their hired carriage ahead.

“Yes, but then to go abroad.”

Kitty tried not to look too delighted. “A new posting. Congratulations.”

“There isn't great competition to go to Van Diemen's Land.”

They'd arrived at the carriage, and Edward was putting packages into the boot. The footman had to extract the ones Edison was carrying, as he seemed fixated on Kitty, as if expecting something.

“Where is that?” she asked.

“South of Australia. It's a penal colony.”

Kitty could see it now. She was supposed to protest at such an exile, which he would take as a sign of love. “I'm sure that's very important work,” she said, “and it is greatly to your credit that you're willing to undertake it.”

“You don't care.”

“About what?”

“That I'll be on the far side of the world.”

She hoped she was a picture of blank incomprehension. “You'll be serving your country, Edison, and I expect
you'll find it a grand adventure. Australia is an astonishing place, I understand. Perhaps you'll see kangaroos.”

“Perhaps I will.” His tense jaw had relaxed a little, and now he simply looked miserable. She longed to comfort him, but knew any hint of fondness would undo all her work.

“I wish you a very happy Christmas with your family, Edison, and a smooth journey to the antipodes. You must tell your mother how well Sillikin goes. And now I must plunge back into the shops, for I've completely neglected to buy a Christmas gift for my husband!”

With a cheerful wave she did just that, but muttered to Henry, “Is he following?”

“No. Gazing soulfully, and now walking away. You did well.”

“I hope so, but I hate to cause anyone pain. He's sending himself into exile, and he'll be no more than a prison guard there.”

“Don't be silly. You were right to call it an adventure, and he'll be an officer with many opportunities. I hear some people are doing well for themselves in Australia, and even that some are going out there freely, not as transportees. If there's anything to him at all, he'll make the most of it.”

Kitty smiled at Henry. “Thank you. I'm going to miss you.”

Edward had caught them up. “Where to now, milady?”

“I'll wander the shops a bit more.”

Mentioning finding a present for Braydon had made her realize the lack. But what sort of present could she find for such a man? She lacked the skill to make him a worthy gift, but worried that anything she purchased would not be up to his standards. She knew he wouldn't mind, but she wanted whatever she chose to be perfect.

She considered paintings in one shop, then items of
jewelry in another, but he had plenty of both, and they were exactly the sort of items she could get wrong. Then, in an odd shop full of old stuff, she saw a small ivory box, yellowed with age. All four sides and the lid were intricately carved, but the detail was blurred by time and handling, so they were mysterious. It should really be cool marble, but she much preferred the warm ivory.

She bought it, and from another shop a white silk handkerchief to line it. Though it was getting late, she hunted for the next essential item, and at last found a red-jeweled heart. She'd rather ruby than garnet, but garnet would do.

Bubbling with satisfaction, she returned home and assembled her gift. Once it was ready, she couldn't wait for Christmas to give it to him. Then she saw an excuse to give it to him now. She put it in her right-hand pocket and went in search. She found him in the library, working on some papers, and kissed the top of his head.

He turned to kiss her properly, then said, “A letter came for you.”

Kitty took it. “It's not from Ruth.”

“One of your many admirers?”

There was no suspicion in it at all, but it seemed a good moment to tell him about Edison. Again, she said, “I don't like the feeling of sending him into exile.”