Wicked and Wonderful (8 page)

How innocent she had been at the time for she had not in the least comprehended her governess’s extreme disquiet. Miss Holywell had been forced to explain in horrifying detail both the nature of Stolford’s reputation as well as precisely what would happen to her once he had her captive in his home. How quickly her childhood had disappeared in that moment.

She had fled her home with but a note left for her father. Little had she known she would never see him again, for he perished that Christmas. Her intention had been to reach her uncle to seek his protection. Fearing that Stolford would overtake her were she to use the most direct route, she had traveled in a circuitous manner. But by the time she reached her uncle’s house, the marquess’s coach had been in the drive. Only then did she understand that she would never be safe.

Tears now trickled down her cheeks.

The memory of Stolford still haunted her. In securing her safety from him by disappearing, she had forsaken her girlish dreams. To dwell on her former life, however, was to break her heart anew so she was in the habit of avoiding such thoughts. But how could she not be reminded today, with Kelthorne in the camp and holding Shelly so tenderly, putting her forcibly in mind of the life she had been taught would one day be hers—a gentleman to take as husband, a comfortable home, and, of course, a dozen children all racing down the halls and playing and squabbling.

Kelthorne had done this to her, with his kisses that had affected her so powerfully, whose mere presence caused her heart to flutter, and whose character was more complex than she would have thought possible. How much she wished such a man did not exist.

“Judy,” Margaret called to her softly. “Ye have washed that un fer the last five minutes.”

She felt a blush rise on her cheeks. “I fear I was thinking of other things.”

Margaret, who was drying the dishes, reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek. “So I see,” she murmured gently.

Chapter Four

“We would not press you, Aubrey, but she is absolutely perfect, you can have no notion, though you shall see for yourself when she arrives with the rest of the party shortly.”

Kelthorne regarded his elder sister quite coolly, his arms folded over his chest. Mary and Amy had arrived this morning, much to his surprise.

Upon returning from another hunting expedition—brought short by a sudden downpour, but from which he had still been able to provide Mrs. Marnhull with several rabbits—he returned to the stables only to find Mary’s carriage on the drive. They had arrived several days earlier than expected and the disappointment he felt was profound since he not only had been enjoying himself enormously with the troupe but he was right in the middle of his most precious scheme to tear down Judith's defenses. He felt as though a bucket of ice water had just been dumped over his head. Worse still, his prospective bride-to-be was due to arrive within the hour.

“You know I do not like to be surprised,” he said coldly. “Why did you not stay with our original plan?”

“I fear it is Radsbury. He has been required to go to London in three weeks’ time rather than six and we felt we should step up our plans. I do apologize for not informing you sooner, but a letter sent post would not have arrived before us.”

“Where are Radsbury and the others?”

“One of the wheels in the third coach was loose,” Amy explained. “Radsbury and Newnott stayed behind to see the task accomplished. He begged us to go on ahead so that you might be given a fair warning of our change of plans.”

“Well, it is most inconvenient,” he said, thinking how Judith had looked this morning.

When he had left the rabbits with Mrs. Marnhull, he had caught sight of her in a gown of pink muslin, her chestnut hair hanging to her waist as she swung little Shelly in circles. At the time, he had known the strongest impulse to leave his horse and even if she protested violently, to gather her up in his arms and kiss her. What fortitude it had required to merely tip his hat to her, to feign an indifference he was far from feeling, then to ride away.

“Aubrey,” Mary snapped.

He turned to look at her and saw that her eyes had narrowed suspiciously.

“What is it?” he inquired.

“Have you got up a tryst with one of those actresses? I have already been given to understand by your most exceptional butler that you have permitted an entire troupe of actors to camp in your pasture beyond the orchard. We saw them as we drove by. I was never more shocked to learn you had done so.”

“It seemed a harmless request to oblige, particularly since the troupe has promised us an entire month's entertainment. So far their performances in the local theater have exceeded our expectations. Have they not, Laurence?”

“Very much so,” Laurence said. He was seated by the fire reading a newspaper and did not bother to look up as he spoke.

Mary rolled her eyes at both of them. She was but three years Kelthorne’s senior yet had always treated him as though she was a great deal older. She had large hazel eyes, sharp features and light brown hair looped in several very tight narrow braids. She would have been accounted a beauty had she not been in the habit of keeping her lips pinched tightly together as though to keep her thoughts and feelings from streaming out of her all at once.

“Have you forgotten that we have a prospective bride with us?”

“I believe I should let you both know at the outset, that I have every intention of choosing the next countess of Kelthorne for myself.”

“And so you shall,” Amy said, her tone placating. She was a year younger than Mary but at least did not treat him in the same officious manner as her sister. She was taller than Mary but had a sweeter countenance.

“I would even say that Mary has spoken too stridently.” When he barked his laughter, Amy continued hastily, “But even I have hopes that you might find this young woman quite to your taste. She is refined, elegant, in possession of more poise than any young lady ought to be, and very very beautiful.”

At this, he turned and frowned at Amy. “She sounds like a paragon.”

Mary’s eyes twinkled. “She might just be. And I should tell you that in this case, I believe she might be too good for you, especially given your wretched reputation.”

Kelthorne was mollified. “I have no doubt that you are right about that.”

Laurence folded his newspaper and rose from his seat by the hearth. “I confess that now even I am grown intrigued.”

Amy turned to smile upon him. “So you should be, Laurence, for not only is she quite the most beautiful lady I have ever laid eyes upon, she is also a considerable heiress. If my brother will not have her, she might just do for you.”

“What is her name?” he asked.

“Abigail Currivard.”

“And why have we not heard of her or seen her in London?” Kelthorne inquired. “We are there quite often as you very well know.”

The sisters glanced at one another.

“Oh, ho!” Laurence cried. “Do I apprehend the stench of
trade
in the air?” He was laughing as he spoke.

Mary lifted her chin. “The spice trade and you will not call it a stench when you hear that her dowry alone is eighty thousand pounds. Upon the death of her father, she will inherit more.”

Kelthorne was astonished.

“Good God,” Laurence said. “I believe I may swoon. And where did you discover this creature?”

Mary left the small circle they had made and took up a seat on a sofa opposite the chair Laurence had just vacated. “We shall tell you everything you wish to know, but not before you ring for some tea.”

“Of course.” Kelthorne moved to the wall by the door and gave the bell-pull a sharp tug. He ought to have done so sooner for when she was increasing, she was easily fatigued.

Mary looked about her. “I approve very much of the changes you have made. Uncle was such a nipcheese but these fabrics—and such a pretty shade of green—are of the first quality. I am so glad that you have inherited Portislow for a finer house one may not find in many counties.” She was puffed up with pleasure. “And it is so fortunate that the house proper is not part of the castle, otherwise, given how cold and damp castles are wont to be, you probably would never be at home.”

A discussion ensued about some of the changes until the butler appeared and tea requested.

“I’ll admit that this is a comfortable house. And I did rely entirely upon the expertise of the woman you sent me, Mary. Do I apprehend that since she resided in Bath, you had a hand in choosing and sending the fabrics?”

Amy laughed. “We both did.”

His sisters then launched into a detailed explanation of all their searches through various shops, and how they consulted with good friends whose taste they each approved. Kelthorne was happy to let them rattle on and he could even confess, despite the disruption of his plans, he was glad to see his sisters.

When tea arrived, he set the service before Mary and very soon each held a cup and saucer, leaned back in their chairs and sighed their contentment.

“Well, you did rightly in all your scheming. The result is very pleasing. Of course, with so much excellent wainscoting, the refitting of the main rooms was done with little inconvenience to myself. But do you think Miss Currivard will approve?”

Amy set her tea on the table at her elbow and carefully removed her bonnet. She patted her blond curls, even working to fix one that had become twisted from its long imprisonment under her bonnet. Of his two sisters, Amy was more in Kelthorne's likeness, sharing with him the color of her hair and the blue of his eyes.

“How could she not?” Amy said, looking about her and picking up her cup and saucer once more. “And the companion yellow is just soft enough not to be too jarring to the nerves.”

The drawing room of Portislow Castle was a well-lit chamber overlooking a narrow valley that ran between the hill upon which the castle was perched. Opposite could be seen a series of hills that ran from east to west meeting the Bristol Channel not a mile distant.

Initially, he had taken little interest in changing the house, but his sisters had been right to give him a push. After his uncle had been laid to rest in the family vault, Kelthorne had taken a hard look around. The rooms had been shabby with age and the old brocades—so popular a half century past—had grown threadbare. Some of the rooms had suffered from mildew and more than one piece of furniture had been damaged from the excessive dripping of cheap tallow candles. Nothing but the finest beeswax was present now and his housekeeper, given permission to hire an appropriate number of servants for the size of the house, had set even the darkest corners to glowing with her zeal and expertise.

He moved to the window that overlooked the vale. In the distance, to the west, he saw the camp, probably soggy from the earlier drenching. The tents, however, were now rippling happily in a fine breeze. He could even see Mrs. Marnhull hanging out laundry.

Suddenly, he wished he was there and not in his refined drawing room, awaiting the arrival of his sisters’
chosen one.
Irrationally, he disliked her already—Miss Currivard of the spice trade. He disliked that he must marry. He did not require an heiress, for he had a very comfortable nine thousand a year. He was a little surprised to think that his sisters had become so grossly avaricious on his behalf.

“I am confused on one point,” Kelthorne said, turning back to them. “How is it you arrived before noon? You cannot have traveled directly from Bath.”

“Indeed not,” Amy said. “We have made a new acquaintance if you must know. The Marquess of Stolford has purchased a house in Bath and is now quite accepted in the first circles. We broke our journey at his home which is but a short drive from Portislow.”

“Good God,” he said. “The Marquess of Stolford? You account him a proper acquaintance? How is that possible when he has one of the worst reputations in all of England?”

Mary shrugged. “‘Tis all forgot, He has been redeeming himself in polite society, at least in Bath, by making very great contributions to our local charities and has promised to provide new draperies for the assembly rooms.”

When footsteps were heard on the stairs, indeed, a profound trampling of feet, it appeared that the remainder of the Bath party had arrived all at once. Any further questions either he or Laurence had concerning Miss Currivard must now wait.

Kelthorne turned to await his doom. Would that he could fly from the chamber down to the camp and settle his gaze on the beautiful Judith and, instead of doing the pretty in his drawing room, envelope his mind in scheme after scheme of seducing her.

The first to cross the threshold was Lord Radsbury. He was a vibrant man who crossed to him immediately, his hand outstretched, “How do you go on, Kelthorne? Damn, but am I glad to see you ensconced here. Portislow has been in need of you these thirty years and more.”

“Hallo, Radsbury” he shook his hand warmly. “I am happy to hear you say as much.”

Lord Radsbury turned and waved his arm in the direction of the doorway. As if on cue, two ladies appeared on the threshold. “But let me make the introductions. Miss Banwell and Miss Upton; both lately of Bath.”

The young women were pretty enough in their way but on no account the beauty he had been promised. They offered their curtsies at which time Laurence was introduced.

Kelthorne glanced at the doorway. He could hear voices beyond. A young man appeared, tall, lean with curly black hair, brown eyes and a quite good-natured expression.

Radsbury continued, “Mr. Emborough, allow me to present Lord Kelthorne.”

He bowed properly. “How do you do, m’lord?”

“Quite well, thank you.”

Radsbury continued the introductions. “And this is Mr. Doulting.”

“And how do you do, sir?”

“Exceedingly well,” Laurence responded, then lowered his voice. “Only tell me, is Miss Currivard a beauty, indeed?”

He pressed a hand to his chest and lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “Venus incarnate.”

“Well, then.” Laurence clapped his hands together. Kelthorne laughed at his friend for he was being ridiculous.

A lovely feminine voice could be heard just beyond the doorway. “Are you certain you are all right, Mr. Newnott? Indeed, I am sure you are not.”