Would my family, too, become unfortunate connections to be discarded? She was already displeased with Kit’s and Sydney’s occupations.
I pulled my gaze away from my husband. Gesturing to the bed coverings, “these will do until I can select something more to my taste.”
“Of course, my lady.” Timothy set about immediately stripping the bed, piling everything into a basket to be washed. A quick glance below told me that Hugh was still hacking and slashing away at his nonexistent enemy.
* * *
Hugh
I spent the best part of the day performing footwork drills and point control. It had become a more regular occupation since my engagement. The months had honed my skill, the practice had become ritualistic. It was the work of mere minutes before my mind emptied and my body took over. I could think of little beyond the cool air rushing through my lungs and the burn of my muscles.
Unfortunately, today the burn was in a slightly different location—and I knew the reason. Every advance twinged usually. The cadence was reminiscent of a different rhythm in a different location.
Katherine, with her floral essence and silky curls and breathy sighs… How was I to think of anything else? How did anyone achieve anything when they had a wife? I have a vague memory that I had not always found her so appealing. Clearly, I had been a foolish dolt.
It was only my carefully held control that prevented me from seeking her out, hauling her over a shoulder, and carrying her back to the bedroom. In my fantasy she shrieked with delight.
The rest of the day was spent in my study, far away from my too tempting wife. When the time came for dinner, I arrived in the drawing room to the vision of my wife perched politely on the settee with a book.
Objectively, I knew the sight would not have been so arresting before last night, but now it was… alluring. She did not hear my arrival, and I was free to observe her unnoticed.
Katherine leaned slightly to one side against the arm of the settee, one foot tucked underneath her leg with a slipper abandoned below her. Her gown was a dark, jade green, with little but a strip of lace where the bodice met the skirt for embellishment. Like the navy she had worn last night, it suited. Her coiffure was pinned back with simple elegance, no baubles to be seen. In the dying daylight and the flickering of the fire, I thought I could just make out a flush on one shoulder, irritation from my bristles, perhaps. That was equal parts warming and worrying. I would have to be careful with her delicate skin, but the marks—they named her as mine.
Whatever her novel, it held her interest quite thoroughly. Not once did she give any indication that she noticed me from my perch against the doorframe. Page after page passed in silent study.
When I could take it no longer, I shifted, making purposeful rustles. She started, her back shooting ramrod straight and her foot slipping down to join its companion on the floor. There was something disconcerting about the gesture, unnatural. I missed her previous ease.
Before I could speak a word, urge her to relax, I heard Mother’s stern, precise footsteps from down the hall. I, too, straightened, pulling away from the door and farther into the room. It was something of a surprise to see Mother today. I expected with all the excitement yesterday that she might have one of her megrims this evening. But here she was, entering in all her formidable glory.
Once Mother had been situated in a chair by the fire, we remained in an overpronounced silence until one of the footmen called us to dinner. Katherine stepped around me and into the dining room, not waiting for me to hand Mother up or escort them both.
My irritation at the rude gesture dissipated at once when I saw what changes she had made. Instead of the full sixteen-person place setting Mother preferred, she had adjusted the table down to seat just four. It was intimate, appealing. I could see the benefit of it when I dropped Mother off at her place between the head and foot. Mother made a choked wordless noise upon entry and again in finding the spot that had always been her usurped.
In retrospect, I realized that Mother had been in the wrong place last night. And that her former seat belonged to Katherine now. The adjustment would surely be difficult for Mother. Perhaps Katherine could have been kinder in making her point. But, knowing Mother, kindness would not have resulted in the necessary behavioral amendments. I mentally applauded my wife’s ingenuity.
Sixteen
GRAYSON HOUSE, LONDON - NOVEMBER 30, 1813
HUGH
A few days later,Katherine’s first visitor arrived as soon as could reasonably be termed appropriate. I believe she mentioned something about her friend during dinner last night, but I could not recall precisely.
The girl wore a gray gown of half-mourning. That explained why I did not recognize her from the wedding or Season. She was pretty, taller than Katherine, but lacking the luscious curves I was rapidly developing an obsession with.
Our greeting, though brief, showed the girl to be well-mannered and decorous. I slipped off to my study while Katherine provided a tour of her new home.
I had not paid attention to the second entrance to my study, the one into the library, when I arrived. In a fortuitous circumstance, it was cracked open slightly. I had the opportunity to hear the raptures our visitor expressed at the sight of our library.
“Kate, it is wonderful! You do not mind if I live here, right? Perhaps a little nest of blankets by the fire just there?”
“I knew I would not be able to peel you away from this room. That’s why I saved it for last.”
I ought to get up, close the door, and allow them their privacy. I even made it so far as rising to the door but curiosity ate at me and I lingered instead. Listening.
“I’ve asked Anna to bring the tea tray in here,” Katherine said in a conspiratorial tone.
“You are my favorite person in the entire world.”
