In her chamber, she took out her small knife and whittled the pieces of driftwood she’d brought with her. Her grandfather had been a sculptor and taught her to carve creatures and flowers from wood.
She already had a display along her fireplace mantel: a fox peered out from a bush; a rabbit sat, ears almost twitching; a wren rested on a branch.
An hour later, she put the piece down. It now bore a closer resemblance to a horse jumping a log. She wondered if she would ever be confident enough to show Robert her work. Business had taken him to Vauxhall again. He seemed to have settled back into the life he led before they were married. It didn’t seem likely he would visit her bedchamber any time soon.
Saturday came, this evening she was to be presented to the king and queen. She had practiced her deep curtsey and her dance steps every day in readiness. Fortunately, attending the Oxford assembly had made her proficient in all the dances.
Robert joined her for dinner, which progressed under the vigilant eye of Hove and two footmen.
She sought to draw him into conversation, wishing he didn’t always appear distracted or disinterested. “Did you achieve much in Vauxhall today?”
He took a helping of roast fillet of beef from the dish the footman held. “The pottery business isn’t doing well. I’ve employed a new manager. We are considering ways to improve it before I sell it.”
“Does the factory make plates like these?” Pleased to have something to talk about, Kate gestured to the handsome gold-rimmed plate before her, aware that some families back home still ate from pewter plates with wooden utensils and not the gleaming silverware that adorned the table.
“No. But I don’t see why we shouldn’t consider bone china,” Robert mused. “We have access to the materials, Kaolinite—that’s clay, and access to the slaughter houses for bone…. Hard though, to compete with Europe and China.” He lapsed into silence.
Kate pushed food around her plate, her mind refusing to produce anything of note to gain his attention. She would have to read up on pottery, perhaps there was a book in the library.
Robert took a sip from his wine glass. “Are you looking forward to this evening?”
Her throat tightened, and she put down her knife and fork. “Yes and no.”
A glimmer lit Robert’s eyes. “Yes… and no?”
She twisted the corner of her napkin. “I shall enjoy meeting people, of course. But will they like me?”
“Some will. Some might not but will be too well mannered to express it.”
She glowered at him. “That doesn’t reassure me, Robert.”
“It’s not about you, personally, Kate. Remember that. Some have old-fashioned views.”
“You mean they disapprove of you marrying beneath you.”
“Those who knew and liked my uncle, and there are many, won’t let such a thing concern them.” He smiled. “And I have every confidence in you.”
“Thank you, Robert. I don’t seem to have much appetite. If you’ll excuse me, I shall go and dress.”
Robert stood and bowed.
It would have helped considerably if he’d given her a reassuring hug. Her nerves stretched thin, Kate entered her bedchamber. Brigitte stood at the mantel, examining her artwork. “I much admire this new piece you’ve carved, my lady,” she said. “It looks so lifelike.”
Kate was absurdly pleased. “Thank you, Brigitte.” A wave of homesickness swept over her. Her life in Oxfordshire had been filled with love and affection. Her father had always been there to lean on. She felt his loss even more keenly since she’d come here.
Brigitte had her bath ready in the boudoir. Kate relaxed in the perfumed water as the maid swept a soapy sponge over her back. She hoped Robert would think her beautiful tonight in her new gown. She longed for him to gaze at her with love but had begun to doubt that he ever would. Might he have a mistress? She had heard married gentlemen often took mistresses. She suspected Robert would be no different, and her spirits plummeted. She batted the thought away. She would not allow anything to spoil her first social occasion. She was to meet the king and queen, she still couldn’t believe what her life had become since meeting Robert.
She stepped from the hip bath, and Brigitte wrapped her in a towel. A knock came at the door. “Good heavens, who is that? Hand me my robe.” Kate dropped the towel and held up her arms, about to don the dressing gown Brigitte held up for her when the door to her bedchamber opened, and Robert strode in. He stopped at the threshold of her boudoir.
“I beg your pardon.” His voice sounded oddly strained.
With a quick about face, he retreated as Kate pulled on the robe. “Please come to the yellow salon when you’re dressed,” he called. “I have something for you.”
“Yes, Robert,” Kate said somewhat pointlessly as he’d left, shutting the door behind him. Trembling, she turned to the mirror and discovered she was flushed from her cheeks down to her breasts. She sank onto the satin chaise to gain her breath.
“Oh, my lady, did you see the look on his lordship’s face? I don’t know why he didn’t come in. He obviously wanted to.” Brigitte giggled and put a hand to her mouth. “Pardon, my lady.”
Had Robert wanted to? She wished she knew.
