Chapter Seventeen
Robert stalked downthe corridor to his chamber. He had a right to be concerned, didn’t he? To discover his wife wandering Vauxhall with a torn gown? His eyes narrowed, his mind in turmoil. Did she go to Vauxhall to meet Southmore? Or was it just a chance encounter where Southmore tried to take his revenge?
He dismissed his valet, preferring to undress himself. He sat on the chair and pulled off his shoes. Kate had looked so small and vulnerable in the moonlight, her hair down over her shoulders, her gown ripped. It had invoked in him a sort of helpless rage that he had not been there to protect her. London society was treacherous for the unwary. What if he hadn’t been there? She might have been hurt, or worse. Anger still swirled in his gut that someone had accosted her. And he feared it had been Southmore.
He pulled off his cravat which had grown uncomfortably tight around his neck. The waistcoat and shirt followed. He paused, his hand on his buttons as a thought hit him. Kate held something back. She might fear that if he’d discovered the rake’s name he would run him through. Stepping out of his pantaloons, Robert sat on the bed and paused over a stocking. Might she care for Southmore? Robert struggled with the possibility, surprised at how depressed it made him. He drew off the other stocking.Impossible.He couldn’t believe Kate capable of such subterfuge. He’d come to know her. Scheming was not in her nature.
He set his teeth. He might have handled it better if it wasn’t so long since he’d bedded a woman. Plenty of opportunities had presented themselves. That comely woman in the Birmingham tavern, for instance, whose charms he had resisted, while not even sure why. For some reason, since he’d parted from Anastasia, he’d refused to take another mistress. Even though many of his married friends had a Cyprian tucked away in London, and there were always opera dancers more than willing to please him when he went with friends to Covent Garden. It appeared he was doing a kind of penance. He admitted he didn’t understand women, but he also struggled to understand himself.
Robert had a vision of the Garden of Eden. Kate offered something he wanted desperately but was afraid to grasp because his life as he’d known and enjoyed it would change. Dash it all, it had changed. He wasn’t even sure he wanted things to go back the way they had been before he and Kate married. But the prospect of a marriage like many others, a polite disinterest in each other for much of the year seemed far worse.
He washed in icy water and shivering, climbed naked into bed, where he lay awake thinking of Kate, and hating that she’d been hurt. That some man had disrespected her and treated her in that manner. Forget a duel, he’d kill him with his bare hands.
*
The next morning,Kate entered the breakfast room. Robert had eaten and was drinking coffee while pouring over some papers at the table. She smoothed the lace at her elbow nervously wondering what sort of reception she’d receive after last night. She’d chosen a gown which gave her confidence, a dove-gray silk with bows at the elbows and on the bodice. She’d regretted what had occurred. It was understandable that Robert was upset that she’d been accosted when he only sought to protect her. She just wished he would respond with affection instead of criticism. “Good morning, Robert.”
“Good morning, Kate.” Robert stood as Soames drew out the chair for her. Robert came around and bent to view her injured lip. “Better?”
“Yes.” The swelling had gone.
He returned to his chair. “I’m sorry I was bad tempered last night. I seem to be always apologizing. I’m sure you’ve grown tired of it.”
Surprised by the heartfelt apology she’d never expected, Kate shook her head. “I must apologize, too. You had good reason to be upset.”
“Then shall we forget it happened?”
“Yes, please.” She hoped Robert had decided to let the matter go. She’d wrestled anxiously with her fears during the night and concluded that Southmore was all bluster. He would not dare bother her again. Robert was by far the more dangerous opponent. And Southmore knew it.
She studied Robert’s face as her coffee was brought. He looked tired. “What are those papers?” she asked, fearing a rebuff.
“They’re from the china works. This is the pattern for the porcelain plates we plan to make.” He pushed the sketch across to her. “We shall branch out into more elaborate designs and make other items in the future. The possibility for a store in London has been discussed.”
Kate was pleased to see him so enthusiastic about something at last. His intelligent blue eyes studied hers, drawing her in. She was delighted to have her opinion valued. The blue and white design was simple yet pleasing. She considered it a perfect beginning and told him so. “I’m pleased you’ve decided to keep the pottery factory. I saw that it interested you.”
He smiled. “You’re right, Kate. And it was you who set me on this path, for which I am grateful.”
Kate warmed under his praise.
He tidied his papers in a neat pile. “What do you have planned for today?”
“I shall visit Bond Street for a little shopping. I require a few things before we leave for Merry’s wedding. Is there anything I can get you?”
“No, thank you.” He smiled. “I trust the servants are not in need?”
She laughed, pleased that he seemed to have accepted her unconventional attitude toward their staff.
The atmosphere was so convivial Kate felt quite light-headed as her toast was set before her. She reached for the strawberry jam. “We are to attend the opera at Haymarket tonight. I’m looking forward to it. But we must leave at interval for Countess Marchon’s soiree.”
Robert nodded absently, gathered up his papers, and placed them in a leather valise. He pushed back his chair and stood. “Forgive me. I wish to make an early start for Vauxhall.”
For a moment the word hung between them before Kate linked it with the pottery factory. “Oh yes, of course.”
Robert turned at the door. “Enjoy your shopping. And take your maid.”
“Brigitte would never allow me to shop without her,” Kate said.
The door closed. She sighed. Unreasonable to want to go with him. And she mustn’t be unreasonable. He had been amiable this morning. She wanted it to continue this evening.
