Bluestocking Bride (27 page)

"Yes, and if you did, my dearest Mama, you may be sure that Catherine is wondering, too."

"Then you must convince her that her conjectures are nonsensical! You'll find a way."

"Oh, I mean to, Mama. I mean to!"

"My lord?" said George apologetically, entering
Rutherston's
library later that evening.
Rutherston
looked up from the book he was reading.

"Yes, what is it, George?"

"Mr. Henderson is here and insists on being admitted. I tried to dissuade him, my lord, but he says the matter is urgent."

"Does he now?" said
Rutherston
, rising from his seat and laying aside his copy of Euripides' "
Hippolytus
." "Then don't keep him waiting, George. Show him in, and see that we are not disturbed."

George departed, to reappear a moment later with a bemused and smiling Henderson at his heels.

"Evening,
Rutherston
," Henderson began amiably. "I had hoped that I might find
Cath
. . . that is, Lady
Rutherston
with you, but your butler tells me she left for Surrey three days ago."

"Yes, for her sister's wedding to my cousin Charles Norton. I join her next week. But don't stand on ceremony,"
Rutherston
said, waving to a leather armchair by the smoldering grate. "Will you join me in a brandy?"

Henderson disposed himself comfortably and accepted the proffered glass.

"You are a cool customer,
Rutherston
," Henderson began provocatively as he tossed off the brandy at one gulp.

"Am I?"
Rutherston
settled himself and raised his brows in faint surprise. "I would have thought that
that
description was better suited to
yourself
."

Henderson laughed and eyed
Rutherston
ruefully. "Perhaps I am. I had half expected to find you ranting and raving and demanding immediate satisfaction for an episode that even I don't understand."

"No! Did you?"
Rutherston
remarked
noncommit
- tally as he held out the decanter to pour his guest another drink. Henderson sipped his second brandy slowly, and reaching into his pocket, withdrew a slip of paper which he extended to his host.
Rutherston
scanned it and saw that it was a bank draft for just over three hundred pounds.

Henderson continued, "I'm afraid you are still out two hundred pounds. That bank draft covers my debt to my landlord, but I'm not in a position at the moment to refund the difference you paid to retrieve Catherine's pearls. I'm afraid her impetuous gesture has put me in your debt."

"It's no matter," said
Rutherston
levelly. "I really don't want this, you know, but I suppose you will insist that I take it?"

Henderson nodded. "Oh, I do."

"Very well then, but under no circumstances will I accept the difference I paid to retrieve Catherine's pearls. That piece of folly on a wife's part is more properly the burden of a husband, so we will say no more about that, if you please!"

"Isn't she a trump, though? What a warmhearted girl." Henderson did not notice the slight stiffening of his host's spine, and went on musingly. "You know, she's a damn difficult subject to paint. It's hard enough to portray that unique coloring—but next to impossible to capture that vibrancy which comes from her generous spirit." Henderson put down his glass.

"That's one of the reasons I came to see you—and Catherine. I won't be completing that portrait for some time. I'm off to join Wellesley." He saw
Rutherston's
start of surprise. "My fond and generous aunt, Lady
Blakney
, has given me the funds I need to start fresh. I shall be purchasing a commission in the seventh Hussars, so you see, it may be some time before I can get back to complete Catherine's portrait."

Rutherston's
spine
relaxed,
and he poured himself another drink.
"But why?
You never struck me as the sort who was the least interested in adventure."

"Didn't I? Perhaps you didn't try to find out what sort I was!"
Rutherston
looked affronted, but Henderson went on easily, "No, no, I don't mean to insult you, I'm just stating a fact. Anyway, I'm not interested in glory. I want to become a better artist, and paint subjects that are worth painting. To put it simply, I'm bored with what I'm doing."

"Then I hope you find what you're looking for, although naturally, I'm disappointed that Catherine's portrait will be delayed."

"You shouldn't be, you know. I intend to continue with it when I've learned my art better, but whether I'll part with her portrait or not is another matter. I may decide to keep it, or I may decide to make a present of it to Catherine."

"What the devil do you mean by that?" asked
Rutherston
, a menacing note creeping into his voice.

"Why, what should I mean, except that I intend Catherine's portrait to be the best piece of work I shall ever complete?"

The two men sat imbibing their brandies, casting wary glances at each other, like two dogs circling each other before a fight.

"Look here,
Rutherston
," Henderson began at last. "Let's stop fencing and speak man to man." He uncrossed one long leg and put up an idle hand to rub his ear. "When my landlord told me of what Catherine had done, I was aghast—not because of the gesture itself. I found that rather touching—but because I was alarmed at the interpretation you might put upon it. God, in your shoes," he exclaimed forcefully, "I would be livid!"

"Well you're not in my shoes," said
Rutherston
smoothly. "And I did not jump to conclusions," he continued, conveniently forgetting how he had been furious enough to go so far as to think of calling Henderson out. "I believe I know Catherine's character better than that. She considered you her friend, and merely did what she thought would save you from immediate ruin." The words were those Catherine had used and seemed entirely reasonable on his own glib tongue.

"And Catherine hasn't been sent off in disgrace?" Henderson was not wholly convinced.

"Certainly not!
I told you, she goes down to be with Lucy, and I join her next week."

Henderson was on the point of saying more, but changed his mind. He would have liked to have warned
Rutherston
of Catherine's unhappy state of mind, but he was perfectly sure that
Rutherston
would regard it as an unmitigated piece of interference on his part, and no good would be served by it.

"Well, then, if I don't see Catherine before I leave, you will convey my warmest regards to her?"

"Of course."
The interview was at an end and both men rose for Henderson's
leavetaking
.

"You know,
Rutherston
, it could have been worse." Henderson chuckled. "What if you had insisted that Catherine wear the diamonds for her portrait instead of the pearls? Think how much more out of pocket you would have been!"

"Diamonds?"
A puzzled frown creased his lordship's brow. "What diamonds?"

Henderson looked embarrassed. "I suppose there's no point in trying to wrap it up in clean linen. I'm afraid I behaved rather badly when I was your guest at
Fotherville
House. Catherine and I came upon the secret drawer in your library desk, and I'm sorry to say that I let my curiosity get the better of me. The fault was entirely mine. You see, Catherine found the box and I insisted on opening it. I collect you haven't given Catherine the necklace?"

"What?"
Rutherston
looked like a man who was choking on a fishbone. "What did you say?" he repeated dazedly.

"Are you all right,
Rutherston
?" Henderson regarded him in concern and puzzlement, and
Rutherston
made a supreme effort to regain his composure.

"Yes, yes!" he replied testily. "I'm fine, and no, I haven't given Catherine the necklace yet."

"Then I am sorry," Henderson went on airily, without the least appearance of remorse. "But it was a damned stupid place to choose for a hiding place. Catherine must be eating her heart out by now. She thought it was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen."

"Yes, I can see that she would."
Rutherston
spoke more to himself than to his companion.

The two men had walked to the front door, and, when George had handed him his gloves and cape, Henderson held out his hand.

"Good-bye,
Rutherston
. Perhaps one day I shall learn to do justice to Catherine's portrait, but it's beyond my skill at present."

Rutherston
shook the proffered hand. "Good-bye
and good luck, Henderson. You're not the only one who has lacked the skill to do justice to Catherine!"

"Really?"
Henderson digested
Rutherston's
words. "Then I hope we both may succeed."

And for once, husband and artist smiled into each other's eyes, in perfect agreement on the subject of Catherine. But it was Henderson who had the last word.

"You're a lucky fellow,
Rutherston
, and I hope you know it."

Catherine made
herself
comfortable on the garden bench overlooking the Ardo House lawns and flower beds and shaded her eyes to look up at her companions.

"If you would rather I take myself off and leave you two love birds alone, you have only to say the word. I begin to feel that my presence here is de trop, and I'd as
lief
read a book as play chaperone to a couple of mutes."

"Of fudge!" said Lucy, smiling at Catherine affectionately as she detached herself from Mr. Norton's clasp to sit beside her sister.

"Charles will soon have you all to himself," Catherine went on cheerfully, "and I have missed our
cozes
. Now children, do tell me all!" She looked expectantly from one to the other. "What did Papa say?"

Mr. Norton disported himself on the grass at the feet of the two ladies and sat shredding a
bladfe
of grass negligently between his teeth.

"What could your father say, or mine, for that matter? Things have turned out rather well, thanks to Richard. I knew he would try to do something for me, and I was set to thwart his good intentions, but he outmaneuvered me. I could not object to any settlement he chose to make on his own sister-in-law, now could I?" He flashed a grin.

"You tried!" retorted Lucy indignantly. "When Richard first put the proposition to you, you looked the picture of outraged dignity."

"Ah well, all's well that ends well," said Mr. Norton philosophically.

"Oh yes!" Lucy's voice held a tremor as she turned to Catherine. "What changes have come about in our situation since we last sat on this bench on the eve of our first London
Season!
"

"
Mmmm
. . ." offered Mr. Norton enigmatically.

"What does that mean?" his beloved inquired.

"I was merely thinking of two carefree bachelors who not many months past retreated from the wiles of experienced town wenches to be befuddled, bewildered, and finally bagged by a couple of country innocents." He gave a resigned sigh.

"A couple of country innocents!" the ladies exclaimed in unison.

Norton looked up and grinned broadly at the two scowling faces above him.

"Bagged," he repeated unrepentantly, "by two country innocents who looked as if butter wouldn't melt in their mouths!"

"
Unchivalrous
!" cried Lucy, affronted.

"Ungentlemanly!" teased Catherine with a wag of her finger. "Nor is it true. Come now, Charles, admit it! You offered for Lucy simply to get possession of
my
library—you told me once how much you admired it—and Richard offered for me because of . . ." she faltered, the jest going out of her voice as

Nr. Norton looked nonplussed, but he rallied quickly. "Oho! So you discovered Richard's dark secret, did you—that promise he made to his mother! I'm glad he told you. Females can be such feather- heads if they think a fellow is practicing a deception, however harmless. Why, if he hadn't told you, you might have believed he offered for you to get his hands on your vast fortune." Norton cast a beseeching glance in Lucy's direction, and she came to his aid with alacrity.

"Or for her blue blood.
Don't forget that, Charles!"

"Or for her breeding, Lucy.
Her air of propriety."

"No, Charles! You have gone too far. Everyone knows of Catherine's temper!"

"You're both wrong," interrupted Catherine. "It was to spite his family."