Married to the Marquess (4 page)
Read Married to the Marquess Online
Authors: Rebecca Connolly
And then there was the little matter of her husband, and the fact that she had sent for him.
But he would not come. He did not respond to her summons, and she had received no word to prepare for his arrival, not that she had expected him to reply. He rarely did when it concerned vital matters of their estate; he would never send a response about something as trivial as a death.
At least that was one matter she would not have to deal with at present.
Even so, a raging headache that reminded her of him was forming behind her eyes, and she did not have the time to have a lie-down and let it pass.
The maid came in with a tea spread, and the tray and cups rattled horribly as she set it down.
“For heaven’s sake, Sally,” Katherine snapped, leaning back to upright and adjusting her sheer black gloves. “If you cannot bring in the tea silently…”
“I beg your pardon, milady,” the maid said with a bob. “It were only due to the state we’re all in, what with my Lady Penelope…”
“Yes, yes, all right,” she interrupted waving her off. “I do not need to hear your excuses, just your word that it will not happen again.”
“It will not happen again, milady,” Sally replied dutifully, bobbing a curtsey again.
Katherine took a calming breath.
A duchess is firm, but respectful with the help. It keeps them loyal
. “I can appreciate the struggle the staff is having with the death of my mother,” she said in a controlled voice. “We must all adapt as best as we can.” She tried for a smile, and saw the maid relax ever so slightly. “But even so, we must not lose composure or fail to do our duties.”
“Yes, milady.”
Katherine nodded. “Thank you, Sally, that will be all.”
Sally bobbed yet again and exited, leaving Katherine blessedly alone.
Katherine poured out tea for herself, and absently put in one sugar and a touch of cream, which was exactly the way her mother took her tea. Which meant it was the way everybody took their tea. Too much sugar was a sign of frivolity and too much cream was missish, but to take tea without either showed a deplorable want of sophistication. And, above all else,
a duchess is the height of sophistication
.
She sipped her tea slowly, letting the warmth course through her and feeling the tension leave her little by little. Gradually, calm and sense returned to her mind and her strength returned to her.
Yes, her mother was still gone. Yes, now she would have much greater responsibility to bear. Yes, she would have to adjust most aspects of her life around the change.
But she could do it.
She was Katherine Mary Alexandra Bishop Chambers, Marchioness of Whitlock. She could do anything.
With a satisfied smile, she set her tea back down and allowed herself one of the tarts that had come with the service. Generally, she never took tarts, despite her affinity for them. There was not a rule for that, but Katherine rather liked her figure, if she allowed herself a small moment of vanity. Even in the horrid black gown she was wearing, she looked quite fetching. One tart would be quite enough for today.
A scarce few moments after Sally had cleared away the tea service, she was back, and looked far more anxious than she had been previously.
“B-begging your p-pardon, milady,” she managed, bobbing so shakily Katherine wondered what was wrong with the poor girl.
“What is it, Sally? Do not stammer, it is frightfully unbecoming.”
Sally nodded and took a deep breath. “If you please, milady, there is a gentleman that is here to see you.”
Gentleman? The very idea took Katherine by surprise. If she had said the undertaker or that dreaded florist again or the solicitor, that was one thing, but a gentleman? Who would come calling on her here at her father’s house while she was mourning?
“A gentleman?” she asked, rising from her seat and brushing off her skirt. “What gentleman?”
“Well, milady, he says he… that is to say, he claims he is your…”
“Husband,” finished a low, sardonic voice that Katherine knew all too well.
“Whitlock?” she gasped, her body going cold.
He stepped into the room, his brown-blonde hair the tiniest bit tousled, his green eyes dancing, and grinned rather brashly at her. “Hello, wife of mine.”
Perhaps a second tart would have been wise after all.
C
hapter
T
hree
“W
hat are you doing here, Whitlock?”
He had the effrontery to look astonished. “Why, you sent for me, dear Katherine. I thought, surely if my wife needs me in London, I must obey!”
“That is highly unlikely. You don’t know how to obey.”
He snorted. “I do, too. Whether or not I choose to do so is another matter entirely.”
Katherine gritted her teeth and took in a would-be calming breath through her nose. “Do not be impertinent, Whitlock. Why are you here?”
He still smiled. “Ah, but impertinence is my natural state of being, dear wife, and I don’t know how to be anything else.”
“
That
much is obvious.”
“I do so love it when you fight back,” Derek said with a sigh as he moved further into the room and sat rather inelegantly in a chair near her.
“I did not ask you to sit down,” she forced through her clenched teeth, her hands fisting at her sides.
“No, you didn’t, and it was terribly rude of you,” he scolded, propping his feet up on her mother’s tea table.
Breathe, Katherine. Breathe
. “Remove your feet from that table, sir.”
“Why?” He looked down at his feet, then back up at her. “They seem quite at home here.”
Keep breathing. Keep breathing.
“This is not your home.”
“No, thank heavens. My home, our home, I should say, as you live there too, is much nicer than this. And I can put my feet wherever I please without comment over there.”
Katherine had to literally restrain herself from reaching out to strangle him. She doubted there was a rule that went
a duchess does not strangle her husband
, but she felt quite certain that the sentiment was implied in one or two of the others.
“I say, Kate, are you quite well? You look ready to burst into flame.” He looked around, then back at her. “Do I need to scoot this uncomfortable chair back a bit? I’d rather not get ash on this ensemble. Duncan chose it for me with such care…”
“Why,” Katherine said loudly, overriding him as her nails bit into the palms of her hands rather painfully, “are you here, Whitlock?
He paused momentarily and gave her an amused grin. “You are repeating yourself, Kate.”
“My name is Katherine.”
He shrugged. “Katherine, Kate, it makes no difference. After all, what’s in a name? A chamber pot by any other name would still smell…”
“Whitlock!” she screeched, her cheeks flaming further.
“At any rate,” he continued, as if she had not said anything, “as I said before, I came because you asked me to come.” He cocked his head and looked at her with interest. “Although, now that I think of it, you didn’t ask at all, did you? You insisted upon my presence. That is a rather different matter. The tone of your writing was rather severe, Kate.”
“I do not think my manner of writing has anything…” she started.
“Oh, of course, it does,” he interrupted with a slice of his hand, as if he were actually cutting something of hers off. “If you insist upon something, it would seem as though I have no choice in the matter at all, which is quite silly as I always have a choice, seeing as how you married into the title that I was born to.”
Her mouth dropped open in shock. She had done more for the title
he
was born to than he had ever done for it. “How dare you…”
“But if you were to
ask
me to come, very nicely, very politely,” he continued, his eyes seeming to hold a certain flame of impudence to them that she very much would like to scratch out, “I might consider acquiescing. But as you have never asked me politely or nicely in the ten years we’ve been married…”
“Five,” she bit out, inordinately pleased to be both interrupting him and correct in doing so.
“What was that, Kate?” he asked, cupping his ear slightly.
“It has been five years that we have been married, Whitlock, as you well know.”
He shook his head. “Only five? Goodness me, it feels more like ten. Regardless, in all of the
five
years, you have never asked me. Only orders, only demands.” He shook his head. “It was quite remarkable that I accepted at all.”
“Surely you knew I never meant for you to accept it.”
He put a shocked hand to his chest and coughed in mock surprise. “What? My own wife does not want me to come down to London to see her? But she summoned me!” He stood and paced about as if he were confused. “And she didn’t mean it. Oh dear, oh dear, what shall I do?”
“Leave now before anyone knows you have come?” She did not even try to hide the note of hope that rang through her words.
He winced and shook his head. “Alas, my dear, the Earl of Beverton and his wife have already come down, and Mr. Gerrard, Mr. Bray, and Mr. Harris as well. I am afraid that they all know I’m here, and as it was I who invited them, I cannot very well abandon them. Unless you wish me to
un-
invite them, which I suppose I could do, although I doubt the new countess would appreciate the slight as the men might, knowing you as they do.”
“I do not have time for this,” Katherine said as she threw her hands up and went to the door of the room. “If you would care to notice, I have a funeral to arrange.” She could have cursed herself for the way her voice broke on the word funeral.
Instantly, Derek’s expression turned somber, and though she would never admit it, Katherine was grateful. Her husband might have been a cad, a louse, irritating beyond all reason, and suspected of actually causing the pox, but he did have some sense of decorum, however infrequently he chose to employ it. And someone, probably his mother, had trained him in manners. With other people, at least.
He waited a moment, and then he came over and bowed slightly before her. “I apologize, Kate. My sincere condolences on the loss of your mother.”
She snorted once. “Sincere? You did not even like Mother.”
“No, nor did she like me. But I am genuinely sorry that you have suffered a loss. I even forced myself into mourning.” He showed her his sleeve, where a black band was indeed tied.
Knowing she could not argue that, and feeling strangely touched by a simple mourning band, she nodded. “Thank you.”
He nodded as well, then shrugged slightly. “I came because, like it or not, we are married, and my wife has lost someone close to her. I am here to be the dutiful husband and support her.”
Kate blinked in confusion. She did not know that he had a serious expression that was not mocking.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” she admitted bluntly, which was highly unlike her.
Something that was almost a smile tweaked at the corner of his mouth, but it was gone so fast, she thought she must have imagined it. “What can I do for you?”
His request very nearly stole her breath away. No one had asked her that in so long she could not have said when. The burning in her eyes intensified and she wanted nothing more than to get out of his sight. “Leave me alone?” she whispered, looking up at him.
He nodded once and took a step back. “If that’s what you wish. I assume you want to remain here until the services are completed?”
She nodded quickly. “Father needs me. He…” She trailed off and did not finish. He did not need to know the details.
“Of course. If I can be of any service to him, please send for me. And I mean it, Kate. I’m here to be of use. Use me.”
She swallowed, more than a touch unnerved by his sincerity. It had to be a ruse. He wanted her to use him? “As what?” she asked with a small snort, attempting to return to the safety of bickering. “A stable shovel? Or perhaps a pin cushion?”
Now he grinned. “Ah, there’s my wife. I almost forgot with whom I was speaking. If you will kindly remove your fangs from my person, I will go back to our house, which comfort I left to come and see you.”