‘Well, yes.’ Tess sat up straighter, the smile gone. ‘But he did not have to marry you to get you out of the fix you were in. There were all sorts of things he could have done to help you. He must have been attracted to you right from the beginning. And the way you look at him…’
‘He needed a stepmother for Charlie,’ Kate said stiffly. ‘I needed a father for Anna and there was no time to discuss all the options, she was about to be born. And I don’t love him.’ Do I? Tess arched one dark brow. ‘And Grant does not love me,’ she added with rather more certainty.
‘I am sure you know better than I,’ Tess said, but the smile was back.
‘Knows better than you about what, my darling?’ The men were back in the room before Kate could answer that sly remark. ‘Surely no one knows better than you about anything,’ Alex Tempest added.
‘Wretch.’ Tess tilted her head back to look up at her husband. ‘Have you men finished fighting the battle again to your own satisfaction? Because if Kate will excuse me, I am for my bed. It has been a long day.’ She paused as she passed Kate. ‘But I am right, you know, about at least one of you.’
Tess’s departure broke the party up. Alex, it seemed, was not prepared to let her go up to bed without him, Gabriel suggested that Lord Avenmore come up with him so he could lend him a book he had just finished and, with the departure of her guests, Kate wanted nothing more than to get Grant alone upstairs.
‘My chamber or yours?’ he asked as they climbed
the stairs.
‘Yours.’ He would be more relaxed there, she sensed. I don’t love him, I am not in love. I like him, I desire him, I am so very grateful to him, but…love? I still hardly know him and, anyway, I am not very good at recognising love.
‘I like your friends,’ Kate said and went to help him out of his coat when he dismissed the waiting valet. ‘Let me untie your neckcloth.’ She enjoyed the closeness of standing toe to toe, unwinding the body-warmed muslin from around his neck, exposing a glimpse of skin beneath.
‘Good.’ Grant bent to nuzzle her temple as she stood folding the cloth. ‘They like you, but then I knew they would, all being men of taste and discrimination.’
They undressed slowly, helping each other, pausing between garments for a lingering caress, a kiss. But without any spoken agreement Grant reached for his heavy silk robe when they were naked, while Kate retrieved her own robe from her room. She sat down facing him across the width of the hearth, studying the austere profile, the straight nose and firm mouth. He was a handsome man, her husband, and, yes, she looked at him and enjoyed doing so, just as Tess had observed. That did not mean she was in love with him.
‘I married very suitably and far too young,’ Grant said without preamble. ‘We were both too young and I had very little experience of well-bred young ladies beyond the ballroom. I was disappointed that Madeleine seemed so cool, but she had seemed willing enough to marry me, and neither of us had been brought up to expect some passionate love match. We rubbed along well enough until Charlie was born and, naturally, I would not have dreamed of returning to the bedchamber for quite a while after that.’
‘It sounds like a very lonely marriage,’ Kate ventured.
Grant’s shoulders moved in the ghost of a shrug. ‘It is what we both expected, what I had grown up with. Then I visited her room one night and was told that she had done her duty by bearing me an heir and surely, if I wanted to indulge my male lusts, I could set up a mistress. I pointed out that sex within marriage was not a question of lust, and besides, I wanted more children and surely she did, too.’
He turned his head against the back of the chair until he was staring into the cold grate. ‘I asked myself if I had been clumsy or insensitive in bed, I thought about Charlie’s birth. I wondered, even, if there was another man she loved, had loved all the time we had been married. But she denied there was anything. Sex, she thought, was squalid and animal. Childbirth was horrid, especially as she really had little interest in children. Of course there was no one else—she had been reared to do her duty and she thought she was doing it. But if I felt she was not, then, naturally, she would resign herself.’
‘Not very encouraging,’ Kate murmured, secretly appalled. She could understand Madeleine’s fears about childbirth, but why hadn’t she confided in Grant, talked about it, rather than erected that wall of icy rejection between them? And her husband might have acquired a little more experience since his first marriage, but surely his lovemaking could not have changed that much? Perhaps, she mused, some women simply did not enjoy the physical side of marriage.
‘No, and in retrospect I can understand her. She had been raised with no expectations of marriage beyond status—that was how she measured a successful match. A good wife gave her husband an heir, and, she reluctantly accepted, a spare. Her mother had instilled in her the belief that men were essentially bestial in their desires and that a lady endured their attentions out of duty. From the beginning she was expecting it to be a painful, distasteful, messy business. But the rest of her duty came easily to her. She knew how to behave impeccably in public, she enjoyed enhancing my standing, and with it her own. She loved to spend my money to make herself a decorative and fitting accessory at my side. But I failed to see all that. I thought another child would kindle warmer feelings, both for it and for me. Madeleine became pregnant within months and the birth was complicated. She lost the baby.’
‘I am so sorry.’ And he had lost a child, too, although she doubted anyone had comforted him about that.
‘After that she became…difficult. She began to drink, to behave wildly. In public she was as impeccable as always, but in private it was a nightmare. The staff tried to keep drink from her, but she would find it. I never left her alone with Charlie and I certainly did not go to her bedchamber again. Grandfather would lecture her on her duty and she consigned duty to the devil.’
‘You must have been tempted to have her committed to some form of care.’
‘She was my wife so I did my best to look after her. I blame myself for getting her with child too soon, for not being able to save the baby.’ He closed his eyes as though trying to block a vivid memory. ‘I worked with Meldreth, did what I could, but he had to try to turn the baby and they were both so exhausted, mother and child. It was a miracle Madeleine lived. She was so angry with me for getting her pregnant again, it was as though she was fighting me. Every time she cried out it felt as though I had just, that moment, inflicted the pain on her. I still do not know whether it would have been better to have left the room, got out of her sight. Was I there because of my conscience, flagellating myself, or was I doing the right thing? I still do not know.’
His expression was so bleak it was hard to speak. Kate reached for the right words. ‘Of course it was the right thing to do. You had some medical training, Dr Meldreth needed your help, your strength. But how could you be expected to have succeeded when an experienced practitioner could not?’ She remembered the strain on his face, the shadows in his eyes as he worked to save Anna through that long night in the bothy. ‘It must have been so hard for you to help me as you did.’
‘No. That was a blessing, something I could do. There was no one else, I could hardly make things worse and I might make things better. And once she was born and I knew it would be all right, then it felt so good, as though I had been given a second chance. Up to that point, I admit, it was difficult to push the fears away.’
‘But you kept on trying, you kept my spirits up and never let me see you were afraid of the outcome.’ He smiled at that and she sensed it was a comfort. ‘In the end, what happened?’ she prompted when Grant fell silent.
‘Come to her rooms.’ Grant stood, took a key she recognised from his pocket and led the way the short distance along the passage. Kate saw his hands were steady as the key turned and the door swung open. They both carried branches of candles and she set hers on the hearth, while Grant placed his near the door.
‘My wife died in this room,’ he said, his face stark, his voice harsh. ‘She died in front of my eyes and I did nothing to save her.’
‘And that is only half the story,’ Kate said when she could speak again. ‘I know there is more to it than that, there has to be. Tell me.’
‘I came home one night from dinner at a neighbour’s house. Grandfather was beginning to fret because it was late and Madeleine had Charlie with her and when the nursemaid went to take him to bed she wouldn’t let the girl in. I knew then there was something very wrong, because she hardly ever kept him with her or spent any time playing with him. The door was locked. I could hear him crying, so I broke it open.’
Grant walked into the room, towards the cold, empty hearth, where Kate waited, silent. ‘It was hot, the fire was roaring in the chimney. Charlie was crying on the sofa that was over there, but it was angled away from me so I couldn’t see him.’ He gestured towards the side of the room away from the chimney. ‘He sounded fretful and hungry, but not frightened.