‘Next week?’ Kate echoed faintly. Over Christmas week London would be quiet and starved of fashionable company because most of the ton would be at their country estates. But at the beginning of December she was sure the capital would seem as busy as always. It might not be the Season, but society would still be there in force.
‘I’m sure I said something.’ Grant shrugged. ‘Perhaps I just remarked about it to Grimswade and Bolton. And Wilkinson.’ He picked up the paper again. ‘I’m sure I mentioned it to Wilkinson.’
‘My lord.’ Kate kept her voice level because it would not do to shout in front of the footmen. ‘You may have told your butler, your secretary and your bailiff, but you did not tell your wife.’
‘There is no need to worry, my dear.’ Grant seemed blissfully unaware that he was wit
hin an inch of having the jam pot thrown at him. ‘The staff are well practised in getting packed up for London. We’ll take the chaise for ourselves and the travelling coach for the children and Jeannie and Gough, and then another coach for the luggage. This fine dry weather seems set to hold.’
‘Thank you, Giles, that will be all.’ Kate waited until the footmen had gone out and the door had closed. ‘My lord, I do not want to go to London.’
‘Why ever not?’ Finally she had his full attention. Probably the repeated use of his title gave him an inkling that all was not well.
‘Because—’ My lover will be there. Anna’s father. The man who ruined me and who has every cause to wish to see me in prison. My brother might be there and will try his damnedest to ensnare you in his schemes. Because you’ll find out that I told you a pack of lies. Because I am terrified that everything we have built is going to fall apart. And she could say none of that.
The six months that Grant had been at Abbeywell had been months of contentment. They had grown closer and had fallen into a domestic routine that appeared to please both of them. Their nights were filled with passionate lovemaking and Grant showed no sign of tiring of her, even though he had not declared any feeling for her beyond affection. The children were flourishing.
We have become a family, Kate thought, but it is all founded on lies. My lies. They were companionable, but sometimes that companionship felt merely polite and distant and Kate knew there was an invisible barrier between them that stopped them achieving the closeness that might lead to a mutual love. She suspected it was her own guilty conscience that had raised that sheet of glass. She dared not break it and the more time went past, the harder it became to even contemplate telling him the truth. It was as though the right moment had slipped through her fingers and was now vanishing, too far gone to catch.
The marriage was like a house built of cards. If Grant discovered the truth, then it would all come tumbling down—their family life, the children’s security, Grant’s reputation if, as she suspected he would, he insisted on confronting the criminality of what Henry had done. At some level Grant must sense that she was holding something back from him, but he was too much the gentleman to force the issue.
Or perhaps he does not care enough, she thought in her darker moments. He must have had enough drama and emotion with Madeleine not to want to demand a confrontation with her. Surely now he wanted only a quiet life with a wife who satisfied him in bed and loved his children. But it is so lonely sometimes.
‘Why are you so reluctant to go to London?’ Grant asked.
‘Charlie will miss Christmas at home.’
‘The town house is familiar to him now—besides, this house at Christmastide can only hold bad memories for him. Let him have this year somewhere entirely different and then the following year the recollections will be dimmer, the house will be much changed and we can enjoy the festive season here.’
That was perfectly, unarguably, reasonable. Kate tried another tack. ‘I’m shy of London. I won’t know how to go on there.’
‘Of course you will.’ Grant was beginning to look impatient now. ‘You are quite at ease with company in the neighbourhood, you are well informed on the issues of the day, you make excellent conversation and you dance very well and you’ll have fashionable gowns—there is nothing at all to be alarmed about.’
‘I can’t help it,’ she said. ‘I am.’
He was puzzled now, she could tell, and in a moment he was going to move from puzzlement to suspicion. ‘Where is the courageous woman I found in that bothy?’
There was nothing for it. Unless she developed a disfiguring rash or broke a leg, she was going to have to face London society. ‘Facing critical leaders of fashion is far more alarming than giving birth, believe me,’ Kate said with a laugh that she hoped rang true.
Grant visibly relaxed. ‘I will be there by your side.’
That is what I am afraid of. ‘Of course.’
Chapter Seventeen
Something was wrong with Kate. Grant paced along the terrace, welcoming the cold, rolling his shoulders to relax them after two hours of solid work in the study with his bailiff and secretary, sorting estate matters out so that he could safely go away for a few months. Was whatever had made her so wary of London related to the reserve that was always present just below the surface, however cheerful she seemed, however lost in the passion of their lovemaking?
He wanted to trust her totally and yet, somehow, he could not. Was it the ghost of his first marriage haunting him, holding him back from that complete act of faith? He only wished she would tell him what it was that put the shadow in her eyes, those moments of constraint when he sensed she was holding back from telling him…something. It was hard not to think, Confess something. He told himself it was not jealousy that he felt, that she was not still pining for Anna’s father. After all, she had told him she had not loved the man, and besides, what did it matter if she had? Theirs was a practical, companionable marriage, not a love match. Kate was passionate and responsive in bed, and that was what a man needed, not some foolish romantic fantasy with moonlight and roses. And heartbreak.
‘My lord?’
He turned to find Jeannie standing outside the long window to the drawing room, Anna in her arms. ‘Yes?’ He strolled across to tickle the baby under her chin and she laughed at him and held out her arms.
‘Could I leave Lady Anna with you a moment, my lord? I brought her down for an airing, but there’s much more of a nip in the air than I realised and I want another shawl for her.’
‘Of course. I’ll wait with her in the drawing room.’ He took Anna, who immediately fastened both chubby hands on his neckcloth and proceeded to demolish it as he carried her into the warmth.
‘You, madam, are a menace to any gentleman with pretentions to elegance,’ he chided and held her away while he went to examine the damage in the mirror. Not so bad, at least she hadn’t chewed it this time. Anna laughed up at him and he smiled back, then sobered as a thought struck him. What if Kate’s reluctance to go to London was a fear that a lack of resemblance between her husband and the child might be noticed? After all, Anna had reached the age when a proud mama might be expected to produce the child for a few minutes for morning callers to admire.