Louise Allen - Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1

‘Why did you not tell me, Nick? Why did you let me come here without telling me that your father was a duke? How can I trust you?’

She threw on her wrapper, wrenched open the door and ran down the corridor before Nick could untangle himself from the bedclothes and get out of bed.

A door started to open as she rounded a corner; Katherine skittered past it and round another bend before whoever it was emerged, and subsided panting on a window seat to scan the view. No sign of the lake, so she was not even on the correct side of the house, although she did seem to be on the right floor.

Her wrapper was not fastened. Katherine drew it close, tied the cord and walked briskly down the corridor again. Surely if she kept going long enough she would eventually see the lake from the windows? She walked on, round another corner—still only endless parkland, no hint of water. With a little sob of frustration Katherine broke into a run again. The corridor narrowed and began to curve: she must be in one of the turrets. She was just racking her brains to recall how many there were and on which façade when a door opened and she collided hard with a tall figure in riding dress: gloves, whip and hat in one hand.

‘Your Grace!’ Katherine fought back the instinctive curtsy. It would look ridiculous to curtsy wearing night attire. ‘I am … I got … lost,’ she finished lamely.

‘Good morning, Katherine, you are a very early riser.’ Not by a flicker of an eyelash did he betray any surprise that his daughter-in-law should be running along the corridor en negligée. ‘I was just going for my morning ride before breakfast. Neither of my sons could ever be persuaded to join me at this hour, perhaps one morning you would care to. Ah, no, I forget, you do not ride yet, do you?’

‘No, your Grace. Your Grace …’

‘You want the way back to your room? Of course, this way.’ He offered her his arm and began to stroll back the way she had come, through a door she had missed in the white panelling and into the Long Gallery. Katherine was convinced that every portrait figure in the room swivelled in their frame to regard this hoyden with horrified condemnation.

‘I know the way from here, your Grace, please, do not let me keep you from your ride any longer.’ She freed her hand, shot him a tentative smile and hastened down the endless room, her knees knocking.

‘I will see you at breakfast, Katherine,’ he called after her, but when she turned he had gone.

She arrived at her bedchamber door at the same moment as Jenny, who was carrying a cup of chocolate. The maid’s eyes opened wide with surprise, then her face broke into a broad smile. ‘You spent the night with the master! Oh, Miss Katherine, that’s wonderful, I knew it would be all right.’

‘Oh, shh!’ Katherine bundled Jenny through the door and shut it with a thud behind them. ‘It wasn’t like that at all.’ She took the cup of chocolate and began to sip thirstily as she recounted the story.

‘The Duke? Oh, my goodness.’ Jenny stared, horrified. ‘What did he say?’

‘He behaved as though we had met in the middle of the morning and I was fully dressed. Goodness knows what he must think of me, not that it could be much worse than what he doubtless thinks already.’ She put down the cup and cupped her chin in her hand, gazing blankly across the room.

‘But he is so polite to you,’ Jenny pointed out.

‘It is part of his style to be imperturbable, I think. And very courteous. And I suppose he does not care to show me the door after learning that I had saved Nick from hanging.’ The two regarded each other miserably, then Katherine shook herself, got to her feet and announced, ‘Ring for hot water, Jenny. I am going to get dressed, be on my best behaviour—and do my utmost to make Nick see reason today.’

There was a peremptory knock on the door. ‘Please see who that is, Jenny.’

The voice made it quite clear. Jenny pushed the door to. ‘Lord Seaton, Miss Katherine.’

‘Please tell his lordship,’ she said, making sure her voice carried clearly, ‘that I will see him at breakfast.’

‘Yes, Miss Katherine. My lord …’

‘I heard, thank you.’ Nick sounded furious. Katherine suddenly found the humour in the situation. He must have imagined her lost goodness knows where in this great pile and had set out to rescue her. Unfortunately for him, she did not need rescuing.

Katherine made a leisurely toilette, paying particular attention to her hair and her choice of a gown. She felt she should spare the Duke any further shocks to his system that morning. She also felt, but would not admit to herself, that looking as elegant as possible would disconcert Nick.

His Grace was just entering the breakfast room as she approached the door and his two sons were already there, engaged in what sounded like a vigorous argument. ‘If you do not tell him, I will,’ Nick was saying.

‘Good morning. Ah, Katherine, good morning my dear. Will you not sit here, and perhaps be so good as to take charge of the coffee pot? And who, might I ask, is the person apparently being kept in the dark?’

Robert shot a darkling look at his brother and said, ‘I had something I wished to discuss with you, sir, but it can wait. Should wait.’

Nick sat back in his chair. ‘Robert desires to tell you, Father, that he wishes to read for the church, but he perceives that my own domestic … difficulties might create too much of a stir to raise the matter at present.’

‘Damn it, Nick! I am sorry, Katherine. Yes, Father, I would wish to enter the church, but this hardly seems the moment.’

‘I cannot say I am surprised.’ The Duke smiled at Katherine, who was handing him a cup of coffee. ‘What do you think, my dear?’

Startled to be asked her opinion, she said honestly, ‘I believe Lord Robert would go far in the church, your Grace.’

‘You had better speak to the Bishop, Robert.’ The look he sent his younger son held, to Katherine’s hopeful eye, a faint hint of approval. ‘We will talk about it later.’ He swivelled to look at Nick. ‘And what are your plans?’

‘For today? To speak to Wilkinson to establish exactly how my affairs stand and then to ride over to the Dower House with Katherine to discover if it meets with her approval.’

‘You are set on that as a residence, then?’

‘With your permission, sir.’

The duke gestured with an elegantly long-fingered hand. ‘It is at your disposal. As you know, it always reverts to the heir when it is not required by the dowager of the day.’

Katherine tried to catch Nick’s eye. Had he forgotten that she had told him she could not ride? She had no habit either.

‘Philpott.’

The footman went to Nick’s side, received a low-voiced instruction and went out. Katherine mused for a moment on the resources that could muster so many footmen, all over the desirable six foot in height, then decided that the thought of so much money made her dizzy.

She found her husband was looking at her and mouthed, ‘I cannot ride.’ He merely smiled and mouthed back, ‘Time you learned.’ Katherine picked thoughtfully at her ham, not at all certain she wanted to be any closer to a horse than the interior of a carriage. They were large and she suspected she would be quite unable to convince one to do anything she wanted. Then she realised she had no riding habit, there were no other ladies in the house to borrow one from, and so she was safe. A small smile curled her lips; his lordship had not considered that little detail.

She poured more coffee, found she had an appetite for her breakfast after all and decided to slip away afterwards to a sunny window seat in the Long Gallery, which had the double advantage of being somewhere she could find her way to, and removing her from her husband’s disturbing proximity so she could try and think what to do when she had left Seaton Mandeville.