Then Comes Seduction

12

BY the time Jasper arrived at the house where Lady Forester and Clarence were staying, they had already left it and were presumably bowling along the highway to Kent as fast as wheels would turn or horses gallop.

He did briefly consider going after them, but unfortunately there were more pressing concerns to keep him in London.

He did, though, have the satisfaction of hearing from one of the recently hired, newly dismissed servants, who had not yet left the house-a man who clearly felt no loyalty whatsoever to his erstwhile employers. Clarence, it seemed, was taking home with him a purple, bulbous nose and two black eyes, which he had claimed-the servant had paused to look both skeptical and contemptuous though his questioner was a grim-looking gentleman-which he had claimed came from a gang of ruffian footpads. At least her ladyship had claimed it since Sir Clarence himself had not been saying much of anything.

Even that news, though, was only marginally satisfying to Jasper. Either Moreland or Merton or Con Huxtable had done what he ought to have done-except that he would have considered a bulbous nose and two black eyes a mere preliminary to a more complete drubbing.

Those same three men were doubtless still breathing fire and brimstone and plotting to do the like to him.

He returned home to change into clothes more suitable for a morning call and discovered Charlotte in tears in the library. Miss Daniels was not having a great deal of success consoling her. There was an open letter on the desk.

“What has happened?” he asked from the doorway.

What now?

“Jasper!” Charlotte looked up sharply and it was obvious to him from the redness of her eyes and face that she had been crying for some time. “Aunt Prunella is going to have me fetched to Kent. Great-Uncle Seth has said I must go there, that you are an unfit guardian for me. It is not true, is it? You have not d-debauched Miss Huxtable.”

Oh, Lord!

“Charlotte, my dear,” Miss Daniels said, looking excruciatingly embarrassed.

“It is not true,” Jasper said grimly, only thankful that he was not quite lying. “But that is the story Clarence put about last evening and that is what everyone believes today. Have you heard from Great-Uncle Seth himself?”

He glanced at the letter.

“N-no,” she said. “From Aunt P-Prunella.”

“Then it is probably wishful thinking on her part that he will agree with her,” he said. “I had better go and see him again, though. He will not like it above half and neither will I, but it must be done. Go and dry your eyes, Char, and wash your face. Tears are not going to solve anything and they threaten to transform you into a gargoyle.”

“Everything is ruined,” she said, fresh tears running down her cheeks. “Everyone will suddenly discover that they cannot come to my party after all or if they do come, I will not be there to receive them. Aunt Prunella will have dragged me off to Kent and I shall die. I shall simply die, Jasper.”

“The thing is, Char,” he said, “that you will not, and would not even if all that were to happen-which I do assure you it will not while I have life and breath in my body. But I have to go. Why I learned of all this only this morning when the whole world knew it last evening I will never know. Remind me never to stay home of an evening again. But I am off.”

“What must Miss Huxtable be suffering this morning?” she asked him. “I am being very selfish, am I not? What of her?”

As if he had not thought of that for himself!

“I am off,” he said firmly, and strode from the room-and from the house-without stopping to change his clothes after all. And his main purpose must be postponed for a short while.

He was admitted at Seth Wrayburn’s house. He would not have been at all surprised if the door had been barred against him, but it was not. He found the old gentleman in a towering rage, though.

“God damn it all to hell, Montford,” he said as soon as he saw him, “what the devil is this all about and why do I have to be dragged into it? If I had known the trouble it would be to see one chit of a girl safely to adulthood, I would have hauled that will off to court and flatly refused to be her guardian.”

“I do not blame you in the least for being annoyed,” Jasper said, strolling farther into the room. “Clarrie has been spreading vicious lies about town, seconded by Lady Forester, and they have left enough damage in their wake to clog a river. However-”

“Where there are lies,” Mr. Wrayburn said, “there is usually at least a modicum of truth, Montford. I suppose there was once a wager? Concerning young Merton’s sister? The most obscene, disgusting wager ever written into a betting book? And I suppose you did try your damnedest to win it?”

He glared at Jasper and waited for an answer.

“I am afraid so,” Jasper said. “But she repulsed me in no uncertain terms-sent me away with a flea in my ear. She is blameless in all this.”

“I hope,” the old gentleman said, “she gave you a good swift kick in the arse too, Montford-or somewhere where it would hurt even more. Give me one good reason why I should leave my ward under your care.”

“Because they are damned liars,” Jasper said. “And sending Charlotte to live with them is unthinkable.”

“Clarence is a fool,” Mr. Wrayburn said, “and Prunella is a crashing bore. I do not doubt they are both liars too, but then most people are. But they are respectable. You are not.”

“I will be setting this mess all right in the course of the day,” Jasper told him. “After I leave here, I will be paying Merton a call and then his sister. There is only one thing to do, and by God I will do it.”

“If she will have you,” Mr. Wrayburn said. “She will be a fool if she does.”

“I am not sure,” Jasper said grimly, “she has much choice.”

The old gentleman picked up a cane from beside his chair and pointed it at his visitor like a weapon.

“If you can smooth over this confounded scandal, Montford,” he said, “and I did say if. If you can do it, then I will inform Prunella that she may disturb my peace again only on a matter of undisputed life and death concerning her niece. If you cannot, then Prunella can have the girl and give her a decent firing off next year and find a decent husband for her, though I can assure you that he will not be Clarence. And under those circumstances I will hear from you only on a matter of undisputed life and death concerning your sister. I trust I have made myself clear? I trust that you will not be sauntering in here again, trying to look nonchalant, within the next day or two. I trust you are not planning to make a habit of calling upon me. If you do, you will start finding the door shut and locked and my butler deaf.”

“You will not be hearing from me,” Jasper said firmly. “Soon I will be at Cedarhurst-with Charlotte. And by next year I will have made appropriate arrangements for her come-out that will not in any way involve Lady Forester or inconvenience you.”

“God damn it all,” the old gentleman said, “I hope so. I sincerely hope so, Montford. I have no particularly avuncular feelings for Charlotte, but I would not wish any girl upon those two fools-unless there is no alternative. Good day to you.”

Jasper made his bow and left.

What must Miss Huxtable be suffering this morning?… What of her?

Charlotte’s words echoed in his head.

What, indeed?

He was, he supposed, going to find out pretty soon.

But another voice replaced Charlotte’s in his head, and try as he would he could not dislodge it as he walked. The words kept repeating themselves over and over-in the voice of Katherine Huxtable.

I want him to be very special. Heart of my heart, soul of my soul… I have never yet been able to persuade myself to settle for less.

He was about to attempt to persuade her to settle for considerably less.

To borrow a phrase from Seth Wrayburn-God damn it all to hell.

Katherine was in her bedchamber when Stephen came back home soon after noon. She was sorting through drawers. A maid would pack her things later-and Margaret’s. They were going home to Warren Hall tomorrow-back to peace and sanity. She could hardly wait.

She ought never to have come. She would certainly not come again. Not for a long, long time, anyway. The thought cheered her.

Margaret was sitting on the side of the bed, watching. They were not doing much talking. But there was comfort in being together.

Margaret too had said she wanted to go home, that she longed for it, pined for it, was only really happy when she was there, would never want to leave again once she was home.

The fact that it was Stephen’s home and that he was all but grown up and would surely take a wife and start a family within the next ten years at the longest was not spoken between them. Certain bridges were best crossed when one arrived at them.

Neither of them had yet written to Miss Wrayburn to excuse themselves from attending her house party in August. It would be done before they left tomorrow, though.

Stephen had gone with Elliott and Vanessa, doubtless to confer on what was to be done about the scandal. Katherine did not care what they decided. There really was nothing to be done. He was looking very pale when he appeared in the doorway of the bedchamber after tapping on the door and being bidden to come in.

Katherine smiled at him and continued to kneel on the floor, the contents of a lower drawer of the dressing table in piles about her.

“Monty-Montford found us rather than the other way around,” Stephen said. “He came to Elliott’s.”

Katherine sat back on her heels.

“I do not suppose he is amused by all this,” she said.

She hoped he was not. She had no illusions about him, but she did not believe he was a totally conscienceless rogue. She had had proof of that three years ago.

“It was as much as I could do,” Stephen said, his hands curling into fists at his sides, “to keep from planting him a facer, but I was at Vanessa’s house and our niece and nephew’s house and it would not have been at all the thing.”

“Besides,” Margaret said, “this was all Sir Clarence Forester’s doing, Stephen. Try as I will, I cannot be sorry that you punched him in the nose. I so hope it is still sore.”

“Apparently,” Stephen said, stepping inside the room, “it is twice its normal size, and both his eyes have turned black.”

“Good,” Margaret said fiercely. “Oh, and I always thought I was a pacifist.”

“Kate.” Stephen turned his attention on her and drew an audible breath. “He wants to call on you here this afternoon.”

“Sir Clar-?” Her eyes widened. “Lord Montford?”

“I would far prefer to plant him a facer,” he said. “And Elliott would far prefer to slap a glove in his face and run him through with a rapier. He said it to his face, too. But the thing is, Kate, that neither of those things can be done without making things ten times worse for you. It would be assumed that the lies Forester has spread were the truth. Elliott pointed that out when I had Montford by the throat, and I had to agree with him when I stopped to consider. It was strange, come to think of it, that Monty did not try to defend himself.”

Katherine got slowly to her feet and brushed out her skirt.

“Why is he coming here?” she asked. “To apologize? It is three years too late for that. It is Sir Clarence who should be apologizing, anyway, but if you ever let him come within one mile of me, Stephen, I’ll-”

She could not quite think what she would do, but it would certainly be something quite violent and quite unladylike. And she was a pacifist too.

“He is coming to make you an offer, Kate,” Stephen said.

“What?”

“Oh, no, Stephen!”

She and Margaret had spoken simultaneously.

“You are allowing him to come here-into your own home, to offer for me, Stephen?” Katherine said, her voice on the edge of hysteria. “Elliott is allowing him to come?”

His face and his voice were clouded with youthful misery.

“The thing is, Kate,” he said, “that it is the only thing that would set everything right. The gossips would be satisfied if Monty were seen to do the right and honorable thing. And they would have nothing else to say about you if you were married to him.”

Katherine inhaled sharply.

“And I am to give up my freedom,” she said, “and marry a r-rake just to satisfy the gossips? I am to win back respectability by stooping so low and ensuring my own lifelong misery? A respectability I have done nothing to forfeit? And you condone such warped reasoning?”

“Oh, Stephen,” Margaret said, “you cannot have permitted Lord Montford to call here on such an errand. Not after what he did to Kate-or tried to do-three years ago when none of us were here to defend her. You cannot. And Elliott cannot have done so. I do not believe it.”

“The thing is that he has been dangling after Kate again this year,” Stephen said. “I cannot see that there has been anything improper about it. I would have said something if I had thought so. So would you, Meg. Nessie would have said something, and Elliott certainly would. And there has been nothing improper in the way Kate has allowed him to dance with her and walk with her and sit with her. I actually thought a courtship was developing, and I was pleased about it, God help me, because Monty was my friend and I didn’t think his reputation signified if he had fallen for someone as good as Kate. But they really have been favoring each other and everyone has noticed. You noticed, Meg. But what looked innocent and even romantic before last evening suddenly looks different in light of what happened, or nearly happened three years ago.”

“You cannot believe, Stephen,” Margaret said, and she was on her feet too now, “that Kate has ever done anything whatsoever that is improper. I have spent time with the Marquess of Allingham this year because we have a former acquaintance and like each other. Is there gossip about that? Am I now expected to marry him or risk ruin and ostracism?”

“Allingham has an impeccable reputation, Meg,” he said with a sigh. “Besides, he has never made a wager that he could seduce and ruin you.”

“I do not want to see Lord Montford,” Katherine said decisively. “My answer is no. You can inform him of that, Stephen, and save him the effort of coming here. I daresay he will be vastly relieved. So will I when the carriage has left London behind tomorrow.”

He ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, leaving his curls more rumpled than ever.

“I knew you would refuse,” he said, “and I don’t blame you. I would in your place. I told Elliott you would refuse, and he said of course you would. But the thing is that perhaps you ought at least to see Monty and listen to what he has to say. If it is known that he made the offer but that you refused, then perhaps things will look a little better for you. I am not sure they will, but-”

“I am not interested in things looking better,” she said. “I am not interested in things at all, Stephen. And I do not care what anyone thinks. I want to go home. I want my life back. I want to forget that any of this happened.”

“But it did happen,” he said. “And I don’t think you will forget. I doubt anyone else will either.”

“Kate.” Margaret had sat back down. She was paler than ever. “Stephen and Elliott are right, you know. You have done no wrong in any of this. We know it. But the truth does not seem to matter in this new world we moved into three years ago when Stephen inherited the title. Only respectability matters. Lose that, and it seems you lose everything. Perhaps you ought to see Lord Montford and listen to his offer and then refuse it. Elliott has considerable influence. Good heavens, he is a duke. And Stephen is an earl. Together they can put it about that you behaved with the utmost propriety but that you had the courage to declare your innocence of all wrongdoing and to refuse to take the easy way out. They can put it about that you have withdrawn to the country in righteous indignation rather than that you have crept off there in disgrace. I daresay you will not ever want to come back here-I am sure I will not-but at least you will leave the door open for a return if ever you should want it.”

Katherine gazed reproachfully at her.

“Besides,” Margaret added, “if you refuse to receive Lord Montford, Kate, it might be perceived that Elliott and Stephen could not bring him up to scratch, that they were unable to defend your honor as they ought.”

“And they defend my honor by marrying me to a heartless scoundrel?” Katherine said.

She was being unfair. He was not that. It was Sir Clarence Forester who deserved that description.

But her brother and sister had said their piece, it seemed, and had nothing to add. They looked at her, both faces still pale with misery.

And all this was not just about her, Katherine realized suddenly. This was about all of them. Even if she could go slinking off back to Warren Hall, or even all the way back to Throckbridge and somehow pick up her life where she had left it off there soon after Valentine’s Day more than three years ago-and it was a big if-but even if it could be done, she would be leaving Meg and Stephen and Nessie to live with the consequences of this horrible scandal.

And she was not entirely blameless.

Her family was, though.

She still could not see quite how she could help her family by seeing Lord Montford this afternoon. She really, really did not want to do it. She never wanted to see him again.

But Stephen thought she ought. So did Elliott.

And so did Meg.

“Very well, then.” She looked defiantly from Meg to Stephen. “I will receive Lord Montford this afternoon and I will listen to what he has to say. I will say one word in reply-no! But I will see him.”

“I do think you ought,” Stephen said. “Though my knuckles still itch to go at his face.”

“Kate,” Meg said, twisting her hands in her lap. “Oh, Kate, I let you down. I ought to have stayed with you in London three years ago, and what happened then would not have happened. Neither would everything that has happened this year.”

Katherine closed the distance between them, grabbed her sister about the shoulders, and hugged her tightly.

“Meg,” she said, “you have been the best of sisters. The very best. I am not going to have you blaming yourself, even if I have to marry Lord Montford to prevent it.”

Not that it was going to come to that.

But the very idea of Meg trying to shoulder the blame, as she always did when something threatened any one of them!