“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?”