you and will advance you the first quarter.’ He named a sum that made Katherine start in surprise and a slow smile to spread itself over Philip’s pasty features.
‘If my wife feels able to receive you tomorrow, she will tell Mr Wilkinson so. If not, you will leave the district immediately. If you attempt to visit Katherine without her express permission, the allowance will be stopped. If you try and run up debts using my name, it will be stopped. If you say or write anything to Katherine that causes her the slightest distress, it will be stopped. Is that clear?’
Philip nodded dumbly.
‘My wife, your sister, is a lady whose only fault is her loyalty to you and her persistent love for a man who has let her down, betrayed her and insulted her. You may believe she will forgive you and indulge you, but understand this: I do not forgive you, I do not trust you and, if I have to, I will break you.’ He turned on his heel without looking further at the shaken man. ‘Come, Kat, it is time to go home.’
Katherine held out a hand to her brother. ‘I will see you tomorrow, Philip, I promise.’ Then she was out of the door and being walked firmly downstairs. This was the crowning humiliation in a day of humiliation. Katherine managed to keep her expression calm as Nick spoke to Durren who was waiting outside, warily holding the grey horse.
‘How did you drive here?’
‘In the gig, my lord, it is in the yard.’
‘Very well, I will drive her ladyship back, you can ride Xerxes.’
‘I’ll lead him, if it’s all the same to you, my lord,’ the man said with some feeling. ‘Shall I get the gig, my lord?’
‘No, we will walk round. Thank you, Durren.’
Katherine got up on to the leather seat and sat silently while they drove out of the yard, past Durren and on to the road that led to Seaton Mandeville. What can I say to him? she wondered miserably. How can I apologise?
‘Kat, I am so sorry.’ He took the reins in one hand and clasped the other over hers. ‘That must have been so distressing for you. I should have handled it better, but I am afraid I lost my temper.’
‘You are sorry? Nick, I was wondering how I could start to apologise. That you should feel you have to give Philip an allowance.’ Her voice faltered and she stiffened her spine. ‘Tomorrow I will speak to him. He must understand that of course he cannot accept what you have offered.’
‘I am not going to have my brother-in-law in and out of debtors’ prison. This seems the best solution,’ Nick replied calmly.
‘But he will not be your brother-in-law!’
‘Kat.’ He tightened his grip on her clasped hands. ‘You have been eavesdropping.’
‘I know,’ she admitted shamefaced. ‘I did not intend to. But it was a good thing that I did.’
‘Because you now know that I feel I have to stay married to you and my father opposes the match?’
‘Yes.’ She was not going to cry, not out here in the middle of the public highway.
‘And like many eavesdroppers you misunderstood what you heard. We were discussing my ill-fated romance with Arabella. My father is entirely in favour of my marriage to you—and we are both in your debt for what you said to him this morning.’
Unsure she was hearing aright, Katherine asked, ‘You are reconciled?’
‘I do not think we were ever in a state of conciliation to be returned to!’ Nick chuckled. ‘This harmony is strange for both of us, I rely on you, Kat, to act as ambassador and make sure we stay in such a condition.’
‘But you cannot wish to be married to me,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady and not sound as though she were pleading.
‘Why should I not wish to be married to a lady I love?’ Nick turned the gig through the gates of the park and drove off the roadway under a spreading grove of chestnut trees. He looped the reins around the brake and shifted in his seat to look at Katherine.
‘You … you love me?’ No, it was not possible. ‘Why did you not tell me?’
‘Because you would think I was trying to hold you to the marriage and because, then, you did not want to be held. I rather hoped you might grow to wish it. I was going to tell you after our dinner party when you saw for yourself what a fitting hostess you made.’
‘I always wished it,’ she whispered.
‘What?’
‘Ever since the journey up here. I knew I loved you, and I knew I could not be your wife.’
‘Because of who my father is?’
She nodded. ‘And because I could not hold you to a marriage begun in such circumstances.’
‘My father points out that I have no need to marry for fortune and that in you I may, against all my deserts, have found a woman who will be the making of me.’
‘Oh, Nick.’ She found she was in his arms, not quite certain how she got there. ‘I could not bear to come between you and your father, not after you had been estranged so long.’
Nick pushed her gently back from him until he could look into her face. The dark eyes that had so affected her across that stark prison room held hers. ‘In effect, you proposed marriage to me, Kat. Now I propose that we stay married. What do you say to that?’
‘Yes, Nick. Oh, yes.’
‘Then there is but one act left to make it so.’ His long fingers caressed down her cheek. ‘Your bed or my bed, Lady Seaton?’ He gathered up the reins and turned the gig in the direction of the Dower House.
With the mid-day sun streaming over the amber silk of the coverlet, Katherine opened her arms and her heart and her body to her husband, her eyes wide, drowning in the dark fire of his as he possessed her, joining them.
‘I love you, Kat,’ he murmured as she cried out his name, arching to meet him, match him, envelop him. ‘I love you,’ and his beautiful, brave Marchioness drew him down to her heart and gave him back love for love.
* * * * *
REGENCY
Secrets
Julia Justiss
My Lady’s Ttrust
About the Author
As a child, JULIA JUSTISS found her Nancy Drew books inspired her to create stories of her own. She has been writing ever since. After university she served stints as a business journalist for an insurance company and editor of the American Embassy newsletter in Tunisia. She now teaches French at a school in Texas, where she lives with her husband, three children and two dogs.
In memory of fellow writer
Nancy Richards-Akers
Shot to death
