stone, turrets and towers, a shifting pattern of roofs as the carriage moved—it was like a fairytale castle at one moment, a palace the next.
‘It is vast.’ Katherine heard the shake in her own voice and stiffened her spine. It seemed that this was their destination and that Nick must be some connection with the family who inhabited this awe-inspiring dwelling. Not a younger son, that she knew. She turned to him, suddenly agitated out of her usual calm self-control at the answer that was forcing itself into her mind. ‘Nick, why are we here?’
‘Because this is where I live,’ he said simply as the carriage drew to a halt at the foot of a great double sweep of steps. They rose gracefully to a balustraded platform in front of the doors.
Nick got up and threw open the door before John could climb down. Katherine found herself handed out, a gaping Jenny at her heels. ‘Follow the drive round to the side, you will see the stable block,’ he called up to John, then took Katherine’s arm and began to climb the right-hand branch of the steps.
Stunned into silence, she let herself be guided. The hand under her elbow was steady and, glancing up, she saw his face was calm, severe and quite unreadable. With a sudden flash of insight she realised this was the face he would have shown to the mob at the hanging. They arrived on the wide flagged platform and, as if at a signal, the doors swung open.
Katherine did not know quite what to expect. This seemed to be a dream so fantastical that if the great Chan of China or the Prince Regent had emerged she would not have been surprised. The reality was more prosaic. Firstly a liveried footman and then, stepping primly in his wake, a thin, elderly man in dark clothing, unmistakably the butler.
‘Good day sir, madam, I regret that his Grace is not—’ He broke off and stared. ‘Mr Nicholas! My lord!’ His face turned white. For a moment Katherine thought he would faint, then Nick had him by the shoulders and the colour ebbed back as he slowly shook his head in wonderment. ‘Heavens be praised, my lord, we thought you must be dead for sure. Six years …’ His voice shook.
‘Heron, if you break down, it will quite unman me,’ Nick said roughly. Katherine could hear the affection in his voice and recognise the shake of emotion he was trying so hard to suppress. ‘I was relying upon you to maintain a little decorum and restraint at the return of the prodigal son. Now, do not let me down.’
‘No, my lord, of course not. It is merely a little breezy out here, it must be making my eyes water.’ He rubbed hastily at his eyes and was once more the impassive butler. ‘We must not detain the lady out here, my lord, if I may say so.’
They passed into the hall, the footman closed the doors behind them and Katherine found herself gaping like a tourist at an exhibition. The ceiling was high above them, the room a double cube of white marble, watered blue silk walls and massive paintings. A tall man was coming down the stairs. He stopped at the sight of the new arrivals, then, with a cry of ‘Nick!', flung himself down the remaining flight.
There was no mistaking who he was. Younger than his brother by perhaps five years, brown haired where Nick verged on the raven, lanky where his equally tall brother was hard with muscle, he was still unmistakably the brother Nick had spoken of with such affection.
‘Robert!’ Katherine drew back as the two men embraced, a torrent of questions and half-completed sentences tumbling from Robert’s lips.
‘I beg your pardon, madam.’ It was the butler. Hernshaw? No, Heron, that was it. ‘I am afraid their lordships will be somewhat preoccupied for a few minutes. Have you luggage, madam? This will be your abigail, I assume?’
She pulled herself together. Few things in any house of rank were as important as to make a good impression on the upper servants and she was not going to let Nick down, however much she trembled inwardly at the shocking surprise he had sprung upon her.
‘Thank you, Heron. Yes, this is Pilgrim. My man has taken the carriage with the luggage round to the stables.’ She drew a deep breath, then said with a pleasant smile, ‘I collect that my husband’s message did not arrive to warn of our coming?’
The poor man had received more shocks that morning than were fair to inflict upon an elderly family retainer and she admired the manner in which he kept all traces of his reaction from his face. Only his eyes widened perceptibly. ‘My lady. Welcome to Seaton Mandeville. I deeply regret that we could not assemble the full staff as is only fitting to receive the new marchioness.’
There, he had said it, the thing that she had been refusing to think ever since the dreadful certainty of who Nick was had come to her on the steps. She was, it seemed, a Marchioness. A temporary Marchioness. Somehow she must keep this bizarre conversation going until Nick was able to rescue her. ‘Under the circumstances that is quite understandable. I shall look forward to meeting them all later.’ Could the butler see the terror in her eyes? How many staff could this palace possibly require? Hundreds, she supposed. Around them other staff were gathering, ostensibly to assist the new arrivals, but quite obviously agog at the unexpected return of the heir of the house.
Mercifully Nick was turning, his arm still across his brother’s shoulders. ‘Robert, I have the honour to present you to my wife. Katherine, my brother, Lord Robert Lydgate.’
She kept her eyes from Nick’s face, knowing it was unlikely she could hide the mingled reproach and fear in them. Instead she dropped a neat curtsy to his brother. ‘My lord. I have heard so much about you from Nicholas.’
‘Robert, please, and I hope I may call you Katherine.’ He strode forward, suddenly so like Nicholas that her breath caught in her throat. ‘And I trust I may kiss my new sister.’
The kiss was a firm but chaste pressure on either cheek and Katherine found herself smiling up at him gratefully as he held her at arm’s length to study her. In the same way as Nick had made her feel safe in Newgate, this young man, so like him, was making her feel less unsure in this equally frightening new environment. ‘Nick always had the best of good taste. Welcome to our home. I hope—’
The voice that cut across Robert’s was calm, beautifully modulated and reduced the small crowd to immediate silence.
‘Heron, it appears that I have received visitors of whom I was unaware. How could that be, I wonder?’
‘Your Grace, I was just coming to announce them.’ Katherine saw the stain of colour on the butler’s cheeks and turned to regard the newcomer from under level brows. It did not take Heron’s words to tell her who was standing in the open doorway regarding the scene, a book in one hand. She had imagined her new father-in-law as Nick in forty years’ time and had not been mistaken. But this was not the patriarchal farmer she had imagined.
Nick himself had gone quite still, except to reach out a hand and take hers. She squeezed his fingers briefly and drew her hand away; she needed all her wits for this encounter and the touch of Nick’s warmth was more a distraction than anything.
Robert appeared immune to the prevailing atmosphere. ‘It is not visitors, Father, it is Nick, safe and sound at last.’
Around them servants were melting away, leaving only Heron and Jenny standing behind Katherine.
‘We will retire to the library. Heron, some refreshments, if you please.’ The Duke turned on his heel and re-entered the room behind him, leaving Katherine with an impression of immaculate and fashionable tailoring and an air of precise elegance.
‘Kat,’ Nick began, ‘I will explain later …’
Katherine
