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‘Caterina…stop! That’s not it. It’s not the house.’
‘Not the house?’ she said, blinking. ‘Well, what else is there?’
‘We…Sir Chase and I agreed not to say anything until your return from wherever you’re going this weekend.’
‘From Sevrington Hall? Why ever not? You mean, before you know how much you can raise…Father…what is it? What have you agreed to? What is it you don’t want me to hear immediately?’
His hand had retaken hers upon his thigh where his nervous fingers were dragging at her skin with an ungentle caress, too unfamiliar to be soothing. She drew her hand away, full of sudden misgivings and an awareness that the matter concerned her personally more than all of them, that her offers of help were about to fall with a thud at her feet. And as her father struggled to find a way of explaining, her own realisation grew that his long talk with Sir Chase, the latter’s air of satisfaction and his flippant ‘ask him,’ his interest in her reasons not to marry, his questions about dowries, his assurance that the debt had been settled ‘very amicably’ were all to do with her. Only her.
‘What have you done, Father?’ she said, breathless with foreboding. ‘This concerns me, doesn’t it? Tell me?’
‘Such a lot of money,’ he whispered. ‘I could never repay it, but it was not my suggestion, my dear, it came from—’
‘Tell me, Father,’ she snapped. ‘This agreement. What is it?’
‘You, Caterina. He wants you. He’s made me an offer for you.’
Like a sudden mountain mist, cold anger swirled around her, prickling every hair with a freezing, numbing indignation. ‘No, tell me the truth. It was a wager…a wager, wasn’t it? That’s not quite the same thing as a straightforward offer, is it, Father? He’s agreed to release you from Harry’s debt in return for Harry’s sister, hasn’t he? And if he doesn’t manage to get Harry’s sister, you’re going to have to pay up, aren’t you? That’s the top and bottom of it, and that’s not an offer, but a wager. You see, I’m not the green girl I used to be; I do understand these things. But what you don’t appear to understand is that I shall not be marrying anybody, and if I ever changed my mind, that hell-rake of a man would be the very last person I would consider.’ Panting with fury and the torrent of words, she felt his betrayal as keenly as a sword wound. ‘How could you do this, Father?’ she said, standing upright before him. ‘Will you never see that I am a woman, not a thing to be bargained with? I can go out any day and earn a good living whenever I choose. In fact, when I return from Wiltshire next week, I shall make the necessary arrangements. Any father who can rid himself so easily of a daughter doesn’t deserve to have one.’
‘You said you’d do whatever you could to help, Caterina.’
‘So I did. But I didn’t offer myself in exchange, did I? All I can do to help doesn’t mean forfeiting my entire happiness single-handed so that Harry can carry on gambling with money he doesn’t have. Surely you can see that?’
‘That’s an exaggeration. If I had disapproved of Sir Chase, I would not have agreed to his generous offer.’
‘Nevertheless, since it didn’t occur to either of you to consult me about something that affects me so closely, you will now be obliged to refuse Sir Chase’s wager, and tell him that your daughter would rather be an opera singer than marry him.’
‘No…no! You cannot do that.’
‘Yes, I can, Father. That way, I get to choose who I go to bed with.’
The gasp of shock was audible, but the words that followed were cut off by the slam of the door and a loud crash as the brass knob bounced across the polished oak floor like a pomegranate.
The door reopened with a grating sound, and there she stood, holding its partner in her hand with an extension protruding from it like a dagger. ‘I’ve had an idea,’ she said in a voice too sweet to be anything but sarcasm. ‘Why not sell Harry to the highest bidder? The problem is of his making, after all. It certainly isn’t mine.’ Placing the weapon carefully on the polished table, she turned away quickly before he could see how her eyes were flooding with tears. ‘Better have that repaired before you sell the house,’ she whispered.
Early on the next day, the journey to Sevrington Hall was undertaken in two stout travelling coaches, one of which belonged to Lady Dorna Elwick, Hannah’s sister-in-law, and the other to Lord Rayne’s elder brother. And since that one had the Elyot cypher and crest upon the doors, spaces for two large trunks, Venetian blinds with tassels, fringed cushions, carpets, straps to hold and pockets to put things in, that was the one occupied by Lady Dorna, Caterina and Sara, and Lord Seton Rayne, Lady Dorna’s younger brother. The two maids and one valet rode in the second carriage with two brindled greyhounds lying across their feet, and more luggage. Strapped to the fourth seat of that coach sat a harp in its leather cover, rocking gently over each bump in the road.
It was not long before both Lady Dorna and her brother noticed that Caterina had spoken only to answer questions, and then briefly, and that Sara was casting sympathetic glances at her sister as if she were ailing. Caterina was usually more than happy to accept invitations to sing when it provided a way of meeting established friends and making new ones. Even better was the prospect of escaping for a few days from her harassed father and Hannah’s eternal carping about the duties of marriageable daughters.
Today, however, appeared to be an exception, for Caterina had not had time to recover from her father’s drastic solution to his problem, despite what she had said about sharing it. In her view, this was not sharing it but landing it on her, and her resentment had burned all night. Not that she had any intention of complying with his intolerable agreement, but there was no escaping the fact that she could expect some stormy weeks ahead before either her father or Sir Chase would acknowledge defeat. Since yesterday’s unhappy interview, she had not spoken to her father, all her meals having been taken in the room she shared with Sara. Surprisingly, Hannah had not tried to make contact with her, though she must by now have been told of the offer.
‘Headache, love?’ said Lady Dorna, laying her cream kid-gloved fingers upon Caterina’s knee. ‘Are you not looking forward to this weekend?’
‘More than ever,’ said Caterina. ‘No, not a headache. You know how it is at home these days. Even our dear Sara is glad to get away.’
Sara’s smile agreed with this, although her reasons were not quite what her sister had implied. Lord and Lady Ensdale had two very handsome and eligible sons.
‘You’re not still blue-devilled about yesterday, are you, Cat?’ said Lord Rayne. ‘I could see you didn’t much like Boston’s offer of a lift, but by that time there was not much I could do about it. Amelie tells me you’ve taken a dislike to him. If I’d known…’
‘I dislike what I’ve heard,’ she agreed, finding it impossible not to smile at the pretty face opposite her. Except in their remarkably good looks, the brother and sister were not otherwise much alike. Whereas Seton’s dark and strikingly masculine features were strong, Dorna’s were feminine in the extreme, fair and blue-eyed and very lovely. Complete to a shade in the most daring modes, she was used to showing off her physical attributes with a candour that some of the older generation thought was taking things a little too far. ‘And I certainly didn’t care to be seen,’ said Caterina, ‘with a man of his repute. Not in Richmond, anyway. You know how people talk.’ Immediately, she was aware of her feminine hypocrisy. To be seen in his curricle had been the greatest excitement.
‘Only too well,’ said Lady Dorna, squeezing her hand in sympathy. ‘Sir Chase told Seton that he’d called on your father and that you’d already been introduced. So Mr Chester approves of him, does he?’
‘I suppose so. What do you know about him, Lady Dorna?You and his parents are neighbours, are you not?’
‘Know about him, my dear?’ The wide blue eyes were almost violet in the shady coach, gleaming with laughter. She would have liked to have known much more than she did about the man her brothers admired, but the opportunity had never presented itself. Her mouth pouted, prettily. ‘Ooh, only that half the women in England would like to have driven home with him, even if it was only half a mile. That’s all.’
‘And the other half probably have been, and that’s not all,’ drawled Lord Rayne to himself, glancing out of the window. ‘No.’ He revised the caustic remark. ‘That’s doing it too brown. Boston’s bang-up to the mark. A real out-and-outer. He and I were together for a while in the Dragoons and all the men admired him then, and probably still do.’
‘Wasn’t he a captain, like you and Nick?’ said Lady Dorna.
‘He was. Prinny still thinks the sun shines out of him. Did you know he belongs to the Four Horse Club, Cat?’
‘It doesn’t surprise me,’ she said. ‘He certainly is a master with the ribbons, isn’t he? But you must know more than most about his other side, the gambling, the adventures. The affaires,’ she added, unable to hold back the word.
Lord Rayne was dismissive. ‘Oh, Cat! He does everything more than most men. He’s that kind of cove. Larger than life. Rides like the devil, but as good with horses as anyone I know. He’s an amazing athlete, fencing, boxing, beats the rest of us hollow every time, wins his wagers, yet is as generous as the day. And he’s extremely wealthy, too.’
‘And women? Is he as generous to them?’
‘Is that what’s bothering you?’ he said, peering at her.
‘It’s not bothering me at all,’ she replied. ‘I merely mention it as an addition to his long list of accomplishments. Or do I mean activities?’
‘Oh! So that’s what it’s all about? He’s put out a line for you, has he? And you don’t want to be reeled in.’
‘Seton,’ said his sister, ‘will you please try not to be so vulgar? Cat has been angled for quite enough while you’ve been away. She must be getting tired of it. You surely cannot expect her to welcome his advances, after all that.’
‘Is Boston making advances, Cat?’ Lord Rayne persisted.
‘Answer my question first. It makes no difference who makes advances, I’m not interested. I’m simply curious to know whether the reputation is deserved or just gossip. I don’t see why I should like a man simply because everyone else does.’
‘Your father, you mean.’
‘Anyone.’
‘Well, then, if you really want to know, he’s probably had more women than I’ve had suppers, and I shall not say another word on that subject while Miss Chester’s cheeks are so flushed. So there.’
‘I don’t think there’s any more I need to know, thank you. Shall we change the subject then? How well do you know Lord and Lady Ensdale?’
‘Well enough to know that their house parties are never dull. They used to entertain the regiment at Brighton, you know. Kept open house there. Look, Cat…’ Lord Rayne said, leaning forward a little from the buttoned velvet seat, ‘if you’re concerned about Boston, about him…you know…calling on you, you send for me, eh? I’m at home for a while and we can always ride out, or drive, and if you need an escort I shall more than likely be available. If you need an excuse, use me.’
‘Thank you,’ Caterina said. ‘That’s very thoughtful. I may well do that. It will only be temporary.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘In that case,’ said Lady Dorna, jauntily, ‘send Sir Chase on to me at River Court and I’ll do my best to take his mind off you.’
Privately, Lord Rayne did not believe his lovely widowed sister would succeed in diverting Chase Boston from anything he had set his mind to. But if Caterina was as unhappy with the possibility as she appeared to be, he himself would gladly help her out, for they had once been good friends and he had not made a promising start of their second phase. Besides that, he would not mind being seen with her on his arm.
With that offer in mind, a certain peace was established for the first time in twenty-four hours and, because she did not want to put a damper on a weekend so much looked forward to, Caterina brightened up. The five days ahead would surely be enough time to displace thoughts of Sir Chase Boston and her father from her mind. She wished Hannah’s youngest twins no harm, but their high temperatures had been a godsend in forcing their mother to relinquish her duties as chaperon, duties she took far too seriously for most people’s enjoyment. Lady Dorna, known to her friends as The Merry Widow, had quite different ideas about what a chaperon ought (and ought not) to do, and the two sisters had no doubts who was most in need of a duenna.
The journey through the rolling countryside of Hampshire and Wiltshire, however, provided ample opportunity for memories of Sir Chase’s unforgettable presence to intrude upon Caterina’s peace, whether she wanted them or not. In the light of Lord Rayne’s high opinion of him, heard at first-hand, it was hardly surprising that he should have taken it for granted that a woman would jump at the chance of being driven behind his team of chestnuts in a curricle, of all things.
Not surprisingly, Lady Dorna had noted only Sir Chase’s most memorable features, but then, she had not suddenly discovered herself to be indebted to him by twenty thousand guineas. She might have looked upon matters less facetiously if she had not been proposed by her father as the means of paying him off, simply because her brother was not in a position to do so.
Caterina and Sara had visited Sevrington Hall once before, but that had been two years ago when snow had prevented their return home on the appointed day, and the delayed house-guests had made good use of the new plaything by arranging snowball fights, sledging on trays, snowman-building and skating on the lake. Now it was early May, with pink and white blossom lying thickly on the roads instead of snow, whitening the hedges and flying behind the wheels. With two rests and a change of horses along the way at Farnham and Winchester, it was almost dinnertime when they came in sight of Sevrington Hall near Salisbury, gleaming like a golden ingot on the blossomed hillside.
Turning through a solid Renaissance gatehouse, they drove through herds of deer in the parkland towards the Elizabethan house whose many window-panes flashed apricot in the late sun. They were neither the first nor the last guests to arrive, but to judge from the ecstatic welcome of their ebullient hostess, they might have been the first people she had seen for a year.
Lady Ensdale was one of those rare aristocrats about whom no one spoke unkindly except, on occasion, about her voice, which any regimental captain would have been proud to own. One also had to accept her slight tendency to overdress, though there was no hint of cheapness in the finery. Her quiet husband and two charming sons adored her as, it seemed, did everyone else. Still blooming well into middle age, she possessed an enviable energy and zest for life, and now her welcome rang through the Great Hall, where the odd mixture of Tudor minstrels’ gallery and Georgian staircase epitomised the whole house and its eclectic contents.
‘You’ll know almost everybody,’ she called over her shoulder as she led them up the wide white staircase. ‘Only a small gathering this time. I’ve put all the ladies in the west wing and you, Seton dear, are in the east wing with the other men. Now don’t pull a face like that, wicked boy. What you get up to in the middle of the night is your business, but don’t trip over your hounds and wake us all up, that’s all I ask.’ Her laughter was infectious; even when they had closed the doors of their rooms, it could still be heard over the barking of dogs.
Millie, the sisters’ maid, opened one of the small casement windows to see a flight of honking swans with peachy wings on their way towards the lake, the rippling V-shaped ribbon dropping lower and lower until it shattered the mirror of water with a splash and a flurry of feathers. Caterina and Sara leaned out to watch. ‘Only a small gathering this time,’ Sara murmured, smiling.
Dressing for dinner as a guest in someone else’s house was always more fun than dressing for one’s own family, and Millie’s expertise was such that she could easily attend to both her charges at the same time, having once been a dressmaker’s talented apprentice. There was nothing she didn’t know about the latest fashions, accessories and hairstyles, or the art of wearing them with panache, nor was there ever any argument about what the sisters should wear when their tastes were so different.
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