To Marry an Earl Page 3

  Father rubbed his hands together, excitement clear in the straightening of his back and lifting of his mouth. She had not seen him this happy since . . . well, she couldn’t think of any instance, really. Not in the last decade.

  “Yes, yes, you’d not believe what the boy was willing to part with for you. More than enough.”

  Mama had been quiet since Father had entered the room a few minutes before. She had not even risen from the settee she was perched on. But she spoke now. “Who is it, Harcourt? To whom have you promised our daughter?” A note of steel lay beneath her words, backbone Kate hadn’t seen in years—not since the final pregnancy Mama had lost ten years earlier.

  “The Earl of Bowcott. Deep roots in the aristocracy. Deeper pockets.” He said the last bit with hardly suppressed glee. Katherine couldn’t help wondering just how much she had been worth to this earl. And why.

  “I do not recall meeting him in London. Do you know the name, Mama?” Kate moved toward her mother and around the small table set between the settee and chairs that furnished the south end of the drawing room. With her eyes, Kate implored Mama to speak again. She needed someone now more than ever.

  “The boy only just came into the title this past year,” Father cut in as Mama opened her mouth and then firmly clamped it shut. Her backbone, it seemed, had deserted her again. “Inherited from a distant uncle or cousin or whatnot. But the title is long-standing. It would seem the boy’s a bit of an idiot though. Wants to become further acquainted with you before being leg-shackled. Requested the banns be read and everything done properly.” He laughed, his face contorting in amusement, the lines about his mouth deepening into cavernous grooves. Clearly Father didn’t see the kindness this earl was showing Kate or, more likely, didn’t care.

  But Kate noticed and was grateful. No doubt word of Father’s actions would have reached the ton, and by doing the thing properly, this man would be quieting the scandal and giving Kate a shred of dignity. She couldn’t help but be lifted at the thought, despite her continued surety that no true gentleman would buy a wife. More than likely, the man was only protecting his own reputation.

  “—we join him at some house party he is hosting at his estate.”

  At some point, Kate had lost track of the conversation and now attempted to understand what she had missed. Something about a house party?

  “I, of course, will not be going. I’ve no desire to jaunt about some countryside and make nice with company. You and Katherine will. And I will return to London. I have business that needs to be attended to. Must speak with the steward first before I leave.” He looked around him, nodded once as if assuring himself of his correctness, then stalked out the door.

  That was all. The entirety of the conversation had not been even ten minutes, yet Father had changed Kate’s life with his pronouncement. An earl. She would be marrying an earl.

  One who’d purchased her and now wished her shipped off to his home.

  Kate gazed without seeing around the room, her thoughts attempting to find solid ground. Her eyes met Mama’s. Her posture was straight as ever, her hands clasped in her lap.

  But her eyes, deep green and once beautiful but now aged with shadows and lines, were full of distress. It had been so long since Kate had seen anything besides resignation, or some form of the emotion, that the pain she saw was surprising. Her mother’s words surprised her even more.

  “I am sorry, Katherine. You should have had so much better than this.” She paused, a sheen in her eyes that she blinked away. “I cannot help but pray that this marriage will be better than . . . This earl has shown himself to be at least thoughtful in his actions thus far. Perhaps the situation will be better than we expect.” Her mouth lifted in a sad but hopeful smile, and she straightened her slim shoulders. “I will alert the staff to our plans. Three days is not much time to prepare for such an extensive trip.” She moved past Kate, briefly touching her arm as she went, and murmured, “And I will learn what I can about the Earl of Bowcott.”

  Three days? So that was what she missed when her thoughts had strayed. In less than a week, she would be meeting her husband. The thought made her heart thud with an unpleasant heat.

  Oh please, Lord, please let him be kind.

  ***

  The early October wind had a bite to it on the day of their departure, but the carriage was moderately warm. Father did not see them off. He was not even in the county any longer. He’d left almost immediately after delivering his news and discussing some sort of land expansion with his steward. He never could be convinced to stay in the country long—not that anyone ever attempted to keep him there.

  The journey would take only a day, and Kate could not help feeling that an entire month of travel would not have been sufficient to calm her tumultuous stomach.

  Yet there was one bright matter to the otherwise dismal circumstances. The farther they traveled from Harcourt House, and Viscount Harcourt, the more Mama seemed to relax. Their evening meal at an inn along the road was rather pleasant. Kate’s shoulders loosened as Mama’s smile appeared with the extension of their respite.

  “I have always loved autumn in this part of the country. The colors on the leaves are so striking, painted such beautiful hues.” Kate’s mother sighed contentedly, and Kate’s mouth lifted at her words.

  The area was beautiful. Though situated fairly close to her home in Oxfordshire, Kate had never been to the Cotswolds. It required traveling in the opposite direction of London, which was the only place she had ever traveled. The idyllic rolling hills and forested countryside were truly breathtaking.

  At least the scenery will be a point in the earl’s favor, especially if the man himself does not live up to the beauty that surrounds his home. Kate’s lips twisted wryly. But the moment of humor was chased away by another bout of nausea at the thought of the earl. He could not possibly live up to the beauty of this country. Of that she was certain, despite her limited knowledge of the man. He might be a brute, or a half-wit, or even a schoolboy so scared to court a woman that he found it easier to buy himself a wife. But the chances of him being on par with the beautiful scenery that passed her window now were slim. They were nonexistent even.

  Her stomach would not settle, and she feared tears might creep into her eyes if she continued on in her melancholy imaginings. If only she could have ridden instead of being sequestered in the carriage. That might have alleviated some of this wretched agitation. But that was not possible, so Kate pressed Mama for conversation instead. “Have your inquiries yielded any word about the earl?” Knowledge must be better than imagination in this instance. She could hope.

  “Ah, well, Alice had only heard of him by name, mentioned a few times by servants in London. But she asked around below stairs and learned that he came into his title last year but spent this past Season settling some disputes in his inheritance. No one seems to know where he came from, only that he inherited from a second cousin, once removed. I suppose there were no other males in that line. Regardless, he’s a bit of a mystery. I find myself intrigued to meet the man.” Mama coughed slightly into a handkerchief, then reached up and patted her perfectly coiffed hair. How it was still so presentable after nearly a day of travel, Kate did not know. Her mother had always had the ability to present a perfect image to the world. She refused to be anything less than perfection, despite the shambles of their family. Despite her inability to stand up for anything in her own marriage. Even for her own daughter.

  Kate sighed and shifted in her seat. It was unfair to place blame on Mama. She could not help her husband’s decisions; she was as much under his thumb as Kate was. More so, really. Kate only wished Mama had put up any semblance of a fight on her behalf. Perhaps then she would not feel so alone in the whole matter.

  Realizing she was still staring at Mama’s hair, Kate shook herself. Her thoughts turned to her own dark locks, squashed on one side from having fallen asleep against the carriage following lunch. Her dress was just as bad, wrinkled as it was. But what else was one to do in a carriage but shift about and attempt to doze?

  Still, her appearance was bad enough that it could have the earl breaking their betrothal before it had even started . . . It wasn’t such a bad idea, albeit a weak venture to hang all her hopes on.

  “Katherine, perhaps you could redo some of the pins in your hair? Your curls seem to have suffered from the journey, but I believe the plaiting can be salvaged.” Mama spoke quietly but firmly, reading Kate’s thoughts. Unfortunately, her image of perfection extended to her daughter. Reluctantly, Kate fixed the arrangement until Mama nodded her approval.

  Just then, the carriage took a corner, causing Kate to lean to the side. Were they reaching the estate at last? Her stomach revolted again. Was it too late to convince Mama to turn back? To escape to the nearest town? Start over as a governess or even a maid? It could not be worse than marrying a man she had never met and of whom her father approved. A husband could be far worse than a father. They would marry, and he would have sole and complete control over her life. And she would be alone, utterly alone, without even Mama’s presence, weak as it was. Kate’s breath came fast, her heart pounded, and her limbs felt leaden.

  Why had she not attempted every possible excuse to waylay this marriage?

  “Oh my.” Mama’s voice pulled Kate from her jumble of thoughts. Mama was peering out the window, seeming surprised.

  Kate twisted in her rear-facing seat to view the window. Holding the curtain aside, she peered ahead as best she could, to see what had so caught her mother’s attention.

  She gaped.

  A large, light-stone building was atop a rise ahead of them, gleaming in the waning light
of day. She counted eleven windows spanning the front on each level. The majority of the home was three floors, but the area at the middle three windows included a fourth level. The front was flanked with a number of columns, and a grand staircase led to large doors. The whole of it had to be at least four times the size of their modest country manor. Even so, the true beauty was not in the grand house but in the surrounding landscape.

  They had passed the quaint village of Ozleworth on their way in, and Kate understood that the town of Bowcott lay westward, on the other side of the park. In one of Father’s ramblings on Lord Bowcott’s wealth, he had mentioned that nearly seven thousand acres surrounded the park. The acreage in the front and to one side was highly forested, with the exception of well-maintained gardens at the foremost part of the park as well as the tree-lined lane upon which their carriage traveled. But the majority of that acreage must have been at the back of the estate. She could see, as they drew closer, that on the far side of the park, the rolling hills of the Cotswolds began, the setting sun turning them golden in its light. The view must be spectacular from inside the home.

  The carriage pulled up to the front, and a number of footmen filed out of the grand house to see to their luggage and that of the equipage following behind, in which rode their maids and the remainder of their things. The Harcourt footmen opened the carriage door to help the ladies descend, and Kate hurriedly straightened her hair and skirts again before taking the proffered hand.

  This is it. Her stomach clenched, and her vision blurred for a moment. As she stepped down, she watched the front doors, expecting the earl to appear at any moment. Would he be tall? Wide? Handsome? Kind?

  No one but the butler stood there stoically holding the door open for them. Kate’s breath whooshed from her, and she glanced about, seeking out something that would indicate their odd reception. Or lack thereof.

  As they entered the grand entry hall, a woman she presumed was the housekeeper stepped forward and curtsied. She had graying hair pulled into a tight bun and a stick-straight figure that she held with ramrod precision. Her eyes, not unkind, met Mama’s first, then settled on Kate’s.

  “Welcome, Lady Harcourt, Miss Cartwright. I am the housekeeper, Mrs. Grange. We are so pleased to welcome you to Newark Park. I am terribly sorry to inform you that Lord Bowcott has not yet arrived, but he did send this correspondence with his regrets.” She motioned to a footman, who stepped over, holding a salver with two small letters on it. One was addressed to Mama, but the other was addressed to Kate. She blinked in surprise, not only from the unexpected lack of an earl, but also from the existence of the folded square of a paper before her. She had never received a letter from a gentleman. It was not acceptable for a man to correspond with an unrelated woman. Then again, she supposed she was his betrothed now. Besides, having a small note presented by his housekeeper was rather different than posting an actual missive.

  At least, she thought it must be.

  She took her note and murmured her thanks, unable to keep her eyes from surveying the room. It was grand. As grand as the facade of the house would suggest. The housekeeper moved toward the stairs that looped up from the entry hall toward the upper levels.

  “May I show you to your rooms? We’ve prepared two of our finest. My lord requested it. I am sure you are weary from your travels, so I will have trays sent up. The house party guests have not yet arrived. We expect them the day after tomorrow, and we will be following country hours. I do hope that meets with your approval.” She looked expectantly, not at Mama, but at Kate, who was still gazing around the spacious entry filled with paintings, tapestries, candelabras, and vases. The vases, wholly intact, were a point in the earl’s favor. His lack of presence was not.

  Kate stumbled over her words. “Yes, of course. We will be grateful to rest after our travels.” She was making a horrid impression, but the housekeeper only nodded, seemingly unconcerned by her diminished conversation skills.

  Kate nearly tripped over her skirts trying to take everything in as they reached the top of the staircase and swept down a lush, carpeted hallway, past innumerable doors that Kate assumed led to guest chambers. Kate looked sidelong at Mama, wondering at her silence, but Lady Harcourt was steadfastly staring ahead as she walked with far more grace than her daughter. She appeared tired. Likely from the day of traveling, but Kate would not mind a reassuring smile. Especially as the pounding in her chest increased. The earl may not be there, but the reality of their being shown to their rooms was causing the icy fear to creep its way back up Kate’s spine.

  Reaching the end of the hall, they turned and passed two more doors before stopping next to one on the left.

  “Lady Harcourt, these will be your chambers. I trust you will find them to your liking and hope you will apprise me if you are in need of anything.” The housekeeper curtsied, and Kate’s mother gave a regal nod before sweeping into the room.

  Kate felt oddly abandoned and stared at the closed door for a full five seconds before pivoting around and gesturing to the housekeeper to continue.

  Mrs. Grange continued a few more doors down, stopping this time on the right. “These rooms are generally reserved for a daughter of the earl, but as there are none in residence, Lord Bowcott felt they would serve you well.” The housekeeper opened the door, then curtsied, allowing Katherine past.

  Kate entered the room and promptly came to a stop. Nearly everything was white and gold and so very beautiful. She thanked and dismissed Mrs. Grange.

  The door closed softly behind her as she took in the surroundings. A beautiful, large four-poster bed sat to her right, and a cheery fire blazed in a marble hearth to her left, set by a door she assumed led to a dressing room. But what she was most drawn to was the large window framed by tasseled gold curtains. She crossed the room, intent on seeing the view. The sun had set now, but the sky was still streaked with bright oranges and pinks. There was just enough light to see the scenery she had glimpsed when they had first arrived. She placed a hand on the cool glass, taken aback at the pure beauty. The grounds were still, and the hills rolled away from her in soft waves. Greens, oranges, reds, and yellows battled for dominance in the dimming light. The very landscape seemed on fire with the combination of the colored leaves and the last few streaks of sunlight. Kate felt a desire to retire to bed immediately if only to see the scene again in the daylight.

  In this room, for the first time in what felt like years, Kate felt oddly safe. The thundering in her chest subsided, and her hand relaxed its grip on her skirt. A square of paper tumbled to the ground. Her letter.

  She scooped it up and eyed the crisp black ink of her name. Her stomach jolted at the thought of what it might contain. Unwilling to fully surrender the measure of peace this room had given her, she set the letter carefully on the dressing table. She could read it in the morning. For now, she wished to sleep and forget her troubles, if only for a few hours. Perhaps things would not appear so terrible in the morning.

  Chapter 4

  She was wrong. Things were worse.

  Mama took ill the following morning, leaving Kate to fend for herself, and things only spiraled from there. Starting with the note.

  It couldn’t be ignored any longer after Betsy—who’d been elevated to her lady’s maid, as Kate had shared Alice with Mama before—helped her dress. So she dismissed her maid, paced the room several times with the paper clenched between her fingers, then finally gained the courage—or perhaps the curiosity—to open it. Only, apparently, it had not even been written by the earl.

  Miss Cartwright,

  I regret to inform you that business has detained Lord Bowcott from leaving London. He expects a delay of one week from Thursday. I have been asked to relay this to you in addition to his hopes for your comfort in his home. The first of the banns will be posted Sunday next.

  Mr. Downing

  Solicitor

  The note was not unkind, but it did nothing to erase Kate’s confusion at being written to by a solicitor.