Silk And Steel Part 25

"I'm sure it is," Kathryn agreed, stifling an urge to grin. Michael had won the marquess over completely. Lucien adored the child and he would do anything for him.

And so Blade had been saddled for Lucien, Michael's new saddle placed on the little dappled gelding he had already grown to love, and the two of them set off for an afternoon ride. As Kathryn stood at the window, she remembered their smiling faces, one so dark, the other so fair, and felt a swell of love that made a lump form in her throat. Lucien seemed so different of late, less distant, more open. Perhaps it was Michael, touching him somehow, breaching the wall of her husband's emotions that he had so carefully constructed around him.

If she weren't so restless, so eager to return to her studies-to continue the very course of action that would once more set them at odds-Kathryn might have allowed herself to believe things could actually work out between them.

But there was no way for her to remain on her present course. Not when she felt so caged, so useless. So completely bottled up. The life of a pampered n.o.bleman's wife left her stifled and bored. She needed her studies, her interest in medicine and healing that had been her reason for living for so many years. She needed the work she'd been doing in the cottage, and though she had no desire to actually be a physician, she wanted to put her hard-won knowledge to some sort of use.

In that vein, Kathryn turned away from the window and returned to the bed to finish packing the last of the items she intended to take on her journey. She had already written to Silas Cunningham, relaying Lucien's plans to travel to London, and everything was set. Every year at this time, the marquess had told her, he spent the week with his solicitor, going over the past year's receipts, successes and failures, and projections for the coming term.

"You're welcome to come with me," he'd said. "In fact, I should be glad of your company. Unfortunately, I'll be busy most of the time. We'll have little chance to enjoy ourselves. Perhaps it would be better if we returned in a couple of weeks and stayed for part of the Season. The gossips might give us some trouble at first, but now that you are the Marchioness of Litchfield, it won't take them long to accept you into the fold."

Her husband would be leaving. Kathryn recognized the chance she had been seeking and latched onto it with greedy glee. "I should rather return for the Season, if you don't mind. It's time I came out of hiding and put an end to the scandal once and for all. Sooner or later there will be children. We have to consider what's best for them."

The thought of children made him smile, as she had known it would. "Then I'll make the arrangements for our return while I am there." He took her hand, pressed a kiss into her palm. For an instant, when she looked into those hot, dark eyes, she found herself wishing she were going along.

Kathryn thought of her husband now as she packed the last of her clothes, snapped the latches on her trunk, and rang for a footman to carry it downstairs. She was leaving with mixed emotions, half of her elated at the prospect of studying again with the doctor, the other half aching with the knowledge of how badly her husband would disapprove should he discover what she was about.

If only there was some way to make him understand.

Kathryn knew that there was not.

A distant rumble of thunder echoed in the entry, jiggling the crystal chandelier above her head. A faint flash of lightning brightened the sky, but it remained miles away and no rain fell. The journey to Guildford would take most of the day, but the roads were still clear and they would be traveling in front of the storm.

"The carriage awaits, my lady, as you have requested." Reeves eyed her with a hint of disapproval. It was obvious she hadn't discussed the trip with her husband, since he had made no mention of it, and though the butler held Kathryn in a certain high regard, he was ever loyal to his employer. "Should his lordship arrive, when shall I tell him to expect your return?"

"I shall be back before he gets here."

"And should he need to reach you?"

Kathryn chewed her lip. She considered lying, but her conscience instantly balked. She wasn't doing anything wrong, merely visiting an old friend and his wife for a couple of days. "I'll be in Guildford. I've an acquaintance there, a physician named Silas Cunningham. I'll be staying with him and his wife."

Reeves nodded curtly, but he seemed a bit less tense. "Have a safe journey, my lady."

"Thank you, Reeves." She stood as he draped a warm woolen cloak around her shoulders, then she made her way down to the carriage that waited out in front. It was a comfortable conveyance, not as extravagant as the marquess's traveling coach, but it was enclosed and snug and would certainly do to get her to Guildford.

It took most of the day to reach the busy but unpretentious village on the road leading north to London. At the doctor's instruction, they pa.s.sed through the town to the far northern edge where Silas and Margaret lived in a pleasant-looking, two-story stone manor house.

As the carriage rolled to a halt in front, both of her friends came out on the porch to greet her, Silas in his usual silver bagwig, b.u.t.toning his waistcoat over his portly frame, Margaret shorter, but equally stout of build, her brown hair pulled back in a tidy bun. The children, Kathryn learned, were away at boarding school, where they were both, as she could have guessed, excelling in their studies.

With a grand show of enthusiasm, Kathryn was ushered into the house and led upstairs to her bedchamber, a simple but spotlessly clean affair with a pale blue coverlet over the bed and ruffled blue curtains at the dormer window.

After a supper of jugged hare and venison pasties, she got her first real chance to talk to Silas about his work. Margaret smiled kindly as they rattled on about subjects that meant little to her but enthralled her guest and her husband.

"You won't be able to come to the college tomorrow until cla.s.ses are ended," Silas said. "In the meanwhile, I've some texts that should keep you occupied. You can join me after the students are gone and I'll be able to show you some of our ongoing work."

Kathryn excitedly agreed. "I've been so looking forward to this. You cannot imagine what it's like being forced to ignore the single thing that one is most pa.s.sionate about."

He nodded gravely. "I think I can imagine. With you, learning is a flame burning inside you that cannot be doused."

She smiled at his description, grateful to have at least one person who seemed to understand her. "I've brought a list of questions. I'm hoping over the next few days we might delve into some of them." Silas nodded, pleased by her eagerness, it seemed. Their discussion went on well into the evening, while Margaret politely listened without really hearing, her chubby fingers skillfully working the knitting she held in her lap.

The following day, Silas left for his duties at the Guildford Physician's College while Kathryn remained at the house with his books. She joined him late in the day and together they headed for his laboratory in the bas.e.m.e.nt under one of the cla.s.srooms.

"Well, don't just stand there gaping," he said when she faltered for a moment in the doorway, staring at the cloth-draped table in the center of the room. "You have seen a cadaver before. If you wish to learn anatomy, there is no better way than to do so firsthand."

She took a deep breath, her mind racing back to the last time she had been involved with the sort of learning that was considered less than respectable. Then she squared her shoulders and walked in, determined to learn as much as she was able in the short time she was there.

Lucien had the oddest niggling feeling that something was wrong. For two days he had tried to shake it, but the sensation had only strengthened. Since his sixth sense for trouble had rarely failed him, he decided to cut short his meetings with Nathaniel Whitley and return to Castle Running.

After a tense journey from London, he arrived home late in the evening, and was only half surprised-and extremely annoyed-to discover his wife was not there.

"Where is she?" he demanded of his butler, who, reliable as always, had had the good sense to learn where she'd gone.

"Her ladyship is off to Guildford, my lord. She is visiting an acquaintance, a physician and his wife, a man by the name of Silas Cunningham."

Cunningham. The name registered immediately and Lucien knew exactly who it was. He also knew precisely why his wife had gone to see him and that she was dabbling once more in her blasted medical studies.

Defying his expressly forbidden command.

If the roads hadn't been so d.a.m.nably muddy and he wasn't already tired from his journey, he would have gone after her right then. Instead, in a fury, he went into his study and poured himself a stiff drink of brandy, hoping it would help him to sleep, then left the room and climbed the stairs to his bedchamber. On the morrow he would leave for Guildford to fetch his errant wife home. She would face the full measure of his wrath and once and for all end her ridiculous obsession with a subject that was totally unsuitable for a lady of her station.

Lucien clamped his jaw. Whether Kathryn liked it or not, he vowed, the matter would finally be put to rest.

Dawn grayed the sky outside her window. Unable to sleep any longer, Kathryn lit the branch of candles beside the bed, pulled on her quilted wrapper against the faint morning chill, and went to work, poring over another heavy volume on anatomy that Silas had loaned her. She wished the books were more complete, that the workings of the human body were better understood. Perhaps they would be if so many people weren't still living in the Dark Ages, seeing any sort of tampering with the dead as sacrilegious and tantamount to making a pact with the devil.

She sighed, thinking that her husband wasn't much better; his notions of propriety were so strict he would never have allowed her to come had he known why she was there. Kathryn shuddered to think what he would say if he saw her working over Phineas, the name they had given the cadaver in the bas.e.m.e.nt at the college.

She glanced at the clock on the mantel over the hearth, where a servant had arrived to lay a fresh layer of coals on the fire. Time to make ready. It was Sunday. They would attend morning service at the small parish church, then quietly slip away to their work at the school.

Tomorrow she would return to Castle Running.

Kathryn frowned, knowing she would do so with mixed emotions. She had missed her husband every day since she had been gone, but once she returned, she would miss her studies. She would be relegated once more to a life of st.i.tchery, watercolors, and gardening, a life of boredom and uselessness to Kathryn.

Blowing out the candles now that the sun was well up, she dressed in a yellow wool gown and headed downstairs, determined not to dwell on problems that could not be solved. As they had planned, they attended the service at the Guildford parish church, but Kathryn found it hard to concentrate. Instead, her mind kept spinning ahead, forming questions about things she hoped Silas could explain as they worked in his laboratory.

After making the necessary farewells to the vicar and his family, they finally escaped, and Margaret returned to the house while Kathryn and Silas went immediately to his bas.e.m.e.nt laboratory.

With an ap.r.o.n tied over her woolen gown, she studied the lifeless body on the table. The man had expired from a close-range accidental gunshot, Silas had told her, showing her the portion of the side that had been blown away. The shot had fractured the victim's ribs, and openings were made into the cavities of the chest and abdomen. The diaphragm was lacerated, and a perforation made directly into the cavity of the stomach.

"It was an utterly hopeless case from the moment the accident occurred," Silas said, "though the man miraculously lived for several days."

She didn't ask how the college had managed to obtain the man's body-she didn't want to know. As Lucien had said, there were unscrupulous men who engaged in the practice of providing cadavers to the scientific community. Resurrection men were little better than grave diggers. But she respected Silas Cunningham and she trusted that he had gone through legitimate channels. And she truly believed such studies were crucial to making advancements in medicine.

Dr. Cunningham adjusted the spectacles he wore on the end of his nose. "Take a look at the way the food in the stomach had begun to enter the bowel," he instructed, leaning over the table. Kathryn swallowed against the strong odor of pickling fluid used to preserve the body and focused her attention on the path he indicated with his scalpel.

"Take a look at-" The doctor broke off just then and Kathryn followed his gaze to the door. Her face went the same pasty shade as the man on the table when she saw her husband standing at the bottom of the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs.

"Get your things," he said in a voice so tight and soft it was more chilling than if he had shouted. His eyes were flat and cold and even the anger that turned his lean frame to steel could not warm them. "You are leaving Guildford-now."

Kathryn wet her lips. "This is my friend, Dr. Cunningham. I was hoping you would have the chance to meet him. He has given me the rare opportunity to-"

"I see exactly what the two of you have been doing. I told you to get your things. I have already stopped by the doctor's house and collected the rest. Unless you wish me to drag you out of here by force, I suggest you do as you are told."

Humiliation warred with anger. She started to argue, to tell him she refused to be ordered about, but Silas caught her arm. "Go with your husband," he said gently.

"But I'm not going to-"

"Perhaps in time he will see things differently. For now, it is better that you do as he requests."

Lucien said nothing, just stared at her with an expression of tight control. Kathryn turned away from the accusation in those cold dark eyes, picked up her cloak and swung it around her shoulders.

"I appreciate your hospitality, Silas. Please convey my grat.i.tude to your wife." She reached the door and Lucien jerked it open. He followed her up the steep stone stairs and into the sunlight. His carriage was waiting on the street in front of the college. He stopped her before they reached it.

"I thought you had more sense. Is your memory so short you don't recall the consequences you paid the last time you involved yourself in this sort of behavior?"

"Of course not, but I wanted to-"

"I know what you want-or at least what you think you want. I've warned you, Kathryn-time and again. Aside from that, you gave me your word."

Her chin angled up. "I told you I wouldn't go back to the cottage and I did not."

"You know my feelings on this matter. You waited until I left because you knew I would not approve."

"It's part of my life, Lucien. You can't ask me to simply give it up."

"I'm not asking you, Kathryn. I'm telling you." His glance strayed back toward the small bas.e.m.e.nt room, his eyes dark and hard. "You're my wife, the future mother of my children. You will never again engage in that sort of abomination. Do I make myself clear?"

Kathryn didn't answer.

He gripped her shoulders, angry black eyes boring into her. "Do I make myself clear?"

Kathryn simply nodded. Her throat had closed up and it was difficult to speak. "Yes, my lord," she whispered. "You have made yourself perfectly clear."

They were the last words either of them spoke all the way back to Castle Running.

Even after their return, tension remained high between them. Though Kathryn often felt her husband's eyes on her, the marquess said little, and he had yet to return to her bed. She knew that he would, sooner or later. He wanted an heir above all things and as long as she played the role of marchioness exactly as he thought she should, eventually he would forgive her.

But Kathryn found it difficult to forgive him. Her life was in turmoil and she ached with loneliness and despair. She was desperately in love with a man who didn't love her, a man who disapproved of the woman she was and wanted only the use of her body. Tonight he had gone out for the evening. He hadn't said where. As she lay in her empty bed, staring up at the ceiling, Kathryn wondered how the future that she had imagined could be so different from the life she actually lived.

Lucien sat across from Jason in the smoky taproom of the Quill and Sword Tavern, where they'd come for a quiet evening of escape.

"In a way I feel like the veriest villain," Lucien said, running a hand over his face. "Watching her, you would think I have stolen her very reason for living."

"Perhaps as she sees it, you have."

"Kathryn is so d.a.m.ned bright and determined. I've seen few men with such a driving need to learn."

"But still you refuse to indulge her interest in medicine."

"She's a woman. She has no business engaging in that sort of pastime."

"And that, I suspect, is what you told her when you arrived in Guildford."

Lucien made no reply, which was answer enough.

"I gather you have yet to forgive her."

Lucien released a weary breath. "Kathryn believes I am still angry. Perhaps I am, but only a little. It is difficult to stay angry at the little witch for long." A corner of his mouth lifted faintly. "I may not approve of her studies, but I have to admit in some ways I admire her. And I want her as I never have another woman."

"Why don't you tell her that?"

Lucien glanced away. He couldn't imagine saying those words to Kathryn, yet deep down he wanted to.

Jason grinned. "Admit it. You're d.a.m.ned glad you married her."

Lucien sat back in his chair. "I always wanted a manageable little wife. In Allison Hartman, I would have had one. But I have to admit Kathryn intrigues me far more than Allison ever could have. I can't say I'm sorry things turned out the way they did."

Jason motioned for the tavern maid to bring them another ale. "It appears your wife isn't the sort for sewing and music lessons. She won't be happy unless she finds another subject that interests her, something that will challenge her."

Lucien mulled over Jason's words; it was a thought he'd had himself on more than one occasion. His glance strayed off toward the patrons in the taproom: the sailors gaming in the corner, Squire Thomas's son, Robert, laughing at a friend's bawdy joke, one of the young bucks from the village making eyes at Sadie Jensen. "I had hoped she would be with child by now," he said, "but as far as I know she is not. Perhaps Velvet could be of some help."

"I'll ask her if you like."

Lucien nodded. "I'd appreciate that. Perhaps Kathryn has mentioned something that she would find interesting."

"Kathryn loves children. As you said, a babe would surely help." Jason took a sip of his ale, eyeing Lucien over the rim. "I imagine you'll keep trying."

Lucien thought of Kathryn's soft mouth and willowy curves, of what it felt like just to hold her. "You may be certain I will."

But he returned too late that night and Kathryn was already asleep. Tomorrow, he vowed. Unfortunately, tomorrow had a way of being too late.

TWENTY-TWO.

Kathryn slept fitfully. When she finally drifted off, she awakened far later than she meant to. By the time she arrived downstairs, Lucien had gone off riding, leaving her to wander the house feeling listless and out of sorts. She went over the weekly menu with Cook, but was finished all too quickly. Running the household was second nature to a woman whose mother had died when she was a girl of ten, and the task provided little satisfaction.

Kathryn looked longingly out the window toward the stream that led off to the woods and the little stone cottage that had been her refuge. Just thinking about the place made her heart thud dully. Then she realized the hammering wasn't merely in her chest; a visitor was knocking at the tall carved front door. She made her way in that direction, waiting in the entry for Reeves to pull the heavy portal open.

At the sight of the stout build and white powdered hair of Constable Perkins, Kathryn's stomach instantly knotted.

"Lady Litchfield." He pulled off his tricorne hat and heavy coat and handed them to the butler. "Constable Nivens and myself would like a word in private with you and your husband."

Kathryn moistened her lips, which suddenly felt dry and stuck together. She focused her attention on the butler. "Reeves, see if his lordship has returned from his ride. Tell him Constables Perkins and Nivens are here and that we are awaiting him in the Gold Drawing Room."