He had forgotten her temper. Had underestimated her desire to right the wrong he was doing to her. But he did not apologize. She would not dare put herself on public show in such a way. Even if her common sense had truly deserted her, the duke would not let her. “That would be humiliating for you.”
“And for you, as well. What man does not bed his own wife for five years? It is well enough known that we married hastily because you were found in my bed--if I am proved a virgin, what will the gossips say about you? That you are a eunuch? Lord Eunuch. Isn’t that much worse than Lord Cuckold?”
“Perhaps.” Without doubt. He would be a laughingstock. And he would lose his suit for divorce. Still, there was no way the duke would allow her to expose herself in such a way. He laughed, as if her threat meant nothing. “But I am Irish, after all, what Englishman expects me to do the traditional?”
She gave an infuriated gasp of outrage and then collected herself and smiled, as if she understood he was only displaying bravado now to intimidate her into backing down. “It will be enough to stop your action.”
“It will, unless you are lying.”
“I am not.” She dismissed his caution easily.
He stood. What could he say to end this between them here and now? To send her packing, glad to divorce him. “Then you should not have come here.”
“What do you mean?” A dawning apprehension touched her eyes as he crossed the room to stand close enough to touch her. But he did not. He would not. It would be enough to threaten her. It had to be.
“You are my wife, Kate, whether I chose to make love to you or not.”
“But you chose not to, and you must live with that.”
“Nevertheless, you are my wife. Your body is mine. Nothing could stop me from taking you now. Here. And then what would your threats be but empty air?” He hadn’t intended to, but her closeness made reason disappear and he pulled her to him, demonstrating the truth of his words. “Your evidence gone all too easily.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” She did not back away from him and he realized that she intended to challenge him to the limit.
He shook his head and touched her cheek lightly. “Katie, you are a foolish woman. I would not have guessed.”
“I am indeed.” Though she winced at his words, she did not flinch away from his touch. Instead she laid her face against his chest. “Who but a fool would have believed the lies in your letters?”
He sighed, resisting the urge to kiss her and make good his idle threat. “What do you want?”
“What?”
“I can see that I’ve wounded you with this action, but I am determined to divorce you. I made a mistake marrying you and it is time to correct it.”
“Why are you so certain it was a mistake?” She pulled away from him and gazed up into his face as if she might divine the truth there.
“Trust me. I know it.” He looked away, through the window and into the fog that had still not cleared off. He glanced back to see her bowed head “Tell me what I can offer you that might ease your pain, and allow you to accept that I do not wish to be your husband any longer.”
“Did you ever?”
“Would I have climbed through your window and risked life and limb if I did not?”
“Even then you did nothing more than kiss me.” She would not be appeased. “Did you restrain yourself because you loved me? Or because you didn’t?”
“Would it ease your pain for me to say yes or no?” Sensing her vulnerability, he leaned down and kissed her gently, though he knew his words would hurt. “Would it soothe your bruised pride for me to make up for what you missed on our wedding night? I will if you like. It is not necessary for a man to love a woman to bed her, as I’m certain you know.”
She stared at him without answering for a moment and his heart beat faster. He wasn’t certain whether he wanted her to say yes or no. No, that was a lie. He wanted her to say yes, though he knew it wasn’t at all wise.
Then, abruptly, she pulled away from him and gathered all the letters on the table into her arms. He thought she would toss them into the fire, but instead she threw them, so that they flew at him, pelting him lightly before they fell to the floor. “You are not the man who wrote these letters. You cannot be.”
He picked up one sheet and scanned it quickly. “It is my handwriting, there can be no doubt.”
She glared at him coldly. “Then you obviously wrote them to the wrong person, my lord. Please allow me to return them to you so that you can save yourself the effort of thinking of new lies to tell your next wife.”
“I take it, then, that you will no longer object to the divorce?”
She glared at him. “I cannot wait to be done with you.”
He nodded, ignoring the pain of her words. It was what he had wanted, he deserved the pain. Deserved the hollow, unsatisfied feeling within his chest. “I’ll call a carriage to take you back, then.”
She seemed shocked that the decision had been made so quickly and her visit was truly at an end for a moment. And then she nodded and snapped, “Please see that it is better sprung than the one that brought me to this hellish place.”
He didn’t dare show his triumph for fear she would change her mind just to spite him. He tried not to sound eager when he called for the carriage. But the servant who answered his bellow shook his head. “The fog is thick as a good cream soup, my lord. No one will be going anywhere today.”
“Fog?” They spoke in unison, equally appalled at the idea of Kate staying another night in the abbey. But a quick glance out the window proved the servant’s words true. The fog was thick, and it did not show any promise of burning off quickly.
Sean sighed. “It seems you will celebrate Twelfth Night with us, my lady. I hope you will not look down upon our poor celebration, in comparison to the one your family must even now be holding.”
He could see that she wished to refuse. For a moment, he was tempted to allow her to spend her Twelfth Night with Lady Dilys. But he relented. Her family had shared their holiday with him. It would be churlish to make her spent Twelfth Night alone. “The parlor is much warmer, and brighter than your room. Do not let your fear of my ill manners to drive you from the meager hospitality I have to offer.”
“I would like the chance to know your sister,” she said defiantly.
“No doubt she wishes the same.” He would have to tell Bridget to behave. But he had no true hope that she would. She was much too much like her older brother.
“I have but one favor to ask of you.”
“A favor—“
He held up his hand to halt her protest. “My uncle and my sister do not know of the circumstances of the divorce. Could you please not mention it today?”
Her expression moved from outrage to mutinous denial in a flash. “So you don’t wish them to know you are willing to lie and ruin my reputation for your own convenience?”
He appealed to her compassion, since he couldn’t argue her point. “Connor is an old man and Bridget a young girl. Don’t they deserve to enjoy their last day of Christmas without dealing with our troubles?”
To his relief, her shoulders slumped briefly. “Very well. I shall mention nothing of it—” She lifted her face to stare at him. “But you shall owe me a favor, then.”
A favor. What could she ask of him? That he not ruin her reputation? The duke would see to that negotiation, she had no doubt. Sean would get his divorce and the duke would see her reputation suffered relatively little damage.
Part of her even understood how he had come to turn his back on her. If he did not wish to take his seat in Parliament, he doubtless thought her unable to be a good wife to him. What good could her influence do to keep this cold abbey warm?
Kate thought of refusing to join their celebration. Of insisting on a tray in her room. But the scents of cider and cinnamon called to her and she soon found herself down in the drafty sitting room with Sean, his sister, his cousin and his uncle.
“Sorry about the fog, my lady,” Niall said. He smiled broadly though, and she doubted he spoke the truth as he shot a glance at Sean. “It should clear off tomorrow—or next week.”
“Next week?” The thought of staying here a week now that she had accepted his demand was intolerable. “Surely—“
“My cousin is teasing you,” Sean reassured her, with a dark look at Niall. “The fog should be burned off tomorrow in time for you to make it to the coast.
“Fog or no, you’ll not go.” Bridget spoke softly, without looking at Kate, so for a moment she wasn’t certain the girl even addressed her. And then the oddly piercing green-eyed gaze lifted and caught hers. “You’re meant to be here. The fairies say so.”
“Bridget—“ Sean’s voice carried a warning note, but the girl did not heed it.
“I asked them this morning, Sean. The fairies don’t lie. They told me a beautiful woman would bring a whirlwind of troubles that will sweep our house clean.” Bridget turned to Kate and smiled with sweet innocence. “It’s not your fault you brought the trouble. You couldn’t help it. The fairies don’t blame you.”
He glanced at Kate briefly, and she thought she saw defeat in his eyes as he smiled at his sister. “The fairies said our harvest would be good last fall, too.”
Bridget frowned, and repeated, “They don’t lie. But they were mad because you didn’t remember to put out the corn for them like you promised.”
Sean, for a moment, seemed to want to argue, and then his expression smoothed away and he said gently, “I know Bridget. The fairies wouldn’t lie to you.”
“Of course they wouldn’t.”
He teased, “And I’m certain they’ll see to it that you get the baby in your slice of cake this year, as you do every year.”
Bridget, distracted as her brother had obviously meant her to be, asked “When shall we have the cake, Sean?”
Kate wanted to ask what was wrong with the girl, but she could not be rude and speak in front of Bridget as if she were not present. However, she did not want to be alone with Sean. Cowardly, she knew, but Niall and Bridget were safer companions than her husband right now.
She’d thought she finally understood why he had not returned to England. But now, thinking of how he had rushed away because Bridget was sick, she wondered if there was more to the story than he wanted her to know. If she drew him aside, she could ask him privately. But the thought frightened her. She could still feel the imprint of his lips on hers this morning. The heat of his breath on her cheek. The scent of his aftershave. No. She didn’t want to be alone with him if she could avoid it.
“Are you thinking of your own family?” Niall asked her quietly. “They are a much livelier bunch than we.”
“They may be livelier, but we are strong,” Sean answered sharply.
“Mama and Papa are here, Niall,” Bridget chided softly. “We simply cannot see them.” She turned to Kate. “Our Mama was blown away by the Big Wind and smashed against a chimney far away. But not before she tucked me safely in a fairy hole.”
“My mother and father were lost in a snowstorm,” Kate confided. “But they left my sisters and I safe in the care of my oldest brother and sister.”
“How many sisters do you have?”
“Five. And one brother.” Kate thought of her own large, loving family, no doubt gathered at a similar dinner. “And so many nieces and nephews that I can hardly count them.”
Bridget glanced at Sean. “I would like a niece or nephew to love.” She glanced back at Kate with complete sincerity. “You are his wife, can you not get him to give you a child? Perhaps I shall ask the fairies.”
Kate had no answer to give. A flush of shock suffused her, only made worse by Niall’s choked splutter of laughter. He did, however, manage to offer a diversion, “It is time for a game of cards, I think.”
Bridget leapt up for the cards, forgetting the conversation of a moment before, thankfully. “I shall beat you, Niall. I have grown skilled since we last played.”
“Kate is no poor hand at cards, girl. Watch your predictions until we have tested our guest’s mettle.”
“What do you play?” Kate asked politely. Speaking of home had made her think of what she missed. The duke and duchess would even now preside over a houseful of relatives. No doubt Valentine and Emily and their sons would be there, as well as Helena, her husband Rand and their son.
“Maw is the game for us,” Niall said cheerfully. He had been equally cheerful when he spent the Christmas in England, she realized. Had he missed his own small family and simply hidden it from her? Had Sean?
“As you like, then.” She rose and went to join them at the small inlaid card table by the fire. Each year seemed to bring more empty places to the duke’s table, though.
Juliet, with R.J. and little Will had gone to Italy this year, to see a Christmas performance by an opera student Juliet had sponsored. Betsey’s seat would not be filled this year, for the first time since Kate could remember. She had left for America at the same time Kate left for Ireland.
She wondered if Betsey’s new husband would allow Kate to visit? Perhaps she would do so, once she was divorced. America had been good for Ros, perhaps it was Kate’s future, too.
Husbands had entirely too much power over their wives. It was not fair. The laws should be changed. She looked at her husband, remembering the feel of him pressed against her.
She wished she’d never come. She wished she’d just read his letters and believed his lies, no matter the pitying glances from family and friends. No matter that he would never visit her in the flesh, only in pretty words and dreams.
She’d rather have the pretty words than this awful truth. If she were home she could read his newest letter just as they read the letters from Betsey and Ros that Miranda would put out on dinner plates at the table.
If she were home they would take turns reading them aloud and reminiscing. That was what Twelfth Night was for at home. What was it for here?
The celebration here was quiet, unlike the loud one, full of games and gifts at home. She felt restless, as if she should offer to do something, but she did not know what.
“Would you care for a game of whist instead of maw?” Niall asked, as if he understood where her restlessness came from. After all, he’d spent the last few holidays at her home.
“No. I should prefer Maw. I am in your home this year, not mine.”
Bridget said softly, “If you are Sean’s wife, this is your home.”
“Of course, Bridget. You are right. How silly of me.” She could see Sean frown, but she did not care.
So they played Maw and Kate learned fast and played hard so that in the quiet hush their laughter stood out more than it might have amidst the hustle and bustle of her usual family holiday.
Bridget, for some reason, carried around the tiny carved figure of the Christ Child from the cake, which had indeed been in her slice. Somehow, though, Kate suspected that Sean, not the fairies, had arranged that piece of magic.
Up close, Kate realized how ridiculous it was that she had considered Bridget to be Sean’s mistress. Though nearly a woman grown, she had the mind of a child. Fey might be the kindest word possible for a girl like her.
She had given the tiny figure a place of honor as they played, asking it questions and patting it when it answered in a voice only she could hear. Niall did not object, although he had refused to deal cards to the figure, no matter how Bridget pleaded.
Kate glanced at Sean, who seemed unconcerned by this bizarre behavior. His glance shifted away, and she realized hotly that he had been watching her.
She turned back to the game, embarrassed that he had caught her glancing at him. Humiliated that he had not wanted to catch her glance, even for a brief smile or a raise of his eyebrows in acknowledgement of her presence. Did he truly think her so useless and shallow?
“It is your turn,” Bridget said impatiently.
Kate glanced down at the table, trying to recall where they were. What she was supposed to do.
“Do you want to hold it?” Bridget asked, thrusting the child into her palm without waiting for an answer. “It will give you good luck.”
“How sweet,” Kate murmured, unsure what to do that would not offend the fragile looking girl.
“Why do you think that Sean will not give you a baby?” Bridget looked at her innocently. “Don’t you want one?”
Kate was not prepared for the maelstrom of emotions that engulfed her. Children. She had watched her sisters give birth, held her nephews and her nieces, laughed and dreamed of motherhood. She had imagined children with their father’s dimple and his green eyes.
But now. She glanced at Sean, remembering the feel of him against her. He had meant his threat to scare her away. And it had. But perhaps she should not have let it.
She had demanded a favor of him, not even knowing what she wanted from him. But now she did.
She smiled at Bridget as she smoothed one finger down the carved wooden cheek of the infant Jesus. “Yes, Bridget. I do want a child. Very much.” The ache was always there, but she tried to tamp it down, as she must. One needed a husband to have a child. And it appeared that, despite the marriage, she had not truly acquired a husband.
The girl lifted the figure from Kate’s fingers and held it to her ear, listening intently before she smiled and nodded her head. “Good. Then I shall ask the fairies to give you one, since Sean will not.”
Niall had been valiantly fighting his urge to laugh, but at that he sighed loudly. “Are we to play cards, ladies, or speak of foolish things?”
“It is not foolish to wish for Sean to have a baby. Especially now that I know he has a wife.” Bridget smiled at her uncle indulgently before turning her gaze on Kate again. “He loves you.”
“Enough prattle, Bridget,” Sean said suddenly. The glass of whiskey that he had held tightly for much of the day lifted in the air. “These are not matters for your ears, or your tongue.”
“But—“
“Shall I send you to your room?” Sean stood and gestured to Niall. “Come, let us bring in some wood. Perhaps a roaring fire will cease my sister’s tongue from wagging.” The men left, Connor following behind, although he did not seem hale enough to carry much firewood.
“Still, he loves you.” Bridget whispered with a smile, her eyes far away. “I asked the fairies. They say he has been sighing for you since your wedding day.”
The fairies could not have been in the room with them, then, when he had offered to bed her without love, if they could tell the child such lies. “I think he’s been sighing over other things—but not me. He could have had me at any time. All he had to do was ask.”
As if to belie Kate’s conviction that Bridget thought like a child, the green eyes sharpened and the girl said, “Men aren’t really very good at asking, you know. Sean is quite bad at it.”
All at once, Kate remembered that this girl had been among the men last night. She shook away her preconceptions and asked bluntly, “What is he good at?”
Again, Bridget’s answer was sensible and lucid. “Taking care of his people.”
“Has he introduced his tenants to the most recent horticultural techniques, then? Found a way to make the land feed the people?”
“He’s not good at that.” Bridget fidgeted. “He is good at showing the English who is boss.”
“You must be careful not to do anything dangerous, you do know that, don’t you Bridget? I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”
The girl’s open expression shuttered closed. “He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. Or to hurt you.”
He had already done all he could to hurt her, but Kate did not argue because just then Niall and Connor returned. She had a brother she adored and she knew she’d never believe anything bad about him without seeing it with her own eyes—and perhaps not even then.
Sean himself did not return, which seemed to lighten the mood of everyone else. She wondered if the discussion of children had bothered him as deeply as it had bothered her?
Kate played several more hands of Maw and found herself telling one of her sister’s fairy tales—Rapunzel, of all stories—to a rapt audience of Niall and Bridget. She had a smile on her face as she climbed the stairs to face her room, and the invisible Lady Dilys once again.
Sean obviously cared for his sister, since he had a maid trailing her all day long. What an exhausting job that must be, Kate thought, after having spent the day with the girl. With compassion, he had dismissed the maid to the kitchen for her own celebration. The poor girl had looked pleased to leave her charge in the sitting room among family. Kate expected she didn’t get much of an opportunity to rest if her job was to follow Bridget everywhere the girl wandered.
Which only made it worse that Sean would let such a creature out at night, exposed to danger she could not possibly understand. She decided to speak to him, though she didn’t expect her words to do much good. He ought not risk his sister in his illegal activities.
What kind of father would he be to a child of his own if he were so careless of his sister? Still, Bridget’s suggestion burned inside her. Would it matter if he had no desire to be a father, as long as she vowed to be a good mother?
One thing was certain, she wanted a child. And he wanted a divorce. He’d offered to bed her, without undue enthusiasm, but not with any particular distaste. Other men found her attractive enough—she’d even had opportunities to take lovers, but she had not. In this way, they could both have what they wanted.
Perhaps she should agree, despite his humiliating lack of enthusiasm for the idea. He’d said nothing about children, but since that was a natural result of such actions, he had to have been willing to accept such consequences. Hadn’t he? Or had she had too much wine?
Kate considered fancifully whether she should ask Lady Dilys’s opinion? Hadn’t that lady met her unhappy end in childbirth? The thought sent Kate into a plunge of doubt. Perhaps she should reconsider. At the very least sleep on the matter before she brought it to Sean tomorrow.
Tomorrow. She was to leave, unless the fog had still not cleared. She’d have to pray for fog. Or, better yet, a good howling storm that would trap them all inside—no one able to travel. No one able to risk his life in the dark of night.