A Perilous Attraction

For years, Catherine had heard nothing but disbelief, irritation or amusement on the subject of her charities. Astonished, she could only stammer, “You—you do?”

“I do, and I am prepared to offer you some assistance. My seat is situated in Yorkshire. Countless children are in unfortunate circumstances in the cities of that area—in the mines, the woolen mills, the foundries. The district provides endless scope for your talents and my funds.”

Catherine narrowed her eyes in thought. “Yes, I have heard many horrifying tales of children in the mines and mills. But what of my work here? I have only just succeeded in organizing a board of contributors for the foundling hospital, and I am still trying to do so for the new boys’ home.”

“I have no objection to an occasional trip to London, although I prefer to live on my estates so that I may oversee them myself. But one can place only so much dependence on others.”

“Yes, that is certainly true. It is one of the reasons I desire to remain in London.” And unwed.

“I understand that, but I believe that you may accomplish a great deal of the groundwork for your London projects through the post, if you plan your visits to best advantage. In time you will be able to shift your attention to Yorkshire.”

Catherine turned and once more looked without seeing at the scene outside the window. Caldbeck waited calmly for a response. His offer indeed tempted her. He had the power to help her causes in so many ways, if only he would. It would be a relief to have a supporter. The money was important, of course, but…She turned back abruptly.

“Would you speak in the House of Lords on the laws governing child labor?”

Caldbeck paused, considering. Catherine tapped her foot impatiently.

At last, he nodded. “Yes, from time to time, if you provide me with the information. I rarely speak in Parliament, but I shall do so now and then. I do not wish to involve all my time with your projects. I have business of my own. That is one reason I need you.”

Catherine again directed her gaze toward the window. Could she believe his promise, or was he just trying to convince her to accept him? How long would it be before he lost interest in her, and his own business took precedence over hers? She could not know until too late. She still did not entirely understand his wish to make her his wife.

You warm me. Could anyone warm this human icicle? Beauty? Elegance? Perhaps he simply wanted a tall, well-dressed woman at his side as an ornament, one he could enjoy in his detached way, who would perform the duties of his countess. Perhaps he would make no demands on her in the marriage bed. That might be an advantage. She would not have to fear for her children. But…was that entirely an advantage?

Catherine felt the color rising again in her face and kept it carefully turned to the window. A woman of strong feelings, she had been aware for some time in this conversation that Caldbeck’s presence created sensations in her that she had rather avoid. She must make this decision with a cool head, not in response to unruly prompting from her lower body. Though what in that unmoving visage inspired passion, she was sure she didn’t know. Just because he had broad shoulders and well-muscled legs…

Her next thought stopped her. What a miserable existence it would be to live with a man who aroused these desires if he had no inclination to explore them with her! Catherine had been aware for years of a burning curiosity to understand the intimacy of the bedchamber, but except for a few discreet kisses, she remained in ignorance. She understood too well the penalties for pursuing the subject in her unwed state to risk them. Her impetuosity did not extend that far. She shuddered to think of having a child under those circumstances.

Besides, she would be compromising her integrity to use another person in that way only to satisfy her curiosity. And she would not allow herself to be used thus. Did she, in effect, contemplate that very thing in this proposal of a loveless marriage?

She pivoted and again gave her attention to Caldbeck. “My lord, I appreciate the value of what you are offering. However, let us have some plain speaking. Only vaguely do I comprehend what you want from me in return.”

He paused for so long that Catherine wondered if he intended to continue. At last he answered.

“I desire you.”

“Oh.”

That answered that question.

“Did you think that I might not want you in my bed?”

Catherine cursed the hot blood again creeping up her neck, but she held her ground. “I didn’t know…It is very difficult to…Never mind, the bargain is now clear.”

And was it a bargain she was willing to make? His wealth for her body? She didn’t like the sound of that! Yet many marriages were based on no more. And Catherine was a realist. Her situation would oblige her to wed someone sooner or later. When she considered the good that marrying Lord Caldbeck might allow her to do…Would he uphold his part of the bargain? She could not be sure, but his very rigidity indicated that he would keep his word. And she must admit he wasn’t asking for something she felt unwilling to give in return.

And she had no idea what else she might do.

“Very well, my lord. I fear that we are engaging in folly of monumental proportions, but my decision is made. I accept your proposal.”

Chapter Two

Lord Caldbeck waited so long to reply that Catherine feared he had suddenly changed his mind.

“I am relieved.”

Catherine shook her head in disbelief. If his lordship had been laboring under any anxiety whatsoever, it certainly was not apparent.

“When do you wish to have the ceremony performed? I…I may not be able to stay here much longer.” She gestured toward the door, through which the thump of boxes and trunks being moved about was audible.

“As soon as possible. I already have a special license. Perhaps you need to do some shopping. Have you a white dress?”

Catherine looked at him blankly. “A white dress?”

“To be married in. I would like to see my bride in white.” He paused and then inquired neutrally, “I assume it is appropriate?”

Catherine’s face positively flamed. “Of course, it is appropriate! Do you think…?”

Caldbeck held up a restraining hand. “Like you, I believe in the need for plain speaking. It is one thing I believe we have in common. Have you a dress?”

“Yes.” Catherine hated herself for stammering. How did this man manage to put her out of countenance so easily? And without ever raising his voice? “Yes, I have a white ensemble that will be suitable. It is quite new, in fact. When…?”

“This afternoon. At four o’clock. I have made the arrangements with the chapel. If you have anyone whom you wish to be present, give me their names at once, and I shall have my secretary send cards. I have already taken the liberty of inviting a few of the people I know to be your friends to join us for dinner at my London house.”

So soon! Irate again, Catherine put her fists on her hips. “Wait just a minute! You have already invited my friends to a wedding dinner? How could you be so sure I would accept your bargain?”

Caldbeck lifted her chin on one finger and looked intently into her outraged face. “You had very little choice, Kate. You were not bred to toil…and that would be a dreadful waste. I thought you would want to have your friends with you, and that you would wish to say goodbye. We shall be returning to Yorkshire very soon.”

This time Catherine could not fail to hear a certain gentleness in his tone. Perhaps he understood more of her feelings at this unsettling moment than she did. In her need to reach a decision she had not let herself feel the pain of losing her comfortable life, all her hope of independence, of leaving everything and everyone she knew. At the unexpected sympathy a lump formed in her throat. She nodded without speaking.

“Good. You will stay at my home, of course. You’d best have your maid pack your belongings, and I shall send my footmen to transport them.”

Lips compressed, Catherine nodded again, blinking back tears. Caldbeck extended a hand. She placed hers in it, and he carried it to his lips. Then, as if thinking better of it, instead of kissing her fingers, he pulled her to him. Catherine felt the warmth of his big hand on her back through her shift. Before she had fully taken in that sensation, the roughness of his coat pressed against her breasts. She felt the light scrape of a carefully shaved cheek as he lifted her face with his free hand and covered her mouth with his.

The warmth of his kiss flowed through Catherine from her lips to her knees. Without thinking, she leaned into the embrace. His arms tightened around her, pulling her up against a bulge between his legs. Catherine had never been kissed in her shift. Heavens, she could feel so much of him! She was aware of the bulge as never before. Apparently the Earl of Caldbeck was not devoid of all feeling.

The fabric of his breeches and the smooth leather of his tall boot brushed against the skin of her legs as he slipped a foot between hers. Catherine sighed and her legs went weak. The hand on her back pressed her closer, supporting her against him. Just as her senses began to reel, he released her and stepped back. She stumbled, and Caldbeck quickly steadied her.

He touched her face with one finger. “That’s better. I do not wish to have a red-eyed bride.”

Catherine hunted once again for traces of laughter—or perhaps displeasure—but as usual, found none. She drew in a deep breath.

Caldbeck turned and started for the door. “I shall call for you at half after three.”

Somewhat before half after three, Catherine sat at her dressing table, attired in the new white dress and pelisse. A good thing that white became her! Even though it was associated with young debutantes, she liked the dramatic effect it created with her vivid coloring. Satisfied by the reflection that looked back at her from the dressing mirror, she fingered the pearl necklace, which had been delivered to her an hour earlier. Lord Caldbeck was nothing if not efficient.

She reached up to alter slightly the tilt of the tiny hat that Sally was fastening to the fiery mass of ringlets piled at her crown. Tipping her head, Catherine watched the play of sunlight from the window across her gleaming locks. She always marveled at the way the sun brought out the deep colors, turning them almost purple in the shadows.

Red hair was far from fashionable, but Catherine liked hers, nonetheless. It suited her. She dabbed a tiny bit of powder over the all but indiscernible freckles across her nose. Freckles were another matter. She really should wear nothing but wide-brimmed hats, she told herself for the thousandth time.

While Sally rummaged in the wardrobe for gloves and reticule, Catherine had time—unfortunately—to reflect on her situation. In less than a day she had gone from being a wealthy young woman, looking forward to the independent control of her own fortune, to being a pauper. Now, a few hours later, she faced becoming the bride of a man with a face of stone. She shivered.

His bride! She would spend tonight in his house. Her stomach sank. Now that her curiosity was about to be satisfied, she found herself pulling back. Tonight she would lie in the bed of a total stranger. She would be completely at his mercy, and she had no idea of his true nature or of what to expect from him. Catherine considered herself a bold woman, but even if he had not broken the door, those glacial eyes held enough menace to strike terror to a heart braver yet than hers.

For a moment panic gripped her. She jumped up from the vanity stool and strode around the room. She couldn’t go through with it! She couldn’t. She started at the sound of her maid’s voice.

“Miss Catherine? Come and sit down, do, Miss Catherine. I need to put your gloves on you. See? I’ve picked the stitches loose on the ring finger so you can tuck it under. And you’ve a strand of hair come loose.”

Catherine sighed and, returning to the dresser, sat and extended her hand. While Sally coaxed the tight kid gloves into place, Catherine took several deep breaths and strove for calm. It would not be so bad. Surely it would not. He was a handsome man, and the kiss they had shared…Oh, dear! This line of thought didn’t help. She was turning red again.

“Are you warm, miss? To me the room is just a thought too cool.” Sally began to fan her with the pierced ivory fan from her reticule.

“No, no.” Catherine pushed the fan away. “I’m fine.”

At that moment they heard the crunch of carriage wheels in the street. Sally hurried to the window. “I think that’s him, Miss Catherine,” she reported. “Oh! Would you look at that carriage! All silver-gray like, and with the finest dapple grays. Alike to a hair, they are!”

Catherine, none too fond of the idea of being caught peeking out the window at her bridegroom, peered over Sally’s shoulder. The shield and wolf’s head coat-of-arms on the door of the carriage undoubtedly identified it as the property of the Earl of Caldbeck. As the earl emerged and made his way up the steps, the hall clock chimed half after three.

“Well,” Sally observed, “at least he’s punctual.”

Of course he was punctual. What else would he be? Catherine stepped a little closer to the window and looked down into Caldbeck’s upturned face. Drat! She dodged back. And what else would he do but catch her peeping! Perhaps she should let him cool his heels awhile. Always begin as you mean to go on.

But even that bit of rebellion was to be denied her. A tap at the door and the footman’s voice announced that the Earl of Caldbeck awaited her downstairs. Sally slipped the cord of Catherine’s reticule over her hand and hustled her to the door.

“You best be going, miss. You can’t keep the vicar standing. Oh, wait. Let me pin up that curl. There, now. You’re done.”

Catherine allowed herself to be led to the door—and her waiting fate.

No guests waited in the quiet dark of the chapel when they arrived, save two. A well-dressed gentleman Caldbeck presented as his friend, Adam Barbon, Viscount Litton. The earl introduced the stylish, dark-haired woman—more handsome than beautiful—to Catherine as his sister, Helen, Lady Lonsdale. They made an attractive pair, he with his fair hair and laughing brown eyes, she with shining black curls and black-fringed eyes as blue as Catherine’s own. Startled, Catherine stumbled over her response as she clasped the other woman’s hand.

Caldbeck had a sister! How little she knew of him, indeed.

She was just wondering whether her marriage would take place with only her bridegroom’s associates present, when Mary Elizabeth flew into the chapel. Catherine hastened to meet her.

“Oh, Liza, I feared my note had not found you at home.” Catherine gratefully embraced her dearest friend. “I am so glad to have you here!”

“I was out. You can’t imagine the hurry I have been in to be here by four.” As usual, Mary Elizabeth’s short, plump figure looked a bit rumpled. “I am positively out of breath. Oh, that plume on your hat is perfect, just perfect. You are getting married! I can’t believe…And without a word to anyone. How could you? And to Lord Caldbeck! I couldn’t believe my eyes when we received his invitation to dinner tonight. I told George—oh! George? Are you…? Well, of course you are. We came together….”

“How do you do? I am Caldbeck.” The gray-clad earl took advantage of Liza’s indrawn breath to cut through the monologue and extend a hand to her escort.

“Oh. This is my husband, George,” Mary Elizabeth finished, quite unnecessarily.

“George Hampton, your most obedient servant, sir.” The trim younger man bowed and shook Caldbeck’s hand.

Hampton then took his wife firmly by the arm and led her to where Caldbeck made the balance of the introductions. Those having been completed, Caldbeck gravely presented to Catherine a magnificent bouquet of white roses and lilies, with ribbons trailing to the floor. Their intoxicating scent flowed over her as she took them in her arms. Murmuring her thanks, she looked up into unreadable gray eyes.

The waiting vicar, balding and well padded, cleared his throat for attention and directed the party to assemble before him. Suddenly Catherine stood at Caldbeck’s side. The vicar was reading the service.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and these witnesses to join together….”

To join together! Oh, heaven, what was she doing here? She was marrying this man—this man who, until this morning….

Children. Oh, God! Children!

“Who giveth this woman in marriage?”

A resounding silence ensued. Catherine had not even invited her uncle to be present, let alone to give her away. She heartily hoped that the tearful, if insincere, farewell that her aunt had bestowed upon her would be the last she ever saw of either of them. Nonetheless, a major contretemps loomed.

She looked helplessly at the vicar, who was peering over his glasses at her. Stepping gallantly into the breach, George Hampton took her arm and announced, “I do.”

He placed Catherine’s shaking hand into the earl’s outstretched one, and Caldbeck’s fingers immediately closed warmly around hers. The vicar resumed his reading.

“If any man knows any reason that these two should not be joined, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.” The churchman looked sternly around the all but empty room.

Me! I do! The words echoed through Catherine’s mind, but apparently she had not said them aloud, for the vicar was again speaking.

“Do you, Charles Eric Joseph Randolph, take this woman, Sarah Catherine Maury, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold….”

Charles. His name is Charles Randolph. How could she not have known that? Did no one ever call him Charles? His strong voice answered.

“I do.”

“Do you, Sarah Catherine…” Now or never. Once the words of the vow passed her lips, she could never take them back. Children. Her children. Silence seemed to stretch into eternity. Then she heard a whispered, “I do.”

Was that she? Had she spoken those words? She must have, for the vicar was saying something about a ring. Catherine looked in confusion at the flowers in the crook of her left arm. Then she smelled Liza’s perfume, and the flowers disappeared. Caldbeck fitted a heavy band of gold onto her trembling finger. The vicar was praying.

She looked up at him as he placed a hand behind her head, her eyes questioning. He carefully drew her toward him. She felt his mouth warm on hers for a moment—then it was gone. Catherine took a deep breath and turned to Liza, who was dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief and trying simultaneously to return the bouquet. The men were congratulating Caldbeck. Helen’s hand was soft on hers, and her voice warm.

“Welcome to the family.”

Family. A husband. Children. God help them.

Once again Catherine sat at a dressing table while Sally fussed with her hair. This, however, was a completely different table in a completely different room in a completely different house. A very grand house. Sally was ecstatic.

“Did you never see such a place, Miss Catherine? And to think, you are mistress of it now!” She tugged the brush through Catherine’s springy curls. Catherine had removed the pelisse to reveal the elegantly simple silk dress beneath. The fabric skimmed low above her firm breasts—much too low, her aunt had insisted when Catherine bought the dress—and clung to her small waist and full hips. Satin slippers replaced the kid half-boots, and Sally replaced her hat with flowers from the bouquet.

“It sounds as though there are ever so many people here.” Sally readjusted a hairpin. “Must be half of Lunnun.”

Catherine had been wondering about that herself. His lordship had said that he’d invited a “few” of her friends. The windows of her new room opened onto the garden, so they were unable to see the carriages as they arrived, but certainly the hubbub rising from below required a great many voices.

The entrance of the earl himself followed a brief knock at the door. He yet wore gray, but now it was gray satin. He bowed and held out one hand, his eyes scanning her face. “Are you ready? Our guests are eager to meet the new Lady Caldbeck.”

Catherine nodded and got shakily to her feet. What ailed her? She loved parties. Why did her knees threaten to buckle? She was to make a dramatic entrance on the arm of her new husband. She loved being the center of attention. Why, tonight, did she want to bolt?

With great determination, she pasted a smile on her lips and laid her hand on Caldbeck’s arm. He covered it with his own briefly, then led her out of the room. They descended the marble stairs slowly, pausing at the first landing. The crowd at the foot of the staircase ceased their murmuring, and every head turned in their direction.

A cheer went up, and applause echoed against the tall ceilings. Catherine blossomed at the sound, and her smile became real. These were her friends. She glimpsed nearly everyone she knew in the assembled throng—and many, many more faces to boot. How had Caldbeck done this? And why? There was clearly more to Charles Randolph, Earl of Caldbeck, than met the eye.

The evening proved long, but exciting. Helen, elegant in lavender silk, assumed the duties of hostess so that Catherine had nothing to do but enjoy the attention. Surrounded by friends and well-wishers, Catherine found her misgivings beginning to fade. She pushed her anxiety to the back of her mind, talking and laughing with friends at dinner and afterward presiding over the dancing. She also made the acquaintance of several people whom she had long wished to approach as supporters for her charities. Already her alliance with Lord Caldbeck was bearing fruit.

Her uneasiness returned somewhat when Caldbeck led her onto the floor and took her in his arms for the first waltz. He was a superb dancer, however, and the pleasure of skimming over the floor with him soon overcame the strangeness. Catherine was acutely aware of the sureness of the hand on her back, of the power of the legs brushing against hers, the ease with which he moved her about the room. She had danced with him before. Why had she never noticed his strength?

Later, though she was claimed by other partners, her attention remained on Caldbeck. He played the perfect host, chatting easily—if solemnly—with his guests, but now and again she could feel his glacial gaze on her. Each time, rather than feeling a chill, a sensation of warmth washed over her. And each time she missed a step of the dance.

How different he seemed in his own home than he had at other social engagements. At those he seemed out of place—invariably serious in the midst of the flirting and laughter. Even his expert dancing had never captured her attention. Had he been watching her then as he did now? A little shiver trailed down her back.

Here he appeared confident and relaxed, comfortably conversing with men that she knew to be among the most powerful in the kingdom. He must wield considerable influence to be able to gather those men at his invitation. Was the purpose of this party to display his prize to them? At that thought Catherine bridled. She did not fancy figuring as the spoils of war!

Still, it was becoming clear to her that, in her sudden fall from affluence, it might be said that she had landed in a pile of feather beds. It remained to be seen what bruises she might yet sustain. In spite of his courtesy, she felt a tiny prick of fear when he pursued her with those frosty eyes.

At last, in the small hours of the morning, the company departed, leaving Catherine, Caldbeck and Helen bidding the last lingerer farewell. Helen excused herself, and her carriage bore her away to her own London home. Catherine glanced uncertainly at her new husband.

Before they reached whatever came next, she recognized something she needed to do. As often happened to her, her agitation had run away with her tongue this morning. She must put her pride aside and recognize the unfair things she had said to Caldbeck. She cleared her throat.