The Lady Who Broke the Rules

He covered her tightly clasped hands with one of his own, but Kate shook him off. ‘Don’t feel sorry for me, there is no need. I am not wearing the willow for Lord Anthony Featherstone.’

Rebuffed and baffled, Virgil said nothing. All his instincts told him to drop the subject, which was obviously extremely sensitive and extremely painful, but there was something in her voice, in the way she had closed herself off, that he recognised and could not ignore. She was hurt and determined not to show it. He gently unfolded her fingers and took one of her hands between his. ‘Then tell me,’ he said. ‘What happened?’

She hesitated. He could see the words of refusal forming, but for some reason she swallowed them. ‘Do you really want to know?’

When he nodded, she took a deep breath. ‘Anthony was—is—the son of one of my father’s close friends. His family has a bloodline which can be traced back to the Norman Conquest, according to my father. Our betrothal was the result of a bargain struck by our parents when I was still in my cradle. What you have to understand is that as far as my father is concerned, my only value is in making the best marriage which can be arranged. I knew from a very early age that I was destined to marry Anthony, and since I had not met any other man I preferred after almost two full Seasons, I agreed. Anthony was far from repulsive,’ Kate said, determined to be scrupulously fair. ‘In fact, he was considered to be something of a beau.’

‘But you were not in love with him?’

‘I have never been in love with anyone. I doubt it is in my nature to feel so strongly, and in any case, love has nothing at all to do with marriage. At least, not for a Montague. People of our sort make alliances, not love matches,’ she said bitterly.

Falling in love was the one thing Virgil had been free to do. He had loved Millie. He would have married Millie. Were there other forms of chains he didn’t understand? Duty had weighed heavily with Lady Kate. It was not a comparison she would dream of making, but he made it. ‘So you agreed to the marriage because it was what your family wished, even though you were not sure?’

‘I wasn’t unsure, it would be unfair to say that. I was resigned. No, it was not even that. I simply didn’t question it, I suppose.’

Virgil smiled. ‘I find that hard to believe. You seem to question everything.’

‘As I said, life would be less painful if I did not. Would that I had questioned this match earlier. Or had the strength of will to say no when I knew what—knew my own mind better.’

‘What about your mother?’

‘Mama died when I was a child. My Aunt Wilhelmina is her sister, and she was most—most anxious for the match to take place. Even more so than my father, in the end. When I tried to discuss my reservations about Anthony she—she did not— She said that I …’

Her hand curled into a fist within his clasp. Her jaw clenched, her eyes were bright with tears. This was obviously the source of her hurt, or one of them. Virgil felt a momentary spasm of anger at the unknown aunt.

‘And the duke?’

Kate laughed bitterly. ‘My father’s word is law. He made the match. As far as he was concerned, there was no question of my changing my mind, whatever the circumstances.’

‘And yet you did change your mind?’

‘I had to.’

I had to. It was a curious choice of phrase, Virgil thought, but the tightness in her voice, the way she held herself, as if she was afraid she might shatter, and the sheen of tears which he was fairly certain she would be mortified to shed, made him cautious. ‘So you called it off?’

She nodded. ‘My aunt said that I would be ruined, and she was right. Papa refused to put the notice in the paper. He left it to Anthony to do so. “Lord Anthony Featherstone wishes it to be known that his betrothal to the Honourable Lady Katherine …” You can imagine how that looked.’

What Virgil found extraordinary was that such an act could have led society to ostracise her, but he had discovered that there was much he found inexplicable about the English. He supposed it was something to do with her family’s status, and the fact of the date having been set. ‘But your father, your aunt, they are surely reconciled to your decision now, after five years?’

Kate gave another of those bitter little laughs. ‘You’d think so, but you see, I have refused to do penance in the only possible way by making any other sort of match. Though, of course, my situation must have reduced my expectations significantly,’ she said in a voice which left Virgil in no doubt she was quoting her aunt, ‘my blood and my dowry were still sufficient to tempt a few ambitious suitors. However, I may be foolish but I am not stupid. I have no intention of repeating my mistake. I am resolved never to marry.’

‘That is what you meant when you said you have put yourself beyond the pale?’

‘Did I?’ She smiled faintly. ‘Yes, that is what I meant. So you see, as far as His Grace and my aunt are concerned, I am a failure.’

She had said more than enough to make Virgil despise the duke, though it was the aunt, who had signally failed to support her as a mother should, towards whom he directed his anger. All his reservations about the effect of his presence in the ducal residence fled. He very much hoped he would throw them all into disarray. He could now perfectly understand Lady Kate’s desire to defy them. ‘I don’t think you are a failure, far from it,’ Virgil said. ‘To stand up for yourself in the face of such opposition took real courage. I think you are extraordinary.’

‘Do you?’

She had been staring down at her feet, but his words made her look up, and the vulnerability he saw there pierced Virgil’s defences. ‘Yes, I do,’ he said softly. Pushing back the leather cuff of her driving glove, he pressed a kiss on the inside of her wrist. ‘You really are quite extraordinary.’

He meant merely to show her that he understood. That he admired her. That he had not judged her as her family had. A token gesture of solidarity, that’s what he intended. But when his lips touched the delicate skin his intentions changed. Her scent, the taste of her, turned his empathy into desire.

She stilled, her eyes fixed on his when he looked up, wide, startled, but she made no move to pull away. A pulse fluttered at her neck. Entranced, Virgil could not resist touching it. The diamond drops in her ears glinted in the sunlight. He pressed his lips to her skin. It was cold and smooth. She breathed in sharply, but did not pull away. ‘Extraordinary,’ Virgil repeated softly. The air was still, save for the contented sound of the horse champing on the grass by the wayside. There was no one else in sight. He shifted on the narrow bench, his knees pressing into her thigh. Still she didn’t move. Her scent, flowery and already imprinted on his mind, made him think of summer meadows. His heart was beating in time to that fluttering pulse of hers. ‘Kate,’ he said, thinking that her name suited her precisely.

Admiration leached into wanting. He covered her mouth with his own, pausing just a second lest she protest. She did not. Her lips were so soft. She tasted of peaches or apricots or strawberries, sweet and lush. He slipped his arm around her back and pulled her closer. So long it had been since he had kissed a woman. His other hand he used to push back her hat and his mouth shaped hers so easily, so naturally, that he forgot to think about whether he could remember what to do, and sank into her kiss as if he had been waiting to do so from the moment they met.

Kate closed her eyes. Such a gentle touch he had. And the look in his eyes, as if he could see the feelings she kept parcelled up deep inside her. His mouth was warm. His kiss made her feel as if the sun had strengthened. His lips moved over hers slowly, tasting her, seeming to want nothing but to savour her. It made her skin tingle. It made her want. Just want. The purity of it gave her a pang. The simplicity of it, the ease of it, as if their mouths were made for each other, made her wonder. The gentleness made her want to cry.

But as she reached up to touch his hair, as she nestled closer, as she sank into the sensual haze of his kiss, Virgil pulled away. ‘I guess I should apologise for that.’

Kate blinked and touched her fingers to her lips. He sounded singularly unrepentant. She ought to be insulted, but in fact this realisation was pleasing. ‘Mr Jackson …’

‘I wish you would call me Virgil. Hardly anyone does.’

It was a relief to see that he looked slightly dazed, because that was exactly how Kate felt. Or was it dazzled? Were kisses supposed to make you feel like that? Not in her experience. ‘Virgil,’ she said. ‘I like it. Your name, I mean. I like your name.’ And his kisses. She didn’t want him to think she didn’t like his kisses, but she couldn’t very well tell him that. She fanned her cheeks.

Virgil took her hand, stroking the pulse at her wrist with his thumb. ‘I haven’t wanted to kiss anyone in a long time.’

‘Then that makes two of us,’ Kate said with a husky little laugh. His touch was making her even hotter. ‘How long?’

‘Not since Anthony.’ Had she ever wanted to kiss Anthony? She must have done, else she would not have … ‘What about you?’

Virgil shrugged. ‘A while.’

‘Days? Weeks? Months?’ Kate persisted. ‘Years?’ she squeaked, disbelievingly.

‘A while.’

He dropped her hand, moving away from her, as far as the gig’s limited seating allowed. She wanted to probe, but she knew better than to do so. Whatever a while was, it was surprising. Astonishing that a man as attractive, as assured, as Virgil had kissed no one. Though not as astounding as the fact that he had kissed her! She wanted to know why. Or did she? Perhaps ignorance in this case truly was bliss. Kate untangled the reins from the brake. ‘I hope it was worth the wait,’ she said, resorting to her customary glibness.

‘Have we much further to go?’ Virgil asked some time later.

Kate shook her head. ‘We’ve been on Montague land for the past couple of miles. The farmers here are all my father’s tenants.’

‘Good God, I didn’t realise he owned so much.’

‘Well, it’s not really my father but the dukedom. The land is all entailed, so he can’t sell it, and he can’t bequeath it to anyone other than Jam—I mean, Giles. Giles is the heir. Or at least he is at the moment. That may well all be about to change.’

‘How so?’

Kate grimaced. ‘It’s complicated. I should have told you. I’ve invited you into a hornet’s nest, but I so wanted you to come with me. I didn’t really think about it last night, but—oh, God, the truth is that we’re actually in a bit of a mess,’ she said. ‘Are you angry?’

‘How can I be, when I don’t know what you’re talking about?’

‘Yes. Of course. Sorry. Well, it seems that my brother Jamie took a wife in Spain just before he—he died. We knew nothing about it until a few months ago, when my father received a letter from the woman demanding that we do right by her son who is, she claims, Jamie’s heir. You can imagine the uproar that caused. My brother Giles suspects the whole thing is an elaborate fraud but Ross—he is my cousin—met the woman, and seemed fairly convinced by her. So now Giles, who is the heir at the moment but might not really be the heir, has sent my brother Harry—who is the next in line to Giles but of course is further out if this child … well, anyway, Harry is off to Spain to see what he can discover, and in the meantime my father, who is most anxious to detach his grandson from what he has called the scheming wretch, has insisted that they both come to Castonbury.’ Kate drew a breath and laughed at Virgil’s expression. ‘I told you, it’s complicated.’

‘Extremely,’ Virgil said, amused by her method of recounting the tale, dismayed by its content.

‘The reason I had to come home today is because Giles has demanded a sort of family counsel of war.’

‘And knowing all this, you still insisted I accompany you! Surely your time will be quite taken up with these matters, and my presence in the midst of it all can only be an inconvenience at best.’

Kate slowed the horse down as they rounded a bend in the lane, pulling the gig to a halt at a large wooden gate. ‘You are angry. I’m sorry, I ought to have told you sooner, but I so wanted you to come to Castonbury and I was afraid that you would not, and that is the truth.’ She transferred the reins to one hand, placing her other on Virgil’s sleeve. ‘I’m glad that you’re here.’

He covered her hand with his, and smiled crookedly down at her. ‘Thank you, but I think perhaps I should not make it such a long visit.’

‘We’ll see,’ Kate said, deciding wisely not to push her luck. ‘Now, look over there.’ She pointed her whip. ‘That is Castonbury Park.’

The field by which they had stopped was on a rise, looking down on the house. Behind them, the trees which bordered the lane through which they had been driving would provide a pleasant perspective. The house itself was perfectly symmetrical with matching wings set to the east and west. In the centre of the building, a domed roof gave it a distinctive appearance, more like a classical Roman villa or place of worship than a family home. Though it was difficult to see the detail at this distance, it looked as if the architect had been an admirer of the classical style, for there were pediments and pillars, the rustic stonework of the ground floor giving way to the smooth finish on the piano nobile, from which a grand staircase curved down to the neatly manicured lawns. He had expected something flamboyantly grand, but the perfect proportions were so beautiful that he could not but admire them.

‘What do you think?’ Kate asked.

‘It’s not what I thought it would be. I thought the home of a duke would be more … showy.’

She gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘Just wait. There is gilt and gold aplenty in the state rooms.’ She urged the tired horse into motion once more. ‘The prettiest part of the grounds is to the north, which is where the main lodge is. The smaller one you can see leads to the Dower House. And through those woods there is a path to the village, where Lily, Giles’s betrothed, lives in the vicarage.’

‘Let me make sure I have this right. Giles is your eldest brother now, and you are next in age?’

‘No, I come after Harry. Ned was next after me,’ Kate said, ignoring the familiar lurch in her stomach as she spoke Ned’s name, ‘and then there is my sister, Phaedra, who is twenty, four years younger than me. Since my spectacular failure to make a good marriage, all my father’s hopes are pinned on Phaedra making her debut next Season but I suspect they are misplaced, for though my sister has the potential to be quite dangerously attractive, she has very little interest in anything but horses, and none at all in either parties or clothes, much to my aunt’s despair. My Aunt Wilhelmina,’ Kate explained, seeing Virgil’s puzzled look, ‘is a widow, my mother’s sister and has been at Castonbury since Mama died. Oh, and then there is my cousin Colonel Ross Montague, the one who has met Jamie’s wife. He also grew up at Castonbury with his sister, Araminta, but she is lately married. And Ross has returned to India … and very possibly ran off with his sister’s maid! And that,’ Kate said, laughing, ‘concludes the current history of the Montagues. I can see from your face that we have signally failed to live up to your expectations, and I haven’t told you half the skeletons we have in our closet, believe me. Why Papa thinks himself superior, I have no idea.’

‘Nor indeed have I,’ Virgil replied, wondering what the devil he’d let himself in for, but unable to resist returning her smile, all the same.

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