CATHERINE (Pride & Prejudice continued.... Book 2) Read online

  “You mean you shall conceal my moment of weakness, where I almost begged you to take me to bed?” she teased.

  “I knew you were not serious. You have only had eyes for Cavendish from the moment you laid met him.”

  “You are a good man, Lord George. What will you do with yourself, without all this intrigue to spur your imagination?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she relaxed against the back of her chair, rolling the glass between her hands. After three years of working together, she was comfortable in his presence.

  “I have a friend getting married in Derbyshire the first week of November and the Duke and I are invited to attend. Our brother Nathan resides in a small village near our friend’s estate, so I shall force my company on him, enjoy the country air and maybe learn how to raise sheep.” He rose to his feet, took possession of Evangeline’s fingers and raised them to his lips. “I bid you adieu.”

  “Stay safe, dear friend,” she murmured, withdrawing her hand from his.

  “I shall endeavor to do my very best and wish you success with your re-entry into Society.”

  Chapter Two

  Wedding Breakfast of Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet

  and Charles Bingley and Jane Bennet

  Catherine Bennet, better known as Kitty to family and close friends, could barely eat, so consumed was she by nervousness. The multitude of Lords and Ladies gathered around the table made her feel as if they were in St. James Court instead of the formal dining hall at Pemberley

  Across from her sat Miss Georgiana Darcy, with whom she felt a real kinship, and to Miss Darcy’s left was Maxwell Kerr, the Fifth Duke of Adborough. Further down the table sat the Earl and Countess of Matlock, the Marquis of Dorchester, and a host of other nobility. Although the room fairly burst with members of the beau monde from London’s society, none of them filled her as much disquiet as the gentleman on her immediate right.

  Lord George Kerr.

  Never had she met someone who was so attractive. Not even Jane with all her serene beauty came close. Their Father in Heaven must have been feeling most generous when He formed this man. At that exact moment, to her utter dismay, Lord Kerr turned his attention from the Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple on his right side toward her. Unprepared for his direct attention, she froze. Almost against her will, her gaze zeroed in on his mouth which had begun to move.

  Oh, dear heaven. He said something, yet the blood rushing in and around her ears drowned out all sound. Then, that sensuous mouth curved into a slight smile revealing perfectly even, white teeth. She ducked her head and concentrated on her bowl of soup, hoping against hope her face hadn’t flared a crimson red, for then he would think she was a gauche child and not a young lady of eight and ten. When her composure returned, she risked another glance and caught him watching.

  Confound the man! Why must he still look her way? Was he not hungry? Did he have nothing better to do than discompose her so completely? With great care she dipped her spoon into the savory broth.

  “Did you enjoy the wedding ceremony, Miss Catherine?”

  Startled, she sloshed a bit of soup over the side of her spoon. Even his voice was heavenly, all deep and rumbly and flowed like rum sauce over one of Mama’s Christmas puddings. Counting to five, because that’s what Lizzy once told her to do when nervous, she willed her nerves to settle. All she had to do was maintain her composure and behave as though dining with near royalty was a common occurrence.

  “I did. I am very happy for my sister and Mr. Darcy.”

  She turned her attention back to the soup and steadfastly ignored the rapid staccato of her heart. However, Lord Kerr continued to engage her in conversation, seemingly oblivious that she was nothing but a pile of nerves. A very hungry pile of nerves. In the mad rush to get Lizzy to the church on time, after a fit of vapors by Mama, she’d had nothing to eat all day.

  “As I only arrived yesterday in time for church, I had not the pleasure of being properly introduced to your sister. She and Darcy seem well suited.” He reached for his glass of wine. Unlike her, he had no problem eating and conversing.

  This would not do. At this rate she’d die of starvation. She almost sighed in relief when the footman whisked away her untouched soup and placed in front of her the second course.

  “Lizzy and Mr. Darcy are very well suited,” she replied. “They both have strong opinions and are not afraid to voice them. Some of their future breakfasts will be very interesting.”

  Lord Kerr barked out a laugh at her observation, causing more than one head to turn in their direction. She reached for a glass of water, grateful her trembling was not too visible and took a sip. Papa always said she was a silly girl and here she was, proving him right by embarrassing herself in front of important strangers.

  Lord Kerr picked up a knife and fork and sliced into the meat on his plate. Surreptitiously, she cut a sideways glance to see which cutlery he used. Why did there have to be so many forks and spoons and knives lining the perimeter of her place setting? Mama always put up such lovely dinners, but none of them compared to the pomp and ceremony here at Pemberley.

  Her stomach rumbled in protest. Lord Kerr turned slightly and smiled again.

  “You are famished. Why are you not eating?”

  Embarrassed, she stared the thick slices of ham on her dinner plate and tears threatened to trickle down her cheeks. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him tapping one of his knives and when her left hand touched the proper fork he gave a slight nod.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “You are welcome,” he whispered back.

  Less than two hours later, standing near the French doors which led out to a pretty terrace, Kitty surveyed the rolling grounds of Pemberley. After the hustle and bustle of the morning where her nerves had been stretched to near breaking, she was glad for this respite, away from the busy parlors where most of the guests still lingered.

  She blew out a small sigh.

  Other than the plethora of elevated guests, the wedding had been perfect. When saying their vows, Lizzy and Jane had positively glowed, and one couldn’t miss the soft looks of love that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley bestowed on each of their brides.

  As happy as she was for her eldest sisters, she couldn’t wait for all the excitement to die down. Once Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, and Jane and Mr. Bingley exited for their wedding trip, she and Mary planned to escape to their rooms and talk about the day. She rested her head against the window frame and with eyes closed, willed her soul to quiet.

  “Miss Bennet, we did not get to finish our conversation in the dining room.”

  For the second time that day, she gave a small start. In the midst of her daydreaming, she hadn’t heard anyone enter the room.

  “Lord Kerr.”

  For such a large man he moved with stealth and grace. She turned and gave him a polite curtsy.

  “You may call me Lord George, if you like. Otherwise Nathan and sometimes even Maxwell will answer you as he is not accustomed to being called ‘Your Grace’,” Lord George teased. He stopped a few feet from where she stood.

  “Oh… of course. Thank you, Lord George.”

  The silence stretched long between them and she twisted her fingers together, determined to not clutch her skirt and wrinkle the fine material. She cast about for something to say. Anything to break the awkward silence.

  “Are you pleased—”

  “How long are you—”

  Both of them spoke at the same time.

  “Pray, excuse me Miss Bennet. Please continue.” He gave her a quick nod.

  “I was going to ask you if you were pleased with your brother’s announcement, after Lizzy and Darcy’s banns were read the third and final time.”

  “You are speaking of his engagement to Miss Bingley?”

  “Yes, it came as quite the surprise to most of us.”

  “I must admit I have never met the lady, but then I only arrived the evening previous and have not had much time to converse with
my younger brother.”

  “In some ways your brother will become part of our extended family.” At Lord George’s quizzical expression, she explained further. “Miss Bingley’s brother, Charles is now married to my sister Jane.”

  “Ah, the Angel of Hertfordshire he sighs about.”

  Kitty stifled a giggle. “Mr. Bingley is quite besotted, as is she.”

  “How long are you and your family staying at Pemberley?”

  “We leave this coming Thursday. With Lizzy and Mr. Darcy away on their wedding trip, Papa made the decision to return home, although I am sure he’d like to stay longer if only to enjoy the library.”

  “Pemberley does have a massive library. Generations of Darcy’s have contributed to the contents.” He gave her another one of his beatific smiles. “And you. Will you miss anything from Pemberley?”

  Kitty paused and thought for few moments. “I shall miss the grounds. I do not walk as often as Lizzy, but I enjoy a ramble every now and then and the gardens are beautiful.”

  “That they are. I am staying with my brother Nathan for a few days—”

  “Kitty!” Mrs. Bennet called from the doorway, unmindful that she was in conversation with Lord George. For the first time in her young life Kitty became aware of her mother’s coarse behavior and felt exposed in front of him. “Come quickly. Lizzy and Mr. Darcy are leaving.”

  “I must go, sir.” Cheeks flaming, Kitty gave Lord George a quick curtsy and turned to follow her mother, faltering only slightly in her progress when she thought she heard him say.

  “I hope to see you again, Miss Bennet.”

  ***

  George stifled the urge to pace the dining room of White’s while waiting for his brother Max. Months of sitting around, doing nothing was slowly driving him to distraction. With the death of their Uncle Moreland and his wife, Millicent last November, not long after Darcy’s wedding, the family had entered into half mourning. This precipitated delaying Nathan’s wedding to Miss Bingley and curtailed any Yuletide balls or afternoon soirees where the sharks circled. However, Mother still demanded he escort her or appear at some of her quiet afternoon teas with close friends. Close friends who happened to have marriageable daughters in attendance.

  In a few short weeks a new crop of debutantes would make their curtsy before the Queen and the High Season would begin. To avoid his mother, whose unsubtle hints that he should marry and take over Keswick Manor increased daily, he’d begun to stay at his own lodgings.

  That was, until this morning.

  He’d received what amounted to a royal command to attend breakfast at Kerr House. Over a delicious spread of ham, sausages and eggs she demanded that he ‘do’ something with his life. Unwilling to disappoint, yet also unwilling to dance attendance to a group of insipid, entitled young ladies, he promised to meet with Max when he came to London and discuss property management.

  His attention was diverted by his brother entering the dining room.

  “It is good to see you, Max.” George rose to his feet and extended a hand in greeting.

  “Same here, brother. It has been ages since I have been away from Adborough Hall.” Max waved his hand aside and gave him a brotherly hug instead.

  “I am glad you arrived,” George said as they broke apart. “I, for one, am hungry.”

  Several minutes later they were seated and served.

  “Have you managed to settle Uncle Moreland’s estate?” George asked as he cut into his roasted pheasant.

  “Almost. My solicitors are searching for the rightful heir. The cousin who inherited is in the army and was sent to the Canada’s last year. They are attempting to ferret out where the good lieutenant is and if he is still alive.” Max signaled a footman.

  “May I get you anything, Your Grace?” the footman asked with a respective bow.

  “Some more port wine.”

  “Right away.”

  “What was I saying?” Max turned his attention back to George.

  “Your solicitors were trying to find Uncle Moreland’s heir who is in the thick of battle in the colonies. What happens if he is deceased?”

  “You will not believe this, but Nathan inherits.”

  “How?” George almost choked on his wine. He lowered the glass, wiped his mouth with a white linen napkin and coughed out a laugh.

  “As you know, Uncle Moreland’s estate is not entailed and he bequeathed it to his brother’s son and his heir, if there is one. The estate falls to Nathan if the line is broken.”

  “We are talking about our brother Nathan, the one who gave up everything to join the church?”

  “One and the same.” Max lifted a napkin to his mouth, but George could tell he was smiling as well.

  “Oh, that is rich. If he does inherit, can I be there when you tell him?”

  “No.”

  “Please.”

  “No.”

  “Since you became the Duke, you are no longer any fun.”

  “You, my brother, have more fun than all of us combined. I have heard tales of you skirting the edges of good moral standing. Of being in the Countess of Anstruther’s company more than propriety warrants. It is only because you have been forced to observe a mourning period that you have slowed down. Someday you will stand before God and account for all your deeds.”

  “I will stand before Him with a clear conscience.”

  Max raised a skeptical eyebrow, but George didn’t elaborate. He couldn’t elaborate. He wasn’t at liberty to reveal details of his double life, even though he no longer actively worked for the Crown. There were others whose lives depended on him maintaining secrecy. One day, hopefully soon when the war ended, he’d be able to share his well-kept secret and let his brothers know he’d not forsaken their deeply held beliefs.

  As it was, his cover was nearly blown four years prior in France. Navigating through thick brush by a busy road, he’d come upon an attempted ambush. By chance he’d spotted a French infantryman behind a thick hedge, waiting for two British cavalry officers riding along what should have been a safe lane.

  He immediately recognized one of the officers as Nathan. No one sat a horse as well as he. George slid the knife from his boot and crept through the underbrush. With deadly silence he dispatched the French soldier and Nathan passed by, never once suspecting how close he came to dying that day.

  “I am sorry, George. I did not mean to put a damper on our evening.” Max said, obviously misunderstanding his silence. As he’d done many times before, George shrugged his shoulders and behaved as though nothing bothered him. He was still the free-wheeling brother who had yet to settle down.

  “No harm, Max. One day I shall find a quiet chit of a girl to marry, but not tonight.”

  Memories of dark curls caressing creamy shoulders and soft brown eyes gazing up at him popped into his mind. Once again Miss Catherine Bennet dared to intrude upon his thoughts. Something she’d begun to do at an alarming rate.

  Although their conversation last November at Darcy’s wedding breakfast lasted but a few minutes and further discussion had been rudely interrupted by the mother, he’d felt an unfamiliar quickening at the becoming blush which stained her cheeks. There was a good possibility she’d attend Nathan and Caroline’s wedding at Pemberley in November where they could renew their acquaintance. That was, if she wasn’t already betrothed. He rubbed his chest at the thought of another man claiming her as his own.

  Max looked past George and tensed, his lips thinning with displeasure. George glanced over his shoulder to see who had elicited such a response from his unflappable brother, recognizing Lord Herbert Jacobson, the Viscount Stanhope.

  “Your Grace.” Viscount Stanhope acknowledged the Duke’s presence.

  “Stanhope,” Max murmured as he walked past their table.

  To George, the Viscount gave him a barely polite nod along with a slight sneer.

  “He is a sorry piece of humanity,” Max grumbled once Stanhope was out of hearing. “I once told Nathan he had the int
elligence of a potato.”

  “How insulting to the potato,” George quipped, grinning at the thought of Max saying aloud a less than flattering comment. “At least he was polite. Usually he calls me…” George’s eyes narrowed and he twisted in his seat to watch Viscount Stanhope enter the gaming rooms.

  “What does he call you?”

  “…a prancing dandy.”

  ***

  Elizabeth Darcy entered the cozy study, arguably the smallest room at Pemberley yet it could easily contain three of the smaller bedrooms from Longbourn. She approached her husband, busy with his ledgers and waited by the side of the desk until he glanced up.

  The smile which graced his face along with the appreciative look he bestowed upon her still had the power to make her blush. She was reminded of their morning activities by the daring way he perused her body.

  “Have you come to steal me away from my dusty tomes and boring ledgers?” He pushed his chair away from the desk and beckoned her sit on his lap, which she did with pleasure.

  Once settled and a few kisses later, she lightly pushed against his chest and made him look at her properly.

  “You almost make me forget what I came to discuss.”

  “You really did come here for something other than a kiss and a cuddle?” He attempted to steal one more kiss, but she slid from his lap and moved to place the desk firmly between them. She was more than aware Fitz would happily close and lock the door to continue this tryst, much like he did last week if she didn’t give them some space. After nearly five months of marriage, the master of Pemberley’s appetite for his bride hadn’t abated.

  “Stay at your desk, sir,” she commanded in a faux haughty voice and then laughed at his glower. “Oh, Fitz, I would love nothing better than to spend the whole day with you here, but I truly do have something important to discuss and you must not distract me with all of this.” She gave a small wave in the direction of his well-dressed body.

  “Very well, Elizabeth. You will have your say and then I will have my way,” he growled, adding a wolfish waggle of his eyebrows.

  “Oh dear, when you begin to rhyme your words, I know I am in trouble.” She settled in the comfortable chair facing the desk, smoothed her skirts and dragged in a deep breath. “I think Georgiana needs to wait one more year before she has her curtsy before the Queen.”