Chapter 27
Having mentioned Rian’s generous offer to search the library for something she might like to read, Catherine had been surprised when the young maid, Tilly, took it upon herself to find her a book. She spent the better part of a day running between floors, bringing one armful of books after another for Catherine’s perusal. After the sixth or possibly seventh trip, Rian had intervened. Relieving the young girl of the half-dozen books in her arms, he gave her a single novel in their stead. Though nearly twenty years had passed since its first publication, when he had read it himself, Rian thought it would be something Catherine might enjoy. Tilly had tactfully placed it at the very top of the modest collection now gracing the table in Catherine’s bedroom.
She had stared long and hard at the title, but Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World. In Four Parts. By Lemuel Gulliver, First a Surgeon, and then a Captain of Several Ships brought no spark of recognition. Neither did the name Jonathan Swift, who was not only the author but a clergyman, no less. Still, it proved to be a delightfully entertaining diversion, which Catherine knew she would have no difficulty in reading to the end. Now she lifted her head as a light knock on the door interrupted her. Mrs. Hatch entered the room followed by Rian, and the beautiful woman from the carriage. Marking her page with a length of ribbon, Catherine closed the book and set it aside.
Warmth flushed her face as she gazed at Rian, but the look he gave in return was one of bored indifference. Ah, so that was how it was to be between them now. She lowered her eyes in disappointment even though she was not terribly surprised. It was to be expected now that he knew she was aware of the part he’d played in the worst moments of her illness. The least she could do was let him see she did not hold him at fault, and hope he gave her the same consideration. She raised her eyes in time to see the sudden change of expression on Rian’s face. The fiercely arched brow, coupled with a look of exasperation said his show of unconcern had nothing to do with her. It was for the benefit of the woman now clinging to his arm. The same woman who had, until a few moments ago, been watching his face closely.
Unsure why Rian would feel the need to mask his emotions, if indeed that was what he was doing, Catherine nevertheless allowed a small smile to lift the corners of her mouth before turning her attention to his guest.
The smile on the woman’s face was all wrong. It was too perfect, as if she had spent a great deal of time before a looking glass, and practiced how wide to stretch her lips to achieve the desired effect. It was a smile that carried no warmth. An impression verified by the glittering hardness of the brilliant green eyes that now looked back at Catherine. From the proprietary way she held Rian’s arm there could be no doubt of her place in his affection. A fact that both surprised and disconcerted Catherine.
Since learning Rian was to be married, she had spent far too many moments imagining what his bride-to-be might look like. There was no denying this woman was beautiful enough, but Catherine had hoped his choice would also be…less polished. A glance at Rian’s face made her think perhaps she had mistaken the nature of their relationship, but it was hard to ignore the physical familiarity he allowed the woman to enjoy. Such an obvious display of affection would only be granted under very specific circumstances. Mrs. Hatch interrupted Catherine’s speculations by telling her, “Lady Howard has asked to meet with you in the hope she might be acquainted with your family.”
Though the housekeeper gave away nothing by her expression, and her tone was respectful, Catherine could tell she didn’t give a fig about anything Lady Howard hoped for. And she didn’t like her. Not at all.
“Do you really think so?” she asked in a low voice as Mrs. Hatch came to fuss with the shawl about Catherine’s shoulders. Her reply was a strange harrumphing sound. Whatever Rian’s feelings for the beautiful woman, they were not shared by everyone with an interest in his life, which made Catherine wonder if the marriage was possibly an arranged match. Something Rian felt honor bound to go through with.
The man in question now stepped forward, and made the formal introduction. “Allow me to present Lady Isabel Howard.”
Isabel seated herself in the chair placed close to the foot of the chaise, and Catherine stared at her with frank curiosity before looking back up at Rian. That was it? Just Lady Isabel Howard and nothing else? No explanation of her place in his affections?
She waited, fully expecting Rian to return the compliment by introducing her to his fiancée, but he seemed strangely loathe to do so. Catherine wondered if she had misread his expression. Could she really have fallen so low in his esteem that Rian no longer deemed her worthy of common politeness? A bubble of anger began to well up inside her. Pulling her brows together she was about to rectify the situation when she caught Rian’s eye as he stood behind Isabel. Aware of her intentions, he stopped her with an alarming scowl. For whatever reason, he did not want the beautiful Lady Howard to know who she was, and it dawned on Catherine that Mrs. Hatch had also avoided using her name. Very well then, if they expected her to play along she would do her best.
Foregoing any pretense at manners, Catherine turned to the elegantly dressed woman and asked bluntly, “Do you know me? Am I familiar to you?”
“It is possible,” Isabel said, glancing over her shoulder at Rian, who had replaced the scowl with an expression of mild concern. “I’m certain we have never met before, but there is a familiarity about your eyes and the shape of your mouth. Are you related to the Bristows of Pembroke, perhaps?”
Catherine shook her head.
“Ah well,” Isabel continued, “let’s see if you recognize any other families.” She recited a number of names.
Some were prominent enough for even Rian to recognize, but most meant nothing to him, which was not so surprising when he considered how long he had been away. The rise and fall of aristocratic families was of little importance to him. But he couldn’t fail to see none dislodged the blank look on Catherine’s face.
“Not even one name is recognizable?” Isabel feigned surprise, though she would have fallen off her chair if Catherine had declared a kinship to any family she mentioned. The ones that Rian acknowledged had a direct claim to the throne, while the rest were complete fabrications.
“I’m sorry,” Catherine apologized, “but I don’t know any of them.”
Unconcerned by the lack of success, Rian interrupted. “Well, it was certainly worth a try. Come now Isabel, we don’t want to tire her anymore.”
“Oh, I don’t think she’s tired at all, are you, dear?” Isabel parted her lips, and gave another version of the unsettling smile.
This time Catherine could see it was evasive and deceitful, and it sent a shiver down her back. She was unsure of what Lady Howard had in mind, but she doubted she would try anything with Rian present. Slowly she shook her head in response to the question she’d been asked.
Isabel rose from her seat and in another display of possessiveness, took hold of Rian’s arm, and walked him to the door. “Darling, why don’t you wait for me downstairs? This will only take a moment, I promise, but I want to ask the dear girl a few more questions that are more personal in nature. Questions I think she would prefer you did not hear.”
Rian looked past Isabel at Catherine. It had been almost a week since he had last seen her, and he now had the unsettling feeling that allowing Isabel to meet Catherine was a horrible mistake he would come to regret. But Catherine stared back at him calmly enough. Blue eyes met his brown ones, and for a brief moment he let his concern show. The barest shake of her head, and he would escort Lady Howard from the room. But Catherine’s own curiosity was gnawing at her, and she wondered what her ladyship had to say that she did not want Rian to hear. She gave him a small nod and an even smaller smile.
“Very well then,” he said, turning his attention back to Isabel. “I will wait for you downstairs.”
“There’s a good boy!” Isabel ushered him from the room, and was about to close the door when she paused, hand on her hip, fingers drumming. “I’d prefer it if we were quite alone,” she said icily, throwing her remark at Mrs. Hatch, who stood quietly, almost unnoticed, by the window.
Ignoring Isabel, the housekeeper stepped forward and took Catherine’s hands in her own. “Do you want me to go, lass?” she asked.
As with Rian, Catherine knew she had but to ask and nothing her ladyship said or did would make the housekeeper leave the room. “It’s all right, Mrs. Hatch. I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine.” The older woman refused to acknowledge her ladyship’s presence as she departed the room.
Isabel leaned against the closed door, and studied the face that now looked back at her from across the room. It was a calm and open countenance, seemingly incapable of any duplicity. With a soft rustle of skirts, she made her way to the window where Catherine had sat earlier. The snow continued to fall, forming drifts on the ledge.
“What was it your ladyship wanted to ask me?” Catherine asked as a prickle of unease skittered across her shoulders.
“Absolutely nothing,” Isabel snapped in a viper’s voice, “for you have nothing to say that is of any interest to me.” She turned around, her entire demeanor changing as she glared at Catherine. “You’re quite the jade aren’t you? Still, this game you’re playing will have only one outcome, ducky. A one way trip to Newgate.”
Taken aback by Isabel’s sudden transformation and the incomprehensible threat of jail, Catherine stammered, “G-game? I-I’m sure I d-don’t know what your ladyship means.”
“You think me soft in the head, girl?” All pretense of civility on Isabel’s part vanished. “You’re a clever harlot, I’ll grant you that, and you seem to have fooled all the other simpletons in this house. Even the master is distracted by your questionable charm, but believe me when I say you possess neither the beauty nor the intelligence to command his affection for much longer. Continue with this charade of a memory loss for as long as you wish, but it will all come to naught.” She dropped her voice and hissed, “You will never have him because he is mine, and I never give up what belongs to me.”
Stunned by the enmity in Isabel’s tone, Catherine shook her head. She needed to be certain she understood. That there was no possible misunderstanding. “Have who?” she asked with just enough bewilderment to enrage.
“Rian Connor!” Spittle flew from Isabel’s mouth as she struggled with her temper. “He is mine, and I am not about to give him up to some dockside slattern!” Animosity morphed into pure, naked hatred and it oozed from every pore.
“Give him up?”
Catherine decided Isabel must have lost her mind, and it struck her that the fashionably dressed woman might also be dangerous. A sudden chill went through her. And then, as Isabel’s words sank in, an unexpected revelation was born. Even though it made Catherine want to turn cartwheels, she kept her expression fixed. It would not be to her advantage to let Lady Howard see she knew the truth.
This was not the woman Rian was going to marry.
The temper tantrum Isabel was currently throwing was proof enough, and for that Catherine was secretly elated, but even so, Isabel must surely know Rian was about to be married. What was she hoping for? That whatever relationship she had with him would continue after he had taken his vows? Catherine felt her own temper beginning to rise. She might not know Rian as well as Isabel, and most certainly not as intimately, but she would go to her grave sure of one thing.
Rian Connor was not the type of man to bed one woman after pledging himself to another. And there was something else. Catherine decided she was not going to let her ladyship get away with making false accusations regarding her own reputation. A fierce burning need within her would not allow her honor to be sullied by a woman of questionable character and morals. Even if she did have a title.
It took some effort, but Catherine was able to keep her voice at a moderate, conversational level as she spoke, “Lady Howard, you accuse me of trying to win a place in Mr. Connor’s affections, a place you believe is reserved for you alone. But from your obvious distress it would seem the feeling is one sided and tenuous at best.” She ignored the high spots of color that now appeared on Isabel’s cheeks. “Believe me, Lady Howard, when I tell you that this is no game on my part. If you have any knowledge of my identity, then surely it would be in your own interest to reveal it, thus removing the obstacle that prevents me from leaving this house.”
Isabel balled her hands into fists, and shook both of them at Catherine. “I may not know who you are, but I know only too well what you are!”
Catherine arched a brow. “Then I beg of you to share your insight. I’m certain it will be more than enlightening.”
As if suddenly realizing how close she was to losing control of herself, Isabel took a deep breath. “You’re nothing but a trollop,” she said in a voice that did little to disguise her cold fury. “A doxie who has managed to wheedle her way beneath this roof with some ridiculous tale of woe in order to gain sympathy, and the hope of bettering her situation.” Isabel’s voice turned hard. “I know very well the lengths a woman such as you will go to in order to win over a man like Rian Connor.”
Unable to believe her ears, Catherine stared at Isabel, aghast. This was too much. Who was this woman to dare speak to her like this? What gave her the right to make such wild, inflammatory allegations? Catherine stood, grimacing at the sudden shooting pains in her legs, and turned her back on Isabel.
“Tell me, your ladyship,” she snarled over her shoulder as her own temper flared, “if you believe this to be some sort of trickery.”
Loosening the ties on the bodice of her dress with trembling fingers, Catherine pulled her heavy braid aside and exposed her back to Isabel. There was a deafening silence as Isabel took in the still vibrant crisscross pattern of healing welts, and the jagged scar that burned an angry crimson flame in Catherine’s pale skin.
“A pretty piece of work to give weight to your story,” Isabel commented with no show of emotion. “Though it appears the hand you employed had more enthusiasm than actual skill.”
Shocked by Isabel’s words, Catherine pulled her dress closed and refastened the ties as Isabel continued her venomous attack.
“If you expect to lie with a member of this household, you should confine yourself to one of the stable boys, or mayhap all of them. Do not delude yourself into thinking the master of this house will ever welcome you to his bed, or come to yours. You are nothing but an obligation he will relinquish at the earliest opportunity, and be relieved to do so.”
An angry swish of taffeta accompanied Isabel as she stalked across the room, and her hand was stretched out, reaching for the door handle, when Catherine’s voice stopped her.
“Lady Howard?” With her emotions still running high, Catherine’s voice cut like steel.
“What?” Isabel ground out between clenched teeth.
“I fear I owe you an apology.” Isabel turned her head, a triumphant look on her face as Catherine continued. “You made it quite plain that there was a whore in this room, but never having made the acquaintance of such a person, forgive me for not knowing what I was looking at.”