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The Arrangement. Lyn Stone
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His appearance ought to have set her teeth on edge, and in a way it did just that. It was as though he were daring anyone to challenge his eccentricity. He wore his trappings like a badge. Kathryn stifled a sudden urge to rip away the pretense and discover the real man underneath. She supposed most women felt that way, and that it was precisely what Jon intended.
“You have a performance today?” she asked, assuming the coolest voice she could manage.
He handed her a mug of steaming coffee. “Actually, no. I thought we might go into the city and announce the marriage.”
“And collect the money,” she said acerbically.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?” At least he had the grace to look embarrassed.
Kathryn shrugged, took a sip of the over-sweetened brew, and shivered with disgust before she answered. “I told you I can’t have it until I’m twenty-five.”
“But you said a husband would make all the difference. You said...”
Kathryn saw where this was going. “I said no such thing. I still can’t get the money until my twenty-fifth birthday. Nor can anyone else. Why do you think my uncle waited this long? If I could have collected merely by taking a husband, I’d be long married by now, with my brain pickled in laudanum syrup. You’ll just have to wait along with me, I’m afraid.” She finished the coffee in two swallows and winced again at the sugary taste.
Even under the pallor of his powder, Kathryn imagined, Jon looked ashen. He just stood there wearing one of Pip’s blank expressions. Odd, aside from their hair color, she hadn’t realized just how close their resemblance was until now. She had a strange urge to reassure him, the same urge she usually felt toward his brother. “Don’t worry, Jon. My birthday’s in two months.”
“You’ll be twenty-five?” he asked, visibly shaking off whatever troubled him. “I’d thought you much younger.”
“Thank you. The blush is off, though.” She flashed him a quick grin. “At least I’m no longer an old maid.”
His eyes registered surprise at her sally, and then resignation. “No, no, I suppose not.” He stepped back toward the doorway, stumbling a bit on the edge of the rug. “Well, then... Well, I’ll be off to town. If you don’t need anything else, that is.”
“Where is Pip today?” she asked as she stood up and placed her coffee mug on the bedside table.
“Uh...he goes down to the lake most mornings. Sometimes the woods. Look, Kathryn, I have to leave now.”
“Wait awhile, if you’re going into the city. I’d like you to take a message to my uncle. Even if I can’t collect the money yet, I’d like to make at least one announcement.”
He shook his head and looked eager to be on his way. “I’m afraid I haven’t time to wait.”
“Oh, I promise you it will be short and to the point,” she assured him.
When he stood back, she preceded him down the stairs and into the ballroom. Amid the scatter of music sheets, she located a blank page and sat down on the floor to write.
Dear Uncle, On Tuesday night, the fifth of September, I was married to Mr. Nathan Lyham. We are residing at his country house until my birthday. Your niece, Kathryn
Jon peered over her shoulder until she had finished. He cleared his throat and rocked back on his heels when she looked up. “Is that all?”
“It ought to do the trick. His plans are definitely foiled. Will you post it for me?” She folded it in thirds and handed it up.
“I shall have it delivered. Will he come looking for you, do you think?”
Kathryn laughed as she took his hand to get up from the floor. “He won’t know where to look, now will he?”
Jon crouched and picked up the little harp Pip had played the night before. He stuffed her letter in his pocket and tucked the harp under his arm as he rose.
“Won’t Pip mind if you take away one of his ladies?” she asked.
“He will weep buckets, Kathryn, but there’s no help for it.” The look on his face was pure grief. She knew then that he felt the same affinity for the instrument that Pip did.
Kathryn took his free hand in hers. “You will sell it? Are we really so desperate for funds, Jon?”
He squeezed his eyes shut and blew out a long breath through his nose. “Everything will come right, Kathryn. Not to worry.”
Then he shifted the harp to a more comfortable position and offered her a rather forced smile. “Leave Pip to his own devices today. He’ll wander for a while and then return late this evening to work in here. Food’s in the pie safe and there’s fruit in the orchard out back. Make yourself at home.”
Kathryn followed to the back door and watched him stride across the yard. “Anything else I should know?” she called out.
He turned and walked backward as he answered. “The cat’s name is Dagnabbit, and he bites. So does Grandy. Have a care!” Then he laughed and disappeared into the stables.
Kathryn felt deserted, but she also felt rather adventurous. Never since she was a child had she been quite so free and left to her own inclinations. She could do whatever she wanted!
After wolfing a few slices of bacon and a handful of biscuits, she washed it all down with the remains of Jon’s ale. Next thing, Kathryn thought, was to get rid of the corset.
The freedom of it all went right to her head, and she laughed aloud as she ran up the stairs. Married life was wonderful already, Kathryn thought, even without the money!
A midafternoon message caused a crisis at the Wainwright town house.
Rupert Wainwright crushed the letter from Kathryn into a wad and threw it into the grate. “The little fool! She’s gone and got herself wed!” He raked his hand through what was left of his graying hair and scratched his bushy side-whiskers.
“That’s it, then,” Randall Nelson said, slumping his gangly frame down on the horsehair settee.
“You limp-wristed nodcock! You’re giving her up? Just like that?” Rupert threw up his hands, wondering whether he had chosen the right man after all. He needed Kathryn wed to someone malleable enough to go along with the scheme. And someone stupid enough to share the wealth. Pity the lad didn’t have more gumption, though, when it came to overcoming obstacles.
“What we have to do is find the bastard she married and get rid of him!” Wainwright settled himself behind his scarred oak desk and pounded a fist on the blotter. “Now then, think hard, boy. Do you know any Lyhams? Unusual name. Can’t be many of ’em. Check the census records first. The fellow has to be from here in town, or she’d never have met him, eh?”
Nelson’s gray eyes widened and his head came up with a start. “You mean to kill the man, sir?”
Rupert snorted with disgust. “You have a better idea?”
Nelson winced. “I hadn’t thought to do murder, Roop.”
“How else can we pull this off? You think she’ll simply divorce him and fall in your lap for the asking? We’ll have to make it look an accident, of course.”
Nelson stared out the window, saying nothing.
Rupert nodded and breathed out a gusty sigh. “Shame we can’t just do away with her. Wouldn’t get anything that way, though. Charities would get it all. Damn that brother of mine!”
He noticed Nelson’s brooding