The Arrangement

“Sing to me,” he mumbled, stroking the harp strings.

Kathryn sighed. She hadn’t sung in thirteen years. The last time had gained her the only beating her father ever gave her. After that, even humming had drawn dark scowls from him.

“My mother used to sing,” she said, almost to herself and noticed Pip’s head cock to one side as though he were interested.

Kathryn realized then that she now had a confidant. Pip could listen to all her woes and would promptly forget them. She had talked to her cat when she was small and had no one else to listen. Whiskers had probably saved her sanity after Mother left and Father grew morose and distant. Come to think of it, Pip’s curious expression had a certain similarity to her feline friend’s.

She smiled and clasped her hands together in her lap. “Mother sang like a nightingale, Pip. Still does, I expect.”

“Mother died,” Pip said bluntly, catching a bass string with one fingernail. The note bonged and then faded to silence.

“Your mother died? Mine went away. Sad, isn’t it?” Kathryn leaned against his shoulder, and Pip grunted softly in assent.

He began to play again, this time a piece she didn’t know—one of his own, she suspected. The soft music soothed as a maternal caress was meant to. Perhaps Pip had invented his own consolation for the loss of his mother and was sharing it with her. What a lovely thought that, despite his disability, he possessed such sensitivity, such natural goodness.

She lay back on the chilly floor and covered her eyes with one arm. Pip’s sweet, comforting sounds enfolded her, warmed her, and eventually lulled her to sleep.

Chapter Five

Strong sunlight and the smell of coffee greeted Kathryn when she woke. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, groaning as her corset bit into her rib cage.

She was in Pip’s room. Or at least the one she had assigned him when she saw the pigsty he usually occupied. The covers lay tangled half about her, half on the floor. Otherwise, the place looked much as it had the last time she was in it. The dust was more evident, and the furnishings seemed a bit more faded than she recalled. How in the world had she gotten here?

Searching her memory, Kathryn vaguely remembered strong arms beneath her, the shifting movements of being carried like a child. She lay back and sighed. So Pip was looking after her. The future didn’t look half so bleak as she had expected it would this morning.

Once she had her money, she would restore his home and make it livable. Maybe even as beautiful as it had been in its glory days. And she would give him a life of comfort and ease. Her Pip would have no worries at all other than what note to play next. Her Pip. Nathan. She remembered the name Jon had written on the marriage certificate, but she could never think of Pip as Nathan. He probably wouldn’t answer to that name, anyway.

So what if Pip wasn’t her ideal husband? Not likely she would ever have found the man she’d envisioned anyway. She had imagined a somewhat older fellow. Handsome, naturally. Virile and experienced, worldly, sure of himself, the master of all situations. And rich. Well, now she didn’t require a rich man. Love had never been on her wish list. She’d seen what love did to her father when he lost it. She wasn’t even certain what love meant; passion, supposedly, coupled with obsession. She would gladly settle for a different, safer kind of affection with Pip.

She couldn’t deny that she felt a strong physical attraction to her brother-in-law, Chadwick. But then, she had experienced a stirring toward Pip that proved nearly as strong. The failing was one she’d have to combat until she got over it. Desire might be new and unsettling, but she could deal with it until she got used to the near proximity of two extremely handsome men. Once they became familiar in a family setting, she would surely come to think of both in .a sisterly way.

They could live a pleasant life here at Timberoak. Jon would come periodically, of course, to get the music Pip wrote. They would make him welcome and be a real family. Even old Grandy might fit in, once Kathryn set her straight about showing Pip the respect he was due. Just because a childhood accident had stolen some of his reason, that gave the woman no call to grump at him the way she did. Everything would work out beautifully. Kathryn meant to see that it did. They were all her responsibility now.

She listened to the steady thump of footsteps on the stairs and the firm knock at her bedroom door. “Come in,” she called, fully expecting Pip.

“Good morning, Kathryn,” Jon said as he entered. “You slept well, I trust?”

Kathryn shifted uncomfortably in her wrinkled riding habit. He looked too wonderfully decadent, still in his evening clothes. Powder lay thick on his face, its pallor interrupted only by his dark brows and lashes, and the natural color of his expressive mouth. Most of his dark, wavy hair had escaped from its scarlet thong, as though the wind had pulled it free. Was he just coming in from last evening’s affair at the Turkingtons’ or leaving for another? The night had passed, but she had no idea what time of day it was.

Or did he never allow anyone to see him without this ridiculous mask of his? One would think he was hiding something. Scars, perhaps? La, men could be more vain than women!

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?”