Francis shrugged. “I’m not hanging out for a rich wife.”
“Are you in love with her, then?” Jack’s mouth was dry as he waited for the answer.
“Good heavens, no.” Francis laughed carelessly. “A chap doesn’t have to be in love with his wife to have a happy marriage. As long as she loves him, it will work.”
“And you think she loves you, do you?” Jack growled.
“No, dear boy, not yet.” Francis smiled complacently. “But the marriage bed has a way of taking care of that, does it not? By the end of the honeymoon she will love me.” He winked. “I’m told I am rather a good lover, you see. And, besides, I intend to be a kind and indulgent husband. Women like that, you know. And I do believe young Kate has had very little indulgence in her life…”
Observing Jack’s face, Francis deemed it prudent to join Sir Toby and Mr Lennox. He reached across and patted Jack’s leg. “You look as if your leg is paining you, dear boy. Why don’t you take yourself home and I’ll meet you back at the house?” Unable to keep a straight face any longer, Francis galloped away, putting the greatest possible distance between them before his mirth escaped him.
He left Jack staring after him, his face a mixture of fury, chagrin and despair. It was true. Francis would make Kate a fine husband. So why did the thought make him feel so sick inside? It was very confusing. Reason forced him to admit Francis would make someone an excellent husband. Only…not Kate.
Jack entered the house from the side entrance nearest the stables and paused, hearing voices coming from the front parlour: Kate and a man whose voice he did not recognise. He entered the room.
Kate was seated on a lounge sofa, smiling happily at a complete stranger. Jack frowned. The stranger was holding both of Kate’s hands in his, and she was making no attempt to remove them from his grasp. She turned and beamed at Jack.
“Oh, Ja—Mr Carstairs, isn’t it wonderful? This is Mr Jeremiah Cole.”
Cold blue eyes swept over Mr Cole’s person and one eyebrow rose sardonically. His hard stare shifted pointedly from Cole to Kate’s hands. Cole immediately released them.
“Forgive me, Miss Farleigh—” Jack’s tone was frigid “—but I do not immediately perceive what is so wonderful. Who is this person?” His eyebrow rose again as his gaze swept over the man before him.
To his annoyance, Kate did not even seem to register his arctic reception of her guest. She laughed.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I must confess Mr Cole’s unexpected appearance has put me in somewhat of a fluster.” She turned and beamed at the stranger again. “A very welcome appearance and a very happy fluster, but it has made me forget my manners.”
She rose and immediately the stranger did the same. Jack’s eyes grew even flintier as he noted that the Cole fellow was almost as tall as he, solidly built and modishly dressed.
Kate continued, “Mr Carstairs, I have much pleasure in presenting a distant and until now unknown cousin of mine, Mr Jeremiah Cole. Mr Cole, Mr Jack Carstairs, my…” She hesitated. Mr Cole’s eyebrows rose slightly.
Jack instantly recognised her difficulty. “Miss Farleigh is the ward of my grandmother, Lady Cahill. My grandmother prevailed upon Miss Farleigh and her companion, Mrs Betts, to assist a poor bachelor in setting this house to rights.”
A speculative look came on to Mr Cole’s face, so Jack added, “She will shortly be taking up residence with Lady Cahill and making her entrance to society under her aegis.” That should stop the fellow’s suspicious mind, he thought, for what grandmother would sponsor her grandson’s mistress into society?
“Delighted to meet you,” said Cole affably. “I must say, I was bowled over when I found that my little cousin had survived the terrors of war after all. And when I arrived here and discovered what a very charming and delightful little cousin she was too I was bowled over even more thoroughly.” He kissed her hand.
Jack watched balefully as Kate blushed. She was making no attempt to pull her hands out of the fellow’s sweaty grasp.
“Tell me, Cole,” he said, “how did you discover Miss Farleigh’s whereabouts? Not many know she is here.”
Cole turned, still retaining Kate’s hand. “I was contacted by Lady Cahill’s man, Phillips. My late father was executor of the Delacombe estate, you know, and their property came to him, as closest living male relative. It passed therefore to me on his death two months ago.” He smiled at Kate, an oily smirk to Jack’s jaundiced eye. He patted her hand and then grew solemn.
“You can imagine my joy when I discovered that I was not, in fact, all alone in the world, and that my cousin was alive and well—not perished at the hands of the dastardly French along with her father and brothers.” He squeezed Kate’s hand sympathetically. “Naturally I came post-haste to meet her. And of course to make my condolences on the loss of her loved ones.”
“It was very kind of you, Mr Cole,” said Kate softly.
“Please,” he said, “Mr Cole sounds so formal. I am your only living relative, even if rather distant. Could you not bring yourself to call me Cousin Jeremiah, and allow me to call you Cousin Katherine?”
“Cousin Kate will do nicely, Cousin Jeremiah.” She smiled at him and he kissed her hand again.
Jack stared at the little display, revolted. Could Kate not see the fellow was an oily Cit? He might be well dressed and passably good-looking, if you liked biggish men with sandy hair and regular features, but he was a deal too smooth for Jack’s liking, and as for his continual flattery of Kate and that incessant groping and kissing of her hand…
Jack itched to take the impertinent fellow by his elegantly tailored collar and toss him out on his ear, but he knew Kate would never allow it. He regarded her sourly. She was completely taken in. She obviously took the fellow at his word and even seemed to enjoy him pawing and slobbering over her hand. She allowed it at any rate. And smiled.
“So you are the heir.” Jack interrupted before the fellow could kiss Kate’s hand for the third time.
“Yes, indeed,” agreed Mr Cole. “Though it is a melancholy feeling to find oneself enriched by another’s demise.” He looked solemn for a moment, then brightened. “But that reminds me, there is a small bequest for you, Cousin Kate, a peculiarly feminine bequest.”
