Page 7 of A Misguided Devotion

“Ah, yes. Your grandmother. The Duchess of Wessex has done you no favours by indulging your every whim. I would forbid her from giving you anything if I thought she would listen to a word I said, but she has always walked her own path, regardless of the effect on anyone else, and she has taught you to do the same. I cannot regard her influence on you as a positive one. Deprived of her own son to spoil, she has spoiled mine instead.”

“Don’t speak ill of my grandmother to me. She at least appreciates my talent.”

“And you think I do not, because I tell you now is not the time to study at the Royal Academy?”

William gave a sharp nod.

“You are mistaken. I might not have your artistic eye, but I appreciate the skill you have. I am not asking you to abandon it. But have a care, lest it overtake you.” There was a faraway look in Father’s eyes. “It was our love of history that brought your mother and me together, but it was a miracle my obsession with the past did not drive her away again. I would hate to see you make the same error.”

William recalled his mother’s words. There was little chance of his making that mistake. He had received a few kisses from some of his less respectable clients, but none of the beauties he had painted had ever stirred his heart.

When he found his muse, he would paint the portrait that would amaze the public. Maybe then his father would see he was destined for more than managing estates. And if by some chance she aroused deeper feelings within him, perhaps he would also end up with a wife. It was an excellent plan.

“May I go?”

Father sighed. “Once your uncle’s funeral is over, I will not demand that you stay. You still have much of life to learn. Perchance you are right, and you are not ready.”

With a bow, William took his leave. The snake of duty dropped to the floor with a thud, but continued to wind itself around his feet, threatening to trip him up.

Though free to follow his own path, his moment of triumph was tinged with bitterness. He was a disappointment. Unfit to stand alongside his father. Part of him wanted to change his mind, to win back that approval, that closeness they’d shared in the past.

But he could not capitulate. He could not stay. Father did not understand how much he needed to do this. To prove himself. It was time to tread his own path, not the one laid out for him by others. With renewed determination, William closed the door on his doubts. His duty would still be waiting for him when he returned.

Chapter 3

Kitty Bruce stared out the stagecoach window, taking in every fresh sight as they passed. She had never been further south than Manchester, and now she was leaving the north behind for good. Whatever the outcome of this journey, she had no money to fund the trip back home.

Not that she had a home any more. Her grandfather was dead, and the house where they had lived had been rented to others. With her brother gone to war, there was nothing left for her in Pendlebury.

She dragged her eyes away from the window and unfolded the letter clutched in her hands. Looking at her grandfather’s words again would not bring him back, but there was something reassuring about hearing him speak to her one last time, even if it was only on paper.

My dearest Kitty,

If you are reading this, I have gone to be with my Maker, and you, I fear, are left alone. I am so sorry. When I let your brother go off to war, I did you a disservice. I never meant it to be like this. I had hoped you would have your own people around you to comfort you.

Do not mourn for me. I have lived a long life, and though I had precious few years with your grandmother, what we had was special. Your father was a gift to us both, for he brought me you and your brother. Never compromise on love, Kitty. It is better to follow your heart and live in poverty than to marry without love.

You will have learned by now what you probably already realised, as you have a wise head on your young shoulders. I have but a few pounds to leave you. What should have been your dowry was spent on your brother’s commission. It was important to us both that he joined the fight against Bonaparte as an officer. You knew as well as I did that he would have enlisted in the army even if I had forbidden it. May God keep you both safe, so that you may be reunited in this life, while I await you in the next.

If you choose not to marry the curate—and I would think the better of you if you did not—buy yourself a ticket on the stage and travel to the south coast. Go to my sister, Mrs Barrington, at Dumbarton House in Wyke Regis near Weymouth, in Dorset, and she will tell you what I could not.

I pray she’ll take care of you for the love she once had for me.

God bless you.

Walter Bruce.

Kitty refolded the letter and tucked it away in her reticule. Her grandfather’s words raised more questions than they answered, but he had been right about one thing. She had not wanted to marry the self-righteous curate.

The man had described her in such unflattering terms when he proposed, she did not fear she had wounded his heart by her refusal. He had prided himself on his generosity in offering marriage despite her lank brown hair, her pox-scarred forehead and her almost manly height, which surpassed his own.

Why in heaven’s name had he asked for her hand if she was so repugnant to him? Probably because he thought it would be cheaper to keep a wife than to pay a housekeeper. And to give him even more opportunities to criticise her—a pastime he seemed to delight in. She wished he had not bothered to bring himself up to scratch.

A wisp of a smile passed over her lips. It was just as well she had refused him, or he would have been forced to shut his eyes tight before he could summon up the courage to kiss her.

After refusing the curate, Kitty had set about fulfilling her grandfather’s last wish—to visit his sister. It gave her a sense of direction. God willing, if Edward came home in one piece, perhaps she could keep house for him or become governess to his children. Until then, she belonged to nobody.

Whether or not Mrs Barrington made her welcome, she was ready for a fresh start—as a housekeeper, if need be, but for a salary, not as someone’s unloved wife.