The garden at Whitehaven stretched like a verdant tapestry across the grounds, a living testament to Bobby Kestrel's vision of what England might become.
November's chill had settled across the English countryside, but here within the experimental gardens, specially designed glass structures maintained Mediterranean warmth regardless of season. Carefully positioned mirrors captured and amplified the weak autumn sunlight, creating artificially extended growing hours that made Whitehaven's agricultural yield the topic of fascinated speculation throughout Europe.
Bobby knelt beside a particularly promising hybrid rose, its petals displaying a gradient from deepest crimson to perfect white that conventional horticulture deemed impossible. He ran his fingers lightly over the thornless stem—another "impossible" modification he'd achieved through careful cross-breeding rather than psionic manipulation.
"Not quite like Atlantis' gardens," he murmured to himself, the name bringing unbidden memories of his lost home and family. There, the psionic field had allowed botanical wonders that defied all earthly comparison—plants that responded to emotional states, blossoms that produced ethereal light in perfectly harmonized wavelengths, fruits containing nutrients tailored to individual genetic needs. Building that kind of environment here would require psionic crystals, and the timeline alterations that would create were too extreme even for his interventionist tendencies. Besides, there wasn't time. The quantum displacement energy accumulating within his system gave him perhaps another year at most before he would be torn away from this reality.
He glanced toward a group of children gathered around one of the teaching pavilions nearby. A young woman with spectacles—one of the many female scholars Bobby had recruited to staff Whitehaven's educational facilities—guided them through basic principles of astronomy using a miniature orrery. The children ranged from noble offspring to village children, all dressed in functional clothing provided by the estate. Here at Whitehaven, Bobby had established the radical principle that knowledge belonged to all, regardless of birth or circumstance.
"My lord," Harrington appeared silently beside him, betraying none of the effort it had taken to locate Bobby among the sprawling acres of experimental gardens. "The latest dispatches from London have arrived."
Bobby accepted the leather folio, though its contents held few surprises. His network of "resurrected" agents throughout England—former corpses revived through nanite technology and programmed for absolute loyalty—provided far more detailed intelligence than any conventional courier system. Additionally, the small satellite he'd constructed and launched into low Earth orbit offered surveillance capabilities that would have seemed like witchcraft to Tudor England. Still, there was something pleasantly tangible about receiving information through conventional human channels.
"The Queen's health?" he inquired, though he already knew the answer having monitored Mary's accelerating cancer through his specialized agents at court.
"Deteriorating rapidly, my lord. The court physicians attend her almost daily now, though they've told Her Majesty only that she suffers from an imbalance of humors requiring regular bloodletting." Harrington's voice remained neutral despite delivering information about the impending death of England's monarch. "They've begun whispering among themselves about a malignancy, though none dare speak such words where the Queen might hear them."
Bobby nodded thoughtfully. Mary Tudor's cancer had progressed exactly as historical records indicated it would, though in this timeline the Spanish marriage had been avoided through his careful political maneuvering. The absence of that particular stress factor had not appreciably extended her lifespan, confirming his theory that her condition was primarily genetic rather than environmental. He could have intervened, of course—nanite technology could have eliminated the cancerous cells with barely a thought—but each manipulation of the timeline caused dangerous spikes in his displacement energy.
"I'll miss her," Bobby said quietly, surprising even himself with the admission. Mary's pragmatic ruthlessness had provided an interesting counterpoint to Elizabeth's calculating ambition and Jane's intellectual passion. In another timeline, another reality, perhaps things might have developed differently between them.
"Indeed, my lord." Harrington's carefully neutral tone revealed nothing of his personal opinion regarding the dying queen. "Lady Jane Grey's educational initiatives continue to gain traction throughout the southern counties. The Cambridge scholars who initially opposed her proposals for women's education have been thoroughly outmaneuvered in three consecutive public debates."
Bobby smiled, a rare expression of genuine pleasure breaking through his typically composed features. Jane—no longer queen but now serving as his appointee to the educational council—had seized her opportunity with remarkable effectiveness. At seventeen, she had become England's most passionate advocate for universal access to knowledge, particularly focusing on educational opportunities for women. Her intelligence, which might have been wasted on mere ceremonial duties as queen, now shaped educational policy that would transform England decades, perhaps centuries, ahead of its historical schedule.
"And what of our book distribution program?" he asked, thinking of the printing innovations he'd introduced. Paper mills constructed according to his specifications operated throughout Kent, producing affordable material for the modified printing presses he'd designed. Books that would have cost a craftsman's monthly wage now sold for prices accessible to anyone with basic literacy and modest means.
"Seventeen new titles published this month alone, my lord. The religious texts continue to prove most popular, though Lady Jane's translations of classical philosophy have developed a surprising following among the merchant classes." Harrington hesitated briefly. "Her latest work—a translation of Plato's Symposium with extensive commentary challenging traditional interpretations—has raised eyebrows among certain conservative elements on the council."
Bobby chuckled. "I imagine it has. Jane never could resist challenging orthodoxy when presented with compelling evidence for alternative viewpoints."
He pictured Jane as he had last seen her—dark copper hair caught in the autumn sunlight, her slender figure having matured into more womanly contours with the passing months, her quick mind evident in the animated expressions that transformed her delicate features during their philosophical discussions. At seventeen, she had blossomed from the nervous, bookish girl he'd first encountered into a formidable intellectual force that even Cambridge's most dedicated misogynists found themselves reluctantly respecting.
"Lady Frances Howard has requested an audience for the third time this week," Harrington continued, interrupting Bobby's momentary reverie. "She awaits your convenience in the eastern reception chamber."
"Again?" Bobby raised an eyebrow, though he wasn't truly surprised. Frances Howard's appetite—for power, for wealth, for carnal pleasure—remained as voracious as ever despite the passing years. "What urgent matter could possibly require my attention so frequently?"
Harrington's expression remained carefully neutral, though the slight tightening around his eyes suggested suppressed amusement. "I couldn't possibly speculate, my lord. Though her daughter Catherine accompanies her this time, wearing what appears to be her finest court dress despite the informal nature of today's visit."
"I see." Bobby brushed soil from his hands as he stood. "And how old is Catherine Howard now? Eighteen?"
"Precisely eighteen as of last month, my lord," Harrington confirmed. "A fact Lady Howard mentioned three separate times while awaiting your availability."
Bobby shook his head, recalling his conversation with Frances nearly two years earlier when she had first proposed the extraordinary arrangement involving both herself and her daughter. At the time, Catherine had been barely sixteen—technically marriageable by Tudor standards but still a child by any reasonable measure. Now, at eighteen, she had legally and culturally transitioned into womanhood, making Frances's persistent matchmaking marginally less inappropriate, if no less transparent.
"I suppose I should hear what urgent matter has brought them to Whitehaven three times in a single week," Bobby sighed, though without genuine annoyance. Frances Howard, for all her scheming and shameless self-interest, provided entertaining diversion from weightier matters. "Have Edwin meet me in my study afterward. We need to discuss the next phase of agricultural experiments before frost fully sets in."
"Of course, my lord." Harrington bowed slightly. "Shall I inform Lady Howard you'll attend her directly, or would you prefer to change from your gardening attire first?"
Bobby glanced down at his soil-stained hands and practical clothing—deliberately humble garments he preferred for his horticultural work rather than the ostentatious nobility-signaling fashions expected of someone with his title. "Let her wait another quarter-hour. Perhaps the anticipation will make whatever scheme she's concocted seem more exciting in the telling."
As Harrington departed to deliver this thinly veiled postponement, Bobby took a moment to observe the children still gathered around the astronomy lesson. Their faces—bright with curiosity, untroubled by the religious and political tensions that dominated adult discourse—reminded him why he had chosen this particular intervention in history. Knowledge, freely shared rather than jealously hoarded, created foundations for civilization's advancement that transcended the temporary disruptions of political succession or religious reformation.
A young girl—no more than seven or eight years old, dressed in the simple but well-made clothing Bobby provided for all children attending Whitehaven's educational programs—noticed his attention and waved enthusiastically. He returned the gesture with a dignified nod that nonetheless conveyed genuine acknowledgment of her existence. That simple recognition—that children were people deserving respect rather than merely incomplete adults—represented perhaps his most radical departure from Tudor convention.
With a final glance at the experimental roses, Bobby turned toward the manor house. Frances Howard's schemes, whatever they might entail, awaited his attention. Though he knew from extensive experience that her "urgent matters" inevitably circled back to the same basic desires—wealth, status, and carnal fulfillment—he maintained a policy of receiving any tenant or associate who requested his time. Even those whose motives remained transparently self-serving.
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The study balanced seamlessly between functionality and aristocratic display—reflecting both his practical mind and his need to maintain appearances befitting a Viscount. Where most nobles' chambers featured ornate decorations with limited purpose, every item in Bobby's space served multiple functions. His massive oak desk contained hidden compartments for sensitive documents; the globes dotting the room concealed astronomical instruments; even the seemingly decorative wall panels could slide open to reveal extensive maps and engineering diagrams.
Frances Howard swept into the room with the confidence of someone who considered herself already mistress of Whitehaven in all but name. Her daughter Catherine followed with measured steps that suggested careful coaching on proper feminine deportment while still drawing attention to her maturing figure.
Frances had dressed strategically for this supposedly casual visit—her gown cut low enough to display her still-impressive décolletage while remaining within the boundaries of daytime propriety. Catherine's attire showed similar calculation—her court dress simultaneously emphasizing her youth and showcasing her development into womanhood.
"Lady Frances," Bobby greeted her without rising from behind his desk, his soil-stained hands making no attempt to hide his recent gardening activities. "And Lady Catherine. What urgent matter brings you to Whitehaven for the third time this week? I trust nothing catastrophic has occurred at Howard Manor since yesterday afternoon?"
Frances dispensed with formal curtsies, dropping directly into the chair opposite his desk with a frustrated sigh. "Edmund Howard is the most insufferable man in Christendom," she announced without preamble. "He's reduced my household allowance again, claiming 'excessive expenditures' on what he calls 'frivolous feminine nonsense.' As if maintaining appearances suitable to our station constitutes frivolity!"
Bobby suppressed a smile at her characteristic directness. Where most noble ladies would have spent fifteen minutes exchanging pleasantries before cautiously approaching their actual purpose, Frances Howard had always preferred bludgeoning straight to her point.
"The accounts Lord Howard provided indicate your 'maintenance of appearances' last quarter included importing three Italian dressmakers, commissioning seventeen new gowns, and purchasing enough French perfume to scent the entire Howard estate for a decade," Bobby observed, having reviewed Edmund Howard's meticulous financial reports just days earlier. "Perhaps his concerns aren't entirely without merit?"
Frances waved this observation away with an imperious flick of her wrist. "A Howard woman must maintain standards befitting her name. Edmund wouldn't understand, being merely a cousin with no true appreciation for the requirements of feminine dignity."
Catherine Howard, having settled more decorously into the second chair, offered a carefully practiced smile. "Mother exaggerates, of course, Lord Kestrel. Though Cousin Edmund does seem unnaturally concerned with every penny spent, as though the Howard fortune might vanish overnight without his vigilance."
Bobby noted the significant changes in Catherine since their first meeting. Where once she had been a shy, somewhat timid girl hiding behind her mother, she had blossomed into a young woman capable of asserting herself with calculated charm. Her voice carried the perfect blend of deference and gentle humor, practiced to appeal to masculine authority without challenging it directly.
"Lord Howard manages the estate admirably," Bobby replied, his eyes flicking between mother and daughter. "The Howard holdings have increased in value by nearly eight percent since he assumed control following your husband's unfortunate passing. Few noble families can claim similar growth in these uncertain times."
Frances snorted inelegantly. "Growth that benefits whom? Certainly not us. Catherine's dowry remains locked away under his control. My widow's portion comes with more conditions than a Papal indulgence. Meanwhile, Edmund entertains business associates in our great hall using our family wine while we must practically beg for new slippers."
Bobby leaned back slightly, studying Frances with clinical interest. "Your 'begging' appears remarkably effective nonetheless. Your current gown would cost the average tradesman a year's income, and your daughter's attire suggests no particular deprivation."
"Appearances," Frances stressed, leaning forward to emphasize her point and incidentally providing Bobby a more generous view of her cleavage. "We maintain appearances through sheer ingenuity despite Edmund's miserly constraints. Catherine deserves better prospects than struggling to maintain basic dignity while that man controls our family name and fortune."
Bobby turned his attention to Catherine, whose expression remained carefully neutral despite her mother's increasingly dramatic complaints. "You've been unusually quiet, Lady Catherine. Does your mother speak accurately for your concerns as well?"
Catherine's practiced smile warmed several degrees, her eyes meeting his with carefully calibrated directness. "Cousin Edmund has been... adequate... in his responsibilities toward me. My dowry grows steadily, if conservatively, under his management. Though I confess some frustration that he considers furthering my education an 'unnecessary expense for a woman already sufficiently accomplished for marriage purposes.'"
"A perspective unfortunately common among men of his generation," Bobby acknowledged, though he knew perfectly well that Edmund Howard—or rather, the reanimated version of Edmund Howard currently controlling the Howard estate—held no such antiquated views. The man's resistance to Catherine's educational expenses stemmed from his awareness of precisely what books she had been requesting—texts on herbalism and certain old alchemical treatises that contained extensive information on poisons.
Edmund Howard had died quite suddenly two years earlier—a mysterious "toxicity" that had presented as severe stomach pain followed by bloody vomiting and eventual heart failure.
Bobby had found the man's body still warm, the distinctive signs of nightshade poisoning evident to his experienced eye. Rather than investigating Frances Howard's obvious involvement, Bobby had simply administered his nanite-infused Synthetic Serum, bringing Edmund back with enhanced capabilities and absolute loyalty to Whitehaven's interests. The resurrected Edmund had subsequently taken control of the Howard household, much to Frances's consternation.
Bobby found it privately amusing that Frances had likely attempted to poison Edmund multiple times since his resurrection, completely unaware that the nanites in his system neutralized any toxin almost instantly. He imagined her growing frustration as increasingly potent concoctions produced nothing more than perhaps momentary indigestion in her intended victim.
"Perhaps we might discuss more productive solutions than merely complaining about Lord Howard's management," Bobby suggested, redirecting the conversation. "The Howard fortune remains intact and growing under his stewardship. You receive adequate allowances for appropriate expenses. Catherine's dowry increases steadily, ensuring she'll make a respectable match when the time comes." He fixed Frances with a direct look. "Unless, of course, this visit concerns a different matter entirely?"
Frances straightened in her chair, apparently abandoning the financial complaints now that Bobby had created an opening for her actual purpose. "You recall our conversation nearly two years ago regarding certain... arrangements that might benefit all parties involved?"
"I recall it with perfect clarity," Bobby confirmed, his gaze shifting briefly to Catherine, whose cheeks colored slightly despite her attempt at sophisticated composure. "Though circumstances have evolved considerably since that particular discussion."
"Indeed they have," Frances agreed eagerly. "Catherine is eighteen now—a woman fully grown and ready for the responsibilities of adult life." She gestured toward her daughter as though presenting merchandise for inspection. "Her education has been comprehensive in all areas appropriate for a nobleman's wife. She speaks French and passable Italian, plays the lute and virginals with reasonable competence, manages household accounts with precision, and possesses all the necessary... feminine skills... to ensure a husband's complete satisfaction."
Catherine's blush deepened at this explicit reference to whatever "feminine skills" Frances had apparently included in her comprehensive education. "Mother, please," she murmured, though without genuine vexation. "Lord Kestrel has no interest in such detailed accounting of my accomplishments."
Bobby studied Catherine with new interest. Where her mother's approach remained as subtle as a battlefield cannon, Catherine had developed a more refined technique—the appearance of modesty and reluctance that nonetheless drew attention precisely where she wished it directed. The contrast suggested Catherine had indeed received comprehensive education in manipulation, though perhaps not exclusively from Frances herself.
"Your mother speaks of marriage," Bobby observed, addressing Catherine directly. "Has she consulted your wishes in this matter? Perhaps you have formed attachments during your visits to court that would make her plans impossible?"
Catherine's eyes lowered demurely, though not before Bobby caught their calculated gleam. "I have received several offers," she acknowledged. "Though none from gentlemen I could envision sharing my life with in any meaningful capacity." She glanced up through lowered lashes—a practiced gesture that nonetheless proved effective. "I find most men of my acquaintance disappointingly limited in their interests and conversation."
Frances made a dismissive sound. "Court boys with more concern for their codpieces than their intellects. Catherine deserves a match with someone whose mind at least approaches her own capabilities."
Bobby suppressed a smile at this transparent flattery. Frances Howard had never shown particular concern for intellectual compatibility in any of her own liaisons, prioritizing power, wealth, and physical attributes considerably higher than conversational potential.
"An admirable maternal concern," Bobby remarked dryly. "Though I remain unclear regarding your specific purpose in raising these matters with me. I am not, to my knowledge, responsible for arranging marriages among the Howard family connections."
Frances leaned forward, abandoning pretense entirely. "Don't play coy, Bobby. It doesn't suit you." Her use of his given name pointed that they abandoned formality. "You know perfectly well what I'm suggesting. Catherine is of age, accomplished, and—" she gestured expansively toward her daughter's figure, "—blessed with attributes any man would appreciate. You remain unmarried despite your elevated status and considerable holdings."
"Mother!" Catherine's protest sounded more perfunctory than genuinely scandalized.
Bobby maintained his composed expression despite the bluntness of Frances's matrimonial campaign. "I recall our previous conversation included certain... unconventional suggestions regarding shared arrangements between mother and daughter," he noted with deliberate directness that made Catherine's eyes widen slightly. "Has that particular aspect of your proposal evolved as well, or does it remain part of the package you're currently offering?"
Frances didn't flinch at this explicit reference to her earlier suggestion that Bobby might enjoy both women simultaneously. "Arrangements could be flexible depending on preferences," she replied with businesslike pragmatism. "Though Catherine's official status would naturally take precedence once vows were exchanged."
Catherine cleared her throat delicately. "Perhaps I should leave you to discuss these matters more freely," she suggested, though making no actual move to depart.
"Unnecessary," Bobby replied. "If your mother proposes you as my potential viscountess, transparency regarding all aspects seems appropriate at this juncture." He turned his attention back to Frances. "You should understand several realities that make your proposal problematic regardless of its potential appeals."
Frances's expression tightened slightly, though she maintained her forward posture. "Such as?"
"Firstly, I have no intention of taking a wife at present, regardless of her qualities or connections," Bobby stated flatly. "My current priorities focus on Whitehaven's development rather than establishing a conventional noble household."
"Development that would benefit substantially from alliance with an established noble family," Frances countered. "The Howards may have suffered certain... setbacks... in recent years, but our bloodline still carries weight in court circles that would complement your more recent elevation."
Bobby inclined his head, acknowledging this point without conceding its importance. "Secondly, while I appreciate Catherine's evident qualities, her prospects would likely diminish through association with me rather than improve. My reputation at court remains... complicated."
"Your reputation is precisely what makes you desirable," Frances argued. "Power attracts regardless of its source or nature. Catherine would enjoy status that mere hereditary nobility cannot provide—connection to someone who clearly shapes events rather than merely responding to them."
"Mother believes you'll be named Lord Protector when Queen Mary passes," Catherine interjected, speaking for herself with surprising directness. "That Elizabeth Tudor will need your support to secure her throne, and that association with you represents the surest path to influence in the coming reign."
Bobby raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed by this frank assessment. "Your daughter speaks with remarkable clarity for someone supposedly bashful about these negotiations," he observed to Frances.
"Catherine has learned to assess political realities pragmatically," Frances replied without apology. "A necessary skill for women navigating our current circumstances."
"Indeed." Bobby turned his attention to Catherine, studying her with renewed interest. "And what are your thoughts on this matter, Lady Catherine? Does the prospect of becoming a viscount's wife appeal primarily for political advantage, or have you formed some attachment to me personally during our limited interactions?"
Catherine met his gaze with surprising steadiness. "Both considerations have merit," she admitted. "I would be a fool to ignore the practical advantages such a match would provide. Yet I also find your company stimulating in ways most men of my acquaintance cannot approach." Her lips curved in a small smile that contained hints of her mother's more explicit expressions. "Your reputation extends beyond political influence, my lord."
"Catherine!" Frances's exclamation contained more pride than reproach.
Bobby chuckled, genuinely amused by the girl's boldness. "Your mother has clearly shared certain... personal observations... regarding our previous encounters."
"She has been instructive regarding many aspects of adult relationships," Catherine confirmed with delicate emphasis that left little doubt about the explicit nature of these maternal teachings. "Knowledge I believe would prove valuable in any potential marriage."
Frances beamed like a tutor whose student had just recited a difficult passage perfectly. "Catherine is an exceptional learner in all respects," she confirmed with unmistakable pride. "Including matters most young women approach with unnecessary trepidation."
"I'm sure she is," Bobby replied, his tone neutral despite the increasingly explicit direction of their conversation. "Though these qualities, however admirable, don't address the fundamental issue. I have no current plans to marry, regardless of the candidate's attributes or connections."
Frances's expression hardened slightly, her tone shifting from persuasive to challenging. "You must marry eventually. Even a man in your... unusual position... requires legitimate heirs to maintain what you've built here."
The observation struck closer to truth than Frances could possibly know. Bobby had indeed been contemplating the need for a successor to maintain Whitehaven's innovations after his inevitable quantum displacement. The energy accumulating within his system gave him perhaps another year at most before he would be torn from this timeline—a reality that made marriage not merely unnecessary but potentially cruel to any woman bound to him.
"There are alternatives to conventional marriage for securing Whitehaven's future," he replied carefully. "Legal instruments that would maintain my initiatives without requiring familial continuity."
"Cold comfort compared to flesh and blood," Frances countered. "Documents can be challenged or reinterpreted. Children—legitimate sons—represent tangible continuation."
Bobby detected something beyond mere mercenary calculation in Frances's argument—perhaps genuine concern for Whitehaven's innovations that had improved countless lives throughout Kent. Despite her self-serving nature, Frances Howard had witnessed firsthand how Bobby's methods had transformed the region, creating prosperity that extended beyond conventional noble charity into sustainable improvement for commoners and aristocrats alike.
"Your concern for Whitehaven's legacy is noted," he acknowledged. "Though perhaps not entirely altruistic given your current proposal."
Frances shrugged, abandoning pretense entirely. "Self-interest and broader benefit frequently align when properly arranged. My daughter as your viscountess would secure both your legacy and her future—an efficient solution to mutual concerns."
Bobby glanced at Catherine, who had maintained remarkable composure throughout this extraordinarily frank negotiation. "And you, Lady Catherine? Do you share your mother's practical perspective on matrimony as primarily business arrangement, or do you harbor more conventional romantic notions despite her pragmatic tutelage?"
Catherine's response surprised him with its thoughtfulness. "I believe effective marriages require both practical compatibility and personal affinity," she replied. "My mother's approach may seem calculating to those with luxury for sentimentality, but women in our position must consider marriage as simultaneously personal relationship and political alliance." Her expression softened slightly. "That said, I would not propose joining my life with someone I found personally repellent, regardless of advantages such union might offer."
"And you find me... not repellent?" Bobby inquired, genuine curiosity evident in his tone.
Catherine's lips curved in a smile more genuine than her previous practiced expressions. "I find you fascinating, Lord Kestrel. Both intellectually and..." she hesitated, a hint of natural shyness breaking through her cultivated poise, "...in other respects my mother has described in perhaps excessive detail."
Frances made no attempt to hide her satisfaction at her daughter's performance. "Catherine speaks truthfully. She has rejected three perfectly respectable offers from established noble families specifically because she finds the prospect of marriage to you more appealing." She leaned forward, dropping her voice conspiratorially despite Catherine's continued presence. "She asks about you constantly. Wants to know everything—your businesses, your mysterious past, your... special capabilities."
"Mother!" Catherine's protest sounded more genuine this time, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment that appeared unfeigned.
Bobby suppressed a smile, recalling Frances using almost identical phrasing during their first explicit conversation about Catherine nearly two years earlier. The performance—whether rehearsed or spontaneous—demonstrated impressive coordination between mother and daughter in their matrimonial campaign.
"While I'm flattered by this evident interest," Bobby replied carefully, "my position remains unchanged. Marriage, however advantageous, doesn't align with my current priorities or plans for Whitehaven's development."
Frances's expression shifted to one Bobby recognized from previous negotiations—determined calculation rather than disappointed acceptance. "Perhaps we might discuss alternative arrangements that would address immediate concerns while leaving future possibilities open for reconsideration," she suggested smoothly.
"What sort of 'alternative arrangements' did you have in mind?" Bobby inquired, already anticipating the direction this proposal would take given Frances Howard's characteristic approach to solving problems.
Frances straightened in her chair, all business despite the intimate nature of her suggestion. "Edmund controls Catherine's dowry and formal marriage prospects, but he holds no authority over her personal conduct or education. A formal position here at Whitehaven—perhaps as your ward or protégée—would provide opportunity to demonstrate her value as potential partner while simultaneously addressing her educational advancement beyond Edmund's restrictive limitations."
"An interesting proposal," Bobby acknowledged, studying Catherine's carefully composed expression. "Though I suspect your concept of 'education' extends considerably beyond conventional academic subjects."
Frances smiled, shameless in her transparency. "Catherine has received excellent foundational knowledge in all appropriate areas. Practical application under proper guidance would complete her preparation for eventual responsibilities as a nobleman's wife—whether ultimately yours or another's."
"I see." Bobby turned his attention fully to Catherine, whose blush had deepened though her gaze remained steady. "And your thoughts on this educational proposal, Lady Catherine? Does your mother speak for your wishes in this matter as well?"
Catherine took a breath, apparently gathering courage for frank speech. "I would welcome opportunity to continue my education at Whitehaven," she confirmed. "In all subjects you deem appropriate for my development."
The deliberate ambiguity of "all subjects" hung in the air between them, carrying unmistakable implications given their previous conversation. Bobby studied Catherine with renewed interest, noting the subtle signs of genuine anticipation beneath her practiced composure. Despite Frances's obvious orchestration, the girl's interest appeared at least partially authentic rather than merely performance for maternal approval.
"A generous educational opportunity," Bobby observed neutrally. "Though I wonder whether your enthusiasm stems from genuine intellectual curiosity or your mother's explicit descriptions of certain... extracurricular activities... she's experienced personally."
Catherine's blush deepened, but her response contained surprising candor. "Can both motivations not exist simultaneously? I admire Whitehaven's scholarly resources and innovative approaches to knowledge. I also..." she hesitated, "...find myself curious about experiences my mother describes as transformative in ways conventional instruction cannot approach."
Frances made no attempt to hide her satisfaction at her daughter's forthright admission. "Catherine has always been an exceptional student in all disciplines. She would benefit tremendously from your particular teaching methods, regardless of whether formal marital arrangements eventually followed."
Bobby suppressed a sigh at the transparency of this arrangement. Frances Howard's plan could hardly be more explicit—offering her daughter as protégée-concubine in hopes this arrangement might eventually evolve into formal union. The proposal's mercenary quality should have repulsed him, yet he found himself considering it with detached pragmatism rather than moral outrage.
"You've presented an interesting proposition," he acknowledged, reaching for the document folio Frances had placed on his desk earlier—financial statements he had barely glanced at during their conversation. "One requiring consideration beyond our current discussion."
Frances recognized this diplomatic deflection but pressed forward nonetheless. "Catherine's eighteenth birthday last month marks her full transition to womanhood by all legal and customary standards," she reminded him unnecessarily. "Any arrangements between you would represent agreement between consenting adults rather than questionable exploitation."
"A distinction I'm well aware of," Bobby replied dryly, his fingers idly sorting through the papers. "Though calendar age represents only one consideration among many."
"Catherine is no sheltered innocent despite her relative youth," Frances insisted. "She understands precisely what educational arrangement we're proposing."
Bobby glanced at the young woman in question, who met his gaze without flinching despite her evident embarrassment at her mother's explicit matchmaking. "And you, Lady Catherine? Do you fully comprehend what your mother suggests regarding your... continued education... under my guidance?"
Catherine's response surprised him with its directness. "I understand my mother proposes I become your mistress with potential for eventual marriage should the arrangement prove mutually satisfactory," she stated plainly. "She believes your... physical attributes and stamina... would provide experience no conventional husband could offer, while your intellectual and commercial achievements would ensure my future security regardless of formal marital status."
"Catherine!" Even Frances seemed momentarily taken aback by her daughter's blunt assessment.
"Honesty seems appropriate given the nature of our discussion," Catherine replied with unexpected assertiveness. She turned back to Bobby, her expression more genuine than at any previous point in their conversation. "My mother's methods may seem calculating, but her intentions reflect genuine concern for my future in uncertain times. She believes—and I agree—that conventional marriage to a traditional nobleman would waste my capabilities while providing limited security in our current political climate."
Bobby found himself genuinely impressed by this frank assessment. Where Frances approached negotiation with seductive manipulation partially concealed beneath aristocratic performance, Catherine appeared capable of clear-eyed pragmatism without sacrificing feminine appeal—a combination rarely found in Tudor England's noblewomen.
"Your candor is refreshing," he acknowledged. "Though it doesn't change my fundamental position regarding formal marriage at present."
"Perhaps formal marriage need not be immediate consideration," Catherine suggested with surprising poise. "A period of mutual assessment might benefit all parties before permanent commitments were considered."
Frances quickly recovered from her momentary surprise at her daughter's explicitness, recognizing the strategic opening Catherine had created. "Precisely my thinking. A trial period would demonstrate Catherine's value as potential viscountess while addressing certain immediate... tensions... that have developed during our extended negotiations."
Bobby almost laughed at this transparent reference to sexual frustration, though he maintained his composed expression. "And what exactly would this 'trial period' entail from your perspective, Lady Frances? I assume you've developed detailed recommendations given your evident planning regarding this matter."
Frances straightened in her chair, shifting fully into negotiation mode now that Bobby had engaged directly with their proposal. "Catherine would take residence here at Whitehaven, perhaps nominally as lady companion to one of your female scholarly appointees to maintain appropriate appearances. She would continue her formal education under your established instructors while receiving more... personalized attention... in areas requiring direct guidance from yourself."
"Private tutoring in select subjects," Bobby summarized with deliberate understatement that made Catherine's lips twitch with suppressed amusement.
"Precisely," Frances confirmed, either missing or ignoring his sardonic tone. "She would also observe Whitehaven's administrative operations, preparing for potential future responsibilities should formal arrangement eventually prove mutually advantageous."
Bobby tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the document folio, genuinely considering the proposal despite its mercenary quality. Catherine Howard did possess intelligence and adaptability that might contribute meaningfully to Whitehaven's development, regardless of any physical relationship. Her evident pragmatism suggested potential beyond merely decorative viscountess—perhaps even someone capable of maintaining certain innovations after his inevitable displacement from this timeline.
"An intriguing suggestion," he acknowledged, his tone revealing nothing of his internal calculations. "Though it raises certain practical questions regarding official status and explanation to wider society."
Frances waved this concern away like an annoying insect. "Court gossip already connects your name with every noble woman between fifteen and fifty. One more supposed liaison would hardly create significant scandal, particularly with Catherine's male relatives apparently approving her educational residence here."
"Edmund Howard would approve such arrangement?" Bobby asked with genuine skepticism, knowing the resurrected Edmund's protective tendencies toward his younger relatives despite his outwardly stern management of family resources.
"Edmund needn't know the full nature of Catherine's educational activities," Frances replied with characteristic directness. "He believes Catherine's intellectual development represents valuable investment in family prospects, provided such education doesn't divert excessive resources from more traditional marriage preparations."
Bobby raised an eyebrow at this convenient interpretation of Edmund Howard's priorities, though he said nothing. The resuscitated Edmund's primary directive involved protecting Howard family interests as defined by Whitehaven's broader objectives—a complex calculus that might indeed accommodate Catherine's "educational residency" despite the transparent sexual component of this arrangement.
"I see you've considered potential objections thoroughly," Bobby observed, pushing the document folio aside. "Though one fundamental question remains unanswered." He turned his attention fully to Catherine, studying her with penetrating intensity that made her shift slightly in her chair. "What do you truly want from this proposed arrangement, Lady Catherine? Beyond your mother's orchestration and practical considerations of security or status?"
Catherine met his gaze with surprising steadiness despite her evident nervousness. "I want opportunity," she replied after brief consideration. "To develop capabilities beyond what convention permits women of my station. To experience life's full spectrum rather than narrowly prescribed feminine role. To learn from someone who clearly operates beyond ordinary constraints."
"And if such learning proves challenging? Even uncomfortable at times?" Bobby pressed, watching her reaction carefully.
"Growth rarely occurs within comfortable boundaries," Catherine responded with unexpected wisdom. "I've observed enough of Whitehaven's operations to understand your methods frequently challenge conventional limitations deliberately."
Bobby nodded, genuinely impressed by this assessment. "A perceptive observation. Though it doesn't address the intimate component your mother emphasizes so persistently."
Catherine's cheeks colored slightly, though she maintained direct eye contact. "I won't pretend physical aspects don't interest me," she admitted with remarkable candor. "My mother's descriptions have created certain... expectations... that conventional young noblemen seem unlikely to fulfill."
Frances made a sound suspiciously like stifled laughter, though she quickly composed her expression when Bobby glanced her way. He returned his attention to Catherine, whose blush had deepened though her gaze remained steady.
"Expectations can prove dangerous," he warned. "Particularly when based on secondhand accounts potentially exaggerated for dramatic effect."
"I understand reality rarely matches imagination perfectly," Catherine acknowledged. "Though mother insists her descriptions represent clinical accuracy rather than romantic embellishment."
Bobby suppressed a smile at this characterization of Frances Howard's explicit accounts regarding their sexual encounters. "Clinical" seemed unlikely given the woman's characteristic enthusiasm for graphic detail.
"Your mother's observational accuracy notwithstanding," he replied carefully, "intimate relationships develop organically rather than through contractual negotiation, regardless of practical considerations that might accompany such connections."
Frances leaned forward, her patience visibly wearing thin with these philosophical deflections. "Let's speak plainly, Bobby," she suggested, abandoning any pretense of formal address. "Catherine finds you attractive. You've shown appreciation for her development since our earlier discussions. Practical arrangements regarding her residence here could address multiple concerns simultaneously while leaving future possibilities open for reconsideration."
"Elegant simplification," Bobby acknowledged with sardonic amusement. "Though perhaps overlooking certain moral considerations typically associated with such arrangements."
Frances snorted inelegantly. "Moral considerations didn't appear particularly relevant during our own encounters over recent years," she observed with characteristic bluntness. "Unless your conscience has developed inconvenient sensitivity since our last meeting?"
Bobby couldn't suppress a genuine laugh at this direct challenge. "A valid observation," he conceded. "Though circumstances differ somewhat given Catherine's age and position compared to your own established independence."
"I'm not a child," Catherine interjected with unexpected assertiveness. "By law and custom, I've reached age where my decisions regarding personal matters carry full adult weight. While I appreciate concern for my wellbeing, I find it somewhat patronizing to suggest I cannot determine my own course regarding intimate relationships."
Bobby studied her with renewed interest, noting the genuine conviction behind this declaration of autonomy. Despite Frances's obvious orchestration of this matrimonial campaign, Catherine's personal agency appeared more substantial than he had initially assessed.
"A fair point," he acknowledged. "Though it doesn't address my fundamental position regarding formal marriage at present."
"Perhaps we might separate immediate arrangements from future possibilities," Catherine suggested pragmatically. "My residence at Whitehaven for educational purposes could proceed without explicit commitment regarding eventual marital status."
Frances nodded approvingly at this strategic compromise. "Precisely. Formal decisions regarding permanent attachment could follow period of mutual assessment, with no obligations binding either party beyond basic courtesies appropriate to host and guest."
Bobby tapped his fingers thoughtfully on his desk, considering the proposal with detached pragmatism despite its transparent sexual component. Catherine Howard did possess intelligence and adaptability that might contribute meaningfully to Whitehaven's operations. Her evident pragmatism suggested potential value beyond merely decorative mistress or theoretical future viscountess.
With deliberate casual movement, he reached for the document folio Frances had brought, scanning the papers briefly before signing several marked locations with practiced efficiency. "Your financial requests seem reasonable given current Howard estate operations," he remarked, deliberately shifting topics with abruptness that momentarily disoriented both women. "I've approved the additional educational stipend as well as supplementary funds for appropriate wardrobe maintenance."
Frances blinked at this sudden transition from intimate negotiation to practical financial matters, though she quickly recovered. "The educational stipend will prove particularly valuable given Edmund's restrictive approach to Catherine's intellectual development."
"Indeed." Bobby continued signing documents with efficient movements that suggested conclusion of their meeting rather than continuation of matrimonial negotiations. "I've also approved certain adjustments to your personal allowance that should address immediate concerns regarding appropriate appearance maintenance."
Frances narrowed her eyes slightly, recognizing this apparent dismissal of their primary topic but unwilling to abandon her matrimonial campaign entirely. "And Catherine's proposed educational residence? Have you reached decision regarding that particular matter?"
Bobby finished signing the final document before looking up with carefully neutral expression. "Educational arrangements require additional consideration beyond our current discussion," he replied diplomatically. "Though I find the general concept potentially beneficial for all concerned parties."
Catherine's carefully composed expression couldn't quite hide her disappointment at this non-committal response, though she maintained appropriate dignity. "Of course, Lord Kestrel. Such arrangements should never be entered hastily regardless of potential advantages."
"Precisely," Bobby confirmed, though his tone softened slightly as he addressed Catherine directly. "Though perhaps further discussion tonight might clarify certain details regarding potential educational focus should such residence eventually be arranged."
Frances's expression immediately brightened at this suggestion of evening consultation. "Tonight would indeed provide excellent opportunity for more detailed exploration of Catherine's educational interests," she agreed with transparent eagerness. "Perhaps after the evening meal? In your private chambers where interruptions would prove less likely?"
"Mother!" Catherine's protest sounded genuinely scandalized despite their previous explicit conversation.
Bobby suppressed a smile at Frances Howard's characteristic directness. "My chambers might indeed provide appropriate privacy for discussing certain sensitive aspects of educational arrangements," he agreed with deliberate ambiguity. "Though perhaps Lady Catherine might prefer initial consultation without maternal supervision given the personal nature of some educational considerations."
Frances waved away this suggestion without hesitation. "Catherine benefits from practical guidance during new educational experiences," she insisted. "My presence would provide valuable supportive framework for exploring unfamiliar territory."
The naked eagerness in Frances's expression confirmed Bobby's suspicion regarding her proposed "educational arrangements"—she clearly anticipated participation in whatever intimate activities might develop from this evening consultation rather than merely facilitating her daughter's introduction to such matters.
"We might determine appropriate supervisory requirements as discussion develops," he suggested diplomatically, unwilling to explicitly reject Frances's evident participation desire despite its potentially awkward implications. "Flexibility regarding educational methodology often produces superior results compared to rigidly predetermined approaches."
Frances's smile took on predatory quality that Bobby recognized from their previous encounters. "I've always appreciated your flexible approach to educational methodology," she agreed with deliberate emphasis that left little doubt regarding her interpretation of this euphemism. "Catherine would undoubtedly benefit from similarly adaptable instructional techniques."
Catherine's blush deepened, though Bobby noted her expression contained anticipation alongside embarrassment at her mother's transparent eagerness. Whatever Frances Howard had shared regarding their previous encounters had clearly created expectations that mere diplomatic discussion would neither fulfill nor dispel.
"Tonight then," Bobby confirmed, rising from behind his desk in clear signal that their formal meeting had concluded. "After the evening meal. We can explore potential educational focus in appropriate detail without formal constraints of daytime business interactions."
Frances stood immediately, satisfaction evident in her triumphant expression. "We shall attend you directly after dining," she confirmed, making no attempt to hide her eagerness regarding this "educational consultation."
"I look forward to our discussion," Bobby replied with diplomatic neutrality that revealed nothing of his actual intentions regarding this evening's activities. "Though perhaps Lady Catherine might benefit from private consideration of her educational priorities before our meeting. Personal reflection often clarifies genuine interests versus externally suggested directions."
Catherine recognized this subtle suggestion that she consider her own desires independent of her mother's orchestration. "A wise recommendation, Lord Kestrel," she acknowledged with unexpected perceptiveness. "I shall indeed reflect carefully on my educational priorities before our evening consultation."
As Frances swept from the room with Catherine following more sedately, Bobby observed the distinct contrast between mother and daughter with clinical interest. Where Frances approached every interaction with naked self-interest barely concealed beneath aristocratic performance, Catherine demonstrated capacity for genuine reflection alongside practical self-advancement—a combination rarely found in Tudor England's noblewomen regardless of age or station.
The closing door had barely stopped reverberating when Harrington materialized from the adjoining chamber where he had undoubtedly overheard the entire extraordinary negotiation. His expression remained professionally neutral despite the explicit nature of the discussion he had witnessed.
"Lady Howard remains remarkably direct in her approach to solving financial difficulties," Harrington observed with characteristic understatement.
"Indeed," Bobby agreed dryly. "Though her daughter shows unexpected depth beyond merely reflecting maternal calculation."
"Lady Catherine has developed considerable personal resources despite her mother's somewhat mercenary guidance," Harrington acknowledged. "The educational initiatives she proposed to Lord Howard demonstrated genuine intellectual curiosity alongside practical career development."
Bobby raised an eyebrow at this information. "You've reviewed her educational proposals?"
"Lord Howard consulted me regarding their potential alignment with Whitehaven's broader objectives," Harrington explained. "Her suggestions for female scholarly training showed remarkable foresight regarding potential economic applications beyond merely ornamental accomplishments."
Bobby considered this new information thoughtfully. "Interesting. Perhaps Frances's matrimonial campaign contains more substance than merely securing privileged position for her daughter."
"Indeed, my lord." Harrington hesitated briefly before adding, "Though her explicit enthusiasm regarding potential 'educational consultation' this evening suggests multiple motivations remain active in her strategic planning."
Bobby suppressed a smile at this diplomatic reference to Frances Howard's transparent sexual eagerness. "Multiple motivations frequently operate simultaneously in human decision-making," he observed. "Particularly regarding arrangements that combine practical advantage with personal gratification."
Harrington's expression remained carefully neutral despite the intimate nature of this observation. "Edwin Frost awaits your convenience in the eastern laboratory," he reported, shifting topics with professional efficiency. "He reports significant progress regarding the wheat hybridization project that might interest you before evening activities commence."
"Excellent," Bobby replied, grateful for the transition to more substantive matters after Frances Howard's explicit matrimonial negotiation. "Agricultural innovations represent considerably more meaningful legacy than mere dynastic continuation."
As he moved toward the door, Bobby's thoughts returned briefly to Catherine Howard's unexpected depth beneath her carefully cultivated feminine performance. Perhaps the girl possessed genuinely valuable perspective that might contribute to Whitehaven's development, regardless of whatever "educational consultation" Frances Howard had orchestrated for this evening.