When he moved, Christian saw the bandage. “What in bloody hell happened to you?”
“It’s nothing,” Grayson said dismissively. “A slight burn with my latest steam experiment.” He pulled his coat and shirt down to hide the bandage that covered his wrist.
“Katherine lives with a woman who’s gifted with medicines. She helped Morgan with his eye injury. You should see her. I could take you over to Katherine’s house and introduce you.”
“Really? That’s good to know.” Grayson thinned his lips to keep from laughing. “How interesting that you seem to have a world of knowledge about the fair Katherine.” He leaned forward, capturing Christian’s attention with his hawklike gaze. “What a gift to be married to a woman who could love, support, and appreciate you.” He picked up his glass and examined the remaining amber liquid. “You should marry her, introduce her into society as your wife. Everyone adores a love match.”
“Whoa there, my friend.” Christian raised his hand palm out. “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“I don’t care to be ordered about as if I’m a plow horse.” This time it was the marquess who exhaled loudly. The fire flamed in support of his weariness. “Use that brain of yours and figure this out.”
“Easier said than done,” he protested.
“What in God’s name is that?” Grayson rose from his chair and walked straight to the family portrait that served to hold Christian’s memos.
“What does it look like?” Christian picked up a document from his desk and feigned studying it. “It’s a handy item to keep my notes organized.”
The marquess examined the painting, then turned his steely gaze back to Christian. “Notes? It looks like you’re posting debts owed to you.” Grayson pointed to one slip of paper tacked to Christian’s father’s head. “This one says you paid for Meri’s stable fees at Tattersalls on the twenty-second of December 1809.” He glowered at another. “Good God, man. You paid for Meri’s gambling debt in 1812. Two hundred and thirty-three pounds to the Earl of Hendron. You’re still keeping these?” He shot a look that went straight through Christian. “This is proof you need a good kick in the arse. You need to come to terms with your feelings for him and put them to rest.”
“What are you about?” Christian groused.
“Meri and your family. Put them to rest forever,” his friend repeated, ignoring his question. “Do you hear me? This isn’t a good sign that you’ve come back from the war with a sound mind.”
Christian threw the document back on the desk. “On second thought, I don’t care and don’t want to know what you’re thinking.”
Grayson ignored him and turned his attention back to the notes tacked through the painting. With a huff, he prowled back to Christian’s side. “They are gone. Every. Single. One of them. Including Meriwether.” He shook his head slightly. “I don’t know if you’re grieving or losing your mind.”
Christian opened his mouth to respond, but the marquess raised a hand to silence him.
“Allow me to finish.” He lowered his voice. “I know your family hurt you, particularly your father and his preference for his other family. But it’s in the past. You’re here now. Let go of the ghosts and come to terms with it. Look forward to your future, one that should include a kind and wonderful woman.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Christian argued. “Look at you. You’re in the same situation as me.”
“Hardly. Instead of stabbing pieces of paper through your father’s and his late duchess’s faces, you need to take a look inside that empty hole in your chest where your heart used to reside. See if you can resurrect it and determine what it is you’re feeling for Katherine.” Grayson sat back down and regarded Christian with a raised eyebrow. “I’d like to meet her.”
Christian tamped down the urge to scowl. “I’d be happy to make the introductions. Plus, I insist you meet the other wives. Perhaps you and Beth will find yourselves in a love match?”
The marquess laughed. “You were always a horrible liar.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his legs, the bandage from his burns clearly visible once again. “Don’t be a fool here. You’ll lose her if Lady Woodhaven and Abbott have their way.”
“I’ll lose whom?” Christian asked.
Grayson’s gaze never left his. “Prove you’re a hero to Katherine.” He lowered his voice, but his exasperation was readily apparent to both of them. “No matter what you feel or what you say, Meri is still your brother.”
“Believe you me, I’m aware of that sad fact.”
“Christian,” Grayson warned.
“Was.” Completely ignoring his friend’s vexation, he continued, “Meri was my half brother.” He nodded in silent acknowledgment of his friend’s point. “Katherine was his wife. Which means”—Christian enunciated each word precisely—“she no longer is.”
Grayson smiled. “Now you’re thinking clearly.”
Chapter Eleven
Katherine strummed her fingers across the small square pillow her mother had given her the night of her fifth birthday. It was right before she left for her nightly performance. Filled with sweet lavender scent, it normally comforted Kat. But not today.
After her mother’s death, Kat had struggled. She couldn’t find work. No one would hire her. Months later, Willa had traveled to help a cousin who was deathly ill, but she’d decided not to take Kat because the risk of infection was too dangerous.
Willa thought she’d only been gone for a week, but several had passed, and Kat found herself without food or money. Every time she’d tried to find employment, she’d met rejection. One day, defeated and hungry, she’d stood on street corner, trying to summon the courage to beg for a coin or two.
Her stomach lurched, and she closed her eyes as the horror of that day washed over her.
A group of ragged boys came up to her, and one put an apple in her hand. A random act of kindness that had been a gift from heaven.
Until it had turned into something from hell.
Almost immediately, an angry grocer came upon them, demanding to know who had stolen from his fruit stand again. The boy who gave her the apple pointed at her, then shouted, “She did it.”
A constable appeared from nowhere, and the boys scattered into the alleyways.
She’d never been that scared in all her life. It was akin to being stripped naked in front of the whole town as people spat and shouted at her. That day never ventured far from her thoughts. It had marked her. She couldn’t walk the streets of York without someone whispering or turning their backs on her. It made her illegitimacy seem like child’s play compared to being declared a thief.
“Katherine Elise James,” Willa scolded as she strode into Kat’s bedchamber. “Why are you moping about this morning?”
Kat cringed at the use of her real name. No one called her that but Willa. “Hush,” she scolded. “Someone might hear you.”
“It’s your name.” Willa harrumphed. “I came to collect the dirty laundry this morning. I didn’t expect to collect you too.”
Kat fiddled with her teacup.
“Lass, what is it?” Willa’s tone softened.
She closed her eyes.
“You’re still in your dressing gown. Are ye feeling poorly?” Willa clucked as she laid a hand across Kat’s brow.
“I’m fine.” Kat stared out the window that overlooked the street below. If Willa took a gander at her face, she’d ferret out what was wrong in an instant.
“You’re not fine if you’re sitting here. You’re normally at work by now. A team of horses can’t keep you away from the workshop. Now, look at me, Kat.”
She propped her chin in one hand, then slowly turned to Willa.
After a quick but worried inspection, Willa’s eyelids snapped open. “Are ye grieving?”
She shook her head and tried to smile. “A late start to the day. Help me dress?”
With her usual efficiency, Willa walked to the small cabinet where Kat kept her work cl
othes. In seconds, she was before Kat and had slipped a chemise over her head. Next came the pretty floral stays Kat had made for herself when she lived in York. After tying them tight, Willa placed a work gown, one that had been died mauve for mourning, over her head.
“Ack, I’ll be glad when you’re out of those widow’s weeds.” She took Kat by the shoulders and led her to the modest dressing table. “I’m worried about you, lass.”
“As am I.” Kat sat so she could face Willa. “At Helen’s party, men smiled at me. I felt pretty. Like a princess at a ball.”
“Must have been some party.” Willa chuckled. “Any one in particular?”
“It doesn’t make any difference.” Kat turned back around and faced the mirror on the wall, watching her companion’s reaction.
Willa raised an eyebrow. It was the look she gave when she collected confessions.
“The duke.” She looked down at her lap, hoping to find the courage to explain. She released the pent-up breath she held. “I had on Beth’s blue silk dress. He looked at me as if I were the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen.”
“The duke is a smart man.” Willa bent down and took Kat’s chin in her hand. “You, my love, are stunning.”
“You’re partial.”
A grunt was Willa’s answer.
“The duke wanted to kiss me at Helen’s.” Kat’s voice broke, but she forced herself to continue with the story. “But he didn’t. A cat chasing a bird interrupted us…”
Willa’s face softened. “Did you want to kiss him?”
She nodded. “For the first time in my life, a good, decent man wanted me.” Hoping for a distraction, she picked up the small pillow again. Lightly, she traced the embroidered heart in the pillow’s center and remembered her mother’s words. When we’re apart, remember this heart represents mine. All my love for you resides here.
What Kat wouldn’t give for her mother to be with her now.
Willa gently brushed her hair, the simple routine soothing the tempest that had her heart twisted. “You play with that when you’re unsettled.”
She pushed the pillow away. “Do you know what else I wanted?”
“No.” Giving Kat her undivided attention, Willa lowered the brush to her side.
“I wanted to be someone else. Which would be easy for me. I’m an expert at pretending to be a lady when I’m not.”
“Katherine”—Willa squeezed her shoulder—“any man would be lucky to have you.”
Kat shook her head.
“Look at me,” Willa commanded.
Kat raised her gaze until she could see Willa’s determined face reflected in the mirror.
“You can accomplish anything. Look what you’ve done already in your short life.” Her eyes blazed with affection. “Fate works in mysterious ways, lass. If you hadn’t married your husband, you never would have met the duke.”
“Perhaps.” She blinked to keep her tears in check. “I just want to love someone and have them love me in return. I’ve jeopardized that dream with all the fanciful tales I’ve built my reputation around. If the truth ever spilt free…”
“The truth is, you made a mistake,” Willa said, patting her shoulder in comfort.
“A mistake? It isn’t that simple. No one would have seen past my true circumstances if I hadn’t left York and told the story about a pretend father,” Kat argued. The taste of bile threatened, but she swallowed. If only she could swallow the bitter memories as well. “Because of that, I have my own business. Who knows where I’d be if I hadn’t? Probably still hanging my head in shame, or worse.”
“Lass, you’re here because of your hard work. A good man who loves you will see the truth.”
“Do you think a man will love a thief?” She didn’t hide the challenge in her voice as tears stung her eyes. “That’s who I am.”
“You’re not a thief.” Willa cupped her cheek, forcing Kat to hold her gaze. “A good man will understand your story. And I reckon you’ll find him someday. Sooner, rather than later,” Willa soothed.
“Did you ever want someone for yourself?”
“Aye.” Willa stared at the window for a moment before turning her gaze back to Kat’s. “I discovered I wasn’t the marrying type, but I wanted children. The good Lord didn’t agree, but he gave me another gift.”
“I’ve never heard this story.” Kat’s heart clinched to think her loving Willa had suffered. “What gift did you receive?”
“He gave me you.” In a rare show of emotion, Willa wiped her eye, then started brushing Kat’s hair again. “Let me ask you another question.”
Kat sat still and waited.
“Perhaps being true to yourself is what attracted the duke in the first place?” She slid the brush through Kat’s hair again. “Mark my words. Trust your instincts. Be yourself and see what happens.”
Her instincts told her to hide. How could she be herself while maintaining the balancing act she’d performed for the last year? She had the title of a lady and acted like one. Because of her status in society, the ton had accepted her and her business with open arms.
Now, all of a sudden, she felt like an imposter. She bit the side of her bottom lip. She’d never been one to shirk hard work and the impossible. The success of her linen enterprise was proof. But if the ton ever found out the truth of why she rushed into marriage, along with her humble beginnings, they’d banish her.
* * *
The day of Grayson’s visit, Katherine had sent a note to Christian for him to meet her at the warehouse near the Thames. He was a few minutes early, so he strolled through the busy area toward the designated building at the end of the block. The well-maintained street was bustling with activity. The scent of the river lingered in the air, along with the shouts and the grunts of workers unloading a cart of kegs into one of the buildings.
Christian released a happy sigh. It was a day to enjoy life and the city. The day had never been sunnier or cleaner, meaning the coal-infused air was noticeably absent.
He adjusted his hat to keep the sun from creeping into his eyes, or so he let the passersby think. In reality, it hid the smile that tugged at his lips. Since he’d spoken to Grayson, it was simply remarkable that everything seemed to be flavored with Katherine—her smell, her expressions, the small sounds she made when she was aggravated with him. They permeated the facets of his life.
Even her simple smile caused a chain reaction within him. How lucky his half brother had been to listen to her laugh. The fool should have never left her. If Christian had married her, he was certain he’d never tire of her laugh.
Or her.
Christian rounded the corner at a brisk pace and stopped forthwith before plowing into a woman who had her head bent and was heading in the same direction.
“Hello, Katherine,” Christian said as he tipped his hat.
“Your Grace.” A vision in a gray velvet pelisse, Katherine greeted him with a warm smile. A matching hat sat at a jaunty angle on her head. “You’re right on time. It’s right down here.” She pointed to the end of the street.
“Shall we?” He presented his best charming smile and raised his arm for her to take.
Her pulse fluttered at the base of her neck, making it hard to control the wild urge to press his lips there.
She adjusted a leather satchel that she carried under her arm, then wrapped her other arm around his before they started down the street.
“I’m thinking about my day. After this, I’m going to my workshop to drop off a few orders.” Her eyes widened. “You should come with me. See my workshop and how it’s set up. It might give you some ideas for the work areas. The men who’ll refinish the furniture will need them.”
“Your workshop?” For a moment he forget to breathe. Her eyes practically sparkled as she talked about her work. “I’d like to see it. But I didn’t know you owned a workshop.”
“I rent the space.”
“May I ask a question?” Christian asked.
She nodded.
/> “What did Meri think about you working?”
She stopped midstep, then turned to face him. Her unique scent rose to greet him. Her lips pursed in a moue of displeasure as she said, “Your Grace, this isn’t a hobby. It’s a livelihood.”
“I meant no offense.” He tucked himself closer to her side to give a little more room to a workman who passed by with a keg on his back. Christian purposely kept close after that. The street was getting busier and busier with men working. “I wondered, because you’re very serious-minded about your endeavors. My half brother didn’t possess such critical skills.”
She relaxed at that explanation.
“Thankfully, I did continue to work. Imagine what my circumstances would be if I hadn’t. Perhaps I’d be living at Rand House with you.” She smiled ruefully. “My finances, I suppose, are … an inappropriate topic of conversation. I apologize.”
“There’s no need,” Christian answered, not taking his eyes off her. Her passion made her entire face glow with an invigorating excitement that was contagious.
“Here we are.” She unlatched her satchel, then pulled out a ribbon with a key attached. “The owner already gave me the key.”
He held out his hand. “May I?”
With a wry smile, she examined him as if he might be poisonous before slowly placing the key in his palm.
As he unlocked the door, he said, “Rest assured, I don’t attack innocent bystanders, at least not after breakfast.”
She waggled her eyebrows slightly. “I can’t vouch for myself.”
“You haven’t broken your fast?”
“I’ve had a full breakfast. However, I might still attack.”
“You’re a vicious one.” Christian opened the door with an exaggerated flourish. “My lady”—he leaned close—“I need you too much, so I will take the risk of your bite.”
She narrowed her eyes playfully. “I’ve discovered that all is fair when dealing with someone who underestimates you.”
A Duke in Time--The Widow Rules Page 13