by Jane Goodger
Graham straightened. The audacity of the man! How dare he disparage Miss Wright’s character? “If you remember correctly,” he said, his voice hard, “I lied, as well.”
“Yes, you lied and told the young lady you were a valet. But I find it difficult to believe that anyone—even an American—could possibly mistake you for a valet.”
That did give him pause, Graham had to admit. Then again, he’d thought she, an American heiress, was a maid. Of course, she had been dressed as a maid would dress.
“Sir, I hesitate to ask this final question. Please know that I mean no insult to you or to the lady if I’m wrong.”
Graham felt a small amount of trepidation at Mr. Chase’s tone. “Go on.”
Seemingly reluctant, Mr. Chase finally asked, “How many times has the young lady allowed you to be alone with her unchaperoned?”
Graham immediately knew what he was suggesting, that Katherine was a scheming girl bent on forcing his hand. But that could not be true. She seemed so genuine. And if that were the truth, it could only mean he was the biggest of fools. Because the answer to Mr. Chase’s question was many times—far too many to completely disregard his valet’s suspicions.
As if reading his mind, Mr. Chase said gently, “Sir, what kind of girl would allow that?”
Graham looked up at the valet, feeling very much like a little boy having done something interminably stupid. And yet, he still clung to the idea that they had simply fallen for one another, that what she felt for him was just as strong as what he felt for her. Yes, she might have allowed them to be alone, but in each case he had been the one to instigate it. Still . . .
“I shall be more cautious in the future, Mr. Chase. There is much at stake.”
The older man relaxed, likely relieved he hadn’t gotten angry. “Very good, sir. And I nearly forgot whilst basking in the light of your good humor that a letter came from your estate.”
“But I was just there,” Graham said, slightly baffled that whatever had been important enough to send a letter couldn’t have been discussed a week ago. “Damn,” he said as he read the short note.
“Sir?”
“Apparently, there was a kitchen fire at the Blackshires’ and their home was all but destroyed. They’re staying with a relative right now, but the cottage will have to be rebuilt.” It was just one more thing to remind Graham that marrying Miss Von Haupt was the right thing to do. He felt as if someone had poured a warm, thick batter of gloom over his head, and he realized it was because some small, unrecognized part of him had still hoped that he wouldn’t have to marry her. That he could choose his own bride. Hell, he’d been pursuing Katherine as if it were a possibility. He was acting as if he were still on holiday, still sneaking out to meet a maid and knowing it was wrong all along. It had to stop.
Katherine stood at the base of the hill, looking up at what had once been a castle, but was now the remains of a single tower, her mother and the general standing next to her. Her mother was glowing with happiness, which Katherine found extremely irritating.
“I was thinking of writing to Father to have him join us,” Katherine said. “He could be here in less than two weeks, and I know he would enjoy such outings as these.”
Her mother looked annoyed. “Your father is entirely too busy to visit us here. He hinted at some large doings with Mr. Rockefeller in his last letter. And he despises history.”
Katherine sighed, because her mother was right. Her father would have looked at the tower and declared it an old pile of stones. He had absolutely no imagination and would have thought Katherine’s romantic musings about what the castle had once looked like and how its people had lived a waste of time.
“It was built in the thirteen hundreds,” Marjorie said. “Can you imagine? I can just picture the knights riding their white steeds, carrying the castle’s banner. By the way, who is that man with Lord Avonleigh? The one who scowls all the time?”
Katherine turned to see Graham walking beside Mr. Norris. “Mr. Charles Norris. Apparently, he’s been in India for years and has only recently returned home.”
Marjorie furrowed her brow as if trying to remember the family. “Oh yes,” she said after a time. “He’s the second son of Viscount Melbourne. Pity.”
Katherine gave her a look of pure exasperation. “I simply do not understand everyone’s fascination with titles.”
Marjorie grinned. “It’s not my fascination, it’s my mother’s. She’s been trying to get me married off for four years now and she won’t even consider an untitled gentleman. Besides, if I get married, who will take care of George?”
She said the words breezily, but Katherine sensed she was completely serious—and now she had a better understanding of the sacrifice Marjorie was making to protect her younger brother.
Katherine gave Graham another sidelong glance before focusing on the ruins in front of her. Though much of the castle was gone, the tower that was left standing was enormous. She imagined if one could fly, one would be able to see the original size, as here and there were small remnants of walls.
Graham had been decidedly cool today, she thought. Each time she looked his way, he was otherwise engaged, a distinct change from the previous days. She hated that they were angry with one another. The futility of her feelings for Graham was not lost on her, but she simply could not stop the longing she felt in her heart. Was it her imagination or had he seemed more solicitous to Claudia and her mother?
At that very moment, Claudia went up to him, like an eager puppy, and he smiled down at her. It was not the smile he’d given to Katherine, that carefree, open one that made her heart sing, but it was a smile nonetheless. And it felt like a knife stabbed at her heart when she saw it.
“Cow eyes are so unbecoming,” Marjorie said next to her.
Katherine turned away and wrinkled her nose at her friend. “Who’s to say I wasn’t looking at Mr. Norris? He’s quite good looking. And he must be wealthy enough if he’s the son of a viscount.”
“Oh, I daresay he is,” Marjorie said with a frown. “Wealthy, that is. I don’t care for a man who looks like a lumberjack. I prefer a man of more grace and refinement. Have you heard him laugh? It’s actually frightening.”
Katherine giggled. “He did rather remind me of one of those wild mountain men from my country. Perhaps Daniel Boone. Have you heard of him?”
“Oh yes, the famous frontiersman. My brother adores stories about him.”
Katherine realized just then that she and Marjorie were walking in a convergent path with Graham and his small party. Graham apparently noticed this, too, and Katherine watched, with a small amount of dismay, as he steered his group in the opposite direction. Ridiculous tears burned in her eyes and she forced them away, disgusted with herself. This was for the better. They never should have had any sort of relationship, and now that it was severed, she should be dancing the jig, not fighting back tears.
“Mr. Norris would be a good catch for you,” Marjorie said, oblivious for once to what was going on in Katherine’s head. “That is, if your mother could ever get over not nabbing a title for her daughter. I know my mother would not.”
“No, that would never do for Mother. She must have a title or nothing,” Katherine said with no small amount of bitterness. The two women stood at the top of the small knoll, looking down at those who had joined the expedition to the ruins. A man she hadn’t noticed before stood by Mrs. Von Haupt, and Katherine squinted her eyes trying to put him into focus. “Oh,” she said, pulling back a bit. “Mr. Von Haupt is here.” Katherine smiled, as if the sun had broken through the clouds after a long bout of rain. His presence certainly explained Graham’s attentiveness to Claudia. Perhaps he was not angry with her after all. And then she frowned. If Mr. Von Haupt was here, it could only mean an announcement was imminent. As if on a spring, her heart plunged once again.
“I think all this marriage business is just so tiring,” she said. “Why can’t we be like men? They don’t have to worry about fin
ding a bride unless they require an heir. It seems so unfair.”
Marjorie laughed. “When men can have children, then I suppose we’ll truly be equal.”
Katherine grinned, and just that made her feel a bit better. “Can you imagine Lord Wrentham over there large with child?” Lord Wrentham was tall and extremely thin, though Katherine had watched with some fascination the vast amount of food he ate.
“I cannot even imagine myself large with child,” Marjorie said. “In fact, if I don’t have a child, it will be perfectly fine with me.”
“Truly? While I don’t want a husband, I do rather like children.” Katherine slapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes sparkling in mirth. “I didn’t mean that quite the way it came out. Of course I’d want a husband if I had children.”
“I suppose they are necessary,” Marjorie said. “A bit like a sturdy plow horse is necessary to a farmer.”
Katherine laughed aloud, glad to have a friend who could bring her out of her gloomy mood.
Would Katherine not stop laughing? And smiling? And . . . walking where he could see her?
Graham studiously avoided looking her way, but he was as aware of her as he was of the boots that were painfully pinching his feet. He stared at the ruins, but he could see her from the corner of his eye, all frothy green gown and shining red-gold hair only partially covered by yet another outrageous hat with a large green plume. And he could hear her, laughing with Lady Marjorie, having such a grand time when he was wishing he had ear plugs so he wouldn’t have to listen to Claudia’s endless stories about people he didn’t know and would never want to know.
Chase had to be wrong. He could not be so fooled by her. He thought back on every moment they’d spent together—and yes, it was wrong of her and wrong of him for them to be alone so often. He’d come far too close to ruining her. Anyone walking into the theater and finding them pressed up against the wall would have sealed his fate.
But would that be so bad?
Yes. Yes and yes and yes. His estate and his people’s salvation were walking next to him, twittering like a happy bird in the spring. At least Claudia wasn’t a shrew like her mother. He supposed it took a certain amount of intelligence to be a shrew.
“Oh, there is Miss Wright and Lady Marjorie,” Claudia said.
“Yes, indeed. But I find I would rather walk only with you, Miss Von Haupt.” Claudia beamed, then gave a confused look to Charles, who was standing just apart from them. Graham explained: “I’d rather walk with only one lovely girl today. And Charles, as you can see, is hardly a lovely girl.” She giggled, as was his intent, and he forced a smile.
One might have thought he’d handed her the Hope Diamond instead of a false smile. She clasped her hands together beneath her chin and looked up at him as if he were some sort of god. His stomach actually felt a bit sick and he suffered from more than a little guilt. And, of course, he was distinctly aware that Katherine was looking their way.
“Oh look,” Claudia said. “Mama and Papa have finally arrived. I was beginning to think they’d gotten lost. Shall we join them?”
Good God, no. “Of course. I can think of nothing I’d like more.” She missed his sarcasm, as he suspected she would, and felt even more depressed.
As they walked over to her parents, every step he took brought him figuratively and literally away from Katherine. This was it, the deciding moment. He’d formally met Von Haupt at the breakfast table that morning, but he’d avoided being alone with the man because he’d known the subject of the marriage contract would be raised. It was for the best, he told himself. At least with Claudia, he knew exactly what he was getting, while with Katherine, he wasn’t quite certain. Mr. Chase’s words kept ringing in his head, and no matter how many times he told himself Katherine was not a mercenary title-hunter, she had allowed herself to be alone with him—and more than once. Her actions in Brighton alone were shocking, considering she was a well-bred heiress.
And yet, every time he looked at her, heard her speak, got a hint of her wonderful scent, his heart felt as if it were expanding painfully in his chest. He’d never been a man to follow his heart—or listen overmuch to another insistent organ, either. For some reason he could not fathom, she drew him. It was clear his valet disapproved of her, and Graham couldn’t blame the man. Mr. Chase loved Avonleigh nearly as much as he did, and he knew the estate’s salvation was with Claudia. With Graham’s marriage to her, he could make much needed repairs to Bryant Park, he could set about helping his tenants at Avonleigh. As much as he enjoyed Bryant Park and its proximity to London, Northumberland was where he’d spent his youth and it held a special place in his heart. No doubt, if Claudia was horrified by the condition of Bryant Park, she’d faint dead away if she saw Avonleigh.
He walked toward his financial salvation, pushing harshly down what he was feeling inside for a certain woman in a silly hat. Mr. Von Haupt was an imposing figure, tall with muttonchops that lent him an air of command. This entire process went against what Graham had always believed would happen. Wasn’t it up to him to approach the father and beg for his daughter’s hand? Instead, it was Von Haupt pursuing him with a piece of paper in hand. It was nothing more than a business contract, and everyone seemed to understand that but Claudia. He almost felt sorrier for her than he did for himself.
“Lord Avonleigh,” Von Haupt said in greeting, pulling out his pocket watch. “I’ve arranged to meet in the Haversly library at three so we can discuss some details of the marriage contract. I expect you’ll be there?”
Here it was. He could say no, he could beg pardon and run away down the path to his horse and ride home—to his crumbling estate and his needy tenants. He felt as if a steel ball were lodged in his throat. He felt Claudia clutching his arm in rabid anticipation, but he was more aware of the girl behind him, that ridiculous feather no doubt swaying back and forth in the soft breeze.
“Three o’clock,” he said, and he saw Mrs. Von Haupt smile for the first time—at least at him. It was not a pleasant sight.
That evening, there was a concert with a string quartet from London. They played a fugue so hauntingly beautiful, Katherine had to fight back tears for fear of embarrassing herself. It was either that or the realization that following the concert, a formal announcement would be made.
Claudia had been walking on air all afternoon, and it was obvious to all why this was. Mr. Von Haupt had met with Lord Avonleigh that very afternoon to hash out the financial details of the marriage contract. Katherine’s chest hurt all day, a squeezing in her heart that persisted no matter how she tried not to think about Graham truly marrying Claudia. And to see Claudia so happy when she was so very miserable made her feel even worse. She wanted to remain in her rooms, but her mother had insisted she participate in the evening’s events. No doubt there was some new title in the room that her mother had her eye on.
Graham was sitting with the Von Haupts in the front row. His hair was neatly combed, his clothing impeccable, his back straight. He looked neither left nor right, but stared with unrelenting concentration on the musicians in front of him. He’d moved once, when Claudia leaned over to say something to him, and he’d nodded, once, sharp and definitive, and Katherine agonized over what Claudia had said.
Once the concert was over, Lord Haversly immediately stood, still clapping and thanking the quartet for their fine performance. Then he gestured that all should remain seated.
“We have a bit of an exciting announcement to make. Actually, Lord Avonleigh does.”
Was it Katherine’s imagination, or had several in the audience just looked her way? She sat, her heart slowly dissolving in her chest, and gave Lord Haversly a careful and pleasant smile of mild anticipation. Oh, what on earth could the announcement be? her smile said.
Graham stood, and goodness, he looked handsome. His gray eyes scanned the audience politely, skimming over her, as if she were simply another member of the crowd. Katherine’s throat ached to the point of physical pain, but she would not l
et anyone know what was happening. Oh God, her heart was breaking. It was, and she must not let a soul even have a hint of what was happening inside her.
“Miss Von Haupt and I are engaged,” he said, holding out his hand for Claudia to join him. Just as their hands touched, his eyes met Katherine’s, just briefly, and with no emotion in them. For that instant, Katherine felt as if she might faint, and she looked down and did not see the small step he took toward her. It was all so subtle, no one else in the room could guess at the drama unfolding.
Katherine wasn’t certain how she got through the rest of the evening. It was shocking, really, the effect that announcement had on her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known all along that he would marry Claudia. Still, hearing it, seeing it, seemed to tear a small part of herself away.
Nearly everyone else in the room was giddy with the news. An engagement was almost always a happy event, and it was unlikely that everyone in the room knew Graham had been forced into it due to finances. Those who expressed any disappointment did so softly, and if they did it was because Graham was marrying an American girl and not one of their own.
“Oh well, my dear. There are other titles,” Elizabeth said. “And his house really was a shambles. Certainly he needs the kind of money the Von Haupts have, but it does go up my craw that Mrs. Von Haupt will be so smug about it all. Just look at her over there. You might think she was the queen herself, the way she’s acting.”
Mrs. Von Haupt, indeed, was acting like the cat who’d caught the canary. She basked in the glow of knowing her daughter would be a marchioness. Katherine couldn’t help wondering if Claudia, now that she had the prize, wished she hadn’t won him. That small, bitter part of her wished it with all her heart.
“I’m happy for them,” Katherine said.
“Then I am, too,” Elizabeth said cheerfully, completely oblivious to the fact her daughter’s heart was breaking. “Oh look, Lord Avonleigh is making the rounds and we are next. It is a shame. When he smiled at you, I did have such high hopes.”