Mischance (Corsets and Carriages)

by Carla Susan Smith

  Catherine suddenly raised her head and looked at him in alarm. Her eyes opened wide enough to make Rian ask, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt somewhere? Can I help you?”

  He reached down as if he was going to pick her up again, but without thinking, Catherine slapped his hands away.

  A notion had struck her, one so awful she pulled a small pillow onto her lap and began plucking imaginary threads from it. Nervously she cleared her throat.

  “How long were you standing there…in the doorway?” she asked in a horrified voice.

  Rian frowned, wondering where her train of thought was headed before he realized exactly what she was asking. He may have been leaning against the doorframe watching her, but he’d also been listening to her. A fact Catherine had apparently failed to grasp until this exact moment. It took all he had to keep his countenance one of serious reflection.

  “For a little while,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”

  The air of innocence he affected was rewarded by the gasp that escaped her. He watched in fascination as the pink glow on her cheeks deepened to a crimson blush that raced up from below the neckline of her dress.

  The column of her throat moved as she swallowed nervously. “Could you be a little more precise?”

  Rian gave a nonchalant shrug. “Not so very long, I suppose. I marked your journey from the bedpost.”

  “Of course you did,” she muttered more to herself than him. Though she kept her eyes firmly fixed on the pillow she was shredding, Rian could see her brows pull together. “So it is possible,” she said, “that you might have heard me…talking to myself?”

  “Talking to yourself?” He rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger appearing to ponder her words. “Talking to yourself, hmmm? Well, I suppose that’s one description for what I heard.”

  She began to pluck furiously at the decorative tassel on the pillow. Rian was apparently not going to do the gentlemanly thing and spare her feelings by pretending he had not heard her cursing.

  “I don’t suppose you could be persuaded that you had been mistaken in what you might have thought you heard?” Her attention was focused entirely on the tassel and its apparent demise.

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t think that will be possible. Some things once heard, can never be forgotten, and it’s well known that I am blessed with excellent hearing.”

  “Of course you are,” Catherine muttered.

  “Besides it’s not every day I get to hear a young woman use language that would make a sailor blush. And trust me, I would know. About the sailor,” he clarified.

  Catherine may have known she was cursing, but she was completely naïve about what she was saying. The plucking now became anxious tugging. The tassel was doomed. “What I said…was it really so bad?” she finally asked him.

  “Quite dreadful. I feel certain Mrs. Hatch would faint on the spot if I were to repeat your words to her, poor woman.”

  Catherine blanched. “Could I prevail upon you to not tell her? Could we not keep this a secret…between us?”

  Rian walked over to the window, hands clasped behind his back, his mind mulling over this unexpected turn of events. Whether she meant to or not, Catherine was opening a door and inviting him in. He wasn’t about to let her close it again if he could help it. He turned back around and gave her a thoughtful look, and watched as the color on her cheeks deepened even more. “I might be persuaded,” he offered, doing his best to suppress a grin, “if you will answer a question for me.”

  She raised her head and he felt himself take a mental stumble. Even from across the room her eyes held him, pinning him fast and holding him down. “What do you want to know?”

  “Who taught you to swear like that?”

  “Oh, that was Edward,” she answered easily, without hesitation.

  The hairs on the back of Rian’s neck began to prickle. Had Catherine even realized the significance of what she had said? A name from her past, someone she clearly remembered.

  “And who is Edward?” Rian probed, keeping his tone conversational.

  Husband? Brother? Lover? Friend? Please God, let it be the last.

  Catherine continued to gaze up at him, her eyes as dazzling as a summer sky and Rian felt his heart drum inside his chest. And then, just as quickly, her eyes darkened and she shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

  “Don’t worry. It will come back to you.”

  “Will it?” The look on her face said she did not share his confidence.

  “Yes, it will,” he affirmed. “These things take time, and you must be patient.”

  Her sudden snort said patience was not a virtue she held in high esteem, but before further assurances could be offered, they were interrupted by Mrs. Hatch, who bustled into the room, followed by a maid with a tray. The housekeeper stopped and looked from one to the other, taking note of Catherine’s flushed face.

  “Why Miss Catherine, however did you get to the chaise?”

  “Oh, um, Mr. Connor happened by, and kindly offered me his assistance,” she answered innocently.

  “Well, that was indeed fortunate,” the housekeeper said giving Rian a knowing look.

  The maid placed the tray on the small table close to the chaise. Mrs. Hatch dismissed the girl and settled herself on the adjacent chair.

  Taking this as his cue, Rian said, “If you ladies will excuse me, I have some matters to attend to.” He inclined his head toward each of them, and had almost reached the door when Catherine stopped him.

  “Mr. Connor, did my answer suffice?” A small frown marred her brow and he saw the worry in her eyes. “Will you keep my secret?”

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw the housekeeper raise her brows, but wisely made no comment. If Catherine chose to share the details she was free to do so, but he doubted she would repeat her salty language word for word.

  “Of course,” he said, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, “but I think, as we are now sharing a confidence, you really should call me by my first name.”

  Catherine looked at him in shock. “But that would make me your equal,” she blurted out.

  “After what we have been through, how could you think of yourself as anything less?”

  Chapter 24

  Rian needed air, lots of air. With no destination in mind, he left the townhouse on foot. The best thing for him to do was walk. It didn’t matter where he went as long as he kept moving. It always helped whenever something was weighing on his mind. Even something as delightful as Catherine. As he walked he carefully considered every moment of their recent interaction. Not just the words they had shared, but every glance that passed between them, every intake of breath, and every flush on Catherine’s cheeks. It all became a ringing confirmation that it wasn’t his imagination playing fanciful games of what if. What Rian felt for her was very real. Catherine triggered an elemental desire that no woman, not even one as skilled as Isabel, had been able to make him feel before. A need that had taken him by surprise with its intensity, but one he was more than willing to yield to. Not just physically, but with passions he’d thought were buried too deep to make themselves felt again.

  When he had caught Catherine in his arms as she was about to fall, he had told himself the heat he felt rushing through him was an echo left over from the time she’d been delirious with fever. It was foolish to think that such an intense experience would not leave its mark. In the days and nights that had passed since then, he had repeatedly told himself the stirring hunger he was feeling was a mistake. Whatever spark had been ignited at that moment had to be extinguished because nothing would come of it. That he would never forget the feel of her body was his secret to keep.

  And then with one faltering step Catherine had let him know there was a reason he still felt drawn to her. Expecting her to rebuff him, he’d been surprised by the inviting warmth of her smile. The spark was fast becoming a flame that Rian knew would quickly turn to an inferno unless he practiced restraint. W
hat was it about her that was having such a profound effect on him, and who would have thought the key to bringing them closer would be delivered by a string of profanity? Profanity that even now made him grin at her appalling misuse of the salty phrase.

  His own response to her was both exhilarating, and bewildering. Catherine was not the type of woman he was normally attracted to, or whose company he actively sought. Admittedly her beauty took his breath away, but his grief at losing Sophie had made him seek the company of women with experience. They offered far fewer complications, and he told himself he had neither the patience nor the temperament to deal with the anxieties of an inexperienced lover. An opinion he had seen no reason to change, until now. It seemed his set ideas regarding the opposite sex were being flung rudely out the nearest window. Instead of being dismayed at Catherine’s apparent lack of experience, Rian found himself wanting to be the man to change that situation. As much for his own pleasure as for hers.

  But did Catherine want the same thing? Had they met when she had the full measure of her own mind, capable of making informed decisions regarding her future, would she have welcomed him as a suitor? There was no way to be sure, not with her memory in such flux, and suddenly Rian felt he was taking advantage of a situation he had no right to be in.

  A sudden gust of wind chilled him, and he pulled up the collar of his coat as he thought back to the first conscious interaction between them. Was it possible he had been mistaken? What if Catherine had not been repulsed by his touch, but the opposite had been true? What if the feel of his hand elicited in her the same desire she had awakened in him? Of course she would have pulled away, especially if she had never experienced such feelings before. Fear of the unknown was a powerful motivator.

  If his intuition was correct, Catherine would need time to understand the longing stirring within her. Understand and accept it. A precarious condition considering her terrible assault. Being able to see both as two separate events, entirely unconnected, would be paramount to her mental well-being. Perhaps it was just as well she had no memory of her attack, although Rian had to admit her reaction to him might be very different if she had. Thankfully with maturity came understanding, and he was prepared to temper his growing ardor with patience. He knew she was not yet ready to see the mirror image of her own desire reflected in him. To recognize that he was both the cause and the cure for the growing ache inside her. If pushed too hard, too soon, she might not be able to reconcile the two. He needed to wait, and hope that once Catherine was completely well, she would want to pursue whatever she felt for him.

  He did not concern himself with any notion of a husband looking for her. Family possibly, but his gut told him there was no husband. His own involvement with women of experience proved that, more often than not, they were also married. Their words were laced with sly innuendo, their deportment a promise of carnal pleasure, and looking at a man brought a very particular hunger to their eyes. Of course not all married women conducted themselves in this way, but those seeking a temporary respite from their marriage vows invariably did.

  Catherine shared none of these indicators. The naive way she had blurted out the possibility of their being wed was proof enough she had no idea what it meant to make such a commitment. The absence of a gold band on her ring finger simply confirmed this belief, but should any of Liam’s inquiries yield results, then whoever came to claim her had best be able to prove his relationship to her. Although even that might not be enough. Rian would not turn Catherine over to anyone she didn’t want to go with, no matter how undisputable the claim.

  A voice in his head spoke, and what if she decides it is you that she wants?

  As delightful as that prospect was, he would still have to be cautious. He had no idea of Catherine’s past. What influences may have shaped and molded her, and, if his estimation was correct, he was older than she by more than ten years. A sobering thought that brought with it a warning that their coming together might still be disastrous.

  And yet…and yet…

  You’re looking for reasons that aren’t there, the voice in his head scolded.

  And still the possibility existed that all his speculations could be completely wrong. What if Catherine’s feelings for him were quite different? What then?

  Rian was reminded of his conversation with Liam, and his statement that he would accept full responsibility for Catherine. If that meant he had to absent himself in order to keep his word, then so be it. He would remain a distant figure until his need and hunger for her had faded. It would take a strong will to ignore his feelings, but he believed he could do it, no matter how much the idea filled him with misery. Catherine’s well-being was all that was important, and Rian was determined to do whatever was best for her.

  The voice in his head turned skeptical. Didn’t you tell your brother you didn’t want a commitment? Why so eager to bind yourself now?

  In truth Rian knew the reason. Hesitation about a commitment to Isabel had been the subject of his discussion with Liam. A commitment to Catherine had a very different feel about it, although he couldn’t say why.

  Perhaps it is because the ‘something’ that is lacking in the one is what draws you to the other. The connection already exists, and even if Catherine cannot remember the details, she is aware that something happened between you. Give her the time she needs to discover it again. Offer help only if it is asked for, and above all be patient.

  “And what if she never remembers?” Rian murmured inside his head, voicing his fears.

  Then you will have your answer. The heart cannot be forced to feel what is not true.

  The sense that his future was somehow entwined with Catherine’s did not seem at all preposterous to Rian. Her presence alone was enough to ensnare him, but he had not felt this with Sophie, whom he had loved enough to make his wife. And that love would be a tragedy he would carry with him until the day he died. In his heart he knew what he had felt for Sophie had borne with it all the passion and desire of a young man’s dreams, but the feelings rising now had nothing in common with the romantic yearnings of his youth. Now he had the raw, demanding appetites of a grown man.

  Be patient with her. Give her the time to find for herself what you already know.

  “And what is that?” Rian asked aloud, but the only answer he got was the wind rustling the leaves of the trees overhead.

  * * * *

  Mrs. Hatch had taken to spending an hour at some point of each day taking tea with Catherine. After discovering his housekeeper preferred tea over coffee, Liam made certain an ample stock was always kept on hand in both residences. And tea was always offered over coffee. But it wasn’t just the beverage that both women enjoyed. It was also each other’s company, and the housekeeper welcomed the opportunity to fuss quietly over the younger woman. For Catherine, it was a chance to envelope herself in a maternal warmth she could not remember experiencing.

  “Mr. Connor must have a great many matters to attend to, I imagine,” she remarked after Rian had departed. Despite his request, it would take some time before she had the confidence to call him by his first name. Except in her dreams.

  “No more so than any other gentleman. Why do you ask?”

  “No particular reason. I was just surprised to see him. It was the first time he had visited with me since”—she hesitated—“that other time.”

  “I suspect he thought it best to wait until you were a little better,” Mrs. Hatch told her as she poured their tea. “You should have told me if you wanted to see him.”

  “No, I didn’t—I mean it’s not—I—” Catherine did her best to ignore the housekeeper’s raised brow as she took the cup being held out to her.

  “Well, don’t fret, my dear. You’ll have your fill of Master Rian soon enough.”

  And unexpected thrill surged through her. “Oh, why is that?”

  “When you leave for Oakhaven, Master Rian will be going with you.”

  Startled by this unexpected development, Catherine paus
ed with her cup halfway to her mouth and an unsettled look on her face. “I’m to be sent away?”

  “There now, lass, don’t look so worried.”

  The housekeeper’s manner matched her words, but as Catherine set her cup back on its saucer she hoped the slight rattle went unnoticed. “What is Oakhaven?” she asked.

  “Ah, that’s the family estate. It’s where Master Rian grew up.” Mrs. Hatch cut a slice of bread, and set it on a plate alongside a generous dollop of damson jam. “Master Rian is of the opinion that good country air will help you to get better.”

  “Do you think he’s right?” Catherine took the plate of bread and jam.

  “Most definitely. The air in the city is dirty,” Mrs. Hatch added, wrinkling her nose for emphasis.

  Catherine gave a concurring wrinkle. “I suppose it is.”

  “Besides, I shall soon have my hands full with the preparations, and won’t have hardly any time left over for such pleasant diversions as this.”

  “Preparations?” Catherine asked. “Preparations for what?”

  “Why the wedding of course.”

  The bite of bread and jam threatened to choke her, forcing Catherine to wash it down with a most unladylike gulp of tea. “Mr.—Mr. Connor is to be…married?” she asked once she could speak again.

  “Yes dear, that’s right.” Refilling her own cup, Mrs. Hatch did not notice the look of abject misery on Catherine’s face. “Didn’t I already tell you that?”

  “No, no you did not.”

  No wonder Rian had looked so uncomfortable when she first asked if they might be husband and wife. And now he’d caught her cursing. Obviously his playful teasing had been to prevent her from being embarrassed. What must he think of her? No wonder she was being sent away. Although in all fairness, she didn’t know he’d been watching her as she tried to cross the room. At least not to begin with, but by then it was too late. She’d already uttered the fateful obscenities. But why hadn’t anyone told her he was to be married? Then again, why would they? It was a family matter, and she had no connection to anyone inside this house. There was no reason for her to know.