Degree of Solitude

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  “The conversation among men of society ranges a little wider, but not by much,” Daniel assured her. “Do not ever try to talk to a man about the things we speak of in our letters.”

  Catrin laughed. “I would shock the poor man into next week if I did.” She glanced at him. “I hope you’re staying for a good long visit, Daniel. I could bear it better if we can only talk from time to time, so my brain does not rust from lack of use.”

  “I’m not sure what my plans are,” Daniel admitted. “Once my editor gets over the shock of finding me back in England, then I will find out. And you?” Daniel turned to straddle the bench, so he could face her properly. “Now that Girton College is open for enrollment for ladies, do you plan to attend? I am sure your mother will smooth your way for you. From your letters it sounds as though Princess Annalies founded the college all by herself.”

  “My mother has a degree of influence with powerful people which she used without mercy,” Catrin admitted. “Only, as a woman, her contribution will not be acknowledged. She is content to know the college is open, though.”

  “You will be attending next year, then.”

  Catrin shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  Shock touched him. “Why on earth not? I thought you would be one of the first to apply! Two years ago…do you remember? You tore strips from my hide for giving up my place at Cambridge because you could not go. Now you can!”

  “Why would I?” Catrin asked. “I examined the syllabus for the college and discovered I have already studied more widely and more deeply than any degree calls for. I wouldn’t be awarded a degree, anyway. Even if women were given degrees, what would I do with it? No one would employ me—not in a position which would use my knowledge. I’m fit for nothing but teaching children their letters.”

  Daniel stared at her, appalled. “This is what you wanted…” he repeated.

  Catrin’s smile was rueful. “That is the problem with being well read, Daniel. I have learned that it isn’t enough to acquire wisdom. I also want to do something with it. The world will conspire to bar me from doing it—no matter what it is I try to do.”

  Daniel didn’t try to assure her she would find her place somewhere, someday, for Catrin was not exaggerating. He had listened to male conversations his entire life. Most men considered women to be lesser creatures, fit for childbirth and little else. They tolerated women for their decorative qualities and the sport they provided in the bedroom. They would be genuinely shocked to discover women were just as capable of reason and logic as they—actually, more capable than most men, for Daniel knew far too many fools.

  As they did with the lower classes and slaves in other parts of this male-dominated world, men would instinctively work to keep women in their places so they did not upset the gilded position men held—and they would be ruthless in that effort.

  So, Daniel didn’t lie or tell her it would all work out. He nodded in complete understanding, which didn’t convey enough how deeply and keenly he felt her quandary.

  Was that why he kissed her? He still wasn’t sure. It was only after he pressed his mouth to hers that Daniel recognized the base yearning which had driven him to it. This was the reason he had come home.

  She gasped against his lips.

  He pulled away, appalled. “I’m sorry. That was…I didn’t…I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  “Why?” she asked, her gloved fingers touching her lips. Her eyes were wide.

  Daniel gripped his hands together, to stop himself from touching her again. “You’re angry about men only seeing your beauty and nothing else, and I do exactly that.”

  “You think I am beautiful, then?” she breathed.

  Daniel stared at her. “You must ask that?” he said, his voice low. “I spent two years collecting antiquities around the world—trunks of them. Any one of them you would find fascinating and would be delighted to receive, yet and I bring you silk, for a dress I think would make you glow the way you do when you smile…” He swallowed. “I think you are beyond beautiful, Catrin. You are the type of woman who can turn a man’s head and make him forget everything he ever knew, between one heart beat and the next. You are a beauty for whom battles are waged and cities are lost. Yes, I think you are beautiful. And I know you will resent me for thinking so.”

  Catrin took off her glove—the one without the silk tucked inside it. She rested her hand against his jaw and his flesh rippled at her touch. Hot, invisible fingers glided up his spine. His body tightened.

  She smiled at him. “How can I resent you for thinking so? You are the only man I have ever met who would care to worry about such a thing.”

  Her lips pressed against his, with more enthusiasm than skill, although just her touch alone was enough to overcome his restraint. He pulled her against him and returned the kiss, inhaling her scent and the softness of her. She was warm against him, all curves and feminine delight.

  She sighed into his mouth, driving his wanting higher. He lost track of time, of where he was. The cold receded. They were enclosed in an intimate bubble, cut off from the world, leaving just the two of them.

  Then an owl screeched as it launched itself from the skeletal arms of the big oak tree, diving through the air after some hapless field mouse, destroying the bubble and letting sense come crashing back.

  Daniel launched himself to his feet and backed away from her, as Catrin propped herself up on the bench, her hand where he had been sitting.

  “Daniel…?” she whispered. He heard the dread in her voice. She had already guessed.

  “We can’t do this,” he said. His voice was hoarse.

  “You want to, though. I know you do.” Catrin sat up straight and put her hands in her lap. It was the very sensible response only she could make.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even. “Don’t you see? If we continue…if we let it run its course, then either you would be ruined, or we would have to…” He swallowed. “We would have to formalize it.”

  “Marriage,” she said flatly.

  “Marriage to any man would be the end of your life.”

  She didn’t move.

  Daniel hurried out, explaining it to her. She must understand this. “You have enjoyed vast freedoms most women do not. Your parents have let you read anything and everything. They have not forced you to find a husband. They will be happy no matter what choices you make, so long as you make them wisely. If you were to marry, though, all that would end.”

  “You would not make me give up my books,” Catrin said, certainty in her voice.

  “No, but everyone else would,” he said flatly. “As a matron, you would be expected to support me…and I know how you would hate it. You would come to resent it. In that way I would curtail your life and make you miserable.”

  She still didn’t move. “Ruin…or marriage and ruin. Those are the choices you offer me.” Her tone was remote. Ethereal. “Now more than ever I wish I had never opened a book.”

  “No, you do not,” he said, sure of himself. “Besides, do you think I would be standing here, if you had not?”

  “I don’t want you standing there, Daniel. I want you.”

  Daniel closed his eyes. “I’m not the marrying kind,” he said harshly.

  “I know that.”

  Her calm, truthful answers stirred him to a rare anger…or perhaps he reached for it to deflect her. All he was certain of at the time was that if he gave in to her, as his body and his heart ached to do, then she would one day—eventually—hate him for it. He was as certain of the outcome as he was of the scent in her hair and her sharp, relentless mind.

  Catrin’s hatred would be intolerable. So he turned and walked away.

  Daniel paused at the top of Carninglis, his hand against the stones piled there by some ancient tribe a small eon ago, to catch his breath and recall the bitter days which followed that Christmas.

  He had left the next morning before breakfast. By the new year he was on a boat heading fo
r China, with his editor’s assignment in his pocket.

  He had convinced himself it was better this way, that even if she was upset or heartbroken, at least he had not ruined her life and made her hate him.

  Daniel turned in a slow circle, taking in the moonlit slopes of Carninglis, and the light dancing off the sea, far below. Between lay the cottages and houses of Newport, and the few ships tied up at the wharf.

  It was so cold now his skin had grown numb, reducing the pain in his cheek to a remote throbbing which he could ignore. If he returned home now, he might sleep…if he could only rid his thoughts of Catrin.

  Why had she come? Today, of all days? For now he suspected that instead of ruining her life and making her hate him, he had taught her in a mere handful of terror-filled moments to fear him, instead.

  Chapter Six

  Catrin did not think she would sleep as soundly as she did. She had been handed too many problems to deal with in the space of a single day.

  Yet she woke to weak, pleasant sunlight pouring through the lace curtain and realized it was mid-morning, at least.

  She laid drowsily, remembering her conversation with Nevern last night, after supper. He had been understanding and refreshingly businesslike. “I shall call around tomorrow for a note to settle the matter, if it would make you more comfortable, Miss Davies.”

  “It would,” Catrin admitted, relief touching her. “I am sure that if you had let Daniel know of the debt, he would have redressed it at once, so I can only do the same.”

  Nevern considered her, his eyes narrowing. “Daniel is not well, is he?”

  Catrin pressed her lips together. She considered and discarded a dozen different answers, before saying truthfully, “I do not know for certain. In a few days, I will have a better understanding of…of what ails him.”

  Nevern sighed. “Do tell me if there is anything I can do. I consider myself his friend, Miss Davies. After all, we both survived Eton together.” His smile was small.

  “Ah, but then you ruined it by attending Oxford,” she pointed out, as she rose to her feet.

  “A sin I will regret the rest of my life,” he said, his hand to his heart.

  It was a light-hearted moment which had lingered until she reached Ysgolheigion, and crept to bed, for the house was dark and soundless. She had fallen asleep almost instantly, only to wake with the sun shining.

  Sunlight was a positive thing. It made everything seem less formidable. Besides, she’d had practice dealing with insurmountable problems.

  Nevern said he would call for his promissory note today. She must also see to coal and food and arrange for another maid…and a housekeeper if possible, and…

  The list grew as she dressed and made her way downstairs. Then she forgot everything, for Daniel was in the drawing room.

  He sat on the window seat she had used only yesterday, his gaze upon the foot slopes of Carninglis. Because the ground rose directly behind the house up to the peak of Carninglis, the sun did not shine in this window the way it had in her bedroom. Shadow laid over the window which likely wouldn’t lift until closer to midday, when the sun was farther overhead.

  Because his head was turned, Catrin couldn’t see the injured side of Daniel’s face. What she could see of him was enough to confirm that her brief glimpse in the darkened bedroom yesterday had been accurate. He had lost weight. His cheeks were drawn. Worse, they were unshaved. His clothing hung from him. His hair was still thick and gleaming, though, and jutted over his eyes, shadowing their clear color.

  He didn’t turn his head. Instead, his gaze shifted, taking her in.

  “I…um…good morning.”

  “Is it?” Daniel asked. His tone was not bitter. It was completely disinterested.

  Her heart thudding, Catrin smoothed down the flounces of her dress. It was pale blue. She had a blue-flecked tweed jacket heavy enough to keep her warm if she needed to venture outside. That was likely, today, as she had much to do.

  Only, now Daniel was up and in the public rooms, she hesitated from executing those plans.

  This was Daniel’s house. His family’s house, at least. It had come to the Williams family via his mother, who had inherited the house from her father. Natasha’s father happened to be Catrin’s grandfather. No one in the family properly accepted the connection because the man had never acknowledged Rhys, his illegitimate son and Catrin’s father.

  She could not simply order the place about, not while Daniel was there. It would be the height of presumptuousness.

  “Have you breakfasted?” Daniel asked. It was the same disinterested tone.

  “I just came downstairs,” Catrin said. Was this politeness a way of fending off questions about yesterday? It was difficult to engage him in serious conversation when he would not look at her properly.

  Gwen moved into the room just as carriage wheels crunched on the gravel outside. Catrin whirled to peer through the western windows.

  A smart, black coach with red trim rounded the stone plinth in the middle of the yard and pulled up by the actual, proper front door.

  “Baron Nevern!” Gwen said, her tone surprised.

  Daniel’s chin jerked toward Gwen, then he snapped his head back to stare at the other windows. He reached for a notebook which laid on the cushion before him, a pencil resting in the gutter. “Nevern isn’t expected,” he said, consulting a page in the notebook.

  “I arranged for him to stop by, last night,” Catrin said. “Only, I was expecting him this afternoon. This is far earlier than he suggested…”

  Daniel lowered his chin to look at her from the corner of his eye. “They cannot enter the house.”

  Catrin tried to encompass that simple statement. “They cannot stand outside…” she said.

  “Nevern makes too much noise,” Daniel replied.

  Catrin caught Gwen’s glance at her, to measure her reaction. This, then, was not an unusual claim.

  “Then I will go out and speak with them there,” Catrin said, lifting her skirt. “Daniel, would you care to step outside with me? If Nevern is contained in his coach, then his volume should not be an issue.”

  “No,” Daniel said flatly, his gaze on the notebook. “It is too bright out there.” His forehead was creased. She didn’t know if it wrinkled from pain or the effort of thinking.

  Nevern was preparing to climb from the coach. She needed to keep him from stepping inside, which forced her to hurry to the door and into the yard. It was bright after yesterday. The sun had made a full appearance today, although there were clouds lingering, which would cover it soon.

  Catrin hurried over to where Nevern stood beside the coach, trying to paint a smile on her face. “Baron, this is a pleasure. I wasn’t expecting you quite so soon.”

  “Good morning, Miss Davies. Something other than our business brings me here this morning,” Nevern said.

  The Mayor of Newport, Mr. Kernigan, stepped down onto the gravel. He wore an aged suit with shiny patches on the elbows, and a soft-brimmed hat, which he lifted a little toward her.

  Nevern wasn’t smiling. “Something awful has happened, Miss Davies. Otherwise, we wouldn’t dream of disturbing Daniel.”

  Catrin made herself not glance at the windows of the drawing room, behind her. Was Daniel watching her now? “I’m afraid I cannot ask you in right now,” she said. “I regret the rudeness, but Daniel is…not quite well this morning.”

  Nevern’s frown deepened. Kernigan shook his head. “Poor chap,” he murmured.

  “We just need to ask him a question or two,” Nevern said. He hesitated. “A woman…a girl, really…well, she was killed last night.”

  Catrin put her hand to her middle as her heart stirred. “A local woman?” she asked, horror building. “Why…where…?”

  “She was found on Carninglis,” Kernigan said. “We’ve arranged for her to be taken to Dr. Jones to examine. It’s well known Mr. Williams walks upon the hills every night. We need to know if he spotted anything or heard anything at all.”


  “Surely you don’t believe Daniel—” Catrin began, hotly.

  Nevern lifted his hand, in a calming gesture. He glanced at Kernigan, then grimaced. “I will spare you the details, Miss Davies, but I assure you no man did this.”

  “The lassie was torn up,” Kernigan added softly.

  Catrin’s horror built.

  “Workers from the quarry found her this morning,” Nevern added. “She had been…well, dragged quite a way, you see. We must establish where she was attacked, so we can hunt down the creature. That is why we wanted to speak to Daniel. If he heard anything last night, he could point us in the general direction.”

  Catrin drew in a breath, trying to calm her racing pulse. “I will ask Daniel. Would you mind…could you wait here?”

  Nevern glanced up at the sky. “Why not? It is a lovely morning.”

  Catrin hurried inside. Gwen had gone from the drawing room and Catrin could hear clattering in the dining room. Her breakfast was being set out.

  Daniel was watching through the windows. He turned to one side as she entered. He was hiding the scar from her.

  “A woman was killed on Carninglis last night,” Catrin told him. “Nevern and the Mayor want to know if you saw or heard anything last night which might give them a place to start looking for the animal which did it.”

  Daniel’s brows came together in a scowl. “On Carninglis? I walked to the top last night… Who was it?”

  Catrin hadn’t thought to ask that. She didn’t know anyone here, so the name would be unknown to her. “A local woman, they say. Did you hear anything? See anything?”

  He bent, leaning his elbows on his knees, as he recalled his evening. She could see Daniel reaching back, thinking through his walk. “No…” he said at last. “Nothing out of the ordinary. What time last night?” he added.

  “I don’t know,” Catrin said. Her heart gave a little squeeze and hurried on, for while Daniel was focusing upon the murder, he had forgotten himself. He was facing her properly. Talking to her normally.