The Claiming of the Shrew (Survivors, #5)

by Galen, Shana

  Ines, eyes wide and hopeful, looked at Catarina. Catarina nodded. Lady Philomena led Ines away, chatting amiably with her and drawing every eye.

  “I’m afraid my lack of attention to fashion has not served you well,” Benedict said. “But for what it’s worth, I much prefer you to any of these women. Lady Philomena is correct that you stand out.” He nodded to someone and Catarina spotted Lord Phineas making his way across the lawn with glasses of champagne in hand.

  “Colonel and Mrs. Draven.” He gave a fashionable bow, not seeming hindered at all by the glasses in his hands. “Refreshment?”

  Catarina took a glass and sipped it.

  “I have followed your orders to the letter. No one comes in or out without an invitation, and every servant here is one I know or who has worked for the family before.”

  “I had no doubt you’d do as I asked.” Benedict sipped his own champagne.

  “But what you did not realize was that I have a surprise guest for you.”

  Catarina stiffened. She liked surprises less and less of late.

  “The Duke of Wellington has graced us with his presence. If you’ll allow me to escort your wife, you will find him over there. I’ll bring her to you in a few minutes.”

  Benedict looked at Catarina, who took Lord Phineas’s arm. Benedict nodded. “I will see you in a few moments.” He began walking across the lawn, stopping under an umbrella and enthusiastically shaking the hand of the man beneath it.

  Lord Phineas began to walk slowly. “I hope you are not cold.”

  “Not at all.” She adjusted her wrapper, which was thin but warm enough for the unusually mild day.

  “Your husband thinks I am sparing you all the initial nonsense between him and Wellington.”

  “Initial nonsense?”

  He rolled his eyes. “The two will go on for ten minutes about this campaign or that. It will bore you to tears.”

  “But he only thinks you spare me?”

  “Yes, in truth I want to tell you a secret.”

  She drew back slightly. She’d known the sort of man who wanted to tell her secrets before. She hadn’t thought Lord Phineas that kind.

  “I can see I’ve begun poorly,” Lord Phineas said as they walked past a group of ladies who stared at them with undisguised hope of being encouraged to join them. Catarina assumed it was because Lord Phineas was so handsome, but they might have been eager to place orders for lace as well. Wasn’t that why Benedict had brought her? So ladies might meet her and be able to call on her to order lace?

  “What I mean,” Lord Phineas said, “is that I have never seen Draven like this.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “In love.”

  She furrowed her brow, and Lord Phineas nodded. “I didn’t think he had said anything to you. That’s why I called it a secret.”

  “I think, my lord, what you believe is love might just be a feeling of obligation.” And lust, she thought, remembering with a quick blush that he’d spent much of last night between her legs.

  “He’s a man with many obligations, Mrs. Draven. But he doesn’t look at any of us that way.” He nodded discreetly at Benedict, and she glanced over and saw Benedict watching her. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” Lord Phineas paused and turned to her.

  Catarina stiffened. “I suppose it depends what the question might be.”

  “Fair enough. Are you in love with Colonel Draven?”

  Catarina inhaled. “That is a personal question.”

  “I don’t ask for my own curiosity, you understand. I ask because I—we, the soldiers who have served with him—have an interest in his well-being. I’ve known him for years, and I have never seen him look at a woman the way he looks at you. I have never seen him do anything more than look at a woman, if truth be told. I don’t know what vows you made or when, but I would stake my best horse that he’s honored them.”

  “So have I.”

  “That’s not my question or my concern.”

  “You want to know if I love him?”

  He inclined his head, clearly waiting. One of the women from the small group who’d been watching them broke free and began to approach, but Lord Phineas, his gaze never leaving Catarina, held up one finger, and she slunk back.

  “What if I told you that I don’t know? There are moments when I think I do, when I feel...something I cannot define. But am I in love with him? I am not certain. I think to love him would be dangerous.”

  Lord Phineas looked startled at this. “Why?”

  “Because when the problem—my problem—is dealt with, I will go back to Barcelona, and he will be here.”

  “Why not stay here?”

  “My shop and all my lacemakers are in Barcelona.”

  “Why not bring them here?”

  She bit her lip. Lord Phineas seemed to think Benedict loved her, but he hadn’t told her that himself. She was beginning to trust Benedict, but to take such a monumental step seemed premature. What if she changed her whole life for him, moved countries and her business, and then when he realized how much time and effort her business really entailed, he ordered her to give it up?

  Lord Phineas rubbed his chin, as though in consideration. “What if I told you—”

  “I thought you would join us in a moment,” Benedict said as he crossed the lawn with large strides. “I want to introduce my wife to the duke.”

  “Far be it from me to keep the two of you apart,” Lord Phineas said. Benedict took her arm and led her to meet the former general.

  She tried to behave as she imagined ladies of Benedict’s class might, but she worried constantly she would embarrass him. She was a lacemaker, not the daughter of a gentleman. But seeing her surrounded by the daughters of nobility did not seem to change how Benedict treated her. He looked at her as though he was proud of her, as though he thought her the most desirable woman in the world. She found herself falling a little more in love with him.

  She met many others at the party, but Wellington was the only personage she had heard of previously. Mostly, she spoke with women who were eager to purchase her lace. She invited them all to Benedict’s home and promised to make them something original and beautiful.

  When the afternoon was over, Lord Phineas gave Benedict his coach to take them home. Ines and Catarina were so entranced by the lavish interior that it wasn’t until the coach came to a halt and they peered through the windows that Catarina realized they were not at Benedict’s flat.

  “Where are we?” Ines asked.

  A footman opened the door, and Benedict stepped out. Holding a hand out, he said, “Come and see for yourself.”

  He led Catarina, with Ines following, into an empty shop. It was bare of furnishings and a bit dusty, but the window was large and caught the last of the afternoon light.

  “What do you think?” Benedict asked.

  Catarina looked about, uncertain why he should ask her opinion or even take her to an empty shop. And then her eyes widened. “You don’t mean to say this is to be my shop?”

  Ines gasped.

  “If you like it,” Benedict said. He gestured expansively. “I know it’s small, and if it’s too small, I can keep looking. But let me show you the back. It’s quite spacious, and I believe four or five ladies could work there without being crowded.”

  He started for the back room, and Catarina stumbled after him, too shocked to remember to lift her skirts. There was only a small window back here, and the light was coming from the front of the store now, so she could not see very much of the space.

  “Hold on a moment,” Benedict said as he withdrew a tinder box and lit a candle. He held it up and Catarina looked about the workroom in amazement. It was just as he’d said, quite spacious. Several tables would fit as well as supplies. She and Ines and several other lacemakers could be quite comfortable here. And in the morning, it would be bright and sunny.

  She turned to Benedict. “It is as you say and would be perfect for a lace shop, but I
cannot accept it. In Barcelona, my shop was little more than a stall with a small enclosure in the back. This”—she gestured to the windows and the shelves—“is too much. Do you not agree, Ines?”

  “She didn’t accompany us,” Benedict said. “I think she waited in the front to give us privacy to discuss.”

  Catarina nodded. Ines could be thoughtful when she wanted. “Is it that we have taken over your house? Our pillow and thread are spread out in your parlor and people will soon come to call in the afternoons—”

  Benedict took her hands. “I don’t mind that at all. You can have the whole house if this shop doesn’t suit. But I thought you deserved a place of your own.”

  “In London?”

  He closed his eyes. “I am an idiot. I’m doing this all wrong.” He sank to his knees before her. “Catarina Ana Marciá Neves Draven, would you stay married to me? Will you marry me again? Here, in London?”

  How could she say no to this? But saying yes to Benedict, giving in to what she wanted, would be to risk more than she ever had. For so long, she’d had no one but herself to rely on. She’d never trusted a man because no man had ever showed her he was worthy of trust.

  She wanted to trust Benedict. She wanted to give him her trust along with her heart. She could make a small start by telling him yes now.

  Tears swam in her eyes, so many that she couldn’t see his face. Then she sank to her knees. “Yes, I will.”

  He took her face in his hands, kissing her gently. She moved closer, pressing her body against his, wanting to show him how full her heart was. Finally, he broke the kiss. “Your sister,” he said quietly.

  She nodded. “Later then.”

  He smiled. “I’d like that. But do not keep me in suspense. Will this suit or shall I continue looking? Rather, I’ve sent Lord Phineas out to look as he is better with that sort of thing. But when he showed me this one, I knew you had to see it.”

  Her heart clenched at the knowledge Benedict had been looking for shops for her. “This will suit perfectly,” she said.

  “Then we’ll purchase it. It will take a few months before we can have it furnished and ready. You can send for your lacemakers in Barcelona, if you like. We can find them rooms to rent. And, of course, you’ll need a steady supply of thread. Perhaps they could bring a quantity with them while we search for an importer or someone to buy in bulk.”

  Catarina put her finger over his lips. “You have thought of everything. My head is spinning. Tomorrow we will make lists and write letters. Right now, let me go and tell my sister.”

  He helped her up and led her back into the front room, slipping out the door with the excuse of checking on the horses.

  “Well?” Ines asked. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “If you think he is buying this shop for me, then you are correct.”

  Ines squealed and embraced Catarina. “Our own shop! Not a stall! Not a corner of someone else’s shop, but ours! This is what we dreamed!”

  “I know. I can hardly think how to thank him. Ines, he asked me to stay married to him, to marry him again in London.”

  “He did?”

  “He knelt down and took my hands. It was a real proposal, although we are already married in the eyes of God.”

  “And now you will be married in the eyes of the world. Oh, Catarina, he must love you so much.”

  Catarina began to reply and then realized Benedict had not said anything at all about love. She thought he loved her. The way he treated her was evidence of his feelings, certainly. But she was still reluctant to trust in this new relationship completely. Men changed their minds. They were kind one day and abusive the next. She wanted so much to give this new life a chance, but she would keep some part of herself back. She must be cautious about trusting too easily.

  “—and find new lacemakers,” Ines was saying.

  “Benedict said we can bring ours from Barcelona.”

  Ines gave a little skip of joy. The lacemakers had been their best friends, and Catarina assumed Ines missed them more than ever. Catarina knew not all of them would want to leave their home, but she hoped a few would consent. She could train others if she had enough business.

  Benedict opened the door and cleared his throat. “Is it all settled then?”

  Ines ran to him and hugged him. He gave Catarina a desperate look. These English were so uncomfortable with open affection. Catarina took Ines’s arm. “Let us return to the coach. We can discuss all our plans on the way home.”

  DRAVEN TOOK DINNER at his club in the paneled wood dining room with its large hearth and thick wooden beams running across the low, white washed ceiling. He’d met Phineas there to discuss purchasing the shop. “It’s a good price,” Phineas was saying from across the table covered in white linen. “But I could try and get it for less. The owner opened a bigger shop in Mayfair. She’s not in any sort of a desperate situation.”

  “I’m sure you’ll negotiate the price down to a pittance,” Draven said. He had been right to propose to Catarina. Though they were already married, the expression on her face had told him that the gesture had meant everything to her. He hoped that she believed that he wanted to be with her no matter what. “Just bring me the papers, and I’ll sign. Then I must face the prospect of shopping for furnishings.”

  “I can send my sister with Mrs. Draven, if you like. She’s good at that sort of thing.”

  “And she has expensive tastes. I’d better go along.” Benedict didn’t want to admit it wasn’t so much Lady Philomena’s expensive tastes as the fact that he wanted to be part of every aspect of the experience. He was enjoying his new wife and this part of her life. If he could be helpful to her, he wanted to be there.

  “I hope you’re not planning to go too soon,” Colin FitzRoy said, taking the chair beside Phineas. “De la Fuente is still in Town, and while I haven’t managed to convince him to confide in me, I would bet my right thumb he is making plans.”

  “Your right thumb?” Phineas wrinkled his nose. “That’s an odd expression.”

  FitzRoy shrugged, lifting a silver fork and examining it. “Here’s another for you. He’s drinking like a fish, but the man can hold his liquor. If anything, the drink makes him more stoic.”

  “And more dangerous too, I’d wager,” Phineas added. “Not that I’d bet my thumb or any other body part.”

  “Keep me informed,” Benedict said. “I imagine it will take time to finalize the contracts and I can use that as an excuse to put off going out too much.”

  “There is a problem,” FitzRoy said. “I think he’s growing suspicious of me. It might be better if you sent someone else in. I can still keep an eye on him, but I will have to do so from a distance.”

  “I should have pulled you sooner,” Benedict said. “But I don’t have anyone else to send in.”

  “What about Jasper? He’s good at slinking about,” Phineas offered.

  “He’s getting married,” Colin said.

  Phineas straightened. “I didn’t get an invitation!”

  “Neither did I,” FitzRoy said. They both looked at Draven.

  “Jasper prefers small, intimate affairs. There’ll be less than a dozen guests.”

  “You’ll be one of them?” Phineas raised a brow.

  “You are welcome to take my place. You know I don’t enjoy that sort of thing. Can we return to the matter at hand?” He looked at FitzRoy. “Is there any way to persuade de la Fuente to leave the country? Preferably before he realizes my wife is opening a lace shop here?”

  “I’ll take a look at the letters he receives,” FitzRoy said. “There may be family business that will call him back. If that doesn’t work, we may have to resort to something less...above board.”

  “That sounds interesting.” Phineas sat forward. “You can count me in for that. It’s been too long since I wore my dancing shoes.”

  Draven’s men had a common saying during the war. When they were embarking on a particularly perilous mission, the commanding officer
would say, Put on your dancing shoes, lads. It’s time to dance with the devil. They’d known they might end up in hell that night, but they’d gone in and completed the mission anyway. Eighteen of the thirty had died in the line of duty, and not a day passed that Draven didn’t think of each and every one of them.

  It was a good idea to have Phineas involved in this. The more men watching Juan Carlos, the better. FitzRoy had all but smelled the desperation on the Spaniard. Benedict knew he would have to be more vigilant than ever to keep Catarina safe.

  Phineas rose. “Excuse me, I see Stratford and have a matter to discuss with him.”

  “One would think that as the son of a duke, Phineas would have more to do than plot to send Spaniards back home,” Benedict said, though he appreciated the assistance.

  “We might need his assistance,” FitzRoy said, echoing Benedict’s thoughts. “He has more blunt and better connections. In the meantime, be careful.”

  “I will,” Benedict said, reminded that no one ever told him to put his dancing shoes on. He was not expected to take the risks his men did. But he was home now and he would take responsibility for Catarina and all connected to her. FitzRoy and Phineas would do their best, but Benedict would be damned if he allowed Juan Carlos near his wife. She was really his now, and he’d keep her safe.

  BENEDICT ARRIVED HOME later than he’d anticipated, and the house was quiet. Ward greeted him, which was surprising as Ward did not like to wait up and it was past the time he usually retired.

  As Ward took his coat, Benedict asked after everyone.

  “The ladies have retired,” Ward told him. “I think they wore themselves out with their chattering. The cat, however, has taken up position in front of your bed chamber door. I could not get in to stoke the fire or turn down the bed.”

  “Tigrino still doesn’t like you, eh?”

  “That cat is evil, and one day I will catch him in the act of scratching the furniture and see if I don’t douse him with water for doing it.”

  “Ward, you’ve done all you can today. I can turn my own bed down. Good night.”