by Joyce Alec
“Yes, I am sure that is it,” Catherine said to herself, quelling her growing anxiety. “All will be well, I am quite sure.”
Some hours later, Catherine was still feeling as nervous as ever, even though she had given herself a stern talking to. There was still no sign of Lord Linton, and she began to wonder if he was likely to appear at all. Maybe he was going to leave her waiting, prolonging the torture for no other reason than to frustrate her.
Perhaps she should go and do something else in order to prevent her from thinking only about what Linton had to say. It might help her anxiety if she played the pianoforte or attempted to read a book. Getting to her feet, Catherine brushed down her skirts, only for the door to open as the butler walked in.
“Lord Linton, Miss Hewson,” he said, directing a questioning look at her.
“Yes, yes,” Catherine said hurriedly. “Send him in at once.”
“Of course.” The butler bowed, and after asking if she wanted a tea tray, swiftly left the room, leaving Lord Linton to enter.
Catherine could hardly speak, such were her trembling nerves. She looked up at him as he stepped inside the room, trying her best to keep her gaze direct.
“Kitty.” Linton smiled, sitting down opposite her. “You look well.”
“I do not have time for trivialities,” Catherine bit out, already frustrated with him. “You know quite well that I have been anxiously waiting to hear from you.”
His expression grew sympathetic. “I am aware of that, yes.”
“And yet you sit here and expect me to be able to have a calm conversation with you?” she asked, growing angrier with each passing second. “Just get it over with, if you please. I cannot bear the anticipation any longer!”
He gave her a rueful smile. “I was aware that you would have a great many callers, and I am sorry for that, but at least now we can put this whole thing to an end.”
Clearing his throat, Linton pulled out a few letters from his pocket and set the first one aside. “Here is the first letter that I wrote to Lord Kerr. It is a copy, of course, but an exact one.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Would you like me to read it to you?”
Catherine nodded, her fingers twisting in her lap as she waited. She could hardly breathe, her anxiety rising with each breath she took.
Lord Kerr cleared his throat. “It reads as follows: ‘Kerr, I am writing to explain my reasons for the article in the newspaper recently, announcing my engagement to Miss Catherine Hewson. I will not apologize for doing so, and you should not expect such a thing from me. If I am to be truthful, I would do the same thing again if I had to, for Kitty is my dear friend, and I would be lying if I did not admit that I cared for her a great deal.’”
He glanced up at Catherine, who found she could say nothing, her throat constricting and her heart hammering. She did not believe that Lord Linton truly cared for her, even though his expression was most sincere. She had seen him use that expression in order to get what he wanted in the past.
Lord Linton looked at her for another moment before continuing, his voice a little softer than before.
“‘I believe that I would make Kitty very happy, although she is not likely to forgive me any time soon for my actions of late. In addition, I know of your current financial circumstances and the difficulties you have endured, although I will not lecture you on the misappropriation of funds through gambling and the like. However, I would ask that you relinquish your association with Miss Hewson and allow me to take your place. In recompense, I will pay the largest of your debts without question, helping you to regain some of your financial assets and no longer move close to bankruptcy.’”
There was a short pause, and Catherine struggled not to cry, feeling hot tears press against her lids. She did not want to let him know just how upset she was on hearing herself traded in such a way.
“‘Do let me know of your decision as soon as you are able,’” Lord Linton finished, his eyes lifting to meet hers. “And that is all I wrote.”
“And you received a reply,” Catherine stated, hating that her voice was so thin and weak. “When did it appear?”
“I received it only yesterday, and I wrote to you at once,” he answered, looking at her with something akin to sympathy, as though he was expecting her to be grievously upset. “Are you sure you want to hear his response? I know Lord Kerr himself will be writing to you very soon, regardless of this.” He held up the other note.
“Yes,” Catherine replied firmly. “Yes, I want to hear the reply.”
“You still have faith in him?”
She lifted her chin. “Of course I do,” she said, far too aware that her voice was wobbling. “You are doing this to tease me, my lord, to try and make it appear as though I have something to worry about when I know that I do not.” Catherine could not help but admit to herself that the fear she felt in her heart was growing steadily.
Lord Linton cleared his throat gruffly, shaking out the second letter. “This is in his hand, and you may check it afterwards if you wish.” He glanced at her, his expression grave. “In fact, you may do whatever you wish after you hear this, to prove to yourself the correspondence is genuine.”
“Just read it, please,” Catherine begged, her voice now an anguished whisper. “Do not torment me so.”
Lord Linton eyed her for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the paper. “‘Lord Linton,’” he began, “‘I do not know where you have heard such news about my financial affairs, nor am I in any way pleased about what you put in the newspaper about my dear Catherine.’”
Catherine’s breath came out in a whoosh of relief, her body practically bursting to life again. “I knew it,” she said, her delight overflowing. “I knew he would not betray me so!”
Lord Linton held up one hand, a silent gesture to ask her to wait. Catherine sank back into her chair, her happiness slowly evaporating as he continued.
“‘However,’” Linton went on, “‘I will not pretend that paying off my largest debt would not be precisely what I need to pull me from the mire I find myself sinking into. I have enclosed the details. Once you have paid the sum, I will write to Miss Hewson myself, informing her of my change of heart. You need not change the notice in the paper, it seems, and I can no longer threaten to call you out. However, if this information becomes known throughout society, I will have no hesitation in throwing the blame for it on you. I do not want to be a laughing stock. Yours…’” Lord Linton looked up at her. “Well, you know the rest.”
Catherine sat frozen in her chair, her blood slowly turning to ice in her veins. Could it really be true? Had Lord Kerr truly chosen wealth and payment of debts over her? Had he never really cared for her in the first instance, had never once held the deep affection he had tried his best to make so apparent?
“Kitty,” Linton said softly, coming over to sit by her. He took her cold hand and wrapped another arm around her shoulder, trying his best to look into her eyes. “Are you all right?”
“No,” Catherine whispered, sobs beginning to shake her form as she spoke through the tears falling down her cheeks. “No, I am not all right. I do not think anything will be right ever again.”
12
The very same afternoon, Catherine received a letter from Lord Kerr. The maid brought it to her, but Catherine could find no happiness in its appearance. She knew what it held. Instead, she sent for yet another tea tray and sat quietly in the drawing room, simply looking down at the letter in her hand.
Lord Linton had left her soon after his revelation, aware that he had caused her a great deal of anguish. Catherine had wanted to be left alone, and had refused his request to stay longer and comfort her. She found that she was growing cold and weary from his presence.
However, being alone had not exactly brought her any relief. Instead, it had only intensified, making her heart ache with such a terrible pain that she thought her very soul might break in two. She had wept countless tears, her shoulders shaking as she gave into the grief
she felt, growing angry at times over how abysmally Lord Kerr had treated her.
Then she would become upset with herself for her foolishness, her belief in Lord Kerr and the words of affection he had spoken to her. Catherine railed at herself for thinking that he had meant every word he had said, for not even being cautious when it came to giving him her heart. Slowly, her tears had abated, and she had sat quietly, wrapped in a shroud of heartache and sorrow.
Now, as she finally opened the note, his words seemed dull and devoid of emotion. He told her, in no uncertain terms, that there was no longer any connection between them. His reasons made no sense whatsoever, for he stated that since returning to his estate, he had realized that the number of responsibilities he had entirely overwhelmed his desire for affection and love and a life in matrimony. Therefore, he had chosen not to seek out a wife at this present time. In a way, Catherine was relieved that Lord Linton had come to her first, to soften the blow that was Lord Kerr’s letter.
“It is as if I never knew him,” she murmured to herself, getting up only to throw the letter onto the fire.
The door opened, and her maid set the tea tray in front of her before the maid went away. There Catherine sat, the hours drifting away as she became lost in her sadness and pain. The maid came to light the lamps and to set a dinner tray by her, and still she sat, refusing all company—including her mother’s. Her hope of matrimony to a loving and kind man was gone entirely, and in its place now was a simple acceptance that she was to marry Lord Linton.
If only she had never made such an agreement. She might now be free of him, be free of all gentlemen. There would be no requirement for her to marry. She could live her life as an old maid, relying on friends and family for company and friendship until she died, entirely alone. That seemed a good option at the present, but the sensible part of Catherine’s mind told her that she would not live happily that way for long.
She wanted a home of her own. She wanted children. But she could not risk seeking out the affections of another gentleman without being sure of his intentions. The pain was too great.
Mayhap marrying Lord Linton was a good thing. She could marry without love, knowing exactly who he was, and he knew her just as well. After all, they had been friends for a long time, even though she had pulled herself away from him of late. She would be in the position to bargain with him, to demand that he change some of his habits so as not to bring shame and embarrassment to the family.
Catherine could not help but think just how much Lord Linton had proven his kindness to her, despite the odd way he had gone about it. He had wanted to show her that Lord Kerr was not the man she had thought, and he had indeed managed to do so, but in such a way as to secure her hand for himself.
That had been clever of him, though Catherine knew that when he told her he cared about her, that sentiment had been genuine. It had been written all over his face, although she had chosen to ignore it. His eyes were sympathetic and kind.
What lengths he had gone to in order to save her from an imprudent marriage. And now, since he had been proven correct, he was to give a great deal of money to Lord Kerr to pay off one of his debts. As far as she was concerned, Lord Linton did not have to honor his word, given how much of a rogue Lord Kerr had turned out to be, but she had no doubt that Lord Linton would do just as he had said.
At least she knew he could be honest when he tried.
“Catherine?”
Jerking from her seat, Catherine turned to see her mother framed in the doorway, looking resplendent in all her evening finery. “Mama,” she said, managing a smile. “You look utterly beautiful.”
“I thank you,” Lady Hewson replied, coming into the room and looking at Catherine with some concern. “You were meant to be joining us this evening, dear.”
Catherine frowned, unable to recall what it was she was meant to be attending.
“The ball?” her mother continued after a short pause. “Lord and Lady Haye’s ball?”
“Oh, yes,” Catherine murmured, looking away from her mother. “Forgive me, Mama, I have something of a headache. I shall probably retire early.”
Her mother worriedly looked down at her. “My maid tells me you have been sitting here almost all day,” she said softly. “Are you sure it is only a headache?”
“Quite sure,” Catherine answered in a rush. “Have a good evening, Mama, and do give my apologies to Lady Haye.”
Her mother touched her hand briefly, an unspoken concern written across her features. Inwardly, Catherine willed her to go, hoping that she would be left in peace once more. She did not want to speak to her mother about what had happened, finding the wound too fresh, too painful to discuss.
“Very well,” Lady Hewson murmured after a few quiet minutes had passed. “I want you to know you can always come to me, Catherine. Do not carry burdens alone—it is not good for you.”
A lump lodged itself in Catherine’s throat as she looked up at her mother, trying her best to give her a bright smile. Her mother patted her hand gently before leaving the room. Catherine let out a sigh of relief.
She welcomed the quiet and the darkness. Her pain and hurt wrapped around her heart, burying her in it. Catherine went willingly, letting it shroud her very soul. Her entire future had been shattered in a moment, her hopes gone entirely. How was she to emerge from this?
Catherine remained where she was, not moving or having any desire to do anything else but sit quietly, staring into the fire that burned and crackled in the grate. The door opened, and—thinking it was the maid—Catherine neither moved nor spoke.
“Kitty?”
Jerking in her seat, Catherine turned to see Lord Linton approaching, his expression grave.
“I wanted to see how you were feeling,” he murmured.
Catherine glared at him. “You do not need to pretend to care about my feelings now,” she retorted, even as a sudden rush of tears came to her eyes. “I am not in need of any company. Please, go away.”
“No.”
Much to her surprise, Linton sat down opposite her, his eyes searching her face as he took his seat.
“You do not mind if I take the liberty of ringing the bell, do you?” he asked, reaching across and tugging at it. “I have not had too much to eat today, although I see that your food is barely touched.”
Catherine, wanting to give the impression that she was quite well and did not need his company, tugged the tray over to her lap and began to eat with ferocity. They sat in silence as she ate, interrupted only by the maid, who took Linton’s request and then returned downstairs.
Her stomach soon full, Catherine set the tray to one side and handed it to the maid, who returned with one for Linton, as well as setting down a fresh pot of tea for Catherine. Catherine glared at Lord Linton as he began to eat, growing angry with his incessant need to be in her company.
“We shall eat a great many meals together when we are wed,” Lord Linton said pleasantly. “I think you shall be very good for me, Kitty.” He studied her for a moment before sighing heavily, setting his tray to one side. “I can tell you are unhappy.”
“Of course I am!” she exclaimed, hot with rage. “Lord Kerr has proven himself to be the worst of men, and as if that were not terrible enough, I find myself engaged to the man I tried to avoid!”
“I will not continue as I have been,” Linton promised. “You mean more than that to me.”
She let out a snort of derision. “Forgive me if I do not believe you.”
There was a short pause. “Would you like me to release you from our agreement?” he asked, suddenly and quietly.
Catherine stared at him, her mouth forming a fine line.
Had she heard him correctly?
“I know that you are unhappy,” Lord Linton continued after a moment. “I want you to be happy. That is all I have ever wanted, truly. I will release you if you wish it.”
“I… I do not know what to say,” Catherine whispered, her anger and frustration dying away as
she looked at him in a sudden new light. He had been so insistent on having this arrangement, on having these as the conditions of their agreement, and now he was offering her a way out? “Are you truly willing to allow this to come to an end?”
He chuckled, his expression gentle. “My dear Catherine, I suppose I must be honest with you. As much as I am willing to allow our engagement to come to an end, I do not wish it.” Leaning a little closer, he reached across and took her hand.
Catherine was startled by the tenderness in his expression.
“The moment I saw you with Lord Kerr emerging from that room, my heart froze within me,” he murmured. “I have been a fool, running around in the way that I have been. I had never considered anything like matrimony or the like before now, but I know that there can only be one woman who would make me happy.” His fingers gently caressed the back of her hand. “And that woman is you, Catherine.”
“I do not know what you mean,” Catherine replied, butterflies beginning to flurry about in the pit of her stomach in the midst of her confusion. “We have only ever been friends.”
“That is quite true,” Linton said, a half-smile on his face. “But seeing you with Lord Kerr made me realize that I did not want that any longer. I admit that posting the engagement in the newspaper like that was selfish, although it did bring about my desired goal, but I do not want to be without you any longer. The years we shared together as friends are dearer to me than ever before. I want a future with you, as my wife and not just my friend.”
He remained as such for a few minutes, not saying anything more but still keeping a hold of her hand. A great swell of opposing emotions ran through Catherine, making it hard for her to think clearly. She was not quite sure what Lord Linton was saying, but it had more depth and more feeling than anything he had ever said to her before.
