by Audrey Storm
The two of them walked by the ball and headed to Henry’s castle that he would now share with the woman he would soon call his wife. Henry had one of his servants take word to Mary’s father that the two were to be married and her parents were overjoyed with the news.
“I told you,” her mother said, as she turned to her husband and gave him a gentle nudge. “All she needed was a little time with him and she fell in love. Just like I did with you.”
“I thought you instantly fell in love with me,” Mary’s father teased, as he followed his wife to their bedroom.
The two of them laughed, but both knew their daughter would find happiness that she had never imagined possible with the Duke, just as the two of them had found it with each other.
THE END
A Chance for the Brute
A Chance for the Brute
Chapter 1
1870, London
Catharine crinkled her nose at the other guests. The mansion was beautifully adorned, of course, and the food and beverages were delectable, but the guests of this party were so lewd. Sure, they were dressed in the finest clothing and they spoke in the most proper of manners, but it was the subtext of their words that put her on edge. They spoke of things that no one should dare speak of in public, and they did so with a secretive kind of wit that everyone understood yet no one could properly translate.
Catherine fought back a look of dismay when she heard one drunk woman speak about her own clitoris. A hot kind of ice burning and chilling her blood, Catherine tightened her grip on her glass and walked away from these people.
She disdained parties, especially parties hosted by James Warner, the son of the Second Earl of London. He was always such a brute, so it wasn’t surprising that he enjoyed spending time with brutish people. No doubt, he sent her an invitation to this party as a joke, having often called her a shrewish prude.
If their families hadn’t befriended one another so long ago, Catherine would have never even spoken to the man. But, fate had brought the Warners and the Sadliers together long before she was even born, and on that retched night at that retched party, a part of her was grateful for it. Even if his friendship was never wanted, his money was.
Catharine wandered about the mansion, her eyes darting about all the chatty guests she passed by. Eventually, she spotted James, talking with her brother John by the mantle in one of the side rooms of the west wing. James was a broad man, but he had no qualms over stretching his muscular arms and body over the mantle as much as he could. John, built like James but a few inches shorter, sat on the floor in front of him. They were surrounded by many women, all of whom were giggling at something James had just said.
Catharine clenched her teeth. Pride warred with the rest of her sense, which knew she needed money, but…from James? That foul human being?
She took shallow breaths, her tight corset constricting her plump form, and she forced herself to move toward James and John. She felt like a soldier, walking into battle—facing his fate for the greater good. There was something noble yet horrifying about the sensation.
“Catty Sadlier?” James said, his lips curving into a devilish smirk and his eyes practically ravishing her body. “Have you finally given up your shrewish ways in order to be a more enjoyable woman, like my friends here?” He waved an arm out toward the women, who giggled in response. “That is awfully big for you, which is saying something.”
Catharine pushed past the thin women to stand in front of James and beside John. “Hello, John,” she said without looking at her brother.
“Catty,” John slurred.
“James,” Catherine continued without missing a beat. If she was going to do this, she would need to do this quickly before this moment could make her ill. “You are aware of my organization, ‘Hope for London’s Lost,’ have you not?”
James snorted. “What an absurd name. It sounds like you are an organization for stray animals. What a waste of—”
“It’s for the poor and the homeless,” Catherine continued, anger burning through her. “And I came here to inquire if you would like to make a donation for such a worthy cause.”
James tilted his chin upward and pouted his lips out with thought. “I would have to say…no. Why should I throw money at people who can’t work hard enough to get it for themselves?”
Catherine twitched, her body so overwhelmed with rage that it couldn’t move for a moment. A shaky breath shuddered past her lips. “You didn’t even earn your own money. You are inheriting it.”
James pouted out his lips again and shrugged.
Laughing, John rolled over on to his side. He was facing James’s ankles, which twisted a bit as John reached out for them to tap them.
Catharine watched this strange scene for a moment too long, her indignation and shock getting the better of her. By the time she regained some sense, James was flicking his hand toward her, as if shooing her away.
The women giggled yet again, and Catharine turned and stormed out of the room. Yes, this had been a desperate move to help her dying charity—only funded by her father at this point—but she had still hoped…
Catharine shook her head, her face reddening and her eyes moistening as she continued to stride through the mansion. She had been a fool to hope, and that was that.
Chapter 2
Catharine had sent out letters to her father’s wealthy mates, but after she waited a few days for their responses, impatience got the better of her. Her charity needed these funds now, not weeks from now—and that was even if any of her father’s friends agreed to donate money to the charity. What if they refused? She would have to take more action, despite the fact that her pride was still sore from when James had denied her request so obnoxiously.
“Are you ready, Andrew?” she asked her coachman. She was standing outside of his bedroom door as he got ready for the busy day ahead of them.
“Almost, milady,” he called back. He sounded like he was on the other side of the room. “Forgive my slow pace; I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“I will wait for you by the carriage out front,” she said before hurrying down the hallway. With no one there to see, she tugged at the waistline of her dress a bit—a fruitless attempt at comfort.
When she was in the massive entryway of her father’s mansion, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight before her.
James and John were sprawled out over the wide staircase that led to the second and third stories. They looked drunk, their hair mussed and their vests unbuttoned.
Defensive anger churned within her, making her feel sick. As she tried to decide whether or not it was worth confronting these men, James spotted her.
“Catty Sadlier?” he said, again smirking devilishly at her. “Out and about so early in the morning? What ever are you up to?”
“She is still trying to trick the rich into handing their money to the poor,” John said, rolling his eyes. “A scandal in the guise of a charity, if you ask me.”
“Ignorance!” Catharine spat, sneering at her brother. Her fists trembling, she strode right up to him. “How dare you speak that way about a subject like this? Especially when you know nothing about it?”
“What’s there to know?” John asked, seeming unbothered by her obvious disgust. “You want to feel important, so you ask good working men to give away their money to the diseased louts of the city.”
James snickered.
Catharine fumed. “You know nothing! You have never even spent one minute in the rough areas in which these people are forced to survive in.” That was what had inspired her to help the poor, after all—learning about these citizens and then going out and seeing them for herself. The memory of that sparked an idea within Catharine’s mind, and it calmed her. “Yes. If you saw these people for yourselves, you both would understand.”
Both men frowned at her, a look of weariness contorting their expressions. Clearly wanting to protest, John opened his mouth, but Catharine interrupted him.
“Of course, if you are frightened of the lower class, I guess it would be merciless of me, a woman, to ask you two men to accompany me to where they live and work.”
Catharine was immensely pleased when their cheek’s reddened and their eyes narrowed.
“Fine,” John said, standing up.
“I don’t know what you think you are going to prove,” James said, also standing up and straightening his clothes a bit. “But if humoring your perception will soothe your womanly soul, I will gladly do so for you.”
Catharine was no longer so pleased with her idea, but she couldn’t back out of it now. Besides, it may actually work; she may actually get them to understand.
John and James continued to make their snide comments as Andrew drove them through London. Catharine, being jostled about inside the carriage, pressed her lips together and breathed heavily through her nose. It was difficult, but she kept quiet—remained patient. Her gaze was always pointed toward the carriage’s windows. It was the toughest twenty minutes of her life.
“Stop here, Andrew,” she called out. She gripped the doors tightly as the carriage shook and came to an abrupt halt. Then she pushed the doors open and hopped out before John or James could shove her out. Pain shot up her ankles when she landed on the ground, but she forced herself to straighten quickly anyway. “We’re here.”
They were on a street crowded with tenant buildings, small shops, and a massive textile factory at the very end of it. Many of the windows were cracked, black spots oozing out of them. And garbage littered the muddied ground, the wind blowing past it and carrying the damp, rank smell with it.
“Most people are working right now,” Catharine announced after she heard James and John step out of the carriage. “But let’s see if we can find someone to speak with.”
“What?” John whispered, his tone thick. “I don’t think—”
Catharine walked toward one of the tenant buildings. “Come along. There’s no need to be frightened.”
“They could be murderers and thieves,” John whispered, but he followed her, so Catharine didn’t respond.
James chuckled. “You are scared, aren’t you, Johnathon?”
“It’s rational to be concerned when in an area such as this one,” John snapped.
The two continued to squabble while Catharine led them inside the building, and then through it. Catharine knocked on several front doors, but as suspected, most of the rooms were empty because the tenants were working. Regardless, Catharine kept knocking on each door until someone finally answered one of them.
“Hello?” a young woman said in her narrow doorway. She was holding a wailing baby while another baby wailed in the background. Her clothes were gray and torn, and her hair was a ratty mess piled on top of her head in a bun. “Can I help you?”
Catharine’s heart constricted at the sight. She prayed that James and John would behave themselves, and if they did not, she was somewhat convinced that she might actually kill them. “Hello, milady. Please forgive me if my forwardness offends you, but I found an envelope of money in front of this door, and I thought it might belong to you.” Catharine took out the envelope from her jacket and handed it to the confused woman.
Hesitantly, the woman took it. Still holding the crying baby, she maneuvered it in one arm before opening the envelope. Her eyes widened. “Oh…oh, that’s so much. But it’s not mi—”
“It was just lying on the floor,” Catharine said, shrugging. “If you give it back to me, it is going to go unclaimed, anyway. I insist that you keep it—put it to good use.”
The woman gaped at her. Then, her eyes fluttering closed, she moved forward and hugged Catharine as tightly as she could with the baby in her arms. “God bless you.”
Catharine hugged her back, the squirming and crying baby in between them making the hug feel a little awkward. It didn’t stop the warmth from blooming in Catharine’s heart though. She smiled.
“Thank you,” the woman whispered into her shoulder.
Catharine patted her back before gently pulling away. “We must be on our way now. Take care, ma’am.”
“You too,” she said, nodding jaggedly.
Catharine turned and ushered James and John to move. John was all but eager to run down the hall, but James lingered a second longer, his eyes glued to the woman.
“You stay hushed now,” Catharine whispered to him, taking his arm and guiding him down the hall.
James remained silent.
Catharine led them to the factory next, but even she didn’t want to go inside of it. Looking through the broken windows of the factory, she pointed at all the men and women working on the machines. The loud, harsh cacophony of mechanical noise hummed out of the massive building, drowning out people’s voices.
A little boy ran out of the building, but he was immediately chased and caught by a tall, broad man. The man grabbed the kid by the arm and dragged him back inside. Tears poured from the child’s eyes, and his mouth was wide open, releasing silenced screams of protest.
Catharine recoiled, her horror so overwhelming that it felt as if her very heart was shutting down in response. She blinked sluggishly and shivered. Fighting against the urge to pass out, she turned and once again ushered the men away—this time, back to the carriage. She didn’t think she could handle any more sights like this one.
As Andrew drove the carriage back home, Catharine sat in it with a dreadful feeling of defeat. She had shown James and John examples of the injustice of the poor’s lives, but she didn’t think it had been enough to teach them the error of their perception. Yet, the thought of witnessing another child being treated like that…being trapped…
Catharine swallowed thickly. Heartbroken, she did her best to ignore John’s chatter—none of it insulting, thank the Lord, but it was annoying and shallow. If he had been fazed by what they had just witnessed, he wasn’t showing it.
“I’m thinking of having a box social, James,” John said. “Perhaps I shall schedule it for the end of this month. What do you think?”
Catharine closed her eyes and sighed. What had she been thinking? Trying to change these men had been a pointless endeavor—one she didn’t have the time for.
“James?”
“Be quiet, John,” James said, his tone weighted. “Please, just…be quiet for a while.”
Startled, Catharine opened her eyes and turned to them. James was staring at floor, his facial muscles tense and his lips forming a thin frown. Next to him, John looked absolutely shocked. He opened his mouth, but ultimately, he did as James requested and remained quiet.
Catharine was mesmerized by the sight. She hadn’t realized she had been staring at it for so long until the carriage stopped and Andrew announced that they had returned home.
James was the first to get out.
John, appearing stunned, stayed in the carriage for a few seconds too long, so Catharine hurried out.
“James?” Catharine said, hope daring to grow within her as she stared at the man before. Cautiously, she walked up to him and placed a hand on his arm. “Are you alright?”
James gaze flitted over her face, thoughts and emotions swirling in his eyes. “I…apologize,” he said softly, “for my past behavior. You were right about my ignorance of the unjust state of our society. I…I think I would like to help you and your charity.”
Joy and pride soared through her, making her smile.
“What?!” John called, hopping out of the carriage. He stood beside Catharine and gave James an incredulous look. “Have you gone mad? Or are you jesting?”
James glared at John. “I am serious. I want to help with this problem in any way I can.”
Clearly stupefied, John blinked at his friend for a long moment. While it seemed that this was one of the worst days of John’s life, it was quickly becoming one of the best days of Catharine’s. Finally, she had an ally to help her with this good cause. Perhaps being hopeful wasn’t synonymous with being foolish.
“That’s wonderful, J
ames,” she said, beaming at him. “Thank you.”
James turned to her and nodded.
John looked ill.
Chapter 3
The next couple of months, she and James worked together to obtain more funds for the charity, and they were actually successful. Perhaps it was because James was a man—perhaps it was because Catharine worked better with a partner rather than by herself; whatever the reason, people responded to the two of them and their cause more generously than they ever had when it was merely Catharine and her cause. With hundreds of pounds in the bank now, James had suggested they start a program within the charity.
“What do you mean?” Catharine asked James in her father’s office.
James clasped his hands together. “It doesn’t seem enough to simply give the poor money. We should help him gain a better lot in life. Perhaps we can help them get an education—teach them how to start their own businesses and factories.”
“What a brilliant suggestion.” Her mind ran with it further, and she grinned. “What if, in addition to that, we help them build their own tenant building? Something bigger, something people could actually live and raise their children in.”
“We could teach them how to design and build, and then we could pay them for their labor.”
“Yes!”
They tossed around ideas like that all afternoon—talking about funding restaurants that could feed the starving, talking about teaching every person how to read—and so on.
It was exciting for Catharine to share such ideas—such passion—with someone. She no longer felt so alone and powerless. And James, now that he wasn’t being so horrid, was truly kind, intelligent, and even enthusiastic. He was likeable now.
“Catharine?” James said, tilting his head and squinting at her. “Are you alright? You are staring at me like I am a box of sweets.”
Catharine blushed. “I was simply thinking about our success these past few months. I owe you a lot for that.”
