Love Me Always

by Marie Higgins

  “I thought I would stay a week or so. That should give Grant and myself the time to get the betrothal arrangements out of the way.”

  She nodded. “I shall instruct the maids to prepare a room for you.” She turned and left, her hands balled into fists.

  Panic rose in her throat. If her father suspected her true feelings...could others also?

  * * * *

  The invisible chain around Catherine’s neck tightened minute by minute. Entertaining her father and keeping him from suspecting her true feelings for Nick remained top on her list. Gregg and Ian also helped keep him busy. Once in a while, Nick tried, but Catherine was exhausted from the effort it took. She wanted her father to leave. She didn’t want him in the first place. He kept reminding her it was to sign the betrothal agreement, yet nothing further had been mentioned.

  Thankfully Hodgson had accompanied her father for this trip, and it was delightful to visit with him for a spell. She also convinced him to keep her father out of her hair, and Hodgson said he’d try. So far it hadn’t happened as she’d liked.

  It didn’t matter if she was falling in love with Nick. She would marry Grant, although under duress. Until that time, she must not look dove-eyed when Nick was around. It was hard. She enjoyed the emotions rushing through her, not only from his gentle touch, but from his kindness. She wanted to feel like a woman in love because once she married Grant, she’d lose that.

  Though her father was here, she didn’t take any time away from Grant. She spent many hours with him and Gertrude up in his room, either talking or playing chess. Grant’s health slowly improved, although his eyesight didn’t seem to have the same fortune.

  She hesitated to tell Grant about her father staying here. It worried her that the news might excite him. He might even call her father up to sign the betrothal papers. Before that happened, there were things she needed to know about her soon-to-be-husband. Things she’d wondered about lately, especially since he started calling her Sophia and thinking she was her mother.

  Later that day, Catherine sat on Grant’s bed playing draughts with him. Most of the time his sister slumped in the chair, asleep with a book lying open in her lap, her mouth open while soft snores breezed from her throat. Mary, his nurse, hovered quite a bit, which irritated Catherine. Wouldn’t the woman just leave them alone for a few minutes? What Catherine wanted to tell Grant wasn’t something Mary needed to hear. Sometimes Catherine wondered if Mary thought she was Grant’s servant instead of Hobbs.

  Grant set his cards on the table and breathed a heavy sigh. “My dear, Catherine. Why are you off in another world? Would you rather be somewhere else right now?”

  Her attention snapped back to Grant. “Oh, no. I want to be here, really I do, it’s just that I have a lot on my mind.”

  He grinned. “Planning a dinner party, are you?”

  “Heavens no! I wouldn’t do that with you still laid up in bed.”

  His knuckles breezed across her cheek. “You’re such a sweet woman.” He paused as his hand fell to the bed. “So, what has been on your mind?”

  Her heart hammered and her hands moistened. Fear of hearing the wrong thing made her hesitate, but she must know. “Grant? Could I ask you something although it might be somewhat awkward and maybe a little painful to answer?”

  “Yes, my dear. Go ahead. I’ll tell you anything.”

  For courage, she took a deep breath and continued. “Lately I have been wondering about you and...my mother.”

  One of his eyebrows lifted. “Your mother? What about her?”

  “I want to know what sort of feelings you had for her. Were you in love with her a long time ago? Before she married my father?”

  Sitting back against his pillows, he folded his arms across his stomach, keeping his gaze on her. “What gave you the impression there was anything between us?”

  Catherine looked down at her fingers entwined in her lap. “A few times you have called me by my mother’s name. Then, there’s the fact that my mother couldn’t wait to get me married off to you, and it made me wonder if it was because she couldn’t have you.” She finally looked up at him. “Did you want to marry me because I resembled my mother?”

  Grant’s smile faded, but his eyes never left hers. “What a bright girl you are, Catherine.”

  “Does that mean I’m correct?”

  “Would you hate me if I told you yes?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m so confused about all of this. Will you please tell me about you and my mother?”

  He nodded. “As I’ve told you before, your father and I were friends. I was being trained to follow in my father’s footsteps before my father died and didn’t have time for a lot of friends. So, your father’s friendship meant the world to me.”

  Mary hurried to Grant’s side to fill his cup with more tea. He thanked her by giving her a wink, then sipped his tea. Suspicion took root inside Catherine, and she had a feeling Mary was a better friend to Grant than anyone realized.

  “Anyway,” Grant continued, “we were inseparable as boys. When I was in my fifteenth year, your father met a lovely young girl who lived in the nearby village. We all became good friends and we secretly did things together. Slowly I began to fall in love with this girl, as did your father. I didn’t know about your father’s love for her, nor did he realize my feelings. On my eighteenth birthday I was sent on a trip to Europe with my father for a couple of years. It was hard to get letters to my friends during that time.”

  Grant stopped for a few seconds and took another sip of his tea. “My father knew about Sophia and that was why he insisted I go to Europe. You see, I was expected to marry a girl with money, and Sophia didn’t come from a wealthy family. When I came home from my travels, I found out about two horrible setbacks. One, that my family had arranged my marriage to a girl I hardly knew, and two, that the woman I was in love with had married my best friend. I was crushed more over the fact Sophia was lost to me forever, than learning I was to be married within a year. Although I could tell Sophia loved your father, I still couldn’t stop loving her. After a while, the pain in my heart became too great and I finally left her and your father alone.”

  He reached for Catherine’s hand, not quite touching it. She took hold of it and he squeezed.

  “I was never really in love with my wife,” he continued. “My wife and I tried to have children, but she always miscarried. She died due to complications with her pregnancy. Soon after that, my father died and I took over. Not long after that, my brother died, and I took his three boys under my wing. It was then I heard from your father. He told me that after seven miscarriages, they finally had a baby. I realized how much I had missed your parents, so several times a year I took my nephews and visited Henry and Sophia. I watched you grow and play with my nephews as I had done with your parents. When you turned fourteen, I noticed the remarkable resemblance between you and your mother and slowly I began to have feelings for you.”

  “So, you love me because I look like my mother.”

  “Yes, and no. I did love you because you reminded me of her, but you’re so very different than she. There’s a charming stubbornness about you I couldn’t resist. I decided you would bring joy into my life, and so I offered for your hand in marriage. Your parents didn’t like the idea at first, and it took them awhile to decide, but soon they agreed that it was time for our families to be joined.”

  Catherine stood and walked around the bed slowly. “Grant? Do you know when you first kissed me when I was fourteen, that I felt unclean? Do you know I get sick every time you want to hug me or even kiss my cheek?” She stopped and looked at him.

  A scowl creased his forehead. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Mary rushed to his side to check on him, and he pushed her away with his hand, aiming his glare toward Catherine. The older woman even threw accusing glares Catherine’s way. She really wished the nurse would just leave.

  “Because maybe our relationship isn’t right,” Catheri
ne said softly. “You wanted my mother, not me, and I think of that all the time.”

  “But we’ll soon be publicly engaged.” His voice turned harsh.

  Tears filled her eyes. “I know this but maybe it would make things better for me if you would stop thinking of my mother. Would it be fair if I imagined another man while I’m with you?”

  Grant looked away, his lips pursed.

  She prayed he would call off the betrothal. “Grant?”

  He finally met her stare.

  “My father is here visiting for a while.” The anger lines in his face disappeared, and he straightened. She continued, “And when you are feeling better, I think the two of you should talk about my mother and the feelings you had...and still have for her. Until then, I’m not coming back into this room. Do you think that’s fair?”

  He nodded, but didn’t speak.

  Slowly, she walked toward the door. Once again, Mary was by his side, stroking his arm and whispering something to Grant in hushed tones. Catherine didn’t care and left the room, confusion filling her head just as much as it had done before. Hopefully, she did the right thing. Was she really trying to make their relationship better or worse?

  * * * *

  Nick tried to stay away from the house, finding things to do with his business, but his mind wouldn’t focus. The longer he was away from Catherine, the more he wanted to see her. He already knew he couldn’t go a full day without having to see her or to touch her hand, her back, or cheek. Colonel Martin watched him with hawk-eyes, and Nick didn’t want the man knowing how he truly felt about Catherine.

  That evening, Nick strode into the drawing room where everyone milled about, awaiting supper. Catherine sat at the pianoforte and played while the men stood near the wall chatting. Nick couldn’t join in their conversation, mainly because he was mesmerized by Catherine's beautiful music. Although Gregg participated in the conversation, he stood closer to Catherine, remarking on her playing from time to time. Ian and Colonel Martin stood against the wall discussing the crisscrossed twin swords mounted on the wall.

  Just as Catherine’s playing came to an end, Nick pulled himself out of the trance, and clapped. The others joined. Colonel Martin grinned as he stepped away from Ian, but then a loud crack rented the air. Within seconds the swords fell from the wall, a breath away from crushing Ian’s head. Nick and Gregg rushed to Ian’s side as he stood shaken.

  “What just happened?” Ian’s unsettled voice lifted as he glanced from the wall to the floor where the swords lay.

  Gregg bent to retrieve the swords while Nick studied the wall. “It looks to me like the nails were rusty,” Nick answered.

  Ian scrubbed his chin. “That doesn’t make any sense. They have hung here for years and never fallen.”

  As Nick examined the nails closer his conclusion changed. “Well...I hope I’m wrong, but the nails almost appear as if they’ve been tampered with.” He moved his gaze to his brother whose forehead creased in confusion. Colonel Martin swung his glare to Catherine who sat on the bench, her face pale as fear sparked her eyes.

  Nick scowled, wanting to shake the insipid man. Why did the colonel act in such a manner? Did he expect Catherine to rush to Ian’s side to assist also?

  “Is everyone ready for supper?” Aunt Gertrude walked in the room, her gaze sweeping over each one. When her focus fell on Gregg holding the swords, she huffed and marched to him. “What are you doing, young man? Do you know how priceless these are? They belonged to your great grandfather. We don’t want them damaged.”

  “Yes, Aunt Gertie,” Gregg muttered.

  “I shall ask Miles to fix them back to the wall while we eat.”

  “If you don’t mind, Miss Gertrude,” the colonel said, “my man Hodgson is very talented with the hammer. I’m certain he would hang these swords for you.”

  The older woman beamed. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

  Nick held his arm out for Catherine. As she slipped her hand around his elbow she smiled, looking more relaxed than she had a moment ago.

  They all gathered around the table without any further talk of the swords. Immediately, the conversation moved to horseback riding; his brothers’ favorite pastime lately besides drinking and gambling. Probably because Catherine joined them.

  Gregg’s gaze wandered to Catherine quite a bit, and Nick recognized that look. Apparently, his brother was infatuated, too. Jealousy twisted Nick’s gut and he tightened his hand around the linen napkin on his lap.

  Ian, on the other hand, had a different expression when he glanced at her. His brother’s narrowed eyes spoke of an entirely different emotion. Anger? Suspicion, perhaps? Ian had always been more difficult to figure out.

  Finally Ian cleared his throat, aiming his gaze at Catherine. He wiped his mouth with the napkin before speaking. “Speaking of riding...”

  All eyes turned his way.

  “Remember the other morning when Gregg’s saddle had been cut?”

  Catherine’s eyes widened. Her drink had been to her lips, but she placed it back on the table without taking a sip. “Indeed. Did you ever find out who had tampered with it?”

  “Not yet, but as we were asking the servants, one of the stable-hands remembered seeing you in the stable that morning.” He arched an eyebrow, his lips thinning. “Were you?”

  “Earlier, yes.”

  “Really?” Gregg set his fork down and leaned forward, keeping his eyes on her. “What were you doing there?”

  She shrugged. “I usually go to the stables every morning whether I ride or not.”

  “Why?” Ian shot back.

  Nick growled. “Ian, what does it matter? There’s no need to treat poor Catherine in this rude manner.”

  Pink tinted her cheeks and she lowered her gaze to her plate. “It’s all right, Nick. I shall answer. I go to the stable because it’s always been a place where I can release my anger or frustration...and nobody can hear or see me.”

  Her father choked on his drink, but quickly recovered. “How so, my dear?”

  She raised her eyes and glared at the colonel. “Because I can talk to the horses and they won’t talk back,” she bit out.

  Gregg chuckled then covered his mouth with his hand.

  Just then, a stooped figure entered the room, taking slow steps. “What’s this about talking back?”

  Nick gasped. “Uncle Grant? Why are you out of your room?” He stood and rushed to his uncle’s side, as did Catherine.

  Grant chuckled. “Please don’t fret. I’m feeling much better. The doctor told me I could come down for dinner tonight.” His gaze swept around the table until it rested on Catherine’s father. Grant squinted. “Besides, I heard we have a visitor.”

  Colonel Martin smiled and stood. “Grant, it’s so good to see you again.” He walked around the table to him and shook his hand.

  “It does my eyes good to see you again, Henry.”

  “I thought it was time to come see how my daughter is faring.”

  Grant grinned. “Don’ you believe I’m seeing to her welfare?”

  “Of course I think you’re taking care of her, but I needed to see for myself.”

  “Nonetheless, I’m thrilled you’re here. Come, let’s sit and enjoy our evening meal.”

  Nick led the duke to the end of the table where Henry Martin sat beside him, before moving to take his rightful place at the other end. Catherine had scooted closer to Nick. He glanced at her and grinned. His brothers were further up the table by the other two men. Aunt Gertrude sat across the table from Catherine, but concentrated on Henry and Grant.

  The conversation mainly consisted of the two old friends as they caught up on each other’s lives. Gregg and Ian seemed to be interested in the older couple’s stories, but Nick wasn’t...and it seemed Catherine wasn’t either. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the breathtaking woman next to him – not that it was anything out of the ordinary for him. Tonight she had a special glow. Her deep, blue silk dress made her amazing eyes twin
kle. Her hair was up in a loose bun with a few tendrils hanging around her ears and neck.

  It was a good thing Mrs. Berkley had a headache and stayed in her room or he’d not be able to look upon Catherine as he liked since the old bat watched Catherine closely.

  He wanted to be closer, although knew he would draw attention to himself if he did. Her gaze met his quite a bit during the meal, even though she tried not to act as if she did her own inspecting of his person.

  He waited for the next time she looked his way, then he smiled. Their gazes held. A soft glow lit her eyes, and when she looked over every inch of his face, excitement made his heart race. He’d always loved the way she made him feel, as if he were the most perfect man in the world.

  * * * *

  Catherine had long since given up on her meal and concentrated fully on Nick. Against her will – and better judgment – she’d fallen madly and hopelessly in love with him. No other man would do. Since realizing her love for this man, she’d prayed fervently to God to allow her to be with Nick and not Grant. She longed for a happy life...a happy marriage, and loving her husband. Nick would be the only one to fulfill her dreams. Not Grant.

  A movement from the other end of the table drew her attention. Nick straightened and moved his attention from her to his uncle. She followed suit, wishing she could gaze at Nick forever.

  Grant cleared his throat. “I think we can adjourn to the drawing room now.”

  Grant and her father rose from the table, along with Gregg and Ian. She pushed away and stood the same time Gertrude did. Nick nearly jumped out of his chair to help her, and she smiled. Truly, he was the perfect man for her.

  He held out his arm for her to take, and she slipped her fingers around the crook of his elbow as they walked with the others toward the drawing room. She enjoyed this closeness too much, and worried her father would notice how she acted. For certain, the expression on her face was probably one of pleasure since that was the emotion blossoming inside her right now.

  Everyone sat on a couch or chair, but Gregg and Ian moved to the card table to play draughts. Nick sat beside her as they listened to Grant and her father talk and laugh about their childhood memories. It surprised her to see Mary hanging near Grant, fluffing a pillow to place in back of him, or pouring him a cup of tea. Strange, because weren’t servants supposed to do this?