by Lora Thomas
“Explain exactly what, Iris?”
“I didn’t mean to have relations with Branson. Things just happened.”
“Just happened? A fall ‘just happens.’ Someone pouring a cup of warm milk down you ‘just happens.’ Someone’s cock entering your body does not.” He jerked his arm away. “Do not follow me. Do not speak to me. We are through, Lady Iris.”
Exiting the house, he walked towards his coach. As he was about to climb in, he spotted Hawke. Joshua was too far away for Thomas to call. He then spotted Catrina and Elena. They approached Hawke and entered the carriage.
Thomas’s fists coiled in anger. What had he done to upset Catrina? The evening went through his mind, and he could recall nothing that he did out of sorts.
He called to his driver, “Take me home,” and entered his carriage. A figure sitting against the far side captured his attention.
“What are you doing here?” Thomas asked.
Miriam removed the hood of her cape. “Checking on you.”
“I am fine.”
“Fine, are you? I know how you loathe public drama. And I must say, that was the finest display of drama I have seen in some time.”
A frustrated breath left Thomas. “Do you need something, Miriam?”
“No. I told you. I was worried about you.”
“There is nothing to concern yourself with.”
A deep sigh left the dowager countess. “You are so much like your father in your actions. You hide your feelings well. But I saw how you doted over Miss Wilcox this evening. For the first time in a long time, you appeared settled. Her outburst and anger have upset you. What happened? I saw the two of you slip outside, and when she returned, she was alone, tears in her eyes.”
“How do you know she was crying?”
“I have been the other woman, Thomas. Or did you forget? I know what those whispers by the gossipmongers feel like. I know how deeply their words cut. Iris took great delight in feeding the flames of untruths about Miss Wilcox.”
“I have not heard of any.”
“You may not have heard them, but I have. If you had come out of your self-isolation these past weeks, then you would have heard the rumors, too. My guess is that Miss Wilcox heard them this evening. But I want to know why you would discuss your relationship with her? That is so unlike you.”
“I have not discussed my relationship with Catrina with anyone,” Thomas defended with hostility.
“Then why would she say you did? Why would she be so angry with you?”
Thomas pressed his lips together and swallowed his bitterness. Shaking his head, he turned and stared out the window. “I do not know.”
“Think, Thomas. Who did you speak with this evening?”
Thomas whipped his head around to face Miriam. Angry lines were etched upon his face. “Why are you suddenly interested in my relationship with Miss Wilcox?”
“Thomas, I have known you since you were just a babe. You were always a proud, strong person. You hide your feelings well. But tonight, as you danced with Miss Wilcox, you seemed happy. You were smiling and laughing. I have not seen you smile like that in years.”
“I laugh often.”
“Not like tonight. It was a carefree laugh. You seemed happy. Less bitter.” She leaned over and took his hand. “You may not be a child of my loins, but I love you like you are my own, Thomas.”
Thomas squeezed her hand. “I know.”
“And if Miss Wilcox makes you happy, why not ask for her hand?”
“It is much more complicated than that.”
“Then tell me.”
“Her brother is Branson Wilcox, the man Josephine is quarreling with in Swindon.”
“And how is that an issue?”
“He is Catrina’s guardian until she comes of age. I would need his blessing.”
Miriam shook her head. “No, you would not.”
“Miriam, I would. He must sign for her.”
“Not if you take her to Gretna Green. Scotland does not follow our ways.”
Thomas looked out the window again. “Look, Miriam, I appreciate your concern, but a future with Catrina Wilcox and me will never happen. She is to wed another. And after tonight, she appears to hate me, and I do not know why.”
“Who did you speak with this evening?”
“When we came inside from our stroll, I went to the study and retrieved us some wine. I spoke to Uncle Marcum and then…” His eyes widened as his hand came to his forehead. “Bloody hell!”
“What?”
“She must have overheard Uncle Marcum and me. He said something to the effect that I was only socializing with Catrina to aid Mother. That there is nothing like having a good tumble with an enemy’s sibling and that there is nothing more damaging.”
“But that idiot said those words, not you?”
“But I repeated them. I guess Catrina overheard me.” Thomas closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the frame of the carriage. “No wonder she was so angry with me.”
“I can see her reasoning.”
Thomas righted his body. “I must tell her it was a misunderstanding.”
“I would not do so tonight, Thomas,” Miriam cautioned.
“I must.”
“No. She is upset and will not believe you. Go to her tomorrow once she has had time to calm herself.” Miriam could see the turmoil in Thomas’s green eyes. “Trust me, Thomas. I know a thing or two on how the female mind works.”
The coach stopped before Thomas’s home.
“Thomas. Wait until tomorrow. Promise me.”
He nodded.
Miriam gave his hand one last squeeze. “Now, would you mind if I borrowed your coach?”
Thomas smiled and shook his head. “No.”
“Come see me tomorrow after you speak to Miss Wilcox.”
Thomas nodded and exited the coach. He instructed the driver to take Miriam home and entered his house. Miriam was correct…as usual. Tonight would not be a wise time to visit Catrina. He would call on her tomorrow and explain. He would tell her what she heard was him defending her. He would tell her how happy she makes him. How he cannot breathe without her near. He would tell her that she is all he can think of and how it pains him to think of her with another.
Climbing the steps, he entered his chambers and removed his clothing. Climbing into bed, a shiver ran down his spine from the coolness of the sheets. A contented smile came to him as he closed his lids. Catrina made him feel things he had never felt with another woman. Why?
His mouth parted, and his eyes opened. “I love her,” he whispered. His hand came to his forehead as the realization of the emotions coursing through his body came to him. “Bloody hell. I truly love her.”
For the first time in his life, he felt that his life had direction, and it was because he loved Catrina Wilcox.
Branson was seething with frustration as he entered his hotel room. Damn her! That irritating woman had ruined everything! He should have known Catrina would do something so rash as to publicly point out his and Iris’s relationship. And now? His plan to humiliate Huntsley was ruined. But then again, Catrina had aided in tainting the man’s reputation just a tad more, and she had added a mark to her name as well.
Upon Branson’s slamming the door, the person inside fell from his chair.
“Mr. Wilcox,” Mr. Wilkerson said, standing. He blinked several times and stumbled.
“Drunk again,” Branson said, tossing his overcoat onto the settee.
Fredrick took a step, and the bottles under his feet rolled around the room.
“Please clean those up. I will not have the hotel staff thinking I associate with drunkards.”
“Yes, sir.” Fred went to bend over but fell.
“You buffoon! Please conduct yourself like a gentleman while we are here.”
“I will try.”
“Now, Fredrick. Have some decorum while in London. I have people here I need to impress. Once we return to Swindon, you can spend your d
ays at the bottom of a barrel, but while we are here in London, you will abstain from drinking. Understand?”
“But my hands shake when I don’t have a drink. And I see things.”
“Not one drop, Fredrick. Besides, we will not be here long. Tomorrow, I will inform Catrina of our arrangements. And in three days, we will return to Swindon. Surely you can stay sober during that time…if that is not too much to ask.”
Fred nodded. “Yes, sir.” He then fell back into his seat and covered his face.
“What now?”
“It’s just that I’ve known Miss Wilcox since she was in nappies. I…I…I was there when she was born. I fetched the doctor. I don’t think—”
Branson pivoted and bore down on Fredrick. “Do you want to hang, Mr. Wilkerson?”
Fred fervently shook his head.
“Then you will go through with our arrangement.”
“It's just that Miss Wilcox don’t deserve what you got planned.”
“She deserves every ounce of what I have planned. If it was not for her, my parents would still be alive.”
“That was my doing.”
“No. It was hers. She knew she was not supposed to be at that old well. But she went anyway. It was her fault she fell in. It was her fault she hit her head. It was her fault that you were too drunk to safely see my parents home. She is the cause of my misery. For that, she owes me.”
“It's just that I’m too old for her to marry. I can’t give her children. I’ve known her since she took her first breaths. Our marriage won’t be sealed. I can’t do that to her.”
“I do not care what you do with her after you are wed. You can bed her or beat her or sell her. The choice on that is yours. What you do not have a choice on is her inheritance. The second your ‘I do’s’ are spoken, you are to sign over her inheritance to me. Every shilling. It is the least you could do for killing my parents in your drunken state.”
Fred looked at Branson through red bloodshot eyes and nodded.
“Good. Now, you can sleep upon the settee…if you can stay on it. Be prepared to rise at dawn. We have much to do tomorrow.”
Chapter Nineteen
The clock struck eleven, and the draperies in her room opened simultaneously, filling the room with light. Catrina pulled the covers over her head.
“Close those drapes,” Catrina grumbled. “It was nearly dawn before I came to bed.”
“Sorry, miss. But Mrs. Paxsley instructed me to wake you,” Mary, one of the maids, said.
“Whatever for?”
“You have a visitor.”
Catrina scowled as she nestled down into the bed. “Who?”
“Your brother.”
Catrina groaned and put a pillow over her face to muffle her scream.
“Are you well, miss?” the servant asked.
“Yes. No. No. No. No!”
Mary began picking up the clothing scattered about the room. “I am sorry, miss. Is there something I can do?”
“Would you consider murdering my brother?” Catrina mumbled, tossing the blankets from her body.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. Tell my brother I will be down as soon as I dress.”
“Very good, miss. I will send someone to help you dress.” Mary left.
Catrina crawled out of bed. Why was Branson here? It was entirely too early to deal with her idiotic brother. It was well after midnight before she and Elena made it home from the ball. They stayed up talking until dawn before they went to bed. Catrina was hoping for a good rest before she had to tackle her sibling.
Approaching the wardrobe, she removed a pale pink day gown. After pulling on the gown, she ran a brush through her hair and tied it back with a yellow ribbon. She had dressed by the time the maid returned.
Catrina did not rush to greet her brother. She ambled down the stairs at a snail’s pace. She was about to make a detour through the music room when Branson stuck his head out of the parlor door.
“It is about time you got down here,” Branson complained.
“If I knew you would not come upstairs and physically dress me yourself, I would still be up there.”
“I am glad to see that Eden did not take away your charming personality.” Branson turned and entered the study.
Catrina rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth as she followed him into the room. “What do you want, Branson? I know you are not here because you missed me.”
“Now, is that any way to address your loving brother?”
“Yes.” Catrina’s eyes landed on their coachman. He appeared frazzled. “What are you doing here, Mr. Wilkerson?”
Fredrick stood. He was wringing his cap in his hands. “Good morning, Miss Wilcox.”
Catrina looked between her brother and the coachman. “What is going on?”
“Please sit, Catrina.” Branson motioned to the settee.
“I would prefer to stand.”
Branson shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“Why are you here, Branson?”
“I will tell you when you sit,” Branson snapped.
“Fine,” Catrina growled. She approached a wooden chair and sat down.
“Thank you,” Branson said without sincerity. He sat down in a chair opposite her. “As you know, I have arranged a husband for you.”
“No,” Catrina interjected. “You said you were going to try to find me a husband. And I truly hope you were unsuccessful.”
“After that fiasco last night, you should be happy any man would want you. You made a grand spectacle of yourself, sister. Spreading all those dreadful lies about Lady Iris.” His look turned unusually dark. “And let us not forget how you told all in attendance about your indiscretion with Huntsley.”
“Lies?! You are the liar. You and that shrew Lady Iris.”
“Do not speak ill of Lady Iris.”
“She is no lady. She is a whore, Branson. But then again, why else would you visit her?”
“And you would be an expert on that, wouldn’t you, little sister?”
Catrina’s eyes widened and a gasp left her.
“You did warn me, didn’t you? How you were going to ruin yourself with Huntsley. I just did not think you would seriously go through with it.” He snorted with anger. “I should have known you would whore yourself to spite me.”
Catrina shot to her feet. “You bastard!” Before she could counsel herself against the action, her hand connected with Branson’s cheek.
Branson’s face turned crimson as he shot to his feet and drew back his hand. His jaw worked as he contemplated his actions. Instead, Branson lowered his hand and clenched his fists. “Enough of this.”
“No! How dare you call me a whore. I am your sister. How dare you and Iris conspire to try to pass your bastard off as Lord Huntsley’s. That is despicable, even for you, Branson.”
“I said enough!” Branson demanded.
Catrina did not back down. “Tell me, was that part of your plan? You hated Thomas so much you aimed to ruin his chances of marriage? You wanted to hurt him, so you planted your seed in Iris’s belly for revenge.”
The sound of Branson’s hand striking Catrina’s cheek echoed around the room.
Catrina gasped, and her hand came to her stinging cheek. She looked at Mr. Wilkerson for assistance. The coachman stayed in his seat, still working his cap.
“I said enough,” Branson seethed again.
Catrina turned to leave, but Branson caught her arm.
“Let me go,” Catrina hissed.
“I am your guardian, Catrina. So unless you want to be locked in your room like a child, you will remain here to listen to what I have to say.”
“Then say it and let me go.”
“I have placed the banns for your marriage.”
“How kind of you? Who is the unlucky man?” Disdain dripped from every syllable.
“Mr. Wilkerson.”
The color left Catrina’s face as she looked at the man she had known her entire life. “You cannot be ser
ious?”
“I am. The banns have been out for two weeks. I have arranged for a license. You will marry tomorrow.”
Catrina gasped for air. “Mr. Wilkerson? You agreed to this?”
Before Fred could answer, Branson did. “Of course, he did.”
“I want to hear him say it, Branson. I want to hear Mr. Wilkerson say that he agreed, of his own accord, to this. I want to hear him say that he did so willingly and that I will get to keep my inheritance.”
“You get to keep your inheritance?” Branson repeated. “Do not be preposterous, Catrina. I will still be in control of your money. I will make sound investments and purchase properties to increase my…I mean, your wealth.”
“I am sure you will,” Catrina replied with mockery. She looked back at Mr. Wilkerson. “Why would you agree to this? You have nothing to gain.”
Fred stared blankly at the floor. He had to repeat the words Branson instructed him to say. If not, he would hang. “I’ll make you a good husband, Miss Wilcox. I’ll give you the life you deserve.”
Catrina jerked her arm free from Branson’s grasp and approached Fred. “Stand up.”
“Miss Wilcox—”
“I said, stand up and face me like a man.”
Fred stood and wobbled. Catrina leaned in closer and sniffed.
“Have you been drinking?”
“I…I…”
“How much have you had to drink this morning, Mr. Wilkerson?”
Fred shook his head.
“How much?”
“Not much. Just enough to keep my hands steady.”
Catrina turned to face her brother. “You brought a drunkard into this home. A man I have known my entire life. And for what reason? To force me to marry him? Why?”
“I told you,” Branson said, a warning to his voice.
“No, you did not.”
“Be nice, sister. You have created a spectacle of yourself enough this week.”
“I will not. How dare you—”
“You have no choice, Catrina. I am your guardian. You will marry Mr. Wilkerson tomorrow morning and do so without complaint. I would hate to give you a tonic before your wedding.”
“You would drug me in order to get what you want?”
“I want what is rightfully mine. And this is how it is going to happen…with or without your cooperation. Now pack your things.”
