Chapter One

Present Day, London, Springtime

Holding her breath, Katherine turned a page in her novel. The fashionable etiquette handbook her mother had become addicted to since the funeral had a great deal to say about reading material in times of mourning.

Novels, needless to say, were heartily frowned upon.

Still, the Duchess – or Dowager Duchess, as she was now – was not quite as forceful as her husband had been, and only had heavy disapproval to threaten her children with.

It was quite freeing, not that Katherine would dare voice her opinions aloud.

To all intents and purposes, the Willoughby family was still in mourning after the tragic loss of their patriarch, the great Duke of Dunleigh himself. Consolations came rolling in, although notably, the second son of the family did not.

Henry, as Alexander had predicted, had been impossible to contact. Numerous letters were sent to him, explaining the situation and requesting his return home at once, since the will could not be read until his return.

No response had been forthcoming. In the end, just as the family was tentatively creeping out of mourning, a family friend had acted on a tip and gone to France, finding Henry in Paris, and bringing him disconsolately home.

Henry had never said whether he'd received the letters or not, and nobody had asked. It was easier that way.

He had naturally missed the funeral, of course, and was obliged to go into his own period of mourning since he'd missed the family mourning. They generally contented themselves with a black armband at this stage, and Henry was somewhat peeved to be plunged into deep mourning.

There was a sense of guilt among them all, that was generally not mentioned. For her part, Katherine had not been able to cry a single tear at the funeral, although thankfully her thick black veil had covered her face well enough.

There was a gentle tap on the door – that was something new, their mother knocking before she entered a room – and Katherine just had time to mark her place in the book before the Duchess sailed in, plucking the book from her hands and slamming it closed.

"Novels, Katherine?" the Duchess said, her voice dripping with displeasure. "You know how I feel about such things."

She eyed the title and shook her head. "Rosalie's Trials, by L. Sterling. This author is particularly crass."

"They are not crass. They're wonderful."

The Duchess snorted, tossing the book onto a nearby seat.

L. Sterling was a relatively new author, but their books were already sweeping the country. The critics, of course, decried them, preferring their books to have solid morals and heroines who did more Womanly things, like fainting and needing to be rescued.

Her current book, the second volume in Rosalie's adventures, was just as thrilling as all the others. Rosalie was a plucky and intelligent young woman, who was naturally enjoying a romance with a likeable young man, but also managed to do things by herself, and rescued herself quite frequently. It was a refreshing change, and the swooning was kept to a minimum.

"We're reading the will," the Duchess said shortly. "Meet us in the study at once, Katherine."

The Duchess turned on her heel and strode out, leaving a strong scent of rosewater in her wake.

Katherine didn't immediately follow. Since her father's death, it felt as if she'd lost two parents, instead of just one. The Duchess seemed to feel her husband's death more keenly than anyone else, although that made little sense to Katherine. The Duke had been just as cruel to his wife as he had been to his children.

Not the point, Katherine reminded herself. He's dead. No need to be cruel. It doesn't matter what he did to us, or how he treated us. He died, and that's that.

She rose to her feet, shaking out her skirts with a sigh. Part of her was excited, which only made the guilty feeling worse.

By the sounds of it, everyone was already gathered in the study already, the murmur of voices drifting out into the hall.

Katherine was the last to arrive. Seats were arranged in a semicircle in front of the late Duke's desk – she supposed that William was now the current Duke, although the estate had been in limbo while they waited for Henry to return – and the executor of the will, Mr Thompson, shifted from foot to foot behind the desk.

They all turned and looked at her, a trifle annoyed at the delay.

William's face was white and drawn – the last year had been troublesome for him. Henry was deeply tanned and looked rather too handsome and satisfied for a man who'd lost his father. Alexander looked miserable, his round face thinning out a little. Their mother, of course, seemed to have aged at least ten years.

Katherine knew that she looked more or less the same, if a little paler from all their time shut up in the house, mourning. She flashed a weak smile around and sat down beside Alexander.

A year ago, she would have preferred to sit beside William. It would be a lie to say she didn't have a favourite brother. But William had acted strangely since the accident, and of course Henry was distant as always. If he couldn't be literally distant from his family, he kept a neat emotional distance.

"Now that we are all here," Mr Thompson said, with the barest hint of reproach in his voice, "we can begin the will reading, which has long been delayed. His Grace the Duke of Dunleigh left a specific will. Naturally, the title and the entailed estate goes to his heir, Lord William Willoughby, but that leaves a vast part of the estate which must be divided. I shall begin."

Clearing his throat officiously, the man began to read. It started much as Katherine had expected, with a list of the late Duke's belongings, wealth, estates, and so on. Some of it was connected to the title, so the new Duke of Dunleigh would inherit that, but what about the rest?

Katherine frowned, leaning forward in her seat. The executor appeared rather nervous. He was a thin, balding man, with wisps of grey hair at his ears, and too-tight pince-nez on his nose. He glanced frequently up at them, gaze flicking nervously around the room.

He must have already read the will, of course. What was he afraid of?

One by one, he listed the members of the family who would be provided for. The Duchess, being the primary heir, would naturally receive Dowager House along with a substantial jointure and a significant sum of money, easily enough to keep her in comfort for the rest of her life. He listed the sums of money each of his children would inherit. Only William inherited land and the estate, but Henry, Katherine, and Alexander would be tremendously wealthy in their own rights.

It had occurred to Katherine, of course, that their father would try some last-minute nastiness, like cutting somebody out of the will, or something equally spiteful. But no, he seemed to have provided for everybody. Katherine watched Alexander sink back into his seat with a relieved sigh and guessed that he had outstanding debts to pay off. She could almost see the maps revolving in Henry's head, thinking of where he would travel next.

As for herself, that money meant freedom. No need to marry, if she couldn't find a man who suited her. She could buy a house and live there by herself, if she liked.

I could travel, if I wanted. I can do what I like. I'm free.

The will seemed to come to an end, but Mr Thompson still stood there, eyeing them all nervously.

"His Grace added a stipulation to the will, shortly before his death," he said hesitantly. "He was concerned about what would become of his family after his death. I… I shall read what he wrote. ‘In case my family should forget what is due of the Willoughbys and the great Dunleigh Estate, I have chosen to remind them. While I cannot stop my eldest son inheriting his title and the small amount of money attached to the estate, the rest of the property and money is mine to dispose of as I wish. The inheritance due to my widow will remain unchanged and unencumbered. However, before my children may access their inheritance, they are required to marry in a court of law. On the date of their marriage, they may receive their full inheritance, and…"

Clamor broke out. Henry leapt to his feet.

"We have to marry?" he shouted, clenching his fists. "All of us? Are you mad?"

Mr Thompson held out his hand in a placating gesture.

"Please, Lord Henry, let me finish…"

He was not allowed to finish. Alexander started to shout, and William was saying something, and the Duchess was crying, and Katherine found herself on her feet, trying to tug the will out of the poor lawyer's hands. He hung on grimly.

"This cannot be legal," William said, pitching his voice above the chaos.

Mr Thompson adjusted his pince-nez. "I am afraid that it is. You may try and break the will, if you like, but I can assure you it will take years, and the entire Dunleigh estate will likely be eaten up before it is settled. Regrettably, this will is completely impervious to challenge. If you wish to receive your inheritance, you must marry. You'll receive a small allowance each until that happens."

He named the sum, and Henry groaned aloud, sinking back into his seat. It was a paltry amount.

"So, all of us must marry to receive our inheritance, or can one of us marry and receive their money?" Alexander asked. Shockingly, he was the level-headed one today. The Duchess was still weeping quietly.

Mr Thompson fiddled with his pince-nez again.

"That brings me to my next point. Each may receive his inheritance once he marries, with one exception. Lady Katherine must marry first, before anyone can receive any money."

A heavy silence landed on the room. Katherine felt guilty over mocking those swooning heroines, as her knees buckled under her. Thankfully, a seat was there – Alexander to the rescue, she suspected – and she landed heavily in it, knocking the breath out of herself.

"So, if I don't marry," she heard herself say, voice wobbling, "nobody can get their inheritance?"

Silence. Everyone looked at Mr Thompson. The poor man – who really did not deserve this – drew in a breath.

"No," he said quietly. "They cannot."

Chaos again. William was arguing with Henry, Alexander was over at the desk trying to reason with Mr Thompson – as if that would do any good – and Katherine sat where she was, feeling as if she'd been turned to stone.

There'd be no money, then. No freedom for her. If she didn't marry, her entire family would be doomed to poverty. Henry and Alexander would be penniless, and William saddled with a title and estate he could not afford to run.

It all depended on her.

She recalled that fateful morning in the horse paddock, the way the Duke's gaze had slid over William's shoulder and landed on her, full of contempt and disapproval.

How he must have hated me, Katherine thought, tears pricking at her eyes. Even dead, he wants to have the last laugh. He wants to control us.

And he'd succeeded, quite nicely.

She considered getting to her feet. The study was too hot and stuffy, somehow, and she wanted so badly to get some fresh air, although her legs felt like jelly.

"There's more," Mr Thompson said, his voice wavering. Five pairs of eyes turned on him. No, four pairs, as the Duchess had fainted again.

"Tell us," William said heavily. "I'm not sure you can make it any worse."

Mr Thompson gave a nervous chuckle. "You have one year from the date of the reading of this will to secure a spouse and your inheritance. Whoever is not married will lose their money forever, and it will go to a distant relative. If Lady Katherine is not married, the entirety of the inheritance will be lost."

Katherine had worried about bursting into tears, but the reality was much worse. She started to laugh, high, hysterical giggles bubbling up out of her mouth no matter how hard she pressed her hand against it.

It's over, she thought dizzily. It's all over.