Chapter Thirteen

Sebastian hadn’t joined them in the parlor, where dinner consisted of the promised roast beef and gravy. The others groaned at the sight of it and tucked in with hearty appetites, but Catherine found she wasn’t hungry, and even less so when it became obvious Albury wasn’t going to come rushing in, apologizing for his lateness, and smiling at her.

It was her fault. She would never be a successful whist player. Her face showed too much, gave away her thoughts, and then her mouth joined in. And if that wasn’t enough, she had spoken to him about love! As if he were Jack’s age and needed guidance, instead of a grown man who lived the way he wanted to and knew his own mind.

Mrs. Fotheringham’s voice broke through her thoughts, speaking to the room in general. “I heard Mr. Rose say we may be able to leave tomorrow if the weather stays fine.” She turned to her son and added in a bracing tone, “Just think, Benny, we’ll be on our way to see your grandparents!”

As expected, Benny whined, “I don’t want to go.”

His contrariness made Catherine smile. Jack was the same, although he was quieter in his rebellion. Sometimes too quiet. Winstanton was no place for a small boy, his only company two grown women and elderly servants. When she had seen Sebastian building the snowman with Benny, she couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if Jack were there, in Benny’s place.

The door opened and she looked up hopefully, but it was only a servant bringing in more food. Some sort of custardy pudding with cream to go with it. Not Sebastian then, but she already knew in her heart he would not be joining them this time.

“At this rate I’ll be getting as fat as Prinny!” Anthea exclaimed, eyeing the pudding greedily.

“Show some respect, woman,” Querol growled. “To you he is His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales.”

“Pooh!” Anthea responded. “He likes to be called Prinny.”

There was heavy silence as those present wondered whether she genuinely knew the prince personally, but no one was brave—or rude—enough to ask. Even Querol simply shook his head before he went back to his meal.

Catherine looked at the door again, her disappointment growing as Sebastian stayed stubbornly away. That moment outside, with the snowman and the long look that had passed between them—she had seen something in him that he didn’t want her to see. Like a hidden door had been briefly unlocked and flung open, and she had a glimpse into his most private thoughts and feelings. It was only a moment and then he had locked the door up tight again.

Had she truly been thinking there might be a happy ever after with this man whose reputation preceded him? He was damaged, she could see that now. Whatever had happened with his mother and father had wounded him in a way that had not healed. Her words to him, although kindly meant, had peeled back the surface to expose his most painful memories, and she hadn’t stopped there. She’d gone on, tearing into the exposed flesh. Pointless and cruel. He did not want to change. He did not want to play happy families, not with her or anyone else. This was a brief interlude, just one of many he had had before, and then he would move on. He had told her, he had warned her, and instead of listening she had allowed herself to begin to feel. To want to heal him.

Foolishly, she had allowed her longing for the impossible to ruin the pleasure she had dreamed about for years. He had even exceeded her hopes, and still she could not accept the finality of it. She kept wanting to turn it into something it wasn’t and never could be. No wonder Sebastian had taken fright!

Giving up on her meal, Catherine pushed aside her plate, excused herself, and went upstairs. She had thought to spend some time alone, smoothing over her jagged emotions, but Maggie was there. She was busily tidying the room, while Dodds leaned against the windowsill and watched her. He straightened up abruptly when Catherine entered.

“Your Grace,” he said, and made to leave, but Catherine held up a hand to stop him.

“Please, there is no need to go. I have come up for my cloak. I thought a walk outside might help blow away these megrims.”

Maggie and Dodds exchanged a look that seemed to speak volumes. When had they become so attuned to each other?

Dodds spoke again. “I need to sew a button on one of the viscount’s shirts, Your Grace. I wouldn’t want him to look anything but his debonair best.”

Catherine found a smile from somewhere, but he had already closed the door after him. Maggie helped Catherine into her fur lined cloak, but she noticed her maid was frowning as she tied the cords at her throat. “You will need your gloves, and your outdoor shoes. I think it is colder than it was before.” She produced the required items and scurried about Catherine, helping her to put them on.

“I’m only going for a walk,” Catherine protested, even though it felt rather nice to be fussed over. “I have a... a headache.”

“You do seem out of sorts.” Maggie rose to her feet once the shoes were in place.

“I think it is from being shut up indoors,” Catherine said, ignoring her maid’s skeptical glance. “Some fresh air will do the trick.”

“Well, don’t wander far. Would you like me to go with you?” Maggie’s voice had taken on a worried note.

“I will be perfectly all right,” Catherine insisted, putting an end to it by changing the subject. “Are you still enjoying Dodds’ company? You seem very close. Almost as if you can read each other’s minds.”

Maggie snorted her usual laugh. “I’m not sure I want to read his mind. But we are enjoying being together. I think he imagines himself as the viscount’s guardian angel, there to keep his master out of trouble. And there has been plenty of trouble, I can tell you.” She chuckled to herself.

Catherine imagined some of the stories Dodds could tell about Sebastian’s antics. The thought only depressed her more, and she made haste to leave her room and head downstairs.

Outside, the sinking sun was peeping through the clouds, which was a pleasant surprise, although the melting snowman looked rather sad. Benny would be disappointed, but Catherine lifted her face to the light with a smile, as she made her way toward the wood. To her surprise there was a path that was visible despite the snow on the ground. Perhaps the trees gave enough shelter to keep it from being covered completely. She walked deeper into the wood, aware of the deepening shadows but enjoying the stillness.

When she was young and lived in Hampshire, she used to walk to the farm near her home. To get there she’d had to make her way through woods and beside a stream, with the twittering birds her only companions. Her mother had been unwell for a time after her father died, and it had been up to Catherine to bring home enough food to get them by. Sometimes her sisters came with her, and their noisy laughter and bickering rang out as they walked. Ellis and Sophia had always fought, and Catherine had been the peacemaker.

The Mallorys might have been poor, near to destitute, but Catherine had accepted it. She had never expected more, and she supposed she had been happy. As long as they had food to eat and a bed to sleep in, she could bear the rest. Of course, she knew now that her mother had had much grander dreams, and once the letter from her cousin had arrived, offering them lodgings in London, she couldn’t leave the past behind her fast enough.

“All we need is a foothold,” Ellen Mallory had declared. “I can’t accept that my three beautiful daughters are to be wasted on country bumpkins.”

When they had arrived in London, it was Catherine who was dangled in front of the ton, with her flawless skin, soulful dark eyes, and her perfect profile. Her freckles were her only blemish, and her mother had despaired of them and tried all manner of remedies to make them vanish. And yet despite the freckles, Catherine had captured the wealthy old Duke of Winstanton and laid the foundation for her two sisters to follow.

She admitted to herself that the thing she yearned for most from her previous life was the simplicity of it. She had been happy, even after her father died, because she was with her family, and she felt useful to them. Then she had lost that closeness and been set adrift. Yes, she had Jack, but her title and the castle meant nothing to her. No doubt others would laugh at her unhappiness and call her ridiculous, but she had never wanted those trappings. And if occasionally she had thought being wealthy and a duchess might be nice, she had soon learned that without love it was meaningless.

By now the cold had seeped through her cloak, and she shivered, looking about at the monochrome landscape. The sun was sinking further and before long it would vanish beneath the horizon. Sometimes, at Winstanton, it felt dark for most of the year. There was a walled garden she had tried to grow flowers in but either the cold or hungry creatures had put an end to it. During her year of mourning, she had sat in the castle and it had felt like she was waiting, marking time, although she wasn’t certain for what. Perhaps like in one of Ellis’ silly books she was waiting for her prince to come and rescue her.

Well, he had not turned up because there was no prince, no rescue, and it was foolish of her to imagine there was. Catherine knew very well there was only one person she could rely on to solve her problems, and that was herself. She had always known it, and she wasn’t sure why she had begun to believe otherwise.

Jack was at Winstanton and she would return there, but things had to change. She could not live for the next fifteen years in that place as it was. She wasn’t sure how to alter her circumstances for the better, but she would discover a way.

Feeling a little less fraught, Catherine turned to retrace her steps to the inn, only to give a start when she saw she was not alone. A little way from her stood a man with pale hair in a many-caped coat, leaning against the trunk of a tree and watching her. Just for a moment she imagined him an otherworldly creature, lurking in the encroaching shadows and ready to spirit her away. Her practical mind soon rejected such nonsense.

“What are you doing here?” she asked sharply.

Sebastian came to meet her, saying in his charming and amusing way, “Dodds told me you were out for a walk. He seemed to be under the impression you would get lost in the wood. Like some heroine in a fairytale, whisked away into the secret realm of the little folk. Or maybe you might encounter a wolf. I thought I’d best keep an eye on you.”

She refused to be charmed, but she forced a polite smile. “This isn’t an enchanted forest. And I was never in any danger of being whisked away or eaten by a wolf.” Was she? Catherine glanced about her with a frown, and asked uncertainly, “Are there still wolves in the north?”

He chuckled. “No. It has been a long time since they roamed the countryside around here.”

Silence fell. His presence made Catherine uncomfortable, and she wished he would go. Why was he watching her in that curious way? Her heart beat faster and suddenly that breathlessness was back. She didn’t want to feel like this. She refused to feel like this. She needed to put some distance between them.

Catherine went to walk past him, but he reached out and took her hand in his. She was so surprised that she let it lay there, unprotesting. He squeezed her fingers gently through their gloves, and this close she could feel his warmth through their clothing. Her treacherous body wanted to press against him, to have his arms about her and be held one last time.

She pulled her hand away, remembering that this was the man who had absented himself from the meal because she had dared to pry into his past. It had been wrong to do that, she admitted it, but his rejection still made her feel foolish and hurt, and she would not allow herself to be put in that position again. No matter how charming he might be when it suited him.

Sebastian’s eyes were still on her face, and he had that pinch between his brows. As if something was worrying him, as if she was worrying him. “The groom says the road is clear to the south but not yet to the north. A tree fell across it and Rose has sent some men to cut it up and remove it.”

“That is a relief!” she said, as he no doubt meant her to. “So we will be on our way tomorrow? Oh, I am so glad.” Perhaps she was a little too enthusiastic.

“Our patience has been rewarded.” The smile that curled at the corners of his mouth wasn’t quite as charming as before.

She set a brisk pace back along the path through the wood. But if she thought he would let her go, she was wrong. He joined her, matching her steps, their boots crunching on the snow the only sound in the gloomy silence. In front of them the inn was a solid dark shape through the trees, with smoke curling from its chimney and swirling on the ground in a grey mist.

Catherine needed to say something. The silence between them felt loaded with words she must not speak. She did not want to cause him pain, or herself. What she finally blurted out was, “Maggie and Dodds have become good friends.”

“Hmm.” That frown again.

“Don’t you approve?”

“No, it isn’t that. I’m just surprised. Dodds is normally such a grumpy, solitary fellow. Your Maggie seems to have captivated him. I’m not sure what to make of it.”

Catherine smiled. “Maggie has a way of captivating gentlemen. She then breaks their hearts without a second thought, but this time it seems different.”

He grunted. Then said a little stiffly, “I apologize for not joining you for dinner. I was—”

“There’s no need to apologize,” she said quickly. “I have no expectations of you, Sebastian. You are entitled to do as you please. We are strangers after all.”

She thought that was what he had wanted to hear but instead he gave her a swift look, his blue eyes questioning. If he was trying to read her thoughts he was out of luck. Over the years Catherine had become just as adept at hiding her feelings as he. Did he think she might break down and beg him to stay with her? Admit she had developed inappropriate feelings for him? Cause embarrassment to them both? Well, it wasn’t going to happen.

Together they turned toward the front of the inn, and Catherine was certain this was the moment they would separate, so she was shocked when he turned to her and spoke in a diffident voice, no longer quite sure of himself.

“Will you join me in my room for supper? One final time, Catherine, before we leave.”

She almost laughed, but he was in earnest. “Is this your cock talking?” she asked sarcastically. It was certainly not his heart.

He looked surprised. “Don’t pretend we haven’t enjoyed ourselves. Are you saying that if we had the time again you’d turn your back on me and sit alone in your room? Come, Catherine, admit it. Together we experienced a level of passion I will long remember.”

It was true. She had enjoyed every moment of their time in bed. He had opened her eyes to the physical pleasures she had been missing all these years, and at the same time he had been patient with her. Understanding. It wasn’t fair of her to blame him for not wanting a deeper connection. He had done as she asked of him, hadn’t he?

Catherine had been going to refuse his offer but now she didn’t want to. He was right, they had enjoyed each other, and she didn’t want to sit sulking in her room. One last night with him, that was what she wanted. To make more memories she could store away for whatever future awaited her at Winstanton. What did it matter if she said yes? She would only be hurting herself.

She glanced up at him and away again. Her hands trembled as she tucked them beneath her cloak. “As you have asked so nicely, Sebastian, I will accept. One last night with the famous rake and then we are done.”

He let out his breath, as if he had been holding it while he waited for her answer. “The ‘famous rake’ thanks you,” he said, half laughing. There was a flush in his cheeks which must be from the cold, and his pale eyes glittered.

Whatever would have been said next was interrupted by shouts and horses’ hooves pounding. An equipage raced along the road and drew up in front of them before the inn. Catherine stared. It was a curricle, something more familiar on London streets or bowling through Hyde Park than all the way up here. Mr. Rose came hurrying out of the inn, shouting to the stable boys and calling for servants to help with luggage. He was holding a lantern and by its light Catherine saw that the occupants of the curricle were a fashionable lady and gentleman.

“At last!” The lady threw off the blanket from her lap and jumped down to the ground. An oval of her face was the only thing visible within the fur lined hood, but she pushed it back and Catherine could see she was vivacious and pretty. She began to chatter nineteen to the dozen about the uncomfortable journey they had had from their last stop. The hostelry there had not been to her liking. “A dreadful room, you wouldn’t believe the state of it.”

“I can assure you that our rooms are clean and comfortable,” Mr. Rose said smugly, waving to the stable boy to take the heads of the horses.

“I do hope so. The bed was distinctly lumpy.” She looked restlessly about and spotted her audience. Her face lit up in recognition. “Albury? Is it you? What a pleasant surprise! If any man can take my mind off a lumpy bed then it is you!”

Catherine felt Sebastian’s body tense beside her. An awful feeling came over her, and she just knew. She turned to him. He was staring back at the woman. “Do you know them? Do you know her?”

“Yes,” he said, in a strangely cool voice, as though they had not just been discussing spending the night together. “I know her very well.”