Chapter Fifteen

“More guests!” Maggie said, when Catherine mentioned the new arrivals. “It’s a wonder there are any rooms left.”

“They are from London,” Catherine said tonelessly.

“I saw them. Looked like they were determined to show the country yokels what real quality looks like.”

Catherine forced herself to smile, knowing Maggie was watching her. She thought she might start to ask questions, but instead Maggie began busily sorting through clothing, folding the garments with more attention than usual.

“I haven’t started to pack your trunk,” she said at last. “I don’t want to risk it in case it snows again.” Maggie looked up and her face had lost its warmth. It was almost stark. “I’ll miss him. It’s silly, I know, I’ve only known him a few days, but he’s grown on me. A bit like mold.”

Catherine did laugh then. “So romantic, Maggie.”

But she understood. Dodds and Maggie had a strong attraction to each other, and it would be difficult for them to separate. She wondered if Maggie would decide she’d rather be with Dodds than Catherine. What if she followed Dodds to Albury House? Catherine felt disorientated, as if the floor was moving. How could she manage at the castle without Maggie at her side? Her kindness and good humor, her generous spirit—it would be like losing one of her sisters. Worse!

Now, giving voice to those worst fears, Maggie said, “Dodds wants me to apply for a position with the viscount.”

Catherine pushed back the rush of panic that was her first reaction. “Oh?”

“I said no, of course,” Maggie went on matter-of-factly. “I wondered whether he could come to us instead. To Winstanton.”

“Oh.”

“I know there is no gentleman he could valet, but he says he is a master of all trades. He could wait on tables or polish boots. I think he would make a first-rate butler, and the one you have is so very old. It must be time he retired.”

It was time he retired. Catherine let the idea simmer for a moment. If Dodds came to Winstanton, then at least she would still have Maggie.

“What does Albury say? Has Dodds asked him?”

Maggie shrugged one shoulder, setting down a pair of stockings, but there was a stiffness to her posture that suggested she wasn’t exactly easy with the thought. “I haven’t mentioned it yet. I wanted to see what you thought of the idea first.”

“I will help you in any way I can, you know that, Maggie. If this is what you want, and if Dodds is agreeable, then we can find some position in the household that suits him. Ellinor won’t defy me; at least she had better not.”

Maggie smiled at her fierceness, but her worried frown soon returned.

Catherine went to her maid and sat down beside her on the bed. Maggie kept her face turned away, seemingly wary of showing her feelings, but Catherine refused to be daunted. She knew Maggie, loved her as a friend, and even if Maggie wanted to leave she would not stand in her way.

“You have never shown any great interest in a man before,” she said gently.

“I’ve never felt like this before. I didn’t think I could.” She shrugged again, as if her own feelings confused her. “Maybe it won’t last. Perhaps I am as fickle as I thought I was, and someone else will catch my eye.”

“Do you think that will happen?”

Maggie sighed. “No.”

“You love him.”

She half shook her head and then shrugged again. “I might. It seems far too soon to think of it like that, though. I need more time with him, and then I think I might love him. I am falling in love with him.”

It sounded familiar, uncomfortably so, because that was how Catherine was feeling, too. She was teetering on the verge of falling in love, assuming she had not tipped over the edge already. And that was a huge mistake, because the man she was falling for could never love her back, and in the unlikely event he did they could never be together. Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be with him, not after that meeting with Lady Knowles outside the inn.

“You need to talk to Dodds,” she said firmly. “Find out what he wants, and then tell him what you want, and perhaps between the two of you something can be sorted.”

Maggie’s eyes were brighter now, and it was only then that Catherine realized how dreary they had been. “Thank you, my lady,” she whispered. Then, some of the brilliance fading, “But what about you? You are already so unhappy and—”

“Nonsense,” she replied bracingly. “I would not let you stay with me if it meant you were miserable. I have known enough of that in my life, and I will not inflict it on others. Talk to Dodds and then we can discuss the situation.”

Maggie nodded, but she was smiling. It felt good to have made her maid happy despite the sinking sensation in Catherine’s stomach. She pushed it away and pretended it was hunger.

“I am ready for supper,” she announced. “Should I change?”

Maggie considered the question seriously. “I think you should,” she said. “Those London people need to see they are not as dazzling as they think they are. Wear the dress your sister had made for you.”

Catherine stared at her. That dress was the most beautiful thing she had ever owned, but as she had pointed out to Sophia, she had nowhere to wear it. To which her sister had replied, “You don’t need to be somewhere special to look special!”

“Isn’t it a little too much for supper at The White Rose?” she asked eventually.

Maggie laughed in a wicked fashion. “Bugger that. Show the viscount what he is missing out on. I want to see the look on his face.”

Catherine considered dressing up in that wonderful dress. Could she pull it off? Her pride had been badly dented, and if her heart was not already broken, then it was dented, too. Why not show him she was a desirable woman with a mind of her own? And, more childishly, punish him for disappointing her.