Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Catherine tossed and turned in her bed, sleep eluding her as it had for the past few nights. Every time she closed her eyes, she relived the passionate moments she'd shared with Edward in his chambers. The memory of his lips on hers, his hands exploring her body, sent a shiver down her spine. She ached for him, her entire being yearning for his touch, his presence.

But the sweet memory inevitably gave way to the bitter aftermath—Edward’s sudden withdrawal, his harsh words as he ordered her to leave. The pain of rejection was still raw, a constant ache in her chest.

As dawn broke, Catherine rose, exhausted but unable to rest. She went through the motions of preparing for the day, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. How had everything gone so wrong so quickly?

The rest of the day passed in a blur of misery and confusion. Edward steadfastly avoided her, speaking to her only when absolutely necessary and never meeting her eyes. Each curt word, each avoided glance, was like a knife to Catherine’s heart.

Even Emily noticed the change in atmosphere. During their lessons, the young girl’s brow furrowed with concern as she watched her usually enthusiastic governess struggle to maintain her focus.

To Catherine’s utter frustration this continued for another day—and another, until all the days seemed to melt into each other.

“Miss Winslow,” Emily said hesitantly one afternoon. “Is everything alright? Forgive me, but you seem... different.”

Catherine forced a smile, hating the idea of worrying Emily. “I am fine, Lady Emily,” she said softly. “Just a bit… tired. Now, let us continue with your history lesson, shall we?”

Try as she might, however, Catherine could not manage to summon her usual passion for teaching. Her mind kept drifting to Edward—to the mysteries surrounding the household, to the letter hidden away in her room.

For days it continued—the painfully polite greetings between Edward and herself. On the third day, during a lesson with Emily, a movement caught her eye, and her breath hitched in her throat as he rode away.

Where was he going? When would he return?

It was late that night when he finally returned. Catherine had been unable to sleep and as soon as she heard the sound of hoofbeats in the courtyard, she crept to her window. From the window she traced the lines of his figure as he dismounted. The tension in his shoulders was evident.

To Catherine’s dismay, this pattern kept repeating itself over the next few days. Edward would leave early in the morning and return late at night—without offering any explanation for his absences. This of course, led to the atmosphere growing increasingly tense. Even Mr. Harper seemed even more agitated than usual.

For Catherine, her lessons with Emily became less engaging. Her usual enthusiasm dampened—she was far too preoccupied with Edward’s odd behavior, not to mention her own tumultuous emotions. More than once, she caught Emily watching her with worried eyes—but still she could not bring herself to ease the girl’s concerns. She herself felt far too lost.

As the days wore on, Catherine’s discomfort only grew. Would Edward dismiss her? The thought of leaving Wessex Manor, leaving Emily—and of course, leaving Edward—filled her with immense dread.

Where would she go? What would she do?

Finally she was unable to bear the uncertainty any longer. She waited for the familiar sound to return, then threw a coat over her nightdress and made her way to his study where she knew he would be.

She took a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself, then knocked on the heavy oak door.

“Enter!”

Though Edward’s voice sounded tired and irritable, the sound of the deep, gravelly voice still sent shivers through her body and her heart pounded wildly in her chest when she pushed the door open and entered.

Edward looked up from his desk, a strange look in his eye when he saw her.

“Catherine,” he whispered before catching himself. “Miss Winslow. What can I do for you? Is this about Emily?”

“My Lord,” Catherine began, though the formality thereof stung. Still, she was unsure how else to address him. “I… I was hoping that I could speak to you. About… about everything, about you… about us.”

Edward’s expression hardened and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “There is no us , Miss Winslow,” he said firmly. “I thought I had made that quite clear.”

The words stung far more than she had expected, but Catherine pressed on. “Fine. Then… will you at least tell me where you have been going? I… Emily. She is worried about you.”

For a moment, Edward’s mask slipped, and it revealed a flash of guilt. Then, as though it never happened, his face settled back into impassivity. “My comings and goings are none of your concern, Miss Winslow,” he said coldly, though she was certain that there was some emotion tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Nor… nor are they Emily’s business,” he continued.

“It is affecting her well-being,” Catherine retorted, her own temper flaring. “And if you…”

“I have been courting Lady Isabella,” Edward interrupted, though he made a point of avoiding her eyes. “And I intend to marry her.”

Catherine felt her word spinning, then coming to a standstill. She staggered back a step, her heart aching.

“What?” she whispered, her entire body trembling.

Edward still refused to meet her eyes. “It is time,” he said slowly, “that I fulfilled my duties as Earl of Wessex. Lady Isabella is… she is a suitable match. It is… what I believe my mother would have wanted. Would have expected.”

Catherine searched the room around her for something to hold onto, as the ground shifted beneath her feet. “Do… do you love her?” her voice came out small and she despised it, though she could not help it.

For an agonizing minute, Edward was quiet. Then, finally, he looked up at her and he sighed. “Love,” he said slowly, “is a luxury I cannot afford. I have responsibilities. Duties. To the estate, to Emily, to my family name…”

Catherine shook her head quickly, tears filling her eyes. “Your mother… don’t you think she would have wanted you to be happy?” she pressed. “Would you… would you be happy with Isabella?”

Edward swallowed visibly, and he looked at her for a long time. When he spoke at last, his voice was measured. “You did not know my mother, Miss Winslow,” he said. “Do not presume to speak for her.”

Catherine knew that it was better to stop at once, but she could not. “I may not have known her,” she said at last, “But I do know you, Edward. And I know that… marrying without love, without trust… it will destroy you.”

A frown appeared between Edward’s brows. “Trust? What do you mean?”

Catherine hesitated for a moment. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out the letter she had taken from Mr. Harper’s room.

“This,” she said, holding it out to him. “I found this in Mr. Harper’s room. It… I do not want to be difficult, I swear… but it frightens me, Edward. I do not trust Mr. Harper and I do not trust Isabella. I truly believe you are in danger.”

“Still that blasted letter,” Edward said tiredly. “You need to stop, Catherine.”

Catherine shook her head now. “I did what I had to do to protect you,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. “I… I care about you, Edward. You and Emily.”

Edward laughed bitterly. “Care? Is that what you call it? Sneaking around, invading people’s privacy, messing with my head…”

Catherine’s eyes widened. “Messing with your… How dare you? I have risked everything to keep you safe. Everything! My entire life, my reputation, my future… I have done so much to keep you safe and you… you run hot and cold, you pull me close one moment and push me away the next. It is maddening, Edward!”

She thrust the letter in his direction, forcing him to take it. “Do what you want with this. Believe me, or do not. But know this… all I have done, has been out of care for this family. I hope for your sake, Lady Isabella can say the same!”

Edward stared at her. His eyes were wide, though she did not even try to decipher the emotions swirling within them.

“I am done… My Lord,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “I am done trying to make you see reason. I am done trying my level best to protect you. If you want to marry Lady Isabella, go ahead. But please… do not expect me to stand by and watch you destroy yourself… and your sister.”

With that, Catherine turned on her heel and stormed out of the study, slamming the door behind her. She made it halfway down the hall before the tears started to fall, hot and angry down her cheeks.

What had she done? Had she just ruined everything? Would Edward dismiss her now, send her away without a reference?

But even as those fears swirled in her mind, Catherine felt a strange sense of relief. She had said her piece, laid all her cards on the table. Whatever happened now, at least she could say she had fought for what she believed in—for the man she loved, even if he couldn't or wouldn't love her back.

As she reached her room, Catherine paused, her hand on the doorknob. She could hear the faint sound of pacing from Edward's study, the occasional muffled thud as if he was slamming his fist against his desk.

For a moment, she was tempted to go back, to try one more time to make him see reason. But no. She had done all she could. The rest was up to Edward.

With a heavy sigh, Catherine entered her room and sank onto her bed, her mind and heart racing. Whatever the morning might bring, she knew that nothing would ever be the same again at Wessex Manor.