Lady Catherine's Secret: A Secrets and Seduction book (27 page)

Catherine wouldn’t look at Huntley.

Mother gave them both a hard stare. “Let’s look happy. We have an audience outside.”

Catherine sighed. How was this any different from any other day of her life?
Smile and pretend to be content.
She pasted a bright smile on her face, took Huntley’s arm, and followed her mother out of the room.

The hallway outside the duke’s study was crowded with people. Everyone turned to watch them emerge from the room. With glittering eyes, they watched, some smirking, some shocked, all expecting the worst.

Huntley placed his hand over hers, and she smiled up at him, exactly as Mother had suggested, trying to look radiantly happy.

What have I gotten myself into? This can’t be happening.

She kept the smile pinned in place as Mother mingled with the guests, stopping to announce the news of their engagement to her closest friends.

Catherine surreptitiously scrutinized the people watching her. At first, they were openly aggressive and judgmental, their lips pressed in tight lines and mouths turned downward. But as they edged forward and Mother dropped honeyed words in their ears, Catherine spotted a change in their demeanor. More smiles appeared. The change in the behavior of the crowd spread out behind them at first, emanating from friends Mother had already spoken to, but it quickly began to precede them.

Soon it appeared that the news had spread throughout the ballroom. There was nothing like a new rumor to push an old one out of the way.

Catherine stood on her tiptoes, leaning toward Huntley’s ear. “It seems to be working. Thank you.” She caught a whiff of the woodsy cologne he preferred.

He gave her hand a squeeze.

She listened quietly while her mother told yet another friend about their engagement as they made their way around the perimeter of the ballroom. Some of the doors leading outside had been pushed partway open to allow the cool winter air to alleviate the heat in the ballroom. The slight breeze caused the long, billowing curtains at the doorways to flutter. When Catherine passed a pair of the open exterior doors, the cooling breeze was a welcome relief from the heat of the room and the press of the crowd.

As they reached the far side of the ballroom, away from the open doors, Catherine heard the first mouse joke.

Their story had taken hold.

“‘Mouse girl?’” she whispered to her mother. “I’m now dubbed ‘mouse girl’? How humiliating. It isn’t even creative.”

“Better ‘mouse girl’ than ‘Lady Stansbury,’ don’t you think?” Her mother cocked a brow at her. “Just remind yourself of that if the name begins to wear on you.”

Trust her mother to put things in perspective.

Huntley had overheard her comment, and he grinned down at her, placing his hand over the one she had tucked into the crook of his arm. “I rather like the name. It’s in perfect opposition to your true character. Rather like calling the wily fox a ‘watchdog.’”

She let out an unladylike snort. “Or calling you a pussycat,” she said, thinking about the night at Lady Wilmot’s when he’d seemed like a panther.

He smiled down at her, locking her eyes with his. “Aren’t you worried that the pussycat could devour the mouse?”

Huntley’s gaze drew her in. She searched his eyes, finding herself ensnared by them. A mouse caught in a mousetrap. She shook her head, trying to break free. How had she come to this moment, to be engaged to this man? He was full of strength and passion, and right now, the prospect of being tied to him was terrifying.

Could she even trust him? Was it possible he’d taken advantage of the situation to force her into marriage? True, he was preferable to Stansbury, but she wanted to choose her husband, not have one forced upon her. How could a solid marriage be built upon a false foundation?

A shiver ran through her, and her thoughts went immediately to the two kisses they’d shared— the first in Lady Wilmot’s library, and the second on that fateful night in his study. Her gaze slid to his well-sculpted lips. Her breath caught in her throat as she imagined him leaning down, now, to capture her lips with his, and her mouth parted slightly.

The corner of Huntley’s mouth twitched as he watched her. “All in good time, my little mouse,” he murmured. “That’s a promise.”

Catherine’s face flamed, and she glanced around in embarrassment, afraid they had been overheard. She almost sighed her relief when she saw that her mother had drifted away to talk with two other ladies of her acquaintance. She and Huntley were standing in relative isolation for the moment.

A commotion cut through the crowded ballroom, and Catherine craned her neck to see what was happening, but she couldn’t make anything out. “What’s happening?” she asked Huntley.

His jaw clenched. “I believe the news of our engagement just reached Lady Lydia.”

She stared at him, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “And why would that create a scene?”

He leaned his head down to speak softly into her ear. “Because I spent the past two weeks negotiating a marriage contract with her father. We were to meet in an hour to sign the papers, and he planned to announce our engagement later tonight at the ball.”

Catherine could only stare at him in horror.

Mother turned to them, a broad smile on her face, unaware of the tension between them. “Everything is going beautifully. Just beautifully.”

32 - Negotiations

Catherine hurried downstairs the next day, intending to go directly to speak with her brother. She stepped around the corner and discovered the doors to Papa’s study were closed.

They were never closed.

She stared at them, momentarily thwarted. It wasn’t the physical barrier that made her balk, but something both more and less substantial. It was what those closed doors represented. They told her that at this precise moment, she was being left out of the plans for her own future, and she found that knowledge demoralizing.

Maybe she was wrong and had jumped to the wrong conclusion. She checked the hallway, but nobody was in sight, so she crept closer and pressed her ear against the narrow opening between the doors. She held her breath as she listened, barely making out the voices of two men. Yes, that was her brother’s voice, and he was speaking with— Huntley.

She straightened her spine. She refused to stand out in the hall and let other people plan her life for her. She’d had enough of that last night.

She grabbed both doorknobs in her hands and pushed her way into the room. Mother was in there as well, sitting on one of the upholstered chairs. Upon seeing her, Charles’s face stretched into a broad smile and he moved forward to greet her.

“We need to reconsider the engagement,” Catherine announced, and Charles stopped in his tracks. Her eyes darted from Mother’s shocked expression to Huntley’s bemused one. “I... I was forced to make the decision quite suddenly, and I am not at all certain it was the correct one. Lord Huntley, you and I hardly know one another, and I would hate to abuse your kind nature. You were most generous in making an offer for me, but I know your heart lies elsewhere.”

Huntley audibly released his breath, and Catherine glanced at him, startled by the sound. She couldn’t read his expression. Was it relief? Confusion? Or was that a hint of determination? He lifted his chin and shifted his weight so he stood facing her.

Mother scowled at her and then shot Huntley a commiserating look, which caused Catherine’s stomach to twist. She suddenly realized that from her mother’s point of view, Huntley's proposal hadn't simply been a convenient solution to a problem. It was more. She really
wanted
Catherine to marry this man. When had Mother committed herself to the idea of having the marquess as a son-in-law? In fact, how long had Mother been hoping for this outcome? Had it been ever since they’d had dinner at Lady Wilmot’s? No. It must have begun that afternoon when they’d called on Lady Wilmot after first arriving in town.

Charles gave her a considering look. “Have you and Huntley had a private moment to speak since he requested your hand last night?”

Catherine shook her head.

“Well then, it’s about time you did.” He crossed the room toward their mother. “Let’s step out into the hallway and give these two a moment. I’m sure they have things to discuss.” He held out his hand to assist Mother as she rose from the sofa.

Mother wouldn’t meet her eyes as she left the room. She kept her back ramrod straight, looking neither right nor left.

Charles left the door of the study open, giving Catherine and Huntley as much privacy as he dared.

Catherine couldn’t bring herself to look at the marquess. She crossed the room to Papa’s large desk and began nervously rearranging his glass paperweights.

“Things are not going the way I expected them to,” she ventured.

She heard Charles and Mother outside the door, pacing slowly down the hallway in murmured conversation.

“But are they going the way you’d prefer?” Huntley asked.

Her eyes flickered toward him, and then looked back down at the blue paperweight in her hand. She set it with the others, and her fingers trailed across the smooth glass as she lined them up across the edge of Papa’s desk. “I understand that you feel you owe me a debt of honor, but a sacrifice such as this goes far beyond what is necessary.”

“Catherine. May I call you Catherine?”

She nodded.

He lifted a clear paperweight containing bright-green flecks captured within it and held it in one hand. Absently, he pressed the rounded glass against his other palm. “Catherine, I understand your reticence. We don’t quite fit, do we?”

She stilled, staring at his hands as he absently rolled the heavy piece of glass from one hand to the other.

“But I have a problem,” he said, continuing to toy with the green-flecked sphere. “When I proposed to you and you accepted, it sent me down a certain path. I might be able to change the trajectory, but certain options are no longer possible. I’m sure Lord Larchmont would love to sue me for breach of contract, but since I never signed anything or made an announcement, that option isn’t open to him. You must understand that my planned engagement to Lady Lydia can no longer take place. Her family is already denying any association with me, which is understandable.”

“But that can’t be. I know that Lord Larchmont can be a stickler for propriety, but surely he won’t stand in the way of his daughter’s happiness.”

His hands stilled, and he looked at her sharply. “Surely you aren’t under the misapprehension that my marriage to Lady Lydia was anything other than a business arrangement? They wanted my money, and I needed a wife.”

She realized she was gaping at him and snapped her mouth shut. “But based on her behavior, I was under the impression that she wanted the marriage. Wasn’t she tracking you down at your social engagements?”

His eyes narrowed. “What? Explain, please.”

Catherine blushed. “It was just a rumor, my lord, but someone told me that if Lady Lydia didn’t find you at one engagement, she’d move on to the next until she eventually located you.”

A look of dawning comprehension came over him. “So that’s how she did it. I’d wondered.” His smirk had a note of respect in it. “Well done of her. But you’re mistaken. She cared nothing for me. She wanted my title. The idea of being a marchioness can be quite a draw.”

“And you? Why would you choose to marry her?”

“Why, for her connections and her family’s sterling reputation, of course. And her father’s influence. She’s exactly the kind of wife I was searching for: a woman with means, culture, and respectability who is above reproach and will be able to run my estate in Scotland and raise my children to become solid members of society.”

Catherine curled her lip at his list of requirements. “I notice you mention nothing of love or affection. Not even of mutual compatibility.”

“Love is for fools, and affection comes with time.” He set the paperweight back on Papa’s desk with a firm thump. “In some ways, you and I have even more to recommend our match. We are starting with a small amount of affection.”

She pressed her lips together, anger still fueling her. “Oh? And where do you find proof of that?”

He smiled slowly and took a step forward, locking his eyes with hers. “From our kisses, little mouse. Where else?”

She blushed deeply. “I was simply curious. Nothing more. I kissed you because I thought a planned kiss would be different from one that took me by surprise. And I was right. The kiss had no effect on me.”

His eyes smoldered. “That’s because it was no real kiss. There was nothing behind it. If you want a real test, it will have to take place when I’m conscious.”

She glanced at his mouth and then back up again. Her eyes widened when she recognized the superior look on his face. “I think I’ll forgo that experience,” she said tartly, but he just grinned more broadly.

“That’s fine. I can wait. But we still haven’t resolved the main issue. Our engagement. You say that marriage is too steep a price for me to pay to save your reputation, despite the fact that you risked everything to save my life the other night. But I need you to understand that if you renege on our agreement, you’ll cause me harm. I can’t salvage my engagement to Lady Lydia. Breaking things off when we were about to announce our engagement was too great an insult for her family to forgive. I need a wife, and I am running out of time to find one. I have business interests I must see to, and they’ve suddenly become more urgent with the loss of Lord Larchmont as an ally. I need a wife, I need to marry quickly, and my original plans have been ruined. So, you see, now it is you who owe
me
a debt.”