Twice the Temptation (8 page)

Catherine blushed furiously.

“I shall see you the day after next. Until then, I shall think of nothing else but seeing you again.” He brushed a kiss against her forehead and exited the room moments later.

Catherine stared at the empty doorway for a half minute after. With an unsteady breath and the feel of him still burning on her lips, she settled a clenched fist over her madly beating heart.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE
 

T
en minutes later, Catherine sat on the divan, marveling at how, in less than an hour, her life could change so dramatically. Once resigned to a life without a husband or any hope of children, Lucas’s return and declaration had changed all that.

She felt giddy and truly alive for the first time since her sister had returned home a year ago.

“Well, I believe that went rather well,” Charlotte declared upon reentering the library.

Her sister could not have appeared more triumphant had she singlehandedly defeated Napoleon and the French herself. With the air of glee and smugness enveloping her like one of her favorite mantels, she crossed the room to take a seat beside Catherine.

For what felt like a full half a minute, she and her twin regarded each other, their eyes and mouth reflecting similar happiness and joy. Suddenly, a sound that could only be termed a delighted squeal emerged from Charlotte’s smiling lips as she threw her arms around her, embracing Catherine tightly. “My darling, I’m so happy for you. You could not have found a better man. Lucas shall make a wonderful husband.”

Charlotte smelled of talcum powder and a hint of her French cologne their friend Elizabeth Creswell had brought her on her recent visit to Paris. Catherine could only smile as she was held in the prolonged embrace.

“I’m still not sure what to make of it. It’s all so sudden,” Catherine admitted once they pulled apart.

“For Lucas to come all this way to marry you means he must be mad about you,” Charlotte said.

Catherine had never seen her sister quite like
this
, for as happy as she’d been, a twinge of sadness marred complete happiness. Nothing would please Charlotte more than to see her settled; fathoms deep in love and married to a man Charlotte deemed
worthy
of her. Only then would her world be fully right.

“I shouldn’t like anyone to get ahead of themselves. I’m not entirely certain that Lucas and I will actually suit.” A barefaced lie so she would not appear as utterly spellbound as she was and so easily won over. The man
had
abandoned her for an entire year. That should not be forgotten so easily despite his reasons.

“Well I am quite certain of it. It was obvious from when I first saw the two of you together, how smitten you were with him. Even had Lord Braddock not turned out to be the scoundrel he was, I’m convinced you wouldn’t have accepted his proposal because you never loved him. And it became painfully clear to me that you were still heartbroken over Lucas leaving. I’m just happy he finally realized that he loved you and returned to claim you.”

Claim her?

Catherine looked askance at her sister, an eyebrow cocked. It couldn’t have sounded more medieval had Lucas arrived on horseback wearing chainmail armor. Unfortunately, she couldn’t manage to suppress a delighted—yet completely involuntary—shiver. She hadn’t thought herself the type of women to whom such chauvinistic tendencies would strike an agreeable chord in her.

“In the metaphorical sense of course,” Charlotte was quick to add. “Although, I’m almost certain something of that sort had been going on in the literal sense behind those locked doors.” A knowing smile and a nod to the door in question accompanied her remark.

Catherine’s face flamed hot and it became quite apparent the vein of the conversation had to be redirected.

“Is Alex aware Lucas has returned? I’m worried about how he’ll react. He was unaccountably rude to him when Lucas was here last.”

Charlotte heaved a sigh, her expression sobering instantly. Her husband’s ill feelings toward Lucas were the one sore point in the whole affair. “No, he does not but of course I must tell him when he returns from the city with Nicholas. They will be there for three days.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware they’d gone to London.” Alex preferred to reside year round at Gretchen Manor, their country home, which was only ten miles from Rutherford Manor. The relative proximity between their respective residences made seeing her sister and her family an almost daily occurrence.

“Yes, he went there on business but took Nicholas along to see his grandparents.”

“I don’t understand why Alex despises Lucas so much. It is not as if anything occurred between the two of you in America.” Catherine could understand a certain amount of jealousy given the closeness of Charlotte and Lucas’s friendship but both had assured her that their relationship had never been romantic.

“You needn’t worry your head about that. I shall speak to my husband to make certain he will be, at the very least, civil to Lucas from here on out.”

“The man is so besotted with you, I’m sure if anyone can perform that miracle, it would be you,” Catherine said with a dry laugh.

Her sister preened. “I should very much hope so. Now you must tell me how construction on your school is coming along.”

“It isn’t my school,” Catherine protested, and not for the first time.

“It was your idea,” her sister countered.

Goodness, she didn’t even like to take credit for coming up with the idea of building a school which would be open to girls like Jillian, since it had largely been driven by guilt. Guilt at all she had: the generous pin money, the large estates she called home in both in the country and the city, a wardrobe full of expensive gowns and frocks, and extravagant vacations to places like France and Italy. But also guilt of what she had done, the trouble she’d caused a sister dearer to her than any other person in the world.

After Charlotte had brought Jillian into her life, Catherine had soon become as protective of her as her sister was. By the time they’d discovered the identity of their aunt, thoughts of the school had fermented in her mind into something real and attainable. It had become a cause, a project she knew she had to convince her brother to take on.

The school would be able to board thirty students and instruct as many as one hundred, and should be ready to open come summer. Its construction drew Catherine to the site rather frequently. At least three times every month to track the progress.

“Credit truly belongs to James and his friends. Without their funding and fund raising efforts, I may as well be wishing on a shooting star.”

Charlotte let out a huff. “You don’t give yourself enough credit for your good deeds. Lucas says he knows you’ll make a wonderful mother. He’s seen how you are with your nieces and nephews. Which naturally means the children at the school shall adore you just as we all do.”

In that moment, Catherine forgot how she intended to make him
work
to win her affections. She forgot the year they’d been apart and only felt the warm glow in her heart.

He intended to make her his wife.

He admired her.

He wanted
her
of all the women he could have had.

She might very well be able to sleep soundly tonight.

She smiled. Or perhaps she would not for the same reason.

H
alford House didn’t scream wealth and position, it whispered it so one wasn’t overwhelmed by the sumptuous furnishings, silken cream walls and ornate moldings. Nothing ostentatious or boorish to mute the effects of superior taste and elevated class.

The principal staircase curved like a bell arc, rising to the third floor in one dramatic sweep of polished mahogany and hand carved spindles and balustrade. In the great room—the centerpiece of it all—no less than five hundred candles lit the room to a dazzling brilliance, casting even the most unattractive guests in the most favorable light.

After waiting in the queue to greet their hosts, Lord and Lady Halford, Catherine, Meghan, and Olivia made for the back of the room. Men, young and old, plain and pleasing, approached, numbering five in all. The women graciously handled the fervent requests to dance, sending each along their way with a place on their respective dance cards for later in the evening.

Privacy was never expected in a gathering of this sort, but the women managed to locate an area bordering the ballroom and a hallway that led to the private rooms of the sprawling estate, that was largely unoccupied. Mrs. Griffin, Meghan’s chaperone who had accompanied the women to the ball, had already abandoned them to their amusements to seek out several acquaintances—other chaperones—gathered in a cluster next to the massive, marble fireplace.

Conversation didn’t commence until after the orchestra struck the first note of the waltz and couples began to glide and swirl on the glistening planked floors.

Catherine waited a beat before angling her head toward her friends and announcing, “I am being courted.” Thank goodness she didn’t have to shout to be heard.

In unison, Olivia and Meghan’s heads swiveled to turn and stare at her. Meghan recovered after a pause and chuckled softly. “You say that as if that is something new. Beauties with thirty thousand pound dowries are in high demand. Of course you are being courted.”

“No, I don’t mean by your common fortune hunter or roué who has every reason to look beyond the matter of my birth.”

“Ah, so you are being courted by a blue blood.” Olivia looked entirely too pleased, her twinkling eyes appearing solidly blue tonight, matching the cobalt blue of her gown.

“Well not precisely.” Lucas was so much better than any aristocrat she’d ever met.

Meghan raised an eyebrow in response. Clearly intrigued, she asked, “Then who is this mystery gentleman who has brought a flush to your cheeks? Certainly not anyone we’re acquainted with.”

“Lucas Beaumont.” Catherine tried for a casual tone, braced in anticipation for their shock and surprise, which would surely be followed by peals of laughter.

Silence.

Her friends locked eyes, eyebrows raised, pink and red lips compressed as if suppressing smiles. They quickly positioned themselves to include her in a tight circle, the dance floor no longer visible in her direct line of sight.

“But you’ve long claimed you’re completely over him.” Meghan directed guileless green eyes at her.

Catherine gave a small nod, the heat in her face as telling as her silence.

“My, he was certainly something to look at. And rich too. I remember there were a fair amount of ladies willing to turn a blind eye to his lack of title and rank to become just plain Mrs. Beaumont.”

As if Catherine needed a reminder. “Well he is intent on making
me
his wife.” Her friend’s words caused something primitive and downright territorial to surge within her.

He’s mine.

Again, Meghan and Olivia exchanged a look almost as if they could read her thoughts.

“I knew your denials about him were all fluff and nonsense.” Meghan managed to sound both smug and accusing at the same time.

Catherine let out a breath and shifted on her feet, stretching her toes inside the tips of her new patent-leather shoes. “You’re my dearest friends so I shan’t dissemble. I love him. I think I’ve always loved him. And he says he loves me and that nothing would make him happier than to marry me.”

“So you are finally admitting to
still
being partial to his attentions,” Olivia said, her voice possessing no evidence of the merriment that danced in her eyes.

Meghan deftly flicked open her fan to cover her mouth while her shoulders shook with laughter.

“Very partial,” Catherine replied, as if it had been a question to which an answer had been expected. “Although I must say, he can be quite arrogant.” She wasn’t so smitten that she was blind to his faults.

“But it would appear that arrogant, exceedingly attractive Americans are very much to your taste.”