“Very well, you may write to him. But if he refuses, you shall stay with me. Is that understood?”
Swallowing down tears that burned her throat, Katrina nodded. “Yes, Lady Tesh.”
Though as the woman shuffled back to her bed and Katrina’s friends helped her back to her own, she didn’t know which she dreaded more: returning to her brother or having no recourse but to remain a burden to these people she loved.
Chapter 2
Sebastian Thorne, Duke of Ramsleigh, paused at the bottom of the steps leading up to the Grosvenor Square town house. No, he didn’t pause; rather, he froze, his feet seemingly unable to move farther. He just stopped himself from letting loose the string of profanities that knocked at his lips and would have no doubt had every curious lady and gentleman—of which there were a prodigious number walking up and down the street at this time of the morning—dropping into dead faints.
What the devil was wrong with him? Once he secured Miss Bridling’s hand, his family would be saved. And not just his family, but every family who relied on the Ramsleigh title for their livelihoods. He would be given the means to fix their roofs, put food on their tables, expand their flocks, and see that their fields were properly sown. Not to mention repairing Ramsleigh Castle’s own leaking roof and crumbling plaster and broken windows. And he would be able to provide his sisters dowries of their own. Ones that would not be as large as they should be, of course, considering they were daughters of a duke, but enough to ensure they secured respectable husbands, as well as providing them with a safety net should they ever find themselves again in a position of looming poverty.
Yet even with all this hanging in the balance, their salvation finally within reach, he found his feet unable to propel him forward to claim it.
Expelling a harsh breath, he gritted his teeth and forced his legs to move. One step, then another, then another, until, finally, he was before the shining black door. He raised a disturbingly heavy hand, let the brass knocker fall.
Before the sound died down the door was thrown wide. Lord Cartmel’s dour butler stood there, as if he had been waiting for Sebastian the whole while.
And no doubt he had been. It was no secret that Sebastian had been courting Miss Bridling nearly from the moment he had met her two months ago. And he’d made no secret that he’d intended to make her an offer this very afternoon. He cast a glance back at the people milling about in the square, which had become a veritable crowd since he’d arrived. Every eye was turned his way and remained on him, though they had been caught blatantly staring. He heaved a sigh and turned back to face the butler. No doubt they did not want to miss the commencement of the match of the season. It really was too bad the possible groom-to-be was wishing he was anywhere else but here.
The butler bowed. “Your Grace. Shall I let Miss Bridling know you are here?”
As if the man didn’t know very well that Sebastian was not here to see Miss Bridling at all. Keeping his face impassive, he just stopped himself from tugging nervously at his jacket. “Actually,” he said as he stepped inside the cool, cavernous front hall and the door closed behind him, blessedly leaving the gawking crowd behind, “I am here to see Lord Cartmel. If you could inform him of my presence?”
“Very good, Your Grace,” the butler intoned, not a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “If you will have a seat in the rose sitting room, I shall see if the baron is home.”
Before Sebastian could acquiesce, a soft voice sounded behind him.
“There is no sense in falling on ceremony, Curtis. Father is expecting you, Your Grace. I shall show you to the study.”
The butler bowed and backed away. “As you wish, Miss Bridling.”
Sebastian turned to face his future wife. It was not ego that made him so certain her father would accept his suit, or that the lady would accept his proposal. No, he knew what Lord Cartmel was after: a dukedom for his beloved daughter. No matter that the dukedom had been besieged with scandals and creditors in the past years, no matter that not many families would wish to take on the immense burden of bringing the dukedom back to what it had been—not to mention that of its soiled reputation—there was still much a title could buy. Including the only daughter of one of the richest men in England.
That particular woman was looking at him right now, her face as smooth and impassive as ever, her lips ever-so-slightly curved in that barely-there smile that held not a hint of warmth in it. Miss Diane Bridling was nothing if not poised and proper.
Yet every now and then, Sebastian was certain he caught sight of something just a bit more in her gaze. Like now, as her lips hiked up ever so slightly, giving her an almost sardonic expression. “Your Grace,” she said in neutral tones, dropping into a curtsy that was neither too shallow nor too deep. “If you will follow me?”
At his nod, she turned about, leading the way deeper into the bowels of the house. Sebastian had the sudden insane feeling that he was being buried alive. He fought the urge to gasp for breath, but instead straightened his shoulders and tightened his hands into fists at his side. So focused was he on remaining in control, however, that he did not immediately realize he had not said a single word to his soon-to-be fiancée.
Dear God, was this how their life together would be? Polite indifference, barely speaking, never truly knowing one another? Of course, their entire courtship had been thus, with just the exact number of dances, the proper time together with the necessary chaperones, talking of the weather and not much else. He did not know whether she preferred champagne to wine, did not know if she would rather live in London or in the country. He did not even know what her favorite color was.
And just then, facing down his future, he felt the burning urge to learn all he could. Perhaps then he might be able to reconcile himself to such a life. If he knew something, anything personal about this woman who was to take him to her bed and bear his children, mayhap there was hope they could be, if not happy, at least fairly content. Or, rather, at least not miserable.
She stopped before a closed door and raised her hand to knock. Before Sebastian could think better of it, he gently captured that hand in his own and turned her to face him.
She gasped, brown eyes widening. They were lovely eyes, fringed with a generous number of curling lashes. Truthfully, she herself was immensely lovely, with her smooth skin and dark, wavy hair and delicate features. Yet try as he might to feel more for this woman, Sebastian only felt a hollowness.
No one can compare to that other one, the one who made your heart beat in the strangest manner and had you fairly trembling with need for her.
Sebastian nearly gasped and stumbled back. He had not thought of Miss Katrina Denby in more years than he could count. Well, he amended, that wasn’t necessarily true. He had thought of her, especially when he was alone at night. But those thoughts had been too painful to focus on for long, memories from the before-times, when life had been good and his future had seemed as bright and shiny as a new penny. When he’d not had to worry about debt and grief and helping those under his care to do something so basic as survive.
Damn it, he’d been a selfish bastard. But he’d learned soon enough that his life had been an illusion. His father had died unexpectedly, and Sebastian had been forced to leave London, to return home and begin the impossible job of digging his family and tenants free of the literal mountain of debt and scandal his father had buried them under. There had been no time to think of that girl who had captured his heart, and who could have been so much more to him had they been given more time.