Beguiling the Earl (21 page)

Catherine watched in silence as the small group moved down the street to where a group of carriages stood waiting. They didn’t enter the same one as Lord Worthington, but continued past it to another.

Catherine was so immersed in her own misery that she couldn’t find it within herself to wonder about the strange tableau they had just witnessed. The only thing she could focus on was the fact that Kerrick was already behaving as though he were part of the Worthington family.

“Catherine.”

Her sister’s voice dragged her away from her dark thoughts as she climbed into their carriage. Thankfully no one said a word during the drive home. She was convinced that was the only reason she was able to hold back her tears until she was safely back in her bedroom.

ooOoo

Was this love, then? The certainty that life would never again hold any joy if you couldn’t spend it with the person who inspired that emotion?

It wasn’t surprising that he loved Catherine Evans. On some level he supposed he’d known it all along. How could he not? And it wasn’t just that she was beautiful, though she was that. It was everything else. She was kind, generous, but also incredibly maddening when she had made up her mind about something. She would never be content to remain in the background.

Her joy for the small things in life was delightful. The way her whole demeanor lit up when she was among her precious plants. The way she looked at him as though he could give her the very sun. And he found that he would be content to do that for her—spend his life trying to make her happy. And now he would never have that opportunity. Even worse, if his recklessness when he visited her bedchamber bore fruit, he would be the cause of her ruin and would have to watch as she married someone else and raised their child with him.

If the melancholy he felt at that moment was love, he wanted none of it. He understood now why Nicholas had been so miserable the previous fall when he believed he could never have a future with Louisa. Why he’d drink himself into oblivion, knowing that alcohol would worsen the progress of the illness from which he believed he was suffering. Kerrick had never been one to lose himself in the bottom of a bottle, but at that moment there was nothing he wanted more.

But he wouldn’t. Worthington had confessed to committing treason, but it had come too late to save him from a loveless marriage. And such selfish wallowing wouldn’t be fair to Rose, who wanted this marriage even less than he did. They were both trapped.

He hadn’t been able to sleep, and so gave up trying when the sun began to rise. He roamed the corridors of his house like a ghost, trying to will the hours to pass more quickly so he could go about setting things in motion. He and Rose would have to marry quickly if he hoped to shield her and her mother from the worst of the backlash that would come when word of Worthington’s confession spread. To be honest, he wasn’t sure how effective his protection would be, but he would do what he could. Rose and her mother would have to retire to the country and remain there for some time. Perhaps after a few years, as the scandal faded and new ones took its place, they’d be able to return to town again.

Brantford had likely stayed up as well, and he wondered idly if he’d questioned Worthington himself or had someone else do it. Regardless, he knew that Brantford would gather what information he could and then pay him a visit now that this mission was at an end.

That visit came just before noon.

“You look terrible,” Brantford said after he’d been shown into the library.

Of course, Kerrick couldn’t say the same for Brantford. He was, as always, impeccably groomed. He lounged casually in a chair and appeared as though he’d spent the night in long, restful slumber. Kerrick had no idea how the man always managed to look so detached from everything that was happening around him.

“What did you learn from Worthington?” he asked, ignoring Brantford’s comment and sinking into a chair opposite him.

“Absolutely nothing beyond what we already know. He’s been selling secrets to the French about the movement of our navy. Information gleaned from his friendship with Admiral Nicholby. Of course, he was quick to point out that the Admiral wasn’t involved and had no idea what he was doing.”

“Do you believe him?”

Brantford raised a brow. “You don’t?”

“I’m not sure,” Kerrick said with a shake of his head. “This whole thing doesn’t seem right. I’m sure he was passing on information and that Standish is somehow involved, but I can’t figure out why. As much as I hate the bastard, he doesn’t strike me as the type to betray his country for money. Not when he has more than both of us combined.”

Brantford was silent for several moments, and Kerrick wondered if he was going to reveal anything more. He was, after all, now out of the whole business of ferreting out information for the Home Office.

“I think there’s more to this than what we know so far,” Brantford finally said. “We’re trying to get more information from Worthington, but he refuses to name an accomplice. Says he was working alone.”

“I suspect he’s trying to protect his wife and daughter.”

Brantford nodded, the motion almost absentminded, before asking, “What do you plan to do about Miss Hardwick?”

What, indeed. “I’m bound by my word and I won’t go back on it. They’ll need my protection now more than ever.”

Brantford nodded again and was about to add something when the butler interrupted with a discreet rap on the doorframe.

“Excuse me, my lord, but there is a young woman here to see you.”

His foolish heart leapt, thinking perhaps it was Catherine, but when the butler continued he learned that Rose was waiting in the drawing room with her maid. His heart sank. Of course it wasn’t Catherine. She probably never wanted to see him again, a sentiment for which he couldn’t fault her.

He turned to Brantford, but before the Earl could excuse himself, Rose swept past the butler and entered the room.

“Miss Hardwick,” Kerrick said, rising from his chair. Brantford rose as well. “You shouldn’t be here. I was planning to visit you and your mother this afternoon.”

Rose laughed, the sound bitter. “Are you worried about my reputation? Well, it is far too late for such concern. My father’s actions have already ruined me.”

“We will weather this storm together,” he said, attempting to impart a confidence he was far from feeling.

“I should leave the two of you to speak,” Brantford said.

But before he could do so, Rose turned to face him.

“You needn’t worry that I will sully your reputation with my presence. What I have to say to Lord Kerrick will be brief, and there is no reason why you cannot hear it.”

There was an edge to her tone, a hint of anger that surprised Kerrick. What surprised him more, however, was the hint of emotion on his friend’s face. For a brief moment it almost appeared as though he wanted to comfort Rose, but then the telltale sign was gone almost before it had appeared, hidden behind Brantford’s normal mask of indifference. But that fleeting emotion served to underscore Kerrick’s suspicion that Brantford was not immune to Rose Hardwick’s charms.

Rose’s bravado was clearly an attempt on her part to hide her hurt. Thinking only to soothe her, he said, “I will call on you later this afternoon. Your mother should be included in our plans.”

Rose tried to smile, but it turned out more a grimace. “That is precisely why I am here to speak to you. I wish to break our engagement.”

Kerrick’s heart gave a not-unexpected leap of joy, but he tamped down on the emotion. He couldn’t leave Rose unprotected during this difficult time. Selfishly, he wanted nothing more than to embrace her offer before she changed her mind, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did. Perversely, he also knew Catherine would never again respect him if he did. She was lost to him either way.

He closed the distance between them and took her hand between both of his and gave it a slight squeeze. “You are going through a difficult time right now and mustn’t do anything you will come to regret.”

“But you and Catherine—”

“Can never be,” he said, cutting off that train of thought before she could continue.

The smile she gave him this time was genuine. “You are a good man, but you are not the man for me.”

“Rose—”

“No.” She pulled her hand from his and took a step back. “My mind is made up. I have already sent word to a few friends that I have broken our engagement. They shouldn’t have heard about Father yet, so will have no reason to return my notes unopened.”

“Don’t do this,” he said. “I can offer you protection, especially now when you and your mother most need it.”

She shook her head, her chestnut curls dancing with the vigorous movement. “My father is not a traitor.”

“He confessed,” Brantford said.

Rose turned to face him. “He would never betray his country, and I mean to prove it. So you see”—she turned back to Kerrick—“there is no reason for your sacrifice. Father will be proven innocent and all will be as it should. Including you and Catherine.”

He couldn’t find the words to respond. Theirs would hardly be the first broken engagement the
ton
had seen, though it would be one of the shortest.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Just tell me you’ll make Catherine happy. She deserves it.”

Brantford interrupted, picking up on that which he’d been too distracted to pay attention to. “If you have proof of your father’s innocence, I can see that it reaches those who would be able to help him.”

Rose’s lips pressed briefly into a tight line before she answered him. “I thought you were anxious to depart. Are you certain you’re not lowering yourself to address me directly?”

Kerrick’s eyebrows rose at the bitter retort, but he remained silent.

“If you don’t desire my assistance, Miss Hardwick, that is entirely up to you. I wish you luck in exonerating your father on your own.”

They gazed at each other for several long moments before Rose replied. “We’re not receiving callers—not that anyone will want to associate with us once it becomes known that my father has confessed to treason—but if you call tomorrow afternoon I’ll make sure you’re not turned away. Mama is most distressed, and I have already been away from her too long today.”

Brantford nodded in reply, and without another word Rose turned and departed.

“I’m out of it,” Kerrick said before Brantford could speak.

“Of course,” the other man said. “You can hardly be seen skulking about Worthington’s home now that everyone will be learning of your broken engagement. Unless, of course, you hope to make her change her mind.”

“I think you already know my opinion on that course of action. Rose Hardwick is all yours.”

Brantford raised a brow in answer and Kerrick laughed. Suddenly the world seemed brighter, and he couldn’t resist needling his friend about the beautiful young woman who didn’t appear to be intimidated by the Unaffected Earl. “What was it you said when you first approached me about this matter? It would hardly be a hardship to court her.”

“Marriage is not for me, my friend. Not now and perhaps not ever.” Brantford’s face was a blank mask, but Kerrick could now detect a hint of something behind it. Loneliness?

“Never say never, old chap.”

She was dying inside, but Catherine was determined to go through the motions of living. After seeing Rose and Kerrick together, she allowed herself one day locked away in her bedroom, wallowing in her misery and railing against the fates.

When the sun rose on the second day, instead of pulling the blankets over her head and borrowing deeper under them, which was what she wanted most to do, she cast them aside and rose. A quick glance at the mirror on her dressing table revealed the signs that she’d cried herself to sleep the previous night, which were etched clearly on her face. Swollen eyelids, a nose that was still slightly red, and a complexion that was heightened with a pink tinge.

Turning her back on the reflection, she moved to the washstand, poured cold water from the pitcher into the bowl, and splashed her face, hoping to wash away the cursed proof of her heartache. The cold water wasn’t a miracle cure, but it would help. Only time would take care of the rest of the outward signs. The inward signs would linger for some time, but she refused to give in to indulging that misery. If she’d learned one thing growing up in a family that could afford nothing beyond the bare necessities, it was that life always marched onward. Nothing was ever gained by allowing oneself to dwell on the impossible.

She wished she could say she didn’t have regrets about her relationship with Kerrick, but the truth was that she did. She wished now that she had never acted so impetuously and gone to his town house that first time they’d made love. She would still have been heartbroken, but she couldn’t help but think the pain she’d have experienced would be nothing to the soul-deep despair threatening to crush her now.

And the worst of it was that she couldn’t be angry with Kerrick. He’d had no plans to begin a relationship with her while he was engaged in the inquiry that forced him into pretending to court Rose Hardwick. It had been her own foolishness that had led her to pursue an intimate relationship with him. Catherine could understand now why Louisa had wanted her to be careful in her dealings with him. Her sister clearly knew that life did not always hand out happy endings. The fact that she and Nicholas had achieved that seemingly impossible state did not blind Louisa to the pitfalls that lay out in the world, ready to ensnare young fools like herself.

The fact that Kerrick had offered to marry Rose after they were discovered alone together, despite the fact that he did not feel any romantic attachment to her, spoke volumes about his nature. And it was one of the main reasons she loved him still. She’d had her doubts about his feelings for Louisa, but now, with a clarity that could only be gained by hindsight, knew that he hadn’t seen her as merely a substitute for her sister.

Doing her best to shake off her melancholy thoughts, Catherine rang for her maid. She could tell that Lily was surprised to see her up and out of bed. The awareness that the servants knew what had happened, that they’d been gossiping about her belowstairs, made her cringe. It had been less than a year since Louisa had married and they’d moved to Overlea Manor, and she still wasn’t used to having servants. It was more difficult than she would have imagined to know that all their lives were no doubt being examined and dissected by others.