The Notorious Widow (29 page)

William was similarly besieged, as were Laura and Mary. In the rush to condemn Jasper, people overlooked their part in the brawl.

Only Alicia’s arrival caused any strain. William rebuffed her attempt to resume their courtship, and two ladies cut her for the vulgar manners she’d displayed at the assembly. Whispers behind fans revealed that none of her pearls had been returned. No one criticized their disappearance, for she had often adopted airs and graces above her station.

But Catherine ignored the murmurs, too intent on her churning emotions to worry about lost pearls. As the afternoon wore on, only Rockhurst’s presence kept this outpouring of good will from overwhelming her. Whenever she caught his eye, she relaxed. He was a rock who kept her from drowning, a miracle worker, an archangel sent from heaven to rescue her from Satan’s plots. What had she done to deserve such largesse? she wondered, then blushed to think she had harbored dreams about such a paragon.

“I can’t believe they all called,” she told him once the last lady left. William had returned to the library after sending Laura and Mary upstairs. “Did you put them up to it?”

“Not I, but I am glad they did. Wrongs should be addressed as soon as possible. Postponement creates new grievances that can fester, forever barring forgiveness. But this has cleared the air, so you are truly free.”

But she wasn’t, she admitted, glancing around her brother’s drawing room. Her reputation might be restored, but she would never be free. She was tied to Seabrook. For now, she ran the house, but even that would stop once William married. And Sarah’s future was even bleaker. Without a dowry, the best she could achieve would be a post as governess or companion. She moved to the window to avoid intruding on him any further. It was over. He would be gone in the morning.

“What is troubling you now?” He slipped behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders.

“Nothing.” The denial sounded feeble even to her ears. “I was merely considering the instructions I must give Mrs. Moulding. Cook would appreciate setting dinner back an hour. She wasn’t anticipating this crowd.”

“I know you better than that, Catherine,” he said softly. “You were reminding yourself that nothing has really changed. You are still tied to your brother, anticipating life as a poor relation.” He turned her, forcing her to meet his eyes. “But you are indeed free – free to choose whatever future you wish. You can stay here and run the manor for a time. Or you can dedicate your life to helping those in need – to redress Jasper’s crimes, Lord Rankin will offer you a yearly stipend equal to Harold’s living. Or you can marry me.”

Already dizzy at the thought of independence, she stumbled away from him in shock at his last statement. “You cannot be serious. Your vow is fulfilled. My reputation is intact and my life restored. There is no need to sacrifice yourself in a misguided attempt to elevate me. That was never part of our agreement.”

He caught her as she tripped. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Catherine. I am very serious. Yes, my vow is fulfilled. More than fulfilled, for I never expected to win reparations. I can walk away with a clear conscience. But leaving would be painful. I love you and I want you by my side forever.”

“No, you don’t. You are a man of great compassion, but don’t confuse that with love. I am not a charity case to be whisked away to a life of opulence as amends for Jasper’s slurs. Think, my lord. I would make a terrible countess. I have no experience with society, and my breeding is barely adequate. You would be laughed out of your clubs for allowing a greedy upstart to snare you into marriage. I won’t tarnish anyone’s reputation. I know the pain too well.”

His eyes darkened with anger. “I warned you about putting thoughts in my head. You are free to argue with me if you wish, but don’t tell me my feelings don’t exist. I love you. Accept it. I have enough experience to distinguish between love, lust, and compassion. If you don’t care for me, then send me to perdition. But don’t deny my love.”

She opened her mouth to send him away, but no words emerged.

He relaxed. “Let’s try this again. I love you and I love Sarah. My life would be greatly enriched by including both of you in it. Will you marry me?”

“It wouldn’t work.” She freed her hands, unable to think when he was touching her.

“You are not the sort to flee from truth.” He shifted to face her fully, clasping his hands behind his back.

“I need to think,” she muttered, then cursed herself when he grinned. Those quirking eyebrows revealed yet another side to a character she already found too fascinating – a fun, slightly naughty side, at odds with his saintly image.

“You think too much, Catherine. There is nothing wrong with your breeding. With apologies for raising an embarrassing subject, it is exactly the same as Laura’s.” He held her eyes, nodding when she blushed. “Your father was a baron, and your mother descended from a viscount, which gives you better blood than my best friend’s wife, and he is heir to a marquess – not that I care. I would love you if your family sold trinkets or raised sheep.”

“That is not—”

But he ignored her protest. “As to social graces, or whatever poppycock you’ve lodged in your head, London society is little different from Devonshire society, not that it matters. I’ve no great love for either.”

“Perhaps not, but you should consider what wedding a vicar’s widow would mean to your family. You might not care about a tarnished reputation, but they will.”

“They
who?” he demanded, looming over her, though he carefully restrained himself from touching – she was irritated that he scrambled her wits even more in this position. “My mother splits her year between the dower house and Bath. I’ve no brothers or sisters. Most of my cousins despise me for refusing to finance their idleness. And frankly, my reputation is so tarnished already that marrying you can only improve it.”

“I don’t believe it. William thinks you walk on water.”

“He hasn’t seen me in twelve years, and it’s obvious he doesn’t read the society columns.” He paced to the window and back, running his fingers through his hair in a way that lodged heat in her womb. “You probably could have improved my reputation even before vanquishing Jasper. It is very like the one we just rid you of,” he admitted when he returned. “I’ve been rather wild the last two years – not an attractive trait in a man my age. Then there is my scandalous insistence on running my own affairs – including a brief stint in trade that I dare not mention in polite company – and some pranks I blush to acknowledge.” He explained.

“Turkeys?” she burst out, falling into gales of laughter. “You stuffed a flock of turkeys into a gossip’s bed?”

“There were only four.” He nibbled the tip of one finger, his expression making him look six years old. “Then there is my problem with politics. I hold reformist notions, which some people consider more scandalous than my other vices. In fact, I’m not exactly welcome in some circles.”

“My lord, I—”

“Blake. I’ve put most of that behind me – had done so before coming here, in fact. You must believe that.”

She nodded, amazed to realize that he was nervous. She was also surprised that these supposed foibles actually made him more likable than ever. Less intimidating, perhaps. Less perfect. And thus more approachable.

“But it will take a few years to live down some of the wildness. I’m hoping you can overlook it. I love you, Catherine. That’s all that matters to me. Perhaps I should have waited, but I thought you might care, at least a little. Was I wrong?”

“No.” When her hand stole upward to touch his cheek, he pressed a kiss into her palm, then circled the spot with the tip of his tongue. “Are you sure, Blake?”

“Yes.” He cradled her head between his hands. Her arms circled his waist as he pulled her closer. “What is your answer, love?”

She nodded. “I love you, Blake. Who would not?”

“Catherine.” It was more of a sigh than her name. His hold tightened, pulling her into a kiss even headier than the one they had shared in the garden. He was everything she had dreamed of, promising love, tenderness, protection, and more passion than she could imagine. She returned it all, vow for vow, touch for touch, and finally accepted it as real. She didn’t know how or why, but her most secret fantasy had come true.

Blake reveled in his relief. He needed her. Wanted her more than anyone he had ever known. He had not planned to propose this soon, and for a terrifying moment he had feared that his impetuous words had driven her away. She could be extremely stubborn.

But it was all right. Very much all right, he admitted, pulling her closer as her hands explored his body. No timid virgin here. He would be hard-pressed to stay out of her bed until they were married. Only when need threatened to overwhelm his honor did he pull away.

“You will never regret this,” he vowed, placing one last kiss on the end of her nose. “We belong together.”

She nodded, too lost in emotion to speak.

Smiling, he led her toward the door. “We must see Sarah. She should be the first to know.”

“Right.” She started to say something, but shook her head instead.

He wondered if her thoughts were as scattered as his. “Shall we wed at Christmas?”

“That’s only a month away.”

“Enough time – barely. I’d do it sooner, but it will take almost that long to get a special license and send for my mother. Though it is quite tempting.”

“That it is.”

The anticipation in her voice stopped him at the foot of the stairs. “I love you, Catherine,” he managed before pulling her into another embrace. Her mouth opened eagerly to meet his.

Only the creak of the servants’ door finally sent them scurrying toward the nursery.

Copyright © 2000 by Susan Ann Pace

Originally published by Signet Regency (0451201663)

Electronically published in 2006 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.