A Widow’s Fateful Duke (Preview)

Chapter One

“We’re going to have to take them now, Mrs Blackwood.”

Catherine looked at the beautiful gowns she had owned over the years. They had cost a fortune, as her husband had constantly told her. He made a point of saying it every time she wore one of them in public, which wasn’t very often. But it was firmly ingrained in her mind.

They were going to be taken away from her now. And Catherine had mixed emotions about it. At least they would settle some of the debts James had, but not all of them.

She didn’t have a choice, though.

Sighing, she closed the trunk and put the padlock on it. Then she stood and turned to the two burly men standing in her bedchamber doorway. They looked intimidating; tall and broad with solemn expressions, but they had shown her nothing but polite respect. Catherine was not used to it; James had never done that to her before.

She held out the key to one of the men.

“This is for the padlock. They shouldn’t get damaged in that trunk. It’s very solid.”

“We’ll look after them, Mrs Blackwood.” The man took the key and shoved it into his pocket. “Their new owner will be delighted with them.”

Catherine gave him a strained smile, her throat tightening. Their new owner. It felt like that had been said in various ways over the last few days. She stepped aside and watched as the two men picked up the trunk and carried it out, bumping clumsily against the doorframe. As she heard their heavy footsteps fade away, she crossed over to the window seat and sat down heavily. She leaned her head against the window, the glass cool against her forehead. A headache was building again, making her eyes throb, so she closed her eyes to ease the discomfort.

Not for the first time, she wondered what mess her husband had got her into. It had only been two weeks since he died, and all of these debts were coming out of the woodwork. Catherine was shocked that he owed so many people money. The paperwork she was given with the promise of paying them back seemed legitimate enough with James’s handwriting. She had no lawyer to look at them properly, and those demanding money were determined to get it sooner rather than later.

It felt as if she was being hounded. The funeral had taken place over a week ago, and so much had happened. Catherine wondered if she would ever get any space to be left alone to grieve.

However, she had an unsettling sensation in her stomach that made her feel as if she didn’t want to grieve. The painful pressure on her shoulders that had left her in a constant state of fear was gone, and Catherine felt like she could breathe properly for the first time in years. That was not something she should experience as a widow. Her husband was gone, and she was on her own.

On her own. That hit her harder than she expected. Catherine pressed a hand to her stomach, nauseous at the thought that she would be alone once this was done. She had never been able to conceive a child, which had enraged James after they tried for more than a year with no result. She didn’t have any children to look after and brighten up the day with their happiness and joy. It might have made her life more bearable were that the case.

But she was truly alone now. She didn’t even know if she could keep any of her servants on after the debts were paid off. She had a big house and a few staff, but soon she would just have a large house with no way to pay for anything unless she was ever given access to James’s money. Or what was left of it, anyway.

It felt like things had been against her for nine years. Now, just when things were looking up, James’s creditors began appearing at the door saying she had to pay off what he owed. She couldn’t get out of the responsibility.

It was like she had no voice and nobody was ever going to listen to her. But that was nothing new, although Catherine had hoped people would listen when she spoke now that James wasn’t there to silence her.

“Mrs Blackwood?”

Catherine opened her eyes. Her maid Hannah had entered the room without her knowing. She approached her mistress, apprehension on her face.

“Do you need me to fetch you anything?” she asked. “You’re looking pale.”

“I’m fine.” Catherine managed a smile. “I’ve just got a headache, that’s all. I might lie down for a while if it persists.”

“Very well, ma’am. But you have a visitor.”

Catherine groaned. She didn’t want to deal with another creditor. They just would not let her grieve in peace.

“Can’t we just lock the door and say no more visitors? I thought that the family was meant to grieve in peace after a death, yet nobody seems to remember that.”

“I understand. But I think you might like this visitor.”

“Hannah, how can I like anyone coming to the house at this point?”

Hannah smiled.

“It’s the Duke of Rothbury.”

That got Catherine’s attention. She sat up, her heart quickening at the name. That was one name she hadn’t heard of in such a long time.

“Did you just say the Duke of Rothbury?” she squeaked and cleared her throat, which just made her croak instead. “He’s here?”

“He’s in the morning room right now. I didn’t know what to do, so I showed him in.” Hannah paused. “It was the room with … the most furniture.”

Catherine winced. She had momentarily forgotten about the antique furniture that had been taken away as well. The morning room was, as of that moment, the only room that hadn’t been touched. Not that Catherine had any intention of entertaining anyone anytime soon.

Even if she weren’t in her mourning period, she didn’t even have any friends to entertain.

But the Duke of Rothbury was something else. Catherine had not expected this visit, although trepidation hung around her. He wasn’t another man demanding money, was he? It didn’t matter either way, she had to see him with her own two eyes. It wouldn’t feel real until she did.

She shakily got to her feet.

“Thank you, Hannah. I’ll go to him. Is there anything else that needs to be taken today?”

“Not that I know of, ma’am.” Hannah hesitated. “Although there is that subject you need to address. About …”

She didn’t finish, but Catherine didn’t need her to. She knew exactly what Hannah was talking about. Their finances were so bad that she would need to dismiss some of the staff. She had to think which ones she would be sending away, although the idea of telling people who had looked after her more than her husband ever did made her feel sick to the stomach. How could James have put her in this position?

It was like he didn’t care about her at all, even after he died.

“I’ll sort that out soon,” she promised, heading towards the door. “Just be patient.”

“It’s a bit hard to be patient when you know you might not have a job by the end of the day.”

Catherine didn’t answer, mostly because she didn’t have the strength to. While Hannah might have been speaking a little out of turn, she wasn’t wrong. It was hard to argue with what she said. And Catherine hated having that pressure on her shoulders.

She headed downstairs and into the morning room. A tall, dark-haired man wearing clothes that looked more expensive than all of her gowns combined stood at the window, staring out into the gardens. His profile was strong with a firm-looking jaw, high cheekbones, and a straight nose. His hair was brushed away from his face, cut short but long enough that it just about brushed his shirt collar.

Something magnificent about him made Catherine catch her breath. Was this really the man she had known all through her childhood? The man who had once been a boy chasing her around the grounds of his home without a care in the world.

It had been nine years since she last saw him, and he had been a grown man. But there was a maturity about him now that seemed to hang around him like an aura.

Catherine’s mouth had gone dry. She swallowed and licked her lips. Why was her heart pounding and making her more light-headed?

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak that made her sound like she lived in a pond. He turned and caught sight of her. Blinking, his eyes widened, and he straightened up.

“Catherine.”

What was it about the way he said her name that left her in a daze? Catherine shook herself, trying to focus on the fact she was in the presence of a duke, and curtsied.

“Your Grace.”

He smiled, his eyes twinkling when he did so.

“You don’t need to stand on ceremony for me. We’ve known each other for years.”

“I have to remember my manners,” Catherine muttered

Somehow, it didn’t feel right calling the Duke of Rothbury Marcus, just as she had always done. They were grown up and in different stages of life now. They couldn’t behave like they were still childhood friends.

“Well, when it’s just the two of us, I insist you address me how I want.” Marcus sounded firm on that. “We shouldn’t throw it away just because things are different now.”

Catherine swallowed. She had never been scared of him before, so why was she feeling nervous around him?

“Very well … Marcus.” She coughed and tried again, wishing she would stop trembling. “What are you doing here? I didn’t get a calling card.”

“I know.” His ears went a little pinker than normal, as they had done when they were children, and he was embarrassed. “I … well, I thought you’d simply see me because we’re old friends. I heard about your husband, and I … I wanted to see how you were. I was unable to before, seeing as …”

“Seeing as James refused me any male visitors,” Catherine said bitterly.

Her husband hadn’t trusted her. Once they realized Catherine wasn’t going to conceive any children, he became paranoid that she would sneak away and have an affair. He wouldn’t allow her to talk to gentlemen on her own. Hannah had to be with her even if James wasn’t. It was like she was a bird in a gilded cage.

James had managed to cut her off from Marcus and his family as soon as she got married. Catherine hadn’t realized until too late, and by then, her letters were read to make sure she wasn’t saying anything impolite, so if she had any mail from them, it never reached her. Now Catherine wished she had fought back.

However given James’s temper, that would have just made things worse. And Catherine had learned that the best course was to do as she was told, even if she hated it.

“It’s been a long time,” Marcus said, looking around the room. “I thought you would have forgotten about me.”

“I could never forget about you, Marcus.”

“Then a little acknowledgement over the last nine years might have been nice,” he quipped, a slight twinkle in his eye when he glanced back at her.

He was trying to keep it light-hearted, but Catherine could tell he was hurt. She couldn’t blame him for that.

She was painfully aware that Marcus was noticing things. Despite the morning room having the most furniture, paintings on the wall had been removed and taken away. The spaces were painfully obvious. She didn’t want to admit that she was losing everything because of James and his inability to stop asking for money from everyone.

“I hope you can accept my condolences regarding your husband’s death,” Marcus said quietly. “I can imagine it was a hard thing to go through, hearing about it.”

“Thank you,” Catherine whispered. “It was a shock.”

“How are you holding up?”

The reality was that Catherine wasn’t coping at all. But she wasn’t about to say that out loud. She couldn’t allow herself to be seen as a charity case, so she chose her words carefully.

“Things could be better. But I’ll manage.”

Although she didn’t know how she was going to manage when she was losing everything around her. She was scared of being left with a shell of a house and nothing else. Then again, the house had felt like a shell since James decided Catherine was unable to give him children and really started treating her like she was worthless.

Now panic was beginning to curl in her stomach. What if Marcus noticed the state of the house and started asking about it? He would have been aware that something was off when he arrived. If he questioned her, Catherine didn’t know how to answer.

“Shall we go for a walk?” she suddenly suggested.

Marcus raised his eyebrows, and then he glanced out the window.

“It’s early March, Catherine. It’s still cold outside.”

“It’s a bright, brisk morning.”

“There’s still frost on the grass.”

Catherine snorted and left the room, crossing the foyer and picking out her shawl from the small cloakroom.

“It’s nothing that won’t hurt us,” she said, wrapping the garment around her shoulders. “That’s what you’ve always said to me, isn’t it? Especially during cold weather.”

“That was when I was ten years old, and I could walk around without a coat. I’m a grown man now, and the thought of being out in the cold …” Marcus shuddered. “I don’t do well in it. It feels like my body seizes up.”

Catherine rolled her eyes.

“Stop complaining about it. You’ll be fine.” She headed towards the door. “Besides, I’m in need of some fresh air. Would you mind taking a turn with me around the garden?”

Marcus hesitated, and she thought he was going to refuse. Then he sighed and left the morning room, picking up his hat from the table where it had been placed and putting it on.

“All right, although I think you’ve gone slightly mad for wanting to go for a walk in this weather.”

Catherine ignored that. Just as long as he didn’t start asking questions she didn’t think she could answer.

***

After a few minutes, she regretted going outside. It was only a couple of days into March, and the cold weather hadn’t faded away. Sure enough, there was still a glistening of frost on the grass, which crunched underfoot as she and Marcus walked around the edge of the lawn. Her shoes were going to be sodden, and she needed to conserve her clothes until she could figure out how to get the money to buy more things.

After all, with her husband’s money tied up with repaying her debts, she had no idea what was hers to spend. If she was allowed any at all. Knowing James, he probably had made sure she couldn’t spend his money freely, even if it was for the household.

Catherine ignored the stirrings of anger in her chest. She didn’t want to start getting upset over the fact that James treated her worse than the servants.

Not for the first time, she regretted being swept up by the man.

“How are you holding up?” Marcus asked, keeping in slow step beside her. He had found his cloak and put it on as well, the fabric gently flapping around him. He looked a lot warmer than Catherine felt. “It’s painful losing someone in your family.”

“I’m … surviving.” Catherine didn’t know how to answer that without everything coming out. “It’s been difficult, and the house feels odd without him.”

“When I heard about his death, I was surprised. I never thought Blackwood would end up getting involved in a fight like that.”

“Neither did I.”

Catherine knew her husband had a temper, but he kept it back when he was around those he wanted to impress. He was very good at portraying himself as a mild-mannered individual who was level-headed in public settings. It was a very different matter behind closed doors. Catherine had experienced the brunt of it.

It was a relief never to have to deal with that again, but she felt awful admitting it. That would just open her up to more questions, and then things would get out of control. Marcus had only just arrived. She wasn’t about to tell him all of that.

She looked towards the house, half-expecting her husband to be standing at the window watching them, a look of rage on his face. He would be out here within moments, grabbing her by the arm and hauling her towards the house while shouting at her for being a loose woman because she was talking to someone who was not her husband.

Catherine tensed, expecting him to be doing just that, but there was nothing.

“What exactly happened?” Marcus asked. “If you don’t mind me asking. I’m just confused as to how it could have happened. He was normally very careful.”

“It was a sudden attack outside his club. James …” Catherine looked across the frozen ground. “My husband was on his way home, and someone tried to steal the money he had on him. He said no and fought back, only for him to be stabbed and the attacker to run. His driver and the servants at the club tried to save him, but he died before the doctor got there.”

She still remembered the words their coach driver had told her about James’s death, and how they had affected her. Her reaction to the news had been mixed, unsure whether to burst into tears or laugh hysterically. Reacting in that manner would likely put her in the madhouse, although that might have been a nice reprieve to get away from the mess that was her life.

She wasn’t about to tell that to Marcus, though. He would likely think she really was mad for believing the madhouse was a place to convalesce with their renowned conditions.

“That’s such an awful way to go,” Marcus murmured. He shook his head. “No one deserves that.”

“I’m aware you and my husband didn’t get along,” Catherine pointed out.

“It doesn’t mean I would wish death on him. That’s just uncalled for.”

“We can’t control our feelings, Marcus. It’s just how we manage things. Someone can be angry, and that’s allowed. Others can be miserable over the same thing, and that’s fine, as well. All emotions are valid.”

He gave her a bemused look, his mouth twitching at the corner.

“That sounds vaguely familiar.”

“It’s something you said to me years ago. It was just after Father died in that accident.” Catherine hadn’t thought about that for a long time. She tried to ignore the wave of sadness as she thought about the man who had raised her. “I didn’t know what to think, and I was hysterical for quite a while. And then I felt awful for behaving like a madwoman, and you said all of that.”

“I’m surprised you remembered.”

“I’m not going to forget something that profound from a friend.”

He kept watching her with that look that said she was confusing him a little. But he didn’t respond for a moment as they continued around the garden. As they did, Catherine found herself glancing at the house. She was sure she could see James’s face in the window, and her body was bracing itself to hear the scream that would make her ears ring, calling her names and saying she was good for absolutely nothing.

Something he had done every day for years to the point that Catherine was used to it. But she hated hearing it.

“Catherine, are you all right?”

“Hmm?”

Marcus started undoing his cloak, and Catherine frowned.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you my cloak. You’re shivering, and it’s far too cold for you to be out here without a coat.”

“There’s no need …” Catherine began, but Marcus cut her off.

“Don’t. What sort of gentleman would I be if I let a lady freeze in my presence?”

“I’m not exactly a lady,” Catherine murmured.

Marcus didn’t appear to have heard her. He put the cloak around her shoulders and fastened it with the clasp settling at her throat. Immediately, Catherine was wrapped in the warmth of his body, and it sank into her skin. She looked up at him, and he gave her a half-smile.

“There. How does that feel?”

“I … it’s better.” Catherine managed a smile in return. “Thank you, Marcus.”

He looked a little uncomfortable as he shifted back as if he were aware of standing a little too close. Shivering himself, they continued to walk. Catherine wanted to give back the cloak – she didn’t want him to get cold – but she knew he would refuse and insist that she kept it with her. He was always making sure people around him were comfortable before himself, even strangers.

That made her feel a little flat. Essentially, they had become strangers. It had been nine years since they last saw each other, right around the time James had proposed to her. He had insisted on a small, intimate wedding and wouldn’t allow her to invite Marcus or his sister. It wasn’t until a few months into their marriage that Catherine realized she had been cut off from her friends, and every time she attempted to reach out, James thwarted her.

He had been very good at isolating her, making her feel less than nothing because she couldn’t give him children, reminding her daily of her inability to do what other women could. He had slapped her and told her she was good for nothing, and he should never have married her.

By the end, Catherine had accepted her fate and thought it would be her future. Now, James was dead, and she was on her own.

Except for Marcus. He was here. Maybe things would get better, even after all this time apart. Catherine hoped so; she needed some brightness when she was going through this mess.

“How are you going to manage on your own?” Marcus asked, looking up at the house. “It’s a big place to look after, and it felt rather … empty when I arrived.”

“Empty?” Catherine stiffened. “What do you mean by that?”

“Like there’s barely anyone living there. You have servants, don’t you?”

“A few,” she mumbled. “I’ve got enough to help. We’ll be fine.”

That was a complete lie, and Catherine was still thinking about the dismissals she would have to carry out. If she couldn’t afford the servants, she couldn’t keep them. Maybe she should ask Marcus for help to give them new positions elsewhere, but then that would mean telling him about the debts, and that just felt like further humiliation.

Then again, there was a chance that he would find out with the gossip, anyway. And that would make her look worse as she couldn’t share a problem with him.

“The cloak’s falling off,” Marcus said suddenly.

“What?” Catherine looked down. The clasp hadn’t moved and it looked secure. “Everything looks fine to me.”

“Here. Let me adjust it.”

Marcus stopped her and turned her towards him. Then he began adjusting the cloak around her shoulders. Catherine could feel his fingers brushing across her shoulders, and then they tickled her neck, which made his hands freeze. It was only then she noticed how close he was standing to her, their breath forming and mingling in the air between them. She looked up and saw he was staring at her.

It felt like everything was standing still. She could hardly breathe, knowing that she should be putting distance between them. She was a widow, and she should be grieving, not accepting this sort of comfort. Even if it was from a friend.

“I know it’s been a long time since we last saw each other,” Marcus whispered, his hands still hovering near her neck. “But I would like to think you’ll come to me if you need someone to talk to or any kind of help. I’ll do what I can.”

Catherine was at a loss at what to say to that. It had been a long time since she had been offered any sort of help. James wouldn’t have allowed it, saying they took care of things on their own.

Which was ironic, given that he was always asking others for money in the shape of a loan.

“Thank you,” she croaked. “I’ll remember that.”

“And again, my condolences for your husband’s death.” Marcus cleared his throat, and his hands finally pulled back. His ears had gone pink again. “It’s not something anyone should have to go through.”

“Well, it’s happened now.” Catherine tried not to sound clipped with her response. “I’ve just got to manage through. It’s not like I’ve got a choice with that. I have no family, after all.”

“What about your husband? Did he not have any family?”

Catherine snorted.

“Let’s just say they’re not on speaking terms.”

That was not true, but the truth was embarrassing. James had parents and a sister, but none of them had treated Catherine as his wife. They saw her as a failure because she couldn’t have any children, and they practically ignored her. Once the funeral was over, and they had what was bequeathed to them in James’s will, they had abandoned her. They were wealthy people, and none of them were prepared to help her with the debts James had accumulated. According to them, it was her problem now.

She really had no one.

“Given how James Blackwood was, I’m not surprised about that.” Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. “But if you need any help at all, you know you can come to me. I’ll do whatever you need. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

“There’s no need …” Catherine began, but she was cut off.

“We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends always help each other, don’t they?”

Catherine felt like an awful friend after he said that. If she were a friend, she would have done her hardest to remain in contact. She drew herself up to her full height and forced herself to look him in the eye.

“Everything will be fine,” she said quietly. “I’ll be fine. But thank you for the offer.”

They stared at each other, and it felt like the air was getting warm around them. Catherine couldn’t take her eyes off Marcus, and she knew she needed to back away. But her feet were rooted to the spot.

Finally, Marcus stepped away from her, his cheeks now as flushed as his ears, and he gave her a quick bow.

“I … I guess I’d better take my leave,” he said gruffly. “I wanted to see how you were. It’s been a long time.”

“It certainly has,” Catherine replied. She began to undo the clasp on the cloak. “Don’t forget …”

“You can keep it.” Marcus held up a hand. “It’s cold outside today, and you need it more than me.”

“But …”

“Return it to me another time, Catherine. I know you’ll look after it.” The twinkle in his eye was back again, and that softened his face. He bowed again, never taking his eyes off her. “I hope to hear from you soon, Mrs Blackwood. Take care.”

All Catherine could do was watch him as he walked away, unable to look away until he was out of sight.

 

Chapter Two

Catherine was left reeling by what had just happened. She hadn’t anticipated seeing Marcus again, and now he had managed to elicit emotions she thought had been buried for years.

And she didn’t know how to feel about it. It was almost bringing up guilt in her gut, and Catherine didn’t know why.

Her mind was in a mess. Things were going up and down, and she could barely keep up. But she had to admit there had been a bright moment when she was with Marcus in an otherwise dark moment. With things as they currently were, knowing that her childhood friend was there made her feel a little better.

It would only be brief, but Catherine would cling to what she could.

The grass crunched under her feet, and the undisturbed frost was in the process of melting. The hem of her skirts was going to be wet, she knew that much, and Catherine could feel the cold seeping into her feet. Her stockings would be ruined as well.

At this point, she didn’t really care. It was either having ruined stockings or having Marcus see the true extent of what was going on inside her house. She couldn’t let that happen.

Hannah was coming out of the kitchen when Catherine came back into the house. She hurried over.

“Mrs Blackwood, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Catherine frowned. “Why would you ask that?”

“You’re shivering, and you’re leaving footprints behind.”

“Am I?” Catherine looked back and saw the wet marks her feet had printed onto the floor. “Oh, right. It’s still rather wet out there.”

She didn’t think she was shivering, though. Not with the warm cloak wrapped around her shoulders. It had the heat from Marcus’s body on it, and she could feel it becoming a part of her body. The temptation to press the fine cloth to her nose and inhale his scent was immense, but she managed to stop herself.

“Well, I’ll warm up shortly.” She eased her shoes off, grimacing as her stockings squelched. “Would you mind getting the fire laid up for me, Hannah? I need to warm up my toes.”

“Of course, ma’am. Would you like me to fetch you some fresh shoes and stockings?”

“Just the stockings, please.” Catherine walked past her, the cloak billowing out behind her. “Given the circumstances, I don’t think anyone’s going to notice or care that I’m not properly dressed for visitors.”

Not that she was going to get any visitors. Unless it was from a few burly men looking to take more of her furniture away. Despite the fact she was meant to be in mourning, they didn’t seem to care. Nobody was following social etiquette.

But at least she wasn’t getting anyone coming to offer their condolences before standing at the door awkwardly and then leaving just as quickly. Nobody wanted to go through that, and Catherine was grateful. She wasn’t in the mood for visitors.

Unless it was Marcus. She would happily allow him to visit again, although she wouldn’t be able to hide how sparse her house was for much longer.

She couldn’t let him see how far things had gone.

Still wearing the cloak, Catherine settled in the chair that James used to sit in closest to the fire. It was soft and comfortable, and he forbade anyone from sitting in it. Catherine had been scolded soundly for doing it once, and she never did it again.

He wasn’t around anymore, though, so he wasn’t going to hurt her for sitting in his favourite chair. Catherine had made the most of it since she heard about his death. It was petty, but it made her feel better.

Even though it probably made her a bad wife for being relieved she could sit wherever she wanted without being shouted at.

She brought her feet up and curled them underneath her, snuggling into the cloak. She found herself unsure whether to cry or smile, and she dithered between the two. It was a bizarre feeling, something she had been struggling with for some time.

James was good at eliciting strange feelings out of her, especially once he decided that Catherine wouldn’t be able to provide him with any children. Inexperienced as she was, Catherine had pointed out that he needed to be present, and she couldn’t do it herself. But that had resulted in getting a slap, the first of many.

How had she not realized that he was the worst possible person to be married to? Why didn’t she listen to everyone else and turn him down? James might have been the most charming man she had ever met, but she shouldn’t have allowed him to sweep her off her feet.

It was her fault for getting married to an abusive man like James Blackwood, but it wasn’t her fault that he took to treating her badly. No one deserved that, even though James would often say that she was to blame.

His temper had got the best of him, and now he was dead because of it. Catherine couldn’t bring herself to be totally sad about the situation.

And that made her feel like a horrible wife. Wives were supposed to love their husbands and be devastated if something happened to them. Yet Catherine couldn’t do it.

Hannah came in and knelt by the hearth, setting up the fire ready to burn. Catherine watched her, her heart squeezing at the thought of losing Hannah. She would have to dismiss almost all of her servants just so she could save money except the cook and a footman. She wanted to keep Hannah as well, but there wasn’t enough. Catherine would be lucky if she could afford just two servants with the way things were going.

Now that made her want to cry.

“That’s done, ma’am.” Hannah lit the fire and sat back. “Would you like me to get you anything more? A bowl of warm water for your feet?”

“That would be nice. My toes are so cold.” Catherine flinched as she wriggled them. “I think that would make me feel better.”

“Very good, ma’am.” Hannah stood up, dusting her skirts down. Then she paused. “Do you mind if I speak to you about something? I hope I’m not too forward about it.”

“Of course not. You don’t have to worry about that with me.” Catherine shifted until she was sitting straighter. Then she gestured towards the settee across from her. “Sit down and talk to me.”

Hannah hesitated, her expression one of surprise. Then she sat on the edge of the settee, looking as if she would slip off if she moved. She placed her hands in her lap, straightening her back and pulling her shoulders back.

“I wanted to talk to you about my position here.”

Catherine bit her lip.

“That was something I wanted to discuss with you later …”

“I want to do it now if you don’t mind.” Hannah’s voice was calm. “It’s something I’m worried about, and I can’t let it wait. I have to talk to you about it now.”

Catherine could understand that. She tightened the cloak around her, feeling some comfort in it.

“All right. Then tell me what you’re worried about. I can see it’s weighing on you.”

Hannah audibly swallowed and looked down at her hands. She was clearly trying to keep her composure, and she wasn’t able to. Catherine didn’t like seeing her normally calm maid so worried.

“I know that you’ve got to dismiss the servants, and I’m aware that I’m more than likely going to be one of them.”

“Hannah …”

“I’m not upset if that’s the case. I know that you need to figure out who you’ve got to dismiss. We’re all aware of it, and while we’re not happy, we understand the situation.” She looked up. “But I would like to stay.”

Catherine frowned.

“Are you pleading for your position?”

“Not exactly.” Hannah cleared her throat. “I want to stay and work for you for nothing.”

It took a moment for Catherine to realize what she had just said. She sat up.

“What did you say? You want to remain working for no pay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But … why? Why would you do that? You’ve recently got married, and your husband …”

“I spoke to my husband about it, and he understands the situation,” Hannah cut her off. “He says that he would rather I found some employment that brought some money in, but he understands that I love this work, and he’s aware of your situation. You’ve been so kind to me over the years, and you looked after me when I was sick, but Mr Blackwood refused to let me rest.”

“I remember that,” Catherine murmured.

“You defied your husband and looked after me when he wouldn’t let me see a doctor. My husband said we should return the favour and help you when you’re in dire need of it. It won’t be for long, but by the time you’ve got everything sorted out, you should be able to pay me properly.”

For a moment, Catherine was left stunned. She hadn’t expected that to happen at all. She was aware that Hannah was a loyal, devoted person, and she would do whatever she could for someone she cared about, but to give up a salary so she could remain where she was? That felt like utter madness.

“My husband said he’s happy to help out if you need anything,” Hannah went on. “You had to let go of the gardeners just yesterday? Well, he’s the one who tends to the garden in our home, so if you want someone to look after yours, he’s happy to do it without pay.”

“I … I don’t know what to say.” Catherine gulped. “You would do all of that?”

Hannah smiled.

“We’re not heartless, Mrs Blackwood. You’re going through a hard time right now, and your husband … well, he’s left you in a bad position. The last thing you need to worry about is the simple things. Let us take the weight off your shoulders for a short time. Maybe we’ll find a solution to your money issues sooner rather than later.”

Catherine winced. She had never discussed financial issues with Hannah, but the household servants were shrewd people. They would have figured something out. It wasn’t something she would have talked about to her maid, but who else was there to talk to? Hannah was turning into more of a friend than a maid right now, which felt strange.

She knew she would be mad to turn this down, although she felt like she was taking advantage.

“Are you sure about this, Hannah? I don’t want to put you and your husband in a bad financial position, and I would hate to take advantage of you …”

“You would never do that with anyone, Mrs Blackwood. Anyone who knows you is aware you’re not like that.” Hannah nodded. “But I’m willing to do it, only for a short time, while you get back on your feet. I’m sure a few of the other servants will be willing to do that as well if we ask them.”

Catherine felt like her head was spinning. It was strange that this was happening. What was going on? She half-expected to wake up and find this was some sort of dream.

The fire had really caught up, and she felt the warmth through the thickness of the cloak. Catherine stuck her bare feet out towards the fire. She knew she was in a state of undress, but given the circumstances, she didn’t care about that. There was nobody around to tell her off.

“I would like that, Hannah,” she said. “And I do appreciate the offer. I don’t want to take advantage of you too much, though …”

“I think this is a time when you’re allowed,” Hannah replied with a smile. She stood up. “I’ll go and get the warm water for your feet, ma’am. I won’t be long.”

She left the room, and Catherine sagged back into the chair. With all the despair threatening to tighten around her, it felt good to have a moment or two where things felt as if they were going to be all right.

It was brief, but it was better than wondering how she was going to survive into the next day.

***

Marcus’s head was still swirling with everything as he headed back home. Catherine looked like she had been through an emotional mangle. She was thinner than he remembered, her eyes hollowed out and her complexion pale. She still looked beautiful, her raven-black hair remained thick and vibrant, and her blue eyes were the same bright colour he recalled from years ago. There was still life in her, but it was a struggle to see her in such a state.

When he heard about Blackwood’s death, he wasn’t surprised. With the foul temper he had, especially when it came to money, it was only a matter of time before it killed him. Blackwood was greedy, a man who had to control absolutely everything.

And he had controlled Catherine. She hadn’t said much about it, but Marcus could tell that a part of her was relieved her husband was gone. He wished he could assure her things were going to get better.

But he doubted it. Even though he hadn’t remained long inside the house, he had felt the emptiness once he stepped inside. That, and he saw two large men carrying a trunk out of the house and loading it onto the cart. They looked like they were collecting, and Marcus wondered if people were coming out of the woodwork to collect their debts. He was angry about that. How could those who were owed money think it was a good idea to come and get what was theirs when Catherine was a grieving widow? And why take it in one go? Surely, they should have gone through the proper channels.

Evidently, the people Blackwood owed money to didn’t care about that. They were going to get what they wanted whether anyone liked it or not. Marcus knew there were heartless people around, but this was madness.

He had wanted to assure Catherine things were going to be all right, but he knew he couldn’t do that when he wasn’t even sure about it. Things were uncertain, and Catherine was having to deal with it on her own. It was horrible.

And it didn’t help that he had wanted to put his arms around her to make her feel better. He had wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but that would have caused further problems. Marcus didn’t want to leave Catherine in more of a mess than she was now.

A simple embrace of comfort would be enough to start rumours, even when they were alone. He hated that something as innocent as touching a man or woman they weren’t married to was enough to have people talking.

Marcus wished others would mind their own business.

He was still lost in thought when he arrived back at his estate. It was now becoming a beautiful day, the sun climbing further in the sky. It was very early spring, so the blossom on the trees was starting to come out. It looked rather sad at that moment, just a few petals here and there, but in just a few days, it would be in full bloom, and the pink on the trees would be spread across the estate. Marcus enjoyed the smell of blossom, which he had never thought would be possible.

He liked it more than the usual flowers dotted around the garden as well, decorating various tables in the house. But blossoms couldn’t be collected like a bouquet of flowers.

Entering the house, Marcus nodded at his butler Staples, who took his hat. The servant looked surprised.

“Where’s your cloak, Your Grace?” he asked. “Did you lose it?”

“Someone needed it more than me.” Marcus wasn’t about to explain that. He looked around. “Is Lady Pembroke around?”

“She’s in the morning room, Your Grace. I believe she’s writing some letters.”

“I’ll go into her shortly. I’ve got to check a few things in the study first.” Marcus paused. “How is she? I left before she came downstairs for breakfast, so I haven’t seen her this morning.”

Staples smiled.

“She’s doing well. She’s now found some colour in her wardrobe.”

“She’s not wearing black anymore? She didn’t mention that last night.”

“Something about it was about time, although I have a feeling she was still a bit tearful about it.” Staples paused. “I think she’s scared that this is going to be a betrayal to her husband. She was devoted to him. But that’s just my personal opinion, Your Grace. If I spoke out of turn …”

“No, I understand you well enough, Staples,” Marcus assured him. “People grieve differently, and it’s hard to move on at times.”

Marcus could agree to that. His sister had been desperately in love with her husband, the Earl of Pembroke. He had been closer to Marcus’s age, which had left him concerned somewhat, but it was clear the pair of them loved each other, and Marcus wasn’t about to deny that. He knew Pembroke could look after Sophia.

Then, just a year after getting married, Pembroke and Sophia had been in a carriage accident. A wheel came off, and they crashed. Pembroke had died instantly from his injuries, and Sophia had been left scarred physically and emotionally from the tragedy. Marcus couldn’t begin to count how many days he didn’t see her because she was hidden in her room, not wanting to see anyone.

It had been a little over two years since she lost her husband, and now she had stopped wearing black. It felt like a step in the right direction. Marcus didn’t want his sister to forget her husband, but she needed to move on; otherwise, she was going to get stuck.

He knew people who had been in that mindset, and things just got more and more tense. He wanted to see Sophia’s spirit again, the life in her eyes once more. Hopefully, he would see it soon.

“Would you like me to bring you anything, Your Grace?” Staples asked. “Anything to eat?”

“No, I’m fine, Staples. I’ll have lunch with my sister later on.”

“Very good.”

Staples walked away, and Marcus made his way to the study. He had a lot to do, and he had put it off long enough. His estate needed to be sorted out, his accounts had to be double-checked, and he needed to sort out the servants’ wages. His estate manager would have done the majority of that, but Markham was out checking on the various tenants on Marcus’s land, so it would be some time before he returned.

Maybe he should have waited until he had finished before going to see Catherine, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He had to see her. It pained him to know she had gone through such torment, and she was still suffering, even now. Grief was a lot to handle, but when it was mixed in with the aftermath …

Marcus slumped at his desk and scowled at the papers scattered across the table. It was too much for him to do, especially on his own. What did he start with? How was he supposed to sort it all out? Maybe he should wait for Markham.

But that would just delay paying his staff, and Marcus liked to do it on the day he promised every week. Perhaps getting that organized first and then checking the account books would be the best option.

He was reaching for the ledger when there was a knock on the door. Sighing, he glowered at the desk.

“What is it?”

The door opened, and Sophia glided in. Marcus had never figured out how his younger sister managed to look like she was skating across the floor without any real sound from her footsteps. She was incredibly graceful, her head always held high and standing straight. It had been like that since she was younger. Heads constantly turned when she was in the same room.

It would be no surprise to find she had more suitors once she entered Society again. Despite being a widow, she would never be short of admirers, though Marcus knew Sophia wouldn’t want that. Her heart would always be with her departed husband.

“There you are, Marcus.” Sophia came around the desk and kissed his head. “I was beginning to think you were neglecting me.”

“Neglecting you? Never!” Marcus snorted. “How did you guess I would be in here?”

“You’ve got too much to do. You were complaining about it last night.” Sophia raised an eyebrow. “Which was why I was surprised to hear your horse coming back just now. You didn’t say anything about going for a ride.”

Marcus contemplated what he was going to say. He was aware that Sophia had a lot of feelings about Catherine, mostly ones of anger. She considered Catherine to have abandoned them for her new life. Marcus knew it wasn’t fair on Catherine, and she wasn’t the one who cut contact with him, but Sophia thought otherwise. She had been sixteen when Catherine and Blackwood got married, and she had been distraught to have no communication with her friend. Marcus knew it was still a sore subject, even now.

But he couldn’t hide it from her. They didn’t have secrets, both of them promised that.

He was saved from saying anything when the door opened, and Staples came in.

“Maurice said that lunch is just about ready now if you would like to partake, Your Grace?” he asked.

Marcus was about to say he could wait until later, but then his stomach started making noises. Sophia laughed.

“I think that’s your answer, Staples,” she said. “We’ll have it in the morning room.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

Staples left, and Marcus rubbed his stomach with a grimace.

“I should have had more breakfast,” he grumbled.

“You know what horse riding does to you. You always come back hungry.” Sophia tugged his arm. “Come on, you and I can talk about what you were up to. I’m sure you were doing more than just exercising.”

Marcus rolled his eyes, allowing his sister to tug him up onto his feet.

“What makes you think I’ve been doing more than horse riding.”

“There’s a bit of sparkle in your eye, Marcus. It’s small, but it’s there.” Sophia winked at him. “I know you too well.”

Had he? Marcus hadn’t thought about it. But it wouldn’t twinkle for much longer once his sister found out who he had been to see.