Page 55 of The Duke's Last Dance
Whatever the reason, whatever she did, she would be able to get everything done to make sure she could write her lover a letter every week. She could write on both sides of the paper, and that would be that.
Catherine closed the drawers, satisfied that she had everything she needed to write Nicolas the letters she had promised him for a few weeks. There was nothing more she could do.
She sat down on the bed again, and then she lay down on the bed. It was only mid-morning, and too early to go back to sleep, but she felt as though she needed to go back to sleep. So much had happened, and so much now weighed on her mind, she wondered what else she would be able to tell Nicolas.
Would it be right of her to tell him that it would all be okay? That his father would be in peace, regardless of what happened and whether or not he passed away, and that it would work out? Or would it be wrong of her?
She took in a deep breath, and then sat up again.
She had so much to do today; it would probably be for the best if she went into Town with Miss Amelia now to get her mind off everything that had happened.
So she rang for her handmaid again, and got ready to take a carriage into town. She had to run a few errands, and her mother was unable to join her today. When Miss Amelia arrived, she told her handmaid that they were going into town to run a few errands and that if Miss Amelia had any errands to run, now would be the best time to do so.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nicolas did not want to go. He had just heard it from Catherine herself that she loved him, and he wanted to stay and make their courtship a reality. That would have been the ideal way to continue with what he had heard.
Instead, he had to worry about his father’s health and had to make sure that he did not die on the way to their country mansion. Why did his father have to wait until he was ill enough everyone was worried about him to say he wished to die at the countryside manor?
Nicolas knew the answer to that question by heart: to control his family one last time before he passed away. To keep him from Catherine. There were plenty of other possibilities, but these were the two that immediately came to mind when he sat down to think about it.
Now, he stood in front of Catherine, having to tell her that he would be gone for who-knew-how-long before he would be able to see him again, and he knew that if his father got wind of Catherine’s letters, he would have them stopped.
“I will write you every week. I promise,” she reiterated. She had made the promise earlier in the Camberton gardens, but now that he was really leaving for the countryside, it felt as though she wanted to make sure that he knew she meant it.
“And I will respond to every letter you write. This time, nothing will stop me,” he whispered back. He wanted to pull her close.
His heart ached to kiss her, to feel those lips against his for the first time, but this was not the way he wanted to share his first kiss with her.
He caressed her chin instead, knowing that he would have that first kiss with her when he returned. She looked at him with steady, steeled eyes, as if to say that she knew what was coming was going to be hard. As if she knew that not only would he have to deal with being away from her, but that he would have to deal with the reality of losing his father sooner rather than later.
“Nicolas! Come along. If we do not hurry, we will not arrive in a timely manner,” his mother said.
He had forgotten the carriage was nearby, with his parents waiting for him to finish his goodbye to Catherine. The proper goodbye that he had been denied when he went to the Navy was one thing; to deny him a goodbye now that he knew what was going on – even though his parents did not yet know that he loved Catherine and that the feelings were mutual – would have driven him insane.
“Alright, Mother. I am coming.” He took in a deep breath and turned to Catherine.
“Every week. I promise,” Catherine repeated.
“Every week,” he repeated.
He nodded slowly and let go of her chin.
She pulled away, and then he walked towards the carriage.
He sat down across from his father, with his mother beside his father. From his seat, he was able to catch one last glimpse of Catherine’s figure waving him away from Camberton Manor’s spacious front lawn.
He wondered if perhaps tears streamed down her face as she waved. She had her other hand clapped over her mouth, her delicate white and lacey glove struggling to hold onto the hand. When she was no longer in sight, Nicolas turned his gaze to the plants and trees that were now zipping past them.
The journey to Gracemere in the countryside would be a long one. He knew that. His mother knew that. Even his father knew that, and he was the one requesting they make the journey. At the least, he would have to be gone three weeks – long enough to travel there and stay a week and then travel back. The journey would also be tiresome, and he worried that his father would not make it to the countryside estate.
His condition had already begun to deteriorate at Ashwood. He worried it would only get worse as they traveled, since his father did not handle the stress of making sure there was somewhere to stay between leaving Ashwood and arriving at Gracemere well enough anyway. It always made him ill to start the summer Season, and it usually held him down for a few weeks in the country estate until all was right.
Going back to Town was a different story. His father seemed so happy to go back to Town each year; Nicolas wondered what on earth had possessed his father to wish to die at Gracemere.
Regardless, the journey was as long as he thought it would be. Since the roads had cleared up it did not take any longer due to snow or ice, and he was thankful for that. If his father had insisted in the dead of winter, he was sure not only would the doctor have more strongly protested but he and his mother would have too.
Whatever the reasons for wishing to die at Gracemere, Nicolas and his mother kept a close eye on the Duke of Ashwood’s condition. It was not right for him to die on the road, and they took precautions to keep him warm in the carriage when night fell, and they rode on. They only stopped to allow their footmen some time to properly rest, after both had a chance to take the reins for a day and a night.
