Page 12 of What's a Duke Got to Do With It
And Katrina was glad to be staying, as well. She loved it here on Synne, with her friends, with Lady Tesh. She had found a home in them all.
So why was she not content? What was this uncomfortable itch under her skin?
As she said her farewells and made her way to Lady Tesh’s carriage, she chewed at her lip, trying to make sense of her emotions. Yes, she missed her brother. But it was something more, wasn’t it? It did not strike her just what that thing was, however, until an unfamiliar voice hissed in her ear.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, going out amongst decent folk.”
Katrina, stunned, looked up into the angry face of the same woman who had given her the cut direct in the Quayside.
“P-pardon?” she stammered.
The matron looked her up and down, her thin lip curling. “Lady Tesh may have kept you on,” the woman said, her voice so sharp Katrina was shocked it did not slice her to ribbons, “and she may have prevented anyone from saying anything, but know you are not wanted here, girl, by any of us.”
With that she sniffed, and turning her nose up, she marched on.
A chill came over Katrina as she watched the woman return to the Quayside, and she hugged herself about the middle. It felt, quite literally, as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head, then seeped straight to her bones. She had known it had not been easy for Lady Tesh to convince many of the people of Synne to accept Katrina after Lord Landon’s death. From squashing rumors, to fielding questions from the local magistrate and Lord Landon’s people, to exerting her impressive and formidable reputation in an attempt at seeing that Katrina was not ostracized, there had not been an idle moment spent. Even so, that had not stopped the quantity of angry, hateful looks Katrina had received.
But she had not realized the peoples’ hatred ran quite so deep.
Which was ridiculous, really; why would anyone concern themselves with the likes of her? Mayhap that woman’s opinion was not a commonly held one. Dragging in a shaky breath, she looked about at the busy street. And blanched when she caught more than one face peering coldly at her. Just then a young woman passed her on the pavement, yanking her skirts to the side, as if she feared to contaminate them with Katrina’s presence, her narrow features pinched with distaste as she looked Katrina up and down.
Dear God, had she been so blind this past month, so buried under her own concerns, that she had completely overlooked how the residents of Synne truly perceived her? Not that it was such a foreign experience for her, she thought loweringly as she and Mouse hurried up inside the carriage and she closed the curtains to prevent further acidic glares from reaching her. No, ever since that first scandal four years ago, she had been an outcast, shunned by the people who used to be her friends. Or, at least, those who she had believed to be her friends.
Since she had come to Synne, however, she had begun to think that was all behind her, that she could finally live a respectable life.
She recalled the matron’s hateful words, the disgust of the young woman, the angry looks of the people. How wrong she had been.
But even worse than how they perceived her, Lady Tesh was receiving censure for protecting her. In one fell swoop Katrina had damaged, perhaps irreparably, the dowager viscountess’s standing in the community. Tears sprang to her eyes as the realization hit her. Dear God, was she to contaminate everything she touched in her life? And would the others who cared about her be equally harmed? The crowd had seemed unseasonably small at the Quayside, hadn’t it? And hadn’t the patronage at the Beakhead Tea Room seemed to have grown smaller in the past weeks, something she had noticed when she and Lady Tesh had arrived for their weekly visit just days ago?
It all spread out before her now, like brilliant red strings connecting each seemingly separate event. And she was at the center of it all. But how could she gain respectability again so that those she cared for were no longer damaged by her presence?
At once Bronwyn’s words drifted through her mind:marrying Ash did help.Marriage. She mulled it over, tried the word on. Yes, her friend had been right; their situations were quite different. Yet Katrina could not think of another way to protect herself from further talk and heal her reputation.
Not that Katrina believed anyone would want her with such a stain upon her name. She pressed her lips tight and absently rubbed Mouse’s silky ear. No, she was not the popular debutante any longer, as she had been when she was young. There were not scores of men lined up to dance with her, no bouquets filling her home to bursting.
Nor was there any man who she had developed a tendre for, as there had been in thebefore-times…
At once an image of Lord Marsten swam up in her mind, tall and deliciously dark and handsome. She had purposely refused to think of him in the past four years. But as fragile as she was in that moment, there was no stopping the remembrances this time. She sucked in a sharp breath as memories crashed over her head, a veritable wave of emotions. She could still recall how she had felt that last night with him, how she had thought perhaps he might want more than a mere flirtation, the happiness and hope that had burst to life within her at the realization that she had begun to fall in love with him without even realizing it.
But then he had been forced to leave London—only later did she learn it was due to his father’s death—and the scandal with Lord Landon and the duel with her brother broke soon after. And she had put that wonderful, attentive, devil-may-care man from her thoughts. It was too painful to remember him. Lord Marsten encapsulated all her previous hopes and dreams, the yearnings of a young woman’s very soul. And with the devastation of the past years, and more recently the newest scandal to visit her doorstep—or, rather, bedroom window—those yearnings brought her only pain, herwhat-ifstoo difficult to bear.
But she would not do this to herself, would not remember that man and the possibilities of such a bright future at his side. She would put him from her mind and not think of him again. She would focus on her future, and what she could do to alleviate the pain she was bringing to those she cared for most. And if she had to find a man to marry to do it, to gain back a bit of her old respectability so she might protect those nearest and dearest to her, she would.
She chewed on her lip. She could ask Lady Tesh for help, of course. The woman was a consummate matchmaker and had been frustrated beyond bearing at her lack of success to match Katrina in the past; she would no doubt relish the chance to try again. But she would wish to find some beau of good society, someone with a title and fortune. And Katrina, quite frankly, did not have the time to wait for something that seemed an impossibility, not with her friends’ livelihoods being threatened. No, Katrina would have to look elsewhere for a husband.
Mayhap there was some hardworking man on Synne who would still take her. Hadn’t Mr. Kendrick shown an interest in her recently, even with the newest scandal, though he was old enough to be her grandfather? Mayhap Mr. Finley, who always seemed a touch friendlier than was comfortable. Or Mr. Young, a widower with a dozen or so children, who had been vocal about finding a bride. Yes, that wife would merely be a kind of indentured servant to care for his brood. She sighed, blinking back tears. But at this point in her life, she could not afford to be choosy. And perhaps, if she were to enter into a respectable marriage, she would not be such a burden to those she loved.
So mired in the possible benefits such a dismal endeavor might bring, she did not immediately notice when the carriage slowed before Seacliff’s massive front doors. Finally, however, she roused herself to leave the carriage and make her way inside. It would do no good to look so dismal. She would not give Lady Tesh a moment to regret all she had done for her.
Jasper approached as she entered.
“Lady Tesh is in the drawing room, miss,” he intoned. “Her guests have arrived, and she has asked me to direct you to her.”
Lady Tesh’s guests. Of course, how could she have forgotten? Rousing a smile though it was the very last thing she felt like doing, she thanked Jasper and hurried to the drawing room, releasing Mouse from his lead as she did so. It was Lord Cartmel’s son, wasn’t it? What was the man’s name? Mr. Bridling? Yes, she believed that was it. And a companion, though Lady Tesh had not informed her who that might be. They would have company at Seacliff, and would no doubt be out and about showing them the sights. And Katrina would not have all that much time to focus on her own sad problems. Which was a relief. Though she knew she should decide on which man to encourage in a possible suit with all haste, she certainly did not have the heart for such a depressing endeavor.
Reaching the drawing room, she took a deep breath and ducked inside, rushing across the carpet toward the group at the far side of the room. “Lady Tesh, I’m sorry I’m late,” she said in a cheerful voice that was nevertheless brittle to her own ears. “I did not realize your guests would be arriving so early—”
The trio turned to face her, and Katrina lost her breath entirely as she was struck by one very familiar, once-so-dear-to-her face. “Lord Marsten,” she breathed, her feet stumbling to a halt not five feet from that man. No, she reminded herself hazily, he was no longer Lord Marsten but the Duke of Ramsleigh. Dear God, it was as if her remembrance of him had acted as some kind of spell, summoning him from the ruin of her former dreams. He stood then, like her hopes rising from the dead, and she clutched a hand to her chest, as if it could hold that pounding organ back from galloping straight out of her chest. Goodness, it was him, in the flesh.
