Page 47 of What's a Duke Got to Do With It
It was the intelligent voice in all this, the voice of reason. And he tried to step back and give it its head, to let it take over and crush the other voice that would have him aching to make a life with Katrina.
But looking at her, recalling their kiss from just days ago, and knowing how desperately he wished he could do that and more with her, he was having a devilishly hard time remembering why he had to keep his head down and forge on in the opposite direction.
Blessedly Katrina was much more reasonable than he was just then. Unfortunately, she brought up the one person Sebastian did not want to hear about.
“I don’t suppose I could invite Mr. Young to our rowing party? He had such an enjoyable time here this afternoon, after all.”
The muscles in Sebastian’s back seized. Which was ridiculous; Katrina was no doubt hoping to secure a marriage proposal from the man, and would want to make certain they were together as much as possible, something that did not seem easy to do, considering the man’s many—many—responsibilities.
Ten children? Really?
But with such a blatant request, especially after Sebastian’s idiotic questions regarding Katrina’s marital prospects, Lady Tesh could not fail to put two and two together. It was obvious she cared for Katrina; how would she feel about such a match?
But when he glanced at that woman, she wasn’t looking at Katrina at all. In fact, she was peering at him again with a gaze so piercing he thought she must surely see to the very heart of him.
“I think that would be a lovely idea,” Lady Tesh said, narrowing her eyes on him for a moment before returning her attention to her employee. “Please send off an invitation to Mr. Young, with my blessing.”
As Katrina, not looking his way, ran to the desk in the corner to write off her invitation to her suitor, Sebastian took his leave. No doubt Bridling would be ready for their ride, he told himself. But deep inside he knew his quick departure had nothing at all to do with Bridling, and everything to do with needing air to clear his head of thoughts of Katrina and Mr. Young together.
Chapter 16
Am I to assume, Miss Denby, that your recent attentions to me have something to do with the pernicious gossip of the vicar?” Mr. Young asked two days later as he pulled the oars through the water.
Katrina, in the process of settling her skirts about her in the small skiff, froze. What was it with the men she had singled out as possible husbands and their propensity to baldly state their suspicions regarding her attentions?
“Er… these last weeks have been difficult, as I’m sure you can surmise,” she hedged, unable to look him in the eyes. And not only for the fact that his eyes were as cold and murky as the waters of Lake Tyesmere that they were currently gliding through. After all, she did not want this last chance at finding a husband on Synne to go as wrong as the other two had.
“No doubt,” he murmured dryly. “But I will tell you here and now, Miss Denby, that I happen to despise the vicar—and indeed all men of his ilk. I am of the mind that they are hypocritical blowhards, and so his words against you only endear you to me more.”
Katrina blinked. “Ah, that is… good?”
“Indeed.” He squinted, looking out over the water toward the others. Katrina followed his gaze to see Mr. Bridling in one of the other skiffs, Lady Paulette opposite him with a lacy parasol held aloft above her burnished head. Their light laughter reached them, blending with the call of birds and the low murmur of conversation from several other members of their party where they lounged on the bank beneath the shade of a tree.
But it was Sebastian, with Mouse at his feet, that snagged her attention. He stood ramrod straight as he looked out over the lake, his hand on Mouse’s head, his gaze piercing even from this distance. She felt, quite foolishly no doubt, that he was looking her way. Her heart constricted in her chest.
Suddenly Mr. Young stopped rowing and began to speak in his dull monotone. “That, of course, does not negate the fact that you were embroiled in a scandal of incredible magnitude. I have impressionable young daughters at home, and I would not wish to have them influenced by someone in possession of loose ways.”
Beneath the wide brim of her bonnet, Katrina’s face burned hot as she looked back to the man. “I assure you, Mr. Young, that my reputation is entirely unfounded.”
“Hmm,” was all he said before, looking her up and down as if taking stock of her, he began to pull the oars through the water again.
“I, of course, have come to the conclusion that you require a husband to repair your reputation. And that you have decided I fit the bill. Is that a fair assumption, Miss Denby?”
He looked to her for confirmation. Pressing her lips tight, she nodded stiffly.
“And it is not due to you being in the… family way?”
Her jaw dropped so quickly, she was surprised she did not have to pick it up from her lap. “O-of course not, Mr. Young,” she stammered.
“Not that I can afford to be picky,” he said, his voice dripping boredom despite the volatile and potentially life-altering subject of their conversation. “Everyone on the Isle knows that I am in desperate need of a wife. Especially as my sister, who as you know has been with me for some months now to help with the children, is due to marry and set up a house of her own. No, I cannot afford to be picky at all. But I would prefer not to add another man’s by-blow to my already large brood.”
Katrina, who felt as if she had been slapped, gazed numbly at Mr. Young. “I swear you do not have to worry on that score.”
He nodded. “Good. Well then, if you can vow that your unfortunate proclivities are well and truly behind you, I would consider marrying you.”
It was what she had wanted. By marrying Mr. Young, not only could she remain on Synne with her friends, but she would also gain respectability, would have a home of her own and a family to care for, would be able to protect her friends and Lady Tesh. It was ideal. And she could not deny that, though he had faults, Mr. Young was a sight better than either Mr. Finley or Mr. Kendrick.
Why, then, did she feel like crying? Why did she have the insane urge to jump into the lake and swim for all she was worth to escape such a future?
