Page 57 of What's a Duke Got to Do With It
Alarmed, Sebastian accepted his missive, quickly glancing at the return address. Cartmel? What the devil?
Bridling, however, was not so concerned at what could be the cause of such haste. Scoffing, he glared at the letter. “Typical. Father is always aiming for the dramatic to manipulate people.” Nevertheless, he broke the seal and scanned the missive. The bored look on his face was quickly replaced by outrage as his eyes traveled across the paper.
“The old bastard,” he spat. “He thinks he can plan out my life like he is doing to my sister’s?” He crumpled the paper in his fist before, without a word, he stormed off toward the house.
Sebastian, mumbling his thanks to the footman and grooms, followed Bridling at a slower pace even as he opened his own letter. No doubt it would inform him what had upset the other man to such a degree.
To his surprise, a soiled piece of paper fell out, landing in the dirt at his feet. Frowning, he paused to pick it up—but Cartmel’s sharp words on the original missive caught his eye and stopped him cold.
Ramsleigh,
I have decided on a wife for the boy and shall be arriving within two days of you receiving this to see the match occurs posthaste. Make certain he is ready to take his proper place in this family, or you shall not.
Cartmel
Anger seethed in Sebastian. The old bastard. No wonder Bridling had been so furious. He was passionate, and a dreamer, a good-natured fellow not out to harm anyone. Why could the old man not let his son live his life? It would serve the baron right if his son cut ties with him.
Sebastian sucked in a sharp breath, stunned at not only the ferocity of his own thoughts, but also the path they had taken. He was wishing for Bridling to take a stand and live his life? What the devil was wrong with him? His whole purpose for coming to Synne with the boy was to make certain he did as his father required him to do, to forget his actress and marry a woman of the old man’s choosing, to do what was expected of him.
Yet in the past fortnight he had begun to see that the boy was not just a spoiled, silly person on the cusp of manhood, not just an extension of his father, but a person in his own right with hopes and dreams. And so much like his old self that it made his chest ache.
Ah, yes, he saw it now, the ghost of who Sebastian used to be in the bit of sunshine that was Bridling. He mourned for his old self then, who had been destroyed in his father’s greed. And the same thing would happen to Bridling, with Cartmel reining him in and breaking his spirit.
It was nothing out of the ordinary, of course. It happened to children every day, the forceful molding of the soul for duty and honor. Now, however, it seemed the worst kind of crime. Why the change of heart? Why had his views of familial duty changed so drastically in two short weeks?
It did not take him long, however, to know just what it had been. Or, rather, who: Katrina. These past weeks she had reminded him of who he had been before his father had died and left their family in such dire straits. He had spent the past four years trying to do what was right, what was expected. And for what? To be at the mercy of some power-hungry baron who would force his children to marry people they did not love, all for his own selfish gains? If Cartmel was in front of him right now, he would gladly punch him in the nose.
But what did he expect? It was the way things were done, wasn’t it? Children sacrificing their futures for the good of their family. It was what he was doing, in setting out to marry Miss Bridling, as well as what Miss Bridling was doing in marrying him. And it was what Katrina was determined to do, though hers was not for the sake of family, but of those she loved just the same.
So much misery and heartache. And for what? So honor and reputation and fortunes were protected? What good were those things, what good was any of it, if one did not have love?
He cursed low, remembering Katrina’s declarations of love the night before. And he had never told her how he felt. He had ached to. Oh, how he had ached to. But something had held him back. He’d thought it was to protect her, to keep her heart from breaking even more when they inevitably parted. And to lessen the guilt he would feel in betraying Miss Bridling by marrying her when his heart openly belonged to another.
But that had only been a portion of it. In truth, he had been protecting himself as well. Somewhere inside of himself he had believed that if he never told her how he felt, he could shield himself from pain and guilt down the road. But there would be no avoiding the guilt of marrying a woman when his heart could never be hers. Nor could he ever escape the pain of being forever separated from that one person who had come to mean everything to him.
And in a moment he knew: he had to tell Katrina how he felt, before it was too late.
Fire sparked in his gut. What he would do after that, he didn’t have a damn clue. But he had to tell her, had to let her know that her love was not one-sided, that he felt just the same. And then maybe they could find a solution to their futures, together.
As he made to stride off for the house and Katrina, however, his boot kicked up something pale in the gravel path. He stared down at it blankly. Ah, yes, the piece of paper from Cartmel’s missive. No doubt it was simply more instructions, more threats, a way to make certain Sebastian did his bidding. He glared down at it, tempted to crush it under his heel. But at the last second he bent and picked it up, opening it.
His stomach dropped. There, in his father’s familiar shaky scrawl, was a promise of payment of the exorbitant sum of one thousand pounds. And in the corner, in sharp contrast, fresh ink.
Paid in full by Conrad Bridling, Lord Cartmel.
Nausea roiled in his stomach as he stared down at that small notation. He had thought he had managed to track down each and every one of his father’s creditors. Yet there were still some out there, no doubt waiting in the wings like the vultures they were. There truly was no end in sight.
Exhaustion saturated every inch of him, and he ran a hand over his face as the fire that had begun to burn so bright in his belly sputtered and went out. For a moment, a single shining moment, he had thought he might be able to have everything he had ever dreamed of. He had thought he might find a way to overcome all the strife that had been piled at his feet and claim happiness and love for himself with Katrina.
He saw now that had been a mere fevered dream. He looked at Seacliff, imagining Katrina within those stone walls, about to leave Lady Tesh to her nap as she must be right now, descending the main stairs to the library to wait for him, and his heart fractured. As much as he wanted to spend one more afternoon and evening in her arms, as much as he wanted to lose himself in her for just a short while, to forget all that was expected of him, he knew he could not. It was not fair to him, or to Miss Bridling, who was expecting his suit any day now. And it was most certainly not fair to Katrina, who had declared herself to him so sweetly the night before, who looked at him with such trust in her eyes. Who was suffering so deeply from a reputation not of her own making and was trying everything in her power to repair it and protect those she loved.
No, he had to end things with her now. Setting his jaw, he started off for Seacliff. The only question now was, How irreparable would the damage be to both their hearts?
Chapter 19
The time Katrina spent waiting in the library for Sebastian to arrive seemed to tick by as if the clock on the mantel had been submerged in treacle. And how should she spend that time? Not in reading, that was certain. Though she was in a library, the thought of trying to focus on written words made her want to pull her hair out. No, Katrina was mentally incapable of doing anything of the sort. Instead she nervously moved about the room, trying to find the perfect position to be in when Sebastian finally arrived. Should she be by the window, looking out at the garden, letting the late afternoon sun caress her features? Should she perch on a chair and pretend to read? Should she recline on the settee, aiming for a seductive pose?
In the end it was all for nothing. As the door opened she was nervously pacing the carpet before the hearth, no doubt looking as manic as any one person could be.
