Page 17 of What's a Duke Got to Do With It
Finally he spoke, his voice a gentle rumble, much gentler than she expected. “The only distress I might feel is thinking of what you must have gone through over the past years. It is my fault entirely, however, for being surprised at all. I admit, I purposely didn’t ask after you upon my return to society several months ago.”
His tone changed then, became lighter, almost rueful, and she had the feeling he was smiling. “I suppose I never wished to learn that you could be happily married to some lucky fellow somewhere.”
She could not have stopped herself from looking up at him if she tried. “You did not want to know if I had married?” she whispered.
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” His gray eyes scoured her face, and though he still smiled, there was something sad in it. “I never had any claim on you, after all.”
Hadn’t he, though? It had been affection for him that had her keeping every other suitor at bay… as well as what made figuring out which man to encourage now so much harder. Though she knew that even if she had a dozen polite, handsome young men to choose from, it would have still been difficult. No, nigh on impossible. No one had ever made her feel even a portion of what he used to make her feel. And still made her feel, apparently, if the return of those long-dormant butterflies in her stomach was any indication.
But no, she reminded herself brutally, he was not for her. “You are getting married,” she said, a kind of reminder to herself and him both, her voice overloud in the late afternoon air.
Her words seemed to unlock something in him. Or, rather, to lock something up, the ease he had begun to have with her gone in an instant. He immediately straightened, a flash of what appeared to be regret or pain in his eyes before they went completely flat. “Yes. That is, I am hoping Miss Bridling accepts my hand. Which I plan to secure once I return to London with her brother.”
Katrina swallowed down the bitterness that filled her mouth, managing to dredge up what she hoped was a bright smile. “I am happy for you,” she murmured. It was a blatant lie, of course. She was the farthest thing from happy there was. Especially as his engagement—or near-engagement—made him so much farther from her; as it stood, he may as well have been on the moon.
Not that he had not already been far from her in terms of status. The ruined sister of a baronet, and a duke? It would have caused talk even when she had been respectable. But the fact that he was planning to marry another made him untouchable. She had destroyed one possible marriage, after all, and would do everything in her power to keep from doing such a thing again.
Granted, she had not encouraged Lord Landon on that first occasion. And the man’s previous fiancée, Lenora—whom he would have married the day after that first climb through Katrina’s bedroom window four years ago—had gone on to marry Lady Tesh’s nephew, the Duke of Dane, and now lived in marital bliss right here on Synne. It was Lenora who had secured Katrina the position of companion to Lady Tesh when she had learned of the reduced circumstances Katrina was in. The whole horrible scandal had come full circle.
But no matter the positive outcome—for Lenora, at least—the debacle with Lord Landon and Lenora had cemented in Katrina the determination to be especially careful where other women’s fiancés or husbands were concerned. Which the duke was. Or, at least, nearly, which was as good as. No, even if she wished it, there could be nothing between her and the duke.
Which she didnotwish. Not in the least.
But the silence had gone on much too long. And if there was anything Katrina did not deal well with, it was silence. And especially a tense silence, of which this certainly was one.
She watched as Mouse returned, this time galloping toward the duke instead of her, patiently waiting for the man to take his stick. The duke took it, throwing it even farther than Katrina could ever manage, sending Mouse into raptures as he bounded after it. And still the silence stretched. Her muscles tightened, her mind a blank slate, unable to come up with a single thing to say to this man she had wanted so much once upon a time.
She had to get away from him. That was all there was to it. She would gather Mouse and hurry to Lady Tesh, and use that woman as a kind of buffer for the next weeks so she would not have to find herself in another uncomfortable situation with the duke. And so, drawing a deep breath, she prepared to call Mouse back and excuse herself.
The duke spoke, however, his voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear it for the blood rushing in her ears.
“Why did you never marry?”
If he had reached out and slapped her, she would not have been so shocked. Or hurt. Granted, he had admitted to purposely not asking after her upon his return to society, not wanting to know if she had married. But there could be no possible way he did not know of the scandal of four years ago. The news had been spread far and wide, printed in every newspaper in the country, spewed from every person’s lips. And anyone who knew that history would know why she had never married. It was almost cruel for him to ask such a thing.
“I rather think,” she said through numb lips, “that there are plenty of reasons why I would have never married. Or, rather,” she continued when he merely stared in incomprehension at her, “one very specific reason.”
Dawning understanding lit his face. “Ah, you mean your reversal in fortune.”
Despite herself, Katrina let loose an unamused bark of laughter. She had certainly never heard it referred to in such terms before. “If you call becoming embroiled in a scandal not of my own making, my reputation ruined beyond repair, and nearly losing my brother in a duel a reversal of fortune,” she muttered more to herself.
Which, she supposed, she should not have said aloud. He certainly didn’t need the whole blasted thing repeated to him. It was a well-known story, after all. She expected him to nod in commiseration or appear uncomfortably abashed. What she did not expect, however, was the look of confusion on his face.
Her heart stuttered in her chest as a horrible idea took root. Dear God, was it possible that he didn’t know about the scandal? No, surely not. It was a preposterous idea. Practically all of England knew.
In the next moment, however, her fears were confirmed.
“What are you talking about?”
She blinked myopically at him. “Y-you don’t know?”
“Know what?”
More blinking. Truly, he would think she had something in her eye at this rate.
Which really was the least of her concerns. Especially if he truly didn’t know a blasted thing about the scandal, or the duel, or all the messiness surrounding those horrible events.
But just to be certain—and because she was apparently a bit masochistic—she said, “About Lord Landon climbing in my bedroom window all those years ago? And my brother challenging him to a duel? And Francis losing his arm and sending me away and turning to gambling and losing everything?”
