Page 42 of A Rogue to Resist
“The provision has existed for nearly sixty years, my lord,” Mr. Winters pointed out reasonably. “Captain Halston had no role in its creation.”
“Perhaps not,” Drake conceded. “But the timing of various complications seems rather convenient for his interests.”
Katherine’s mind was racing. She had known about the marriage clause, of course, but hearing Drake discuss it in this context—with suspicion about his heir’s motives—cast their entire collaboration in a new light.
Drake had been working tirelessly to restore the estate, investing his own funds and energy, all while knowing that failure to marry within the year could hand everything over to a distant cousin. The pressure he must be feeling, the frustration at being forced into such a constrained timeline, suddenly made his occasional sharp edges more understandable.
“The situation remains manageable, my lord,” Mr. Winters was saying, his tone deliberately optimistic. “You are young, titled, and—if I may say so—likely to be considered an eligible match by many suitable young ladies. The London Season is wellunderway. A focused matrimonial campaign could resolve the matter quite efficiently.”
“Efficiently,” Drake repeated, the word laden with distaste. “Is that what marriage should be? Efficient?”
Katherine felt an unexpected pang at the bitterness in his voice. She had assumed Drake viewed marriage as most men of their class did—a necessary transaction to secure lineage and fortune. His evident repugnance at the idea of treating it as merely “efficient” suggested a complexity she hadn’t fully appreciated.
“Given your timeline, my lord, practicality may need to take precedence over other considerations,” Mr. Winters suggested delicately.
“And when has that ever resulted in happiness?” Drake’s response was so quiet Katherine had to strain to hear it. “Two people bound together by obligation and expediency, with no deeper connection to sustain them through the years that follow?”
The question hung in the air, unanswerable. Katherine felt suddenly like an intruder witnessing something far too personal. She should leave now, before she was discovered.
But as she began to step away, she heard Mr. Winters speak again.
“There is one other possibility, my lord. Though I hesitate to mention it given the... delicate nature of your current working arrangement.”
“What possibility?” Drake’s tone was guarded.
“A strategic marriage that would solve multiple problems simultaneously. The boundary dispute, for instance, would become irrelevant if you married someone who already had legitimate claim to the western fields...”
For a moment, Katherine couldn’t breathe. Surely Mr. Winters wasn’t suggesting—
“Lady Katherine, you mean.” Drake’s voice was flat, without inflection.
“It would be mutually beneficial, my lord,” the solicitor replied carefully. “The estate would benefit from her experience, the legal complications would resolve themselves, and both parties could maintain considerable independence within the arrangement.”
“You cannot be serious.” Drake’s response was immediate and emphatic. “Lady Katherine has made it abundantly clear that she has no intention of remarrying. Ever. And given our... spirited disagreements on estate matters, such an arrangement would be tumultuous at best.”
Katherine felt a complicated surge of emotions at his dismissal. Relief, certainly—the very idea of another marriage, even one of convenience, was anathema to her. But beneath that relief was something less easily defined. A flicker of... what? Not hurt, surely. Not disappointment that Drake had rejected the notion so emphatically.
“It was merely a suggestion, my lord,” Mr. Winters backtracked. “Though I would observe that your disagreements seem rooted in shared passion for Greythorne’s welfare, rather than fundamental incompatibility.”
“Enough, Winters,” Drake cut him off. “I will not subject Lady Katherine to such a proposal. She has earned her independence from matrimonial obligations, and I won’t be the one to suggest she sacrifice it again.”
There was something in his tone—a respect, perhaps even a protectiveness—that Katherine had never heard from any man regarding her freedom. Edmund had viewed her autonomy as something to be constrained; her father had seen it as somethingto be traded for advantage; even her brother, who loved her dearly, sometimes treated her independence as a temporary state until a more suitable arrangement could be found. But Drake spoke of her freedom as something she had earned. Something valuable that should be protected, even at cost to himself.
It was... unexpected.
“As you wish, my lord,” Mr. Winters conceded. “Then I would suggest preparing for a journey to London as soon as practical. The Season will be at its height, and with your title and fortune, you should have no shortage of potential brides to choose from.”
“A cattle market by any other name,” Drake muttered, then sighed heavily. “Leave the documents with me, Winters. I need time to consider my options.”
Realizing the meeting was concluding, Katherine hastily moved away from the door, her heart racing with the fear of discovery. She managed only a few steps before the study door opened, and Mr. Winters emerged, his expression preoccupied.
He started at the sight of her. “Lady Katherine! I wasn’t aware you were at the manor today.”
Katherine forced a composure she did not feel.
“I’ve only just arrived,” she lied smoothly. “I was bringing some documents for Lord Greythorne regarding the western fields’ planting schedule.”
“I see.” The solicitor looked momentarily disconcerted, perhaps wondering how much she might have overheard. “His lordship is in the study, though I should warn you he’s in rather a contemplative mood.”
