Page 44 of A Rogue to Resist
Something in his tone—a genuine distaste for the cold practicality of it—touched Katherine unexpectedly.
Before she could express her sympathy, Drake dragged his hand through his hair and stifled an oath. “And now Winters suggests that all this gossip could interfere with my search for a bride, potentially handing Greythorne to Captain Halston on a silver platter.”
“You could refuse to wed,” she suggested. “Let Greythorne go. You have your own fortune, your own enterprises in America.”
Drake turned fully toward her, surprise evident in his expression. “You would suggest I abandon Greythorne? After allthe plans we’ve discussed, the repairs underway, the promises made to tenants?”
“I merely point out that you have options,” Katherine clarified. “Unlike most men in your position. You aren’t dependent on Greythorne for your livelihood or status.”
He considered this, his watchful gaze thoughtful. “True. Yet in the short time I’ve been here, I’ve developed a sense of... responsibility toward this place. To walk away now would feel like abandoning not just land and buildings, but people who are beginning to trust me.”
The admission revealed more about Drake Halston than perhaps he intended.
Katherine had assumed his interest in Greythorne was primarily financial—a valuable property to add to his portfolio of investments. But his evident concern for the estate’s people suggested something deeper, a developing connection to Greythorne that went beyond its monetary value.
“Then you will go to London,” she said, not quite a question. “To find a suitable bride.”
Drake grimaced slightly. “So it would seem. Though the prospect of parading through ballrooms in search of a wife who won’t object to being chosen primarily for her ability to satisfy an entail is hardly appealing.”
“Most young ladies would consider an earl with substantial personal fortune quite a catch,” Katherine pointed out, surprised by how much the notion of Drake courting in London discomfited her. “Regardless of the circumstances.”
“Yes, well, ‘most young ladies’ have been raised to view marriage as their primary ambition,” Drake replied dryly. “Their expectations are correspondingly modest.”
Katherine couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “You sound positively cynical, Lord Greythorne.”
“Drake,” he corrected automatically. “And perhaps I am. But I’ve built my life on honest exchanges where both parties understand exactly what they’re agreeing to and why. The marriage market strikes me as the opposite—all illusion and strategic manoeuvring, with the truth revealed only after the contracts are signed.”
It was a surprisingly astute observation, one that aligned with Katherine’s own experience.
“Then perhaps you should be equally honest in your search,” she suggested. “Make your situation and expectations clear from the outset. There may be young women who would appreciate such directness, even if it’s unconventional.”
Drake looked at her with renewed interest. “A practical suggestion, Katherine. Though Society might consider such candour shocking.”
“Society thrives on shock,” she replied with a shrug. “At least you would attract women who value honesty over pretence.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “A rare quality, in my experience.”
“Rarer in some circles than others,” Katherine agreed. “But not impossible to find, if one looks beyond the usual candidates.”
Drake’s smile broadened into something more genuine. “Are you suggesting I search for a bride among the bluestockings and spinsters rather than the debutantes?”
“I’m suggesting you consider what qualities would make for a tolerable lifelong companion, beyond merely satisfying the entail’s requirements,” Katherine clarified, ignoring the flutter in her stomach at his smile. “Youth and beauty fade. Character and intelligence endure.”
Drake studied her with an intensity that made her suddenly self-conscious. “Wise counsel, Katherine. And unexpected, given your own experience of arranged marriage.”
“Perhaps because of it,” she replied quietly. “Had I known Edmund’s true nature before our marriage, I would never have consented, regardless of the advantages or my family’s wishes.”
Something shifted in Drake’s expression—a softening, a glimmer of genuine concern. “Was it truly so terrible?”
The question hung between them, more intimate than any they had shared before. Katherine hesitated, unused to speaking openly about her marriage. Even with Rosabel, she maintained a certain reserve about the worst aspects of her life with Edmund.
“It was...” she began, then paused, searching for words that would convey the truth without revealing too much vulnerability. “It was a slow erosion of self. Edmund didn’t strike me or openly abuse me in ways Society would recognize. He simply... diminished me, day by day, until I barely recognized the woman I had become.”
Drake’s expression darkened.
“I’m sorry,” he said, the simple words weighted with genuine regret. “No one deserves such treatment, least of all someone with your strength and intelligence.”
The compliment, offered so naturally, caught Katherine off guard.
