Page 5 of A Rogue to Resist
“Indeed,” Rosabel agreed, her expression growing serious. “Speaking of which, Katherine, perhaps we should prepare you for tomorrow’s meeting. If Lord Greythorne is as... formidable as Lady Beauford suggests, you’ll want to be ready.”
Katherine nodded, grateful for the reminder even as anxiety tightened her chest. “Yes, of course. Though I doubt there’s much to discuss beyond the formalities.”
“One never knows with these matters of inheritance,” Lady Beauford said enigmatically. “Particularly when a titled gentleman finds himself unexpectedly entangled with a beautiful widow.”
“There is no entanglement,” Katherine insisted, perhaps too forcefully. “Merely business to be settled.”
“If you say so, my dear.” The older woman’s eyes twinkled knowingly. “But I’ve lived long enough to recognize the beginning of an interesting story when I see one.”
As they moved to take their leave, Katherine caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye—a tall figure passing by the window outside, his broad-shouldered silhouette momentarily backlit by the afternoon sun. Something about the confident stride made her pause, a curious flutter of apprehension stirring in her chest.
It couldn’t be him, she told herself firmly. Pure coincidence.
“Katherine?” Rosabel touched her arm. “Are you ready?”
She pulled her gaze from the window, pushing away the sensation that she was being watched. “Yes. Let’s go home.”
As their carriage pulled away from the Countess of Pemberton’s residence, Katherine found herself glancing back, half-expecting to see a dark figure observing their departure. But the street was empty save for the usual bustling traffic of London in full Season.
Still, as they made their way through the crowded streets toward Wexford House, Katherine couldn’t shake the feeling that her carefully ordered world stood on the precipice of change. Tomorrow, she would face Lord Greythorne—this man who had inherited not just Edmund’s title and lands but potentially the power to disrupt the independence she had so dearly won.
“It will be alright,” Rosabel said softly, reading her anxiety. “James and I will be with you.”
Katherine squeezed her sister-in-law’s hand in silent gratitude, but her thoughts remained troubled. She had survived Edmund’s coldness and cruelty. She had endured the whispers and pitying glances that followed a childless widow. She had rebuilt her life piece by careful piece.
She would not allow Drake Halston, the new Earl of Greythorne, to threaten any of it—no matter how handsome or charming Lady Beauford claimed him to be.
Chapter Two
Drake Halston leaned back in his chair surreptitiously surveying the gentlemen circulating nearby.
If you had asked him even six months ago if he could ever picture himself here, sitting in the prestigious White’s gentlemen’s club, sipping a fine brandy while fielding respectful nods and bows from other titled gentlemen, he would likely have laughed right out loud at the very suggestion.
And yet here he sat, doing that very thing.
He was now the Earl of Greythorne. It was nearly absurd. He half-expected someone to call him out as a fraud any moment now.
What wasn’t so absurd were the numbers.
Not to say that it was an empty title. If he was careful with what came to him and cultivated the estate wisely, and especially if he invested a little of his own money, it would all be perfectly fine. But it was a shock to learn how much the widow had benefited from the previous Greythorne’s death.
Ought he to be suspicious?
Well, whether he ought or not, he was definitely suspicious.
“So, you can see here, my lord, that there are many areas that could use improvement. I have met with the steward myself and he has a great many ideas if you’ll be willing, my lord.”
Drake stifled his sigh. He didn’t think he would ever be able to get used to the toadying tone being used toward him.
The solicitor had apparently come bundled with the title. Drake gritted his teeth and managed not to tell him to leave off.
“Yes, yes, Mr. Winters. I’m well aware of the estate’s, shall we say, imperfect condition.” Drake took another sip of brandy, savouring the burn as it slid down his throat. “What interests me more is how my predecessor’s widow managed to secure such a substantial portion of what should rightfully be mine.”
Mr. Winters shifted uncomfortably, shuffling the papers he’d spread across the small table between them. “Lady Katherine’s settlement was arranged by her brother, the Duke of Wexford, before her marriage to the late earl. Entirely legal, I assure you.”
“Legal, perhaps,” Drake murmured, “but hardly customary. Since when does a widow walk away with more than half the unentailed assets?”
A booming voice cut through their conversation. “So, you’re finally stepping into your new role. What are you going to do abouther?”
