Page 67 of A Rogue to Resist
Lord Clifton studied her with perceptive eyes. “His concern seems to have made a favourable impression on you.”
Katherine felt herself flushing slightly. “Lord Greythorne has shown appropriate interest in Greythorne’s people, as any responsible landowner should.”
“Of course,” Lord Clifton replied, his tone suggesting he heard more than her words conveyed. “Though I understand hemust marry with some urgency, given the entail’s conditions. Has he selected a bride yet?”
The question, for all its seeming casualness, struck Katherine like a physical blow.
Had Drake already accepted Lady Westmore’s proposal? Was an announcement imminent? The thought made her stomach twist with an emotion she refused to name.
“I couldn’t say,” she replied, striving for indifference. “Lord Greythorne’s personal matters are his own concern.”
Lord Clifton made no reply, but his expression suggested he found her answer revealing.
They had nearly completed their circuit of the rose garden when Lord Clifton paused, turning to face Katherine directly.
“Lady Katherine, I hope you won’t think me presumptuous, but I feel I should speak plainly. When your brother approached me about this visit, I was genuinely pleased at the prospect of renewing our acquaintance. I have admired you from afar for many years and hoped we might discover a compatibility that could lead to a deeper connection.”
Katherine tensed, anticipating an unwelcome declaration.
“However,” he continued, surprising her, “I now believe such a connection is unlikely to develop between us. Not because you are unwilling to remarry in principle—though you may believe that to be the case—but because your heart appears to be engaged elsewhere.”
“I—that’s not—” Katherine stammered, caught completely off guard by this assessment.
Lord Clifton smiled gently. “You needn’t deny it on my account, Lady Katherine. I’m simply making an observation based on how your expression changes when Lord Greythorne is mentioned. There’s no shame in developing an attachment to a worthy gentleman.”
Katherine felt uncharacteristically flustered. “Lord Greythorne and I have a professional association centred around the transition of estate management. Nothing more.”
“If you say so,” Lord Clifton replied, clearly unconvinced. “Though I might suggest that such an association need not remain strictly professional, particularly if mutual regard exists.”
“It’s not that simple,” Katherine said before she could stop herself. “Lord Greythorne must marry quickly to secure his inheritance. He needs a young bride who can provide an heir. I’m—” She broke off, suddenly aware she was revealing far more than intended.
Lord Clifton’s expression softened with understanding. “You believe yourself unable to fulfil that particular requirement?”
Katherine looked away, uncomfortable with discussing such personal matters yet somehow unable to maintain her usual reserve. “Edmund made it very clear that the failure to produce an heir was mine. Five years of marriage without a child—the evidence speaks for itself.”
“Does it?” Lord Clifton asked quietly. “My late wife and I had no children during our first several years together. When we consulted a physician, it was discovered that the difficulty might lie with me, not her. Yet how many would have assumed, as your husband did, that the woman must be at fault?”
Katherine stared at him, startled by this candid revelation. “But you have children now?”
“Two sons, eventually, to our mutual joy,” he confirmed. “The point being, Lady Katherine, that you should not allow Edmund’s pronouncements to dictate your future choices. He was wrong about many things, I suspect, including your worth beyond your ability to produce an heir.”
He paused for a moment, his cheeks colouring as though he shouldn’t say what he was about to. “According to gossip, your husband didn’t remain faithful. Have you ever heard if those unions produced offspring?”
Katherine wished the ground to open and end this uncomfortable conversation. “Edmund said all women know how to prevent their increasing and that I must be employing such means.”
“That isn’t necessarily true, my dear.” Lord Clifton patted her hand where it still rested in the crook of his elbow.
His words struck Katherine with unexpected force. She had accepted Edmund’s assessment of her barrenness so completely that she had never questioned it, never considered the possibility that the failure might not have been hers alone. Even now, the idea seemed too convenient, too perfectly aligned with her unacknowledged wishes to be credible.
Yet Lord Clifton had no reason to fabricate such a personal story merely to offer her comfort. And his gentle wisdom throughout their conversation had earned a measure of trust she had not anticipated granting him.
“You’ve given me much to consider, my lord,” she said softly.
“I’m glad to have been of some service, then,” he replied. “Though I rather suspect your brother will be disappointed by the outcome of our garden stroll.”
Katherine smiled ruefully. “James has always had definite ideas about what would constitute my happiness, without necessarily consulting me on the matter.”
“A common failing among elder brothers,” Lord Clifton observed with answering humour. “Though his intentions are undoubtedly good.”
