Page 69 of A Rogue to Resist
What claim did he have on Katherine’s attention, after all? They had spent weeks arguing over boundaries and repairs, gradually developing a working relationship that had evolved into something warmer, more personal. But he had never spoken of deeper feelings, never indicated that his interestextended beyond Greythorne’s management. He had been too cautious, too concerned with propriety, too focused on the inheritance dilemma that demanded resolution.
And now Katherine was here, with another man—a man of impeccable character and substantial fortune, a man with no inheritance deadline hanging over his head, a man who could offer her security and respectability without the complications Drake’s situation presented.
As they moved deeper into the rose garden, partially obscured by meticulously pruned hedges, Drake dismounted, securing his horse to a convenient branch before continuing his observation on foot. He felt like a spy—or worse, a jealous suitor from some overwrought novel—but couldn’t bring himself to depart without knowing more. Without seeing for himself whether Katherine truly appeared interested in Clifton’s attentions.
They had paused beside a particularly vibrant display of roses, their conversation too distant to overhear but their postures suggesting serious discussion. Clifton gestured toward the flowers, then back toward Katherine in what appeared to be a compliment. Katherine’s response was lost to distance, but the slight tilt of her head, the graceful movement of her hand as she touched one of the blooms—they spoke of comfort, of ease in Clifton’s company.
Drake felt something twist painfully in his chest.
Was this what she wanted? A peaceful, conventional future with a respectable widower? Had he misread every signal, misinterpreted the connection he had felt growing between them?
His mind raced back through their interactions, searching for evidence that might contradict what he was witnessing.
Katherine’s sharp intelligence challenging his decisions about the estate. Her fierce defence of the tenants’ welfare. Her rare, startling laugh when something genuinely amused her. The flash of jealousy he’d glimpsed at her brother’s dinner party when Lady Elizabeth had monopolized his attention.
Most of all, he remembered that moment on the terrace at Lady Fairchild’s reception—the catch in her breath when he’d touched her wrist, the intensity in her blue eyes as she’d whispered, “This is dangerous.”
Had he imagined the current of attraction beneath those words? Had he projected his own growing feelings onto her actions, seeing reciprocal interest where there was merely professional courtesy?
Lord Clifton and Katherine had moved again, following the winding path through rose varieties of every hue. There was something different in their manner now—a slight relaxation in Katherine’s posture, a more animated quality to her gestures. Whatever they were discussing, it appeared to have broken down some barrier between them.
Drake’s stomach clenched. The most damning evidence yet that Katherine was genuinely considering Clifton’s suit.
As they rounded a bend in the path, Katherine’s face came fully into view again.
She was smiling—that rare, unguarded smile that transformed her features and had made Drake’s heart stutter the first time he’d witnessed it. At Greythorne, that smile had been reserved for moments of genuine connection—a shared insight about the estate, a mutual appreciation of a tenant child’s antics, the successful completion of a difficult repair.
Now she was bestowing it on Lord Clifton, and Drake felt as though something precious was being stolen from him.
Would she be happy with Clifton?
The question tormented him as he watched them continue their garden tour. The man seemed attentive, respectful—qualities Drake had strived to demonstrate in his own interactions with Katherine. There was no indication that Clifton would repeat Edmund’s cruelties or dismissals.
Perhaps this was what Katherine needed—a gentle second marriage to heal the wounds of the first. A union based on mutual respect rather than passion, with a man whose solid reputation and established position presented none of the uncertainties that Drake’s situation offered.
A safe choice. A predictable future.
Everything Drake could not promise her, bound as he was to the entail’s demands and Greythorne’s complex needs.
They had completed their circuit of the rose garden and were ascending the terrace steps once more. Katherine paused at the top, turning to survey the gardens with an expression Drake couldn’t quite interpret from this distance. Then, unexpectedly, she glanced toward the tree line where he stood.
Drake stepped back instinctively, though logic told him he was too well concealed among the trees to be visible. For a breathless moment, he imagined she had somehow sensed his presence, that the same awareness that hummed between them during their most heated discussions had alerted her to his observation.
But Katherine’s gaze moved on, scanning the drive that curved toward the front of the house before returning to Lord Clifton. Something in her posture suggested disappointment, though Drake couldn’t fathom why. Was she expecting someone else? Another suitor, perhaps, invited to this same gathering?
The thought was like salt in an already painful wound.
Drake turned away, unable to watch any longer.
He had seen enough—more than enough—to understand that Katherine was seriously considering a future that didn’t include him. Whatever connection he had imagined between them was clearly insufficient to prevent her from exploring other possibilities.
And why shouldn’t she?
The practical part of his mind argued as he retrieved his horse. Katherine had every right to seek happiness wherever she might find it. She had endured five years of a loveless marriage to Edmund, followed by the constraints of mourning. Her reluctance to remarry had been based on those experiences—not on any particular attachment to Drake himself.
If Lord Clifton could offer her contentment, security, respect—who was Drake to interfere, simply because he had belatedly recognized his own feelings for her?
As he mounted his horse, Drake cast one final glance toward the terrace. Katherine and Lord Clifton had disappeared inside, the closing of the tall French doors seeming somehow symbolic. A chapter ending. A possibility foreclosed.
