Page 87 of A Rogue to Resist
“When?” Rosabel asked simply.
Katherine considered briefly. “Tomorrow morning. Too much delay only increases the likelihood that I’ll lose my nerve entirely.”
“A wise decision,” Rosabel agreed. “James has meetings in Parliament all morning, so he needn’t know of your plans until you’re ready to share them.”
The implication was clear: James, for all his affection for Katherine, would likely object to her planned confrontation with Drake. His sense of propriety would overcome his wish for her happiness, at least initially.
“Will you come with me?” Katherine asked. “Not for the conversation itself, but as a companion for the journey. It would be more proper than arriving alone.”
“Of course,” Rosabel replied without hesitation. “I can remain in the carriage or accompany you to the door, depending on what appears most natural in the moment. The important thing is that you have this chance to speak with him.”
Katherine drew a steadying breath, her decision crystallizing with surprising clarity. “I’ll need to prepare. Both what I’ll say regarding the western fields and... the rest.”
“The rest will come naturally,” Rosabel assured her. “Speak from your heart, Katherine. After years of careful calculation and restraint, perhaps the time has come for simple truth.”
The notion was both terrifying and liberating. Throughout her marriage to Edmund, Katherine had remained silent about so much—her unhappiness, her isolation, the slow erosion of her spirit under his cold indifference. She had told herself it was strength that kept her quiet, dignity that preserved her from complaint.
But had it truly been strength, or merely fear? Fear of confrontation, fear of vulnerability, fear of acknowledging how deeply Edmund’s treatment had wounded her?
“You’re right,” she said finally, her voice steadier than it had been all afternoon. “Regardless of the outcome, I need to speak with Drake before the wedding. I need him to know that I—”
She faltered, the words still difficult to form even in the privacy of Rosabel’s parlour.
“That you love him,” Rosabel finished for her, the simple declaration hanging in the air between them.
“Yes,” Katherine acknowledged, the admission both terrifying and liberating. “That I love him. Whether or not it changes anything, he deserves to know the truth before he binds himself to another.”
Rosabel reached across to squeeze her hand. “You’ve taken the hardest step already—admitting your feelings to yourself. The rest will follow.”
Katherine hoped her sister-in-law’s confidence was justified. The prospect of confronting Drake, of laying bare emotions she had barely acknowledged to herself, filled her with trepidation. Yet beneath the fear pulsed a current of determination stronger than any she had felt since those first days after Edmund’s death, when she had vowed never again to surrender her independence.
The irony was not lost on her—that she would now willingly risk that hard-won independence for a chance at happiness with another Earl of Greythorne. But Drake was nothing like Edmund. He had proven that in a thousand ways, large and small, since their first contentious meeting.
“I should prepare,” Katherine said, rising from her chair with new purpose. “I’ll need to review the western fields management proposal I began drafting last month.”
Rosabel stood as well, her expression a mixture of approval and concern. “I will be with you, or at least nearby. Whatever the outcome, you needn’t face it alone.”
Katherine smiled, touched by her sister-in-law’s unwavering support. “I make no guarantees about the coherence of any communication later, depending on how our conversation unfolds.”
The attempt at humour felt strained, but Rosabel smiled nonetheless. “I have faith in you, Katherine. More than you have in yourself, perhaps.”
As they embraced, Katherine found herself drawing strength from Rosabel’s confidence. The path ahead remained uncertain, fraught with potential for pain and disappointment. But for the first time since learning of Drake’s engagement, she felt something other than passive acceptance of her loss.
She felt hope—fragile and tentative, but present nonetheless.
That evening, as she reviewed her proposal for the western fields, Katherine rehearsed what she might say to Drake when they met. All her carefully composed speeches sounded trite or desperate when she imagined speaking them aloud. Perhaps Rosabel was right—perhaps simple honesty was the only approach that could possibly serve in such extraordinary circumstances.
Katherine paused in her work, moving to the window that overlooked the lamplit London street below. Somewhere across the city, Drake was perhaps contemplating his own impending marriage, unaware that Katherine was plotting to disrupt his carefully arranged future.
The thought should have given her pause, should have prompted reconsideration of her bold plan. Instead, it strengthened her resolve. Not because she presumed to know what was best for Drake, but because she could not bear for him to make such a momentous decision without knowing the full truth of her feelings.
Whether he chose Lady Eleanor, with her youth and family connections, or took the risk of a different path, he deserved to make that choice with complete information. And Katherine deserved the peace of knowing she had, for once in her life, fought for what she truly wanted.
She took a deep breath, her gaze still fixed on the distant horizon where stars were beginning to appear above London’s crowded rooftops. Tomorrow she would call at Greythorne House, where she would finally speak the truth she had denied for too long.
She was going to stop the wedding—or at least, ensure that if it proceeded, it did so with full awareness of what might have been.
Chapter Twenty-Three
