Chapter Eleven

“Catherine, stop frowning. You shall give yourself lines.”

Catherine huffed and turned away from her mother who was meant to be embroidering but seemed to want to spend the day quizzing her about her visit to Easton Lodge yesterday. Why was everyone so concerned about her private business? Catherine lifted her book higher to block out her mother, but the words kept blurring in front of her eyes.

Blurring and becoming replaced with all sorts of images, unfortunately. Most of them involved Lord Thornefield peering at her with his intense eyes then bringing his mouth down upon hers.

She pressed fingers to her lips. Blast. She could still feel it somehow—the way his warm, firm mouth had moved upon hers. If she closed her eyes, she could almost smell him too—a little cologne mixed with soap. His fingers had been slightly rough. So unusual for a marquis to have anything but baby soft hands but she had rather liked the sensation. It had made her feel…well…alive.

Blast, blast, blast.

What a mess this was. All she had wanted to do was go for a walk with her friend but instead, she had found herself being kissed. And, admittedly, doing a little kissing back.

Well, she was allowed to think of it a little, was she not? It was her first proper kiss, one she had not even considered she might have. Marriage and all that came along with that had never really appealed to her and one had to have marriage in mind to go about kissing people.

She sighed and pressed the book against her chest. The problem was, she did not want to marry a man who disapproved of her any more than he wanted to marry her. So the kissing really ought to be forgotten. Especially when it had caused awkwardness between her and Lilith. How could she look the girl in the eye when only moments ago Catherine had been kissing Lilith’s brother?

Oh, it was all too ridiculous.

“I am going to see Emma and the baby later,” her mother announced.

“Have they decided on a name yet?”

Mama shook her head. “No, poor baby. It is so undignified. The heir to the title and no name.”

“I’m sure the baby does not care one way or the other. I do not see how it’s undignified for him.”

“He is the next heir, Catherine. He must have a name.”

Catherine pictured the tiny baby with its scrawny arms and wrinkled face. Poor thing was barely days old and already being burdened with his future. “Emma and Morgan shall decide soon enough.”

“They really had better. How can I write to people and tell them that a baby is born but has no name? It sounds ridiculous.” Mother put aside her embroidery and leaned forward. “Shall you be visiting Easton Lodge today or accompanying me?”

“Neither.”

“Catherine, do not be sulky. It is so unbecoming. Goodness, I shall tell your father how awful you are being, and then there shall be trouble.”

She resisted the desire to roll her eyes. “I am not sulky, Mama.”

“I recognize sulky well enough, thank you. I did raise five daughters after all.”

“Then your eyes are deceiving you.”

“I think you should visit Lady Lilith. It would be a fine thing to do and perhaps you shall see her brother.”

Catherine grimaced at her mother’s obviousness. “I have no intention of visiting today and I doubt very much I would see her brother anyway.”

He would probably go out of his way to avoid her even if she did visit.

“You really are the most aggravating child sometimes. Is it too much to ask that you at least make an effort?”

“Make an effort for what, Mama? If you really think there is some chance that the marquis will pay attention to me, you are sorely wrong, and I would thank you to forget all such ideas.”

Her mother blinked at her. “Well, goodness, there is no need to be so snippy.”

Catherine inhaled a long breath and stood. “You are right.” She leaned in and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. “Give my love to Emma and the nameless, bald baby. I need some fresh air.”

Catherine snatched up her pelisse and slung it on, not bothering to button it. Sun shone through the scattered clouds, but a little chill hung in the air. She would do well avoiding the house until her mother had departed so she intended to remain outside for a good few hours—at least until she had stopped being grumpy and ‘snippy’.

She strolled down to the bottom of the garden, past the flower beds that used to belong to her sister Julia. They were a little less wild now that the gardener had taken over but the various bright colors that were beginning to bloom reminded her of Julia still.

Her eyes grew hot. She blinked away the tears that threatened to swell over. It was ridiculous really. Her sisters were nearby and always welcomed her visiting. But it was at times like these, she missed having someone to confide in, even if they would tease her and likely force her into one of their madcap schemes.

Stopping under the old oak tree that marked the end of their garden and the beginning of open fields, she pressed her back against the bark. Life had become different recently and she was not at all sure she liked it—especially now that Lord Thornefield occupied far too many of her thoughts. It was all too…serious for her liking.

Her name rang out, her mother’s voice echoing across the gardens. Catherine grimaced. Whatever she wanted, Catherine wanted nothing to do with it. It was probably a demand to go and visit Lilith. She did not fancy being ‘snippy’ with her mother again and with the mood she was in, there was a high chance she would be.

She twisted and eyed the oak tree. When she was younger, she and her sisters used to climb all over it. Well, most of them did. Amelia usually stood at the bottom, tapping her foot and telling them they would all get hurt. She’d been right, unfortunately. They had all had scraped knees and a few twisted ankles, but it never stopped them.

And being old and grown-up would not stop her either. After so long demanding not to be treated like the baby of the family, she was not at all sure she wanted to be grown after all. Not if it meant thinking about stern-faced men who did not like her one bit.

Hitching up her skirts and tying them in a bunch around her knees, she gripped the lowest branch and made quick work of climbing in between the main branches. She sat, her legs dangling over the edge, and grinned. It would never occur to her mother that her grown daughter would be hiding up a tree.

“What are you doing up there?”

Catherine jumped so high that she nearly toppled from the tree. She gripped the branch next to her and pressed a hand to her chest. “You startled me.”

Lord Thornefield peered up at her, his bemused expression just visible under his hat. “Well?”

“Shhh. Mama shall hear you.” She scowled at him. “Whatever are you doing here anyway?”

“I came to call on you.”

“Me?”

“Yes.” He removed his hat and tucked it under his arm. “Can you come down? My neck is beginning to hurt.”

She grinned and swung her legs. “I’m not sure. I quite like looking down on you.”

He lifted a brow and waited.

“Oh very well.” She turned and made her way down the tree in an utterly unladylike manner. If Lord Thornefield did not already thoroughly disapprove of her, he would now with her skirts bunched around her legs and her stockings on full display.

He kept his gaze on the scenery behind her while she untied her skirt and pushed it down. “There. You can look now. Honestly, there was nothing to see anyway.”

He pointed toward the fields. “Shall we take a walk? That way your mother will not come upon us.”

“Yes, why not?”

He remained silent and well, odd, while they made their way far away enough from the house that no one would spot them. Lord Thornefield stopped and pushed a hand through his hair. Catherine clasped her hands together and waited.

“Why did you come to visit me, my lord?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. She should not think so, but he was quite handsome when he was uncertain. It was preferable to that awful stern, disapproving look he liked to give her. And the way his normally neat hair stuck up at angles appealed far too much.

“We need to talk about yesterday.”

A tiny laugh bubbled out of her. Not because any of it was funny but because she simply did not know what else to do. “No, we do not.”

“I think we do.”

“It was nothing.”

Something flickered across his face. Creases appeared between his brows as if pained. “I would understand if you think I took advantage of you.”

“What are you saying?”

He looked over her shoulder as he spoke. “I am willing to make things right if you wish me too.”

A true laugh escaped her this time. Both of his brows rose at her response.

“Are you teasing me?” she asked.

“Do I look like I am?”

“No. Not one bit.” She shook her head and smiled.  “No one saw anything. You are under no obligation.”

His shoulders dropped a little and the stern expression relaxed. “You do not feel—”

“Ruined?”

“I hardly think a kiss equals ruination, at least not when it has not been witnessed, but I would understand if you were aggravated with me. I took advantage and I should not have done.”

“If you had taken advantage, I would have kicked you in the loins.”

A smile quirked on his lips. “Of course you would have. So” —he leaned against a fence post, offering a rather appealing sight— “we can forget about it?”

Catherine folded her arms. She was not sure she would forget about it that easily, but she was rather grateful they had spoken about it and now she could move on. To think he would be willing to marry her over a mere kiss! Even though he loathed her! She supposed the fact he was so honorable was something to be admired, even if his marriage proposals needed some work.

“Most men would not offer marriage because of a simple kiss.”

His smile grew dashing, tinged with a hint of arrogance that she had never seen in him before. “I am not most men.”

“That is to be sure,” she murmured.

No. Most men did not offer such contradictions. They did not go from mucking out stables to being the very model of a nobleman. They did not rest against fences and steal her breath away either. The way he spread his arms across the beams and crossed his ankles, stretching his shirt and waistcoat across a wide chest made her stomach feel as though it had been turned upside down and back again.

“Why did you feel you had to offer?” She took a step closer and tilted her head to eye him.

“You know well enough.”

“I do not think I do.”

“You spoke of it yourself—my father tainted this family. It’s my duty to salvage our reputation.”

Determination rang clear in his gaze. She had not realized how badly the behavior of the previous marquis had affected the family until Lilith had mentioned that the gossip and drama that had arisen from his various affairs and horrible actions had kept her from society.

“No one would judge you because of him. The sins of the father should not be cast upon the son as they say in the bible.” She frowned.  “Or something like that.” She never did pay enough attention in church.

“Unfortunately, not everyone feels that way. I want to ensure Lilith does not struggle in future. People have long memories and my father made many enemies. You must have heard of those private letters he had published to fund his gambling?”

She nodded. The marquis had been corresponding with a certain married lady. A paper had paid a small fortune to publish them. The husband of the lady remained loyal and threatened to sue the marquis along with the paper, but no one would trust the marquis again after that.

“That’s just one of the many things he did. I can quite happily bear any judgement that may come upon me, but Lilith cannot. She is too naïve and too easily hurt.”

“She has friends in my sisters now. They can protect her in Town,” she reminded him. “And as you know I am not averse to standing up for myself if I must.”

His pained expression softened. “As my shins well know.”

“They do not still hurt,” she insisted.

“I do believe they are still a little bruised.”

“Nonsense. I did not kick you that hard.”

He motioned along the gently worn path that ran alongside the fence. “Shall we walk a little more?”

“If your legs are up to it.”

He chuckled. “What is so bad about your mother than you must hide up a tree?”

“If I am honest, it was for her own good that I was hiding. I love her dearly but there is only so much one can tolerate of her and I feared my reaction.”

“It must be strange being the only sibling at home now.”

She nodded. “It’s quiet and Mama pours her attention on me. When it was the five of us, she never felt the need, but I think now my sisters are married, she misses them, and so I am a rather inadequate replacement for them.”

“Is that why you were on my land? Escaping your mother again?”

“I told you, I was looking at stars. The view is so clear and perfect for viewing shooting stars from the folly.”

“Well, perhaps next time you wish to view them, you could warn me, and I shall be sure to keep my shins away from your feet.”

She gave him a little nudge with her elbow. “If you had not been walking around at such a silly time of night, I would never have kicked you.”

“Well, do forgive me for walking around on my land. I shall be sure to seek permission next time.”

Catherine glanced up at him. She had almost forgotten about the kiss. Well, perhaps not forgotten but any worry about it had faded. It was odd really, because she could almost forget everything now that they were talking like two rational, nice human beings. The light, teasing conversation was quite enjoyable. Perhaps, if he stopped looking at her so sternly, and she tried to maintain a little more of a ladylike demeanor, they could be friends, and not loathe each other at all.

“Do you have a telescope?” he asked.

“Yes, though it is not the best. Papa bought it for me ten years or so ago so there are better ones around. Unfortunately, I cannot persuade him to open his pocketbook and purchase another.”

“There’s an excellent one at Easton. You are welcome to use it one day if you would like.”

She pressed her hands together. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course. You could stay a night or so. I am sure Lilith would like a house guest and my mother is keen on you.”

Catherine could not fathom why. The marchioness had been kind and easy to talk to, but they had hardly spent much time together. Still, the prospect of being out of her house and away from the watchful eye of her mother excited her, as did the idea of being able to use a stronger telescope.

“I will have to bring my notebooks. And my sketchpads. My books too.”

“I shall send two carriages then,” he said dryly.

Catherine laughed. Her mother would get the wrong idea of course, but she would realize soon enough that nothing was ever going to happen between her and the marquis. They might have come to a pleasant peace, but they were still too different and even time could not change that.