Chapter 26
The clock on the mantel chimed the hour and the ache in her lower back told Catherine she had been sitting for too long. Almost a week had passed since her conversation with Mrs. Hatch and she had seen nothing of Rian. She did not inquire as to his whereabouts, and no one offered any information regarding his absence. She had no doubt, however, that he knew of her conversation with Mrs. Hatch. What he now thought of her she couldn’t begin to imagine. She had absolutely no idea how she was going to be able to face him. All she could do was hope his forthcoming wedding would be enough reason for him not to seek her out.
She offered some advice to her reflection as she smoothed her hair. “Should Mr. Connor deign to converse with you again, you will simply have to follow his lead. Mrs. Hatch has assured you he will not refer to the matter, so stop imagining the worst, and hold your own tongue.”
It was good advice, but Catherine had the oddest feeling that too often her emotions got the better of her, and advice in any form made a quick exit through the closest door or nearest window. She had the uncanny feeling it was something she experienced more often than she should.
Ignoring her own warning, Catherine decided a walk would be a good way to stretch out her back. Carefully she swung her legs over the edge of the chaise and pushed herself up off the seat until she was standing. She only winced a little with the effort, and was able to complete two full circuits of the room before making her way to the large picture window. Settling herself down on the cushioned window seat, she gazed with interest at the world beyond the glass. There was a good view of the street and the park beyond, and though there was now less pedestrian traffic due to the colder weather, there was always something to see.
She tucked a leg beneath her, her hand smoothing out a wrinkle in the skirt of her dress. She was still wearing the loose-fitting garments made specifically for her, and had been surprised to learn it was Rian who had given instructions to the dressmaker. But the sack dresses weren’t all he’d requested to be made. His generosity had included the provision of an entire wardrobe.
The trunks had arrived a few days ago, and Tilly had squealed in delight at being allowed to open them. A mix of fashionable day dresses and evening gowns had been eagerly pulled out. All of them Catherine would delight in wearing, when she could suffer a corset once more. Holding up a pale blue muslin with lace embellishments at the neckline and sleeves, she could see it was almost a perfect fit.
“How on earth did he know what measurements to give the dressmaker?” she asked.
Mrs. Hatch, who had joined them, answered with an enigmatic smile. “Master Rian,” she said, “has always been blessed with a most discerning eye.” And she refused to say any more on the matter. If nothing else, Catherine could not fault his taste. The selection of colors and fabrics made him quite a connoisseur of women’s fashion.
A frown now creased her brow as she stared out the window. Was it improper to accept such generosity? While it was true she needed clothes, surely only one or two of the plainer dresses would suffice. What need had she of ball gowns? She would tell Mrs. Hatch to have them returned. Her debt to Rian was already more than she could ever repay, and once she was no longer his concern, he would give her no more than a passing thought. Her frown deepened, and she instantly became depressed by the idea of leaving. Any hope that his renewed absence would help conquer her feelings was proving useless. She was ashamed to admit that not even knowing he was betrothed was making a difference. The flame within her continued to burn just as brightly, just as strong.
While she stared out through the pane of glass, movement caught her attention. She was surprised to see snowflakes, the first of the season. So delighted was she by their appearance she didn’t realize a carriage had pulled up to the house until the coachman jumped down. The only visitor who had come thus far had been Dr. MacGregor, but this carriage was much too grand to belong to him. Curious, Catherine watched the coachman as he opened the carriage door, and put down the steps. The exhale of his breaths created puffs of smoke that wreathed about his hat as he now extended his hand to the occupant.
A deep red full-length cape, trimmed with white fur, enveloped the figure that emerged. The woman took a step forward, and then stopped and turned her face upward to gaze at the window where Catherine was seated. Even across the distance between them, Catherine could see the exotic face inside the hood, framed by dark curls. The woman was very beautiful. With no way to tell if her own face could be seen just as easily, Catherine remained still, unwilling to draw attention to herself. The visitor continued to look upwards a few moments longer, and then with a swish of her cape she turned and disappeared through the front door.
A sudden sense of foreboding had Catherine rubbing her forearms briskly. She scolded herself for her foolishness, but decided to return to the warmth of the fire nevertheless. Seated once more on the chaise, she wrapped a shawl about her shoulders, unsurprised by its ineffectiveness. The chill she felt had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.
Catherine could feel no connection to the woman from the carriage, and was convinced she did not know her. Unfortunately she could not say with any degree of certainty that the reverse was also true. Perhaps the woman knew her? She considered the look on the woman’s face as she gazed up at the window. Someone like that Catherine would surely remember. Though confident the woman had no claim on her past, she could not, however, shake the unsettling feeling that she was inexplicably entwined with her present and her future.
* * * *
A knock on the study door rescued Rian from the reports he was reading. Liam had left a number of documents regarding a wide variety of holdings within the family’s possession for his perusal. He had been both amazed and humbled at the extent to which the family wealth had been increased, as well as his brother’s ideas for new areas of growth. However, even Rian could only take so much reading in a single sitting. The footman who entered bearing a note was a welcome interruption. Breaking the seal on the folded parchment, Rian opened the note. He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then asked, “Is Lady Howard’s man waiting for a reply?”
The footman arched a brow. “Her ladyship is waiting in the drawing room, sir.”
Rian grunted. He hadn’t realized the note had been delivered in person, and for a moment wondered if failing to tell him had been deliberate on the servant’s part. Deciding he was making too much of what was no more than an oversight, Rian thanked the man before dismissing him. Still his parting expression was worth taking note of. It told him he ought not to discount the possibility of fireworks.
As the door closed Rian’s eyes dropped to the communication in his hand. Written in Isabel’s bold, distinctive hand, it bore two words only:
Forgive me.
Unsure if the referral was to a past event or something yet to come, he placed the note on the desk. The only way to find out anything with Isabel was to ask her.
She was pouring herself a cup of tea, and paused to smile at him as he entered the room. The aromatic brew was quite pleasing, and he accepted when Isabel indicated a second cup on the tray. It was as if their last meeting had never occurred, and if Isabel chose not to raise the matter, then he most certainly would not.
“How nice of you to brave the cold,” Rian commented. Isabel offered her cheek to be kissed and he obliged. To refuse would be rude, and he preferred to avoid a display of temper under his brother’s roof. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if Isabel was going to make another attempt to change his mind regarding their relationship. If so, then she really was overdressed this time. Although it would do her no good no matter what she wore, Rian had the perfect foil against temptation: Mrs. Hatch.
“It was not snowing when I left. Had it been, I might have reconsidered,” she added with a laugh, handing him the cup.
“Well, no matter, you are here now.” Rian took a seat opposite her. The choice was deliberate. He did not wish to be reminded of what had happened the last time they shared the comfort of a couch.
As if reading his thoughts Isabel acknowledged him with a smile that brimmed shamelessly with the promise of sex.
“So what brings you to my door?” he asked.
“I thought perhaps you might be in need of a minor diversion from all your matrimonial duties.”
Now it was his turn to smile. As far as he knew, none of Felicity’s family disapproved of her choice so the notion of having to kidnap her back from disgruntled relatives, a primary function of the best man, was very slim indeed. But he was feeling generous so he said, “Actually, a diversion would be most welcome.”
Rian had no need to be rescued from anything marital in origin, but he was in sore need of being saved from annual yields, percentages and ideas for projected increase in cash flow. He recognized the importance of such documents, and knew they demanded his full attention, but it was hard going. Especially when his mind refused to cooperate and insisted on drifting.
He had been somewhat vexed to learn that Mrs. Hatch had made Catherine aware of the ‘history’ between them. He’d wanted to wait until she was stronger before revealing his role in this part of her recovery, but once he got over his initial dismay, he realized the debt he owed the housekeeper. In truth he was completely ill-suited to deal with such a situation. With poise, and the innate empathy of her sex, Mrs. Hatch had managed to disclose the facts with far less damage to Catherine’s fragile mental state than his telling would have caused. Now Catherine had time to absorb and hopefully understand his involvement.
“…and so I was thinking it might be helpful if I were to meet her.”
Jolted back to the present, Rian realized he hadn’t been listening to anything Isabel had said. “Meet who?” he asked.
“Your guest of course.” Sipping her tea, Isabel looked at him over the rim of the cup. “Honestly, Rian, I should be insulted. You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”
He had the decency to look sheepish as he apologized, and quickly caught up with the thread of missed conversation. “What benefit would be gained by meeting her?” he asked suspiciously.
Isabel shrugged and narrowed her eyes slightly. “Did it ever occur to you that I might know her? She wouldn’t be the first young woman to have fallen victim to a love affair gone wrong. Perhaps the young man got cold feet, or perhaps she did, and is now too ashamed to face a disapproving parent or the threat of scandal.”
Given the severity of Catherine’s injuries it was obvious something had gone horribly wrong, but Rian had his doubts it was the type of affaire de coeur Isabel was suggesting. “I don’t think that’s the situation here,” he said grimly.
“I was merely using that as an example.” She placed her cup back in its saucer, and put it down. “The point I’m trying to make is that I may recognize her, may know her family. Unless of course there’s some reason you don’t want me to see her?”
“Have you heard of someone missing a daughter?” Rian asked, brushing aside Isabel’s concern.
“That’s hardly the sort of detail any family wishes to make common knowledge, Rian.” Isabel got to her feet. “So it is settled then. Why don’t you take me up to meet her?”
“Take you up?” He hesitated, unable to shake the feeling Isabel’s motives were not as altruistic as they seemed.
She made a sound that was part impatience, part exasperation. “Rian, if the girl has injuries, I can hardly expect her to come to me.”
Moving toward the door, she left him with no recourse but to follow.