Hamish sat in the library at his mother’s townhouse, a pile of paperwork on his desk, some of which related to the rebuilding of his townhouse in Berkley Square. The letter, scrawled in delicate hand was signed by Katherine’s father, but Hamish knew she’d written every word.

Since their return to London a month past, they had been inseparable, stealing away at events, coming together at nights when he’d take her home from balls and parties. He couldn’t wait for his home to be completed so he could take her there instead, have her in his own bed and not a bloody carriage or room at a ball or party.

Hamish hadn’t delved too much into what Katherine had come to mean to him, but what he did know was that he cared for her more than he’d cared for anyone else. Her happiness was paramount in his life, and that she still met his desire with as much eagerness as she did told him more than words ever could that they suited.

A knock sounded on his door, and he placed down Katherine’s letter telling him that the construction part of his property was now complete, and the interior would commence, handled by Mr. Thomas Hope. It was a letter stating that her father’s part in the reconstruction of his home was at an end and that payment would be due.

“Enter,” he said, not liking the thought of going back to Berkley Square and not seeing Katherine there, dressed in breeches, the small grey cap perched jauntily atop her hair and looking so delectable that he’d had to steal her away one day and have her. He’d managed to lock them in his dining room where he’d taken her on the table. Never would he ever look at the mahogany set with anything but fondness.

“May I come in, Lord Leighton?” Lizzie stood at the door. He gestured her to come in.

“Have a seat, Lizzie.” She did as he bade, and he gave her his full attention. “How can I help you?”

She clasped her hands tight in her lap, and her wringing of them gave her anxiety away.

“What troubles you?” he asked, placing down his quill.

Tears sprang into her eyes and he balked, not used to such feminine theatrics. Katherine never lost her countenance, she was calm and collected with everything. All except their lovemaking. He shook the thoughts aside and concentrated on Lizzie and her problem.

“Your mother wishes for us to marry my lord and I didn’t know who else to turn to. For weeks she has been pushing me to gain your favour, but this time she’s gone too far, and I cannot do it.”

Hamish clenched his jaw not surprised Lizzie’s upset was caused by his meddling parent. “What has she asked of you?” He hated to know, but if he was going to deal with the situation, and his mother in particular, he needed to know everything.

“She wanted me to be caught in your arms, near ruin me so you would, as a gentleman, have to offer for me. I cannot do it, my lord. As much as I respect you and thank you for your service during the season, I do only feel brotherly affections for you.”

After her impassioned speech, Hamish had to admit for a new-found respect for Miss Doherty. He’d thought her his mother’s pawn and creature, but the girl had spunk, a little independent will and he liked that. She would need her backbone when his mother learned of her treachery.

“I thank you for being honest and notifying me of my mother’s less than proper proposition. I shall speak to her and I can assure you, you will finish out the season without any influence from her or what her wishes are.”

The girl pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her cheeks. “She’ll send me back to the country where I shall die an old maid and never have what so many of my friends do.”

The notion made him think of Katherine and the fact that at six and twenty she was termed old maid already and well on the shelf. The idea didn’t sit well with him, never had. A woman of such independence of mind, a beautiful soul inside and out should never sit on a shelf and die an old maid, never loved or cherished.

“I promise you, that will never happen. And surely, there are men closer to you in age that have caught your attention. You will not pass away an old maid.”

“I have no dowry, my lord. My father has settled everything on my brother and all that’s left for me is a measly two-hundred pounds per year gifted to my husband upon my marriage. I may have admirers already, but I do not have the money to tempt them to propose. I seem to be only worth monetary value within our Society, not the value placed on myself.”

She met his gaze, her words striking him as an unfortunate truth in their lives.

“I therefore shall never marry, for I cannot buy my husband,” she said with a bitterness normally not seen in one so young.

Hamish stood, coming around the desk to lean on it before her. “I’ll not allow that. Because you’re under our protection, I shall ensure that such a thing will never happen. I will give you a dowry Miss Doherty. Ten thousand pounds in fact, a measly sum to my family, but, there is a condition.”

“But my lord, I couldn’t possibly. That’s too much,” she stammered, eyes flaring with shock.

“It is done. I shall have the papers drawn up by month’s end, but as I said, there is a condition.”

“And that is?” She’d paled, but she seemed to be listening.

“That we keep it a secret. And then, Lizzie, when you find the right gentleman, who’ll love you as poor as you supposedly are, you’ll know its love. You’ll know that he is the right man for you.”

She sat there for a moment, her mouth agape with no sound, before she jumped up, throwing her arms about him and hugging him tight. “Oh, thank you so much, Lord Leighton. Thank you so much. I shall be forever grateful and if you ever need anything, just say the word and I shall stand beside you always.”

He set her back, shaking his head. “There is no need to thank me, you’ve paid penance enough for the dowry having to spend the season with my mother. Now,” he said, pushing her toward the door, the paperwork on his desk waiting for no one. “Be on your way and enjoy what’s left of the season, and don’t be too quick to choose a husband. Sometimes the one for you will arrive when you least expect it.”

She nodded and quietly closed the door behind him. Hamish stared at it a moment, thinking of Katherine and how she had arrived in his life not at eighteen, and new to town, but at six and twenty, a woman, one who knew her mind, and wanted to know all that her body was capable of. A woman who worked for her living, and ran a very successful business.

Lizzie reminded him in many ways of his sister. Of her trepidation at having a London Season and trying to make a grand match. Luckily for May she’d married for love, a consolation considering she passed away giving birth to her other greatest love. He’d given his sister very similar advice that he’d given to Lizzie. To marry the man of her choosing, not that of their parent. After all, it was they who had to live with their choice when it was all said and done.

He smiled, thinking of Katherine. He would see her tonight at Lord and Lady Oliver’s ball, the event of the season by all accounts. He would be returning to Hollyvale in a few weeks and the idea of leaving Katherine in town left a sour taste in his mouth. Would she come with him? If he invited their friends, perhaps she would, and then he could have her there, in his home, spend time with just her and no one else.

The word marriage flittered through his mind and he paused. Could he marry her, have a life with her? Panic tore through him at the thought of her getting with a child and dying. He could no longer deny what he felt for Katherine, for it was love, absolute, uncensored love, but he’d loved his sister too, and she had still died. Nothing could save her, other than the choice of not having children.

He doubted he’d be able to stop Katherine from wanting children and she deserved to be a mother, she didn’t deserve to have his fears, his nightmares become her future. No, she deserved so much more than that.