“I did not knowofher,” Lady Searle revealed. “Rayne is terribly quiet about his life in Spain. I… He never mentioned a wife. I had no idea he had wed.”
Catriona did not know precisely what to make of such a revelation.
The earl’s words returned to her, the bitterness in his voice, the hollowness in his stare, the desolation on his countenance. The raw emotion haunted her still.I married her, Lady Catriona. And she is dead.
Her heart ached for him, even as she remained wary of him.
Terribly nervous at the prospect of wedding him.
“When did he tell you, Lady Catriona?” Lady Searle asked.
“At your ball,” she answered, “just before he left. I am sorry, my lady, to foist such news upon you. I would never have mentioned it to you—indeed, I ought not to have, and I know it. What Rayne’s first wife was like is no business of mine. But you are his sister, and I thought perhaps you might give me some insight, some hope of understanding him.”
“That explains the hasty manner in which he departed,” said the marchioness, her tone careful. “I had wondered. Rayne does not prefer society, and I thought it merely the need to escape that prompted him.”
“Dear heavens,” Hattie said, echoing Catriona’s sentiments exactly. “What a muddle.”
“A muddle of my brother’s making.” Lady Searle’s expression was grim.
“And mine,” Catriona added, feeling miserable for upsetting her hostess. “Lord Rayne did not indicate his marriage was a secret. I am so very sorry, my lady.”
“I am grateful he told you, Lady Catriona,” the marchioness said. “Rayne is a law unto himself. He refuses to be bound by propriety and rules, and he has always felt more at home abroad than he ever has here. If he is already opening up to you, divulging facets of his life he has withheld from others, it is a good sign indeed. He is not an easy man to know.”
She sighed, for it seemed to her as if Lady Searle was placing a great deal of hope upon Catriona’s impending nuptials with Rayne. “I wish I had your confidence, my lady.”
“Only think of this,” Hattie said, “you have a far better chance of taming Rayne than anyone has of bringing your disreputable brother to heel.”
She wondered if that were true.
Her chance seemed small.
And then she wondered if shewantedto tame Rayne. If he returned to Spain, she would have her freedom, after all. She would have money, independence, and clout. Everything she needed.
Except for him, she thought.You would not have the Earl of Rayne.
Then again, very likely no mere mortal ever could.
Chapter Seven
One day untilshe was his.
In the morning, he would take his second wife.
He had not seen Lady Catriona since dinner several nights before. Some distance between them had been necessary, and his desire to suffer through one more dinner or yet another ball had waned to infinitesimal. In short, he could not bear it. Alessandro had exhausted the art of nicety.
Instead, he was borrowing a page from the Duke of Montrose and busying himself with drinking. He was nicely in his cups now, half a bottle of brandy already consumed to keep him from his thoughts.
Thoughts of Maria.
He held the bottle to his lips and drank. Why bother with a glass or even a decanter when the direct source was so much more efficient?
Thoughts of Francisco.
Another sip of brandy. This one burned all the way to his gut.
Thoughts of a violet-eyed minx who made him feel too much. The woman who would become his wife in less than twelve hours.
A knock sounded at the library door.Maldición. Had he not told the butler he had no wish to be disturbed this evening?
