She shuddered at the recollection of Monty’s attempt to duel the earl on behalf of the Marquess of Searle. Catriona had been in Scotland at the time, and she had only received word through a letter from Hattie.
At least her brother would once again survive a scrape. She could only pray the same could be said for Hattie’s brother. Worry churned through her. Torrington’s own physician had been sent to aid him, and he had yet to emerge from the guest chamber where the viscount had been carried.
“I am relieved if Monty shall recover,” she said to Rayne then. “But I fear for Torrington.”
Rayne’s countenance remained stern. “From what I understand, Torrington suffered a blow to the head. It may be days until the full extent of his injuries are revealed.”
Hattie would be beside herself with worry when she discovered what her n’er-do-well brother had been about this evening. She frowned. “Perhaps there is something the doctor needs.”
“The servants are more than capable of providing the physician with anything he should require,” Rayne said. “Come, my lady. You are overwrought. Let us find a place to sit.”
“Very well.” Sitting sounded excellent. After all the pacing she had done in her slippers this evening, her feet were sore. Worry had left her exhausted.
She allowed Rayne to escort her down to the salon on the floor below. He directed a maid to bring them tea and biscuits, then led her to a divan. The door to the room remained open—she supposed out of deference to her reputation. Noting it, she could not stifle the almost wild peal of laughter that fled her.
“My lady?” Rayne had seated himself opposite her. “Are you well?”
“I expect not.” It was either laugh or cry, it seemed. The madness of the last few weeks was finally settling in. “Forgive me, Rayne. It is merely the door being left open, as if I have a shred of reputation left to fret over.”
He frowned. “I take your reputation seriously, Lady Catriona. You have never been ruined in my eyes.”
And somehow, the slight tenderness in his statement made her vacillate to the opposite side of the emotional tree. Tears pricked at her eyes. Before tonight, she had not cried often. Indeed, she had not cried in the wake of her ruination. Not even when the full implications of her kiss with Shrewsbury, along with knowledge of how complete his betrayal had been, had set in. Nor when she had been banished to Scotland.
But the brooding Earl of Rayne had only to say one moderately kind sentence, and she turned into a watering pot.
Strike that, not one moderately kind sentence buttwo. Sobbing over Monty and Hattie’s brother was one thing. Weeping over the Earl of Rayne showing compassion… it was not done.
Either way, she was saved from having to respond—or beginning to cry in truth—by the arrival of the tea tray Rayne had requested. When the maid curtseyed and took her leave as if it was perfectly ordinary for the lady of the house and her suitor to sit about alone at midnight having tea, Catriona moved to pour.
“No,” Rayne said gently, with just enough bite in his tone to make her listen. “Allow me, Lady Catriona. You are overset.”
Yes, she was overset. Having a madcap brother who seemed intent upon achieving his own demise had that sort of effect upon one.
But she did not say that aloud either.
“You have been very kind today,” she observed instead.
For it was true. He had. He had shown a side she had not previously imagined existed. Through the clamor of the situation, he had been a calming, cool influence. He had known just what to say, what to do.
And he had helped in the setting of Monty’s bone, all while worrying after her welfare.
Rayne’s lips flattened. “I am not kind, Lady Catriona. It is not in me. What I am is a man concerned with his best interests. If your fool brother would have died tonight, I would not have been able to wed you on the morrow.”
She did not believe him. She knew the difference between genuine concern and self-interest when she saw it. Catriona was not as naïve as she had once been. Time, disappointment, and betrayal had seen to that.
“Nevertheless,” she persisted, “I am thankful for your assistance. I cannot imagine the butler or a footman could have held Monty in place for the bone to be set. Perhaps two or three of our most burly servants at once.”
Rayne’s tall, imposing build emanated strength.
A strength she suddenly, desperately longed for.
“Anyone could have done as well,” Rayne dismissed. “And I am compelled to warn you, I cannot say I will appear at Montrose’s bedside a third time. Thrice is not a charm in this instance.”
“I hope he will change his ways.” She was worried for her brother, and she could not deny it. His drinking and carousing were out of control.
Rayne snorted. “Montrose will not change his ways, my lady. I have seen his kind before. The best you can hope for is this latest injury tames his hunger for recklessness to the extent that he will no longer drown himself in drink and then make the sort of mistakes a man cannot undo.”
The earl was the second person in the last few days to tell her Monty would never change. The first had been Hattie.Lord in heaven, she shuddered to think what Hattie’s opinion of Monty would be after this. She prayed Lord Torrington recovered swiftly and fully.
