“It is an odd arrangement, I know,” she conceded. “But it is not so very different from many arrangements between husband and wife in our set. Only think of it this way, I will be able to regain my reputation in society over time, having become a countess in my own right. And I will have a child to dote upon. I will be free to live my life as I wish.”
She had always wanted children of her own. It had been one of the most painful realizations she’d had to make in accepting her ruination and banishment, that she may never find a man willing to overlook her transgressions and make her his wife so she could have a family.
“I understand, my dear, and do not think otherwise,” Hattie said. “But I am concerned for you. You have suffered enough heartbreak at the hands of a scoundrel. This marriage Rayne proposes to share with you sounds as if it will only produce more pain for you.”
That was where her friend was wrong. “A man cannot break your heart if it is never his to break.”
Catriona did not love the Earl of Rayne, nor was she in danger of ever developing feelings for him, which meant marrying him would not cost her anything. She had learned her lesson well with Shrewsbury. She would never again allow her heart to be vulnerable to a man. She had trusted and loved with blinding loyalty, and he had repaid her by leading her onto a balcony and ramming his tongue down her throat.
All in the name of winning a bet at White’s.
He had never loved her at all. Nor had he been courting her. His entire pursuit of her had been a lark. A stupid, foolish game.
He had collected his winnings, and so, too, had she in the form of a life’s lesson learned.
“Are you saying you are certain you will not fall in love with him?” Hattie asked.
“I am saying I will never again fall in love with another man,” Catriona answered with utmost confidence. “The Earl of Rayne will never be able to hurt me, because I will never feel anything for him. He will be a means to an end, and that is all. If I wed him, I will have my life back. If I do not, I am doomed to either try to find a husband who will have me although I was compromised, or become a companion or a governess.”
Rayne had not been wrong about her potential fate. It was indeed grim.
“So you see, Hattie dearest,” she pressed on with a bright smile she did not feel, “marrying the earl is the best decision for me.”
Her friend gave her a searching look, her mien grim. “I pray you are right about that, Catriona, for you deserve only happiness.”
Happiness.
The word held a different meaning for her now than it once had. And she hoped she could rediscover it as the Countess of Rayne.
*
Alessandro sat oppositethe Duke of Montrose in a private room at The Duke’s Bastard. Montrose had a half-consumed glass of contraband Scottish whisky at his elbow. Contrary to his previous meetings with the duke, this time, Montrose did not appear to be thoroughly sotted.
A welcome improvement, that. One would only hope the blackguard would remain sober enough to discuss the marriage contract for his only sister.
“I will provide her with a more than generous allotment of pin money,” he told Montrose, continuing his list of provisions for his future wife.
Wife.
Cristo, how the word stung. He remembered whispering it to Maria after they had first wed, in awe that she was his. Only, he had spoken it to her in their language.Esposa.
Lady Catriona Hamilton would never be his true wife.
She would be the woman he married. The way to settle his duties. The conveyance for his freedom and return to the country and people he loved.
“I have read the contracts,” Montrose said. “I find them all in order. Your allowances for Lady Catriona are fair. Fairer than need be, given her reduced status. Most men in your position would not accept her.”
He hissed out a sigh of annoyance. “I am not most men. And thankCristofor that. I have already procured a special license, Montrose. What else did you wish to discuss? To my knowledge, the contract is plain, and it benefits Lady Catriona in the extreme. What reason have you for tarrying over it?”
Montrose took a long swig from his glass of whisky before settling it back upon the table with an indelicate thump. “Damn it, this is mysister, Rayne.”
He was unmoved. “Your sister who you insisted I wed?”
The duke scowled at him. “To save her. Because I love her. But I also acknowledge I was a trifle cupshot at the time I made the request to you.”
Alessandro pinned him with an unimpressed glare. “And every instance afterward, including now.”
“I am not in my cups now, devil take you,” Montrose denied.
