“Oh, dear God.”
“I’m so sorry, Cat. The man’s a fool.”
Catherine regarded the envelope for a moment and then threw it into the fire. “Well, there’s nothing I can do. Whatever Lysander and I had, whatever we shared, it’s over.” Sobbing, she dropped her head into her hands. “It’s over, Henry. It’s over.”
Chapter Six
Present Day
Sallingford House, Cheshire
Thursday, January 1st,
1846
Catherine was here,somewhere. At least, that’s what he’d been told. But so far, Lysander’s search for her had been unsuccessful, and hindered by constant interruptions. He’d half-expected it, however, and had taken the time to acknowledge each and every offer of condolence. As for the demure glances and fluttering eyelashes, those he politely ignored. Only one woman interested him, and she was proving damnably difficult to find. He paused in the hallway, hands on hips, and heaved a sigh. “Where are you, Catherine?” he muttered.
“She’s in the orangery,” a male voice said, startling him. “Hiding from you, actually.”
Despite the passage of time, Lysander recognized Henry’s voice immediately, and turned to see him seated in a chair nearby. The man rose and approached. Lysander struggled to maintain a neutral expression. He’d long regretted the loss of the friendship they’d once shared. “Fulston,” he said, “it’s been a while.”
“It has, indeed,” Henry replied. “My condolences on the death of your wife, Gillingham.”
“Thank you.” Frowning, Lysander looked along the hallway. “Hidingfrom me?”
Henry gave a nod. “Said she wants nothing to do with you.”
“Can’t say I blame her,” Lysander replied. “And yet here you are, telling me where to find her, which begs the question why.”
Henry smiled. “A fair question.” He paused. “There was a time when I wanted to beat you to a pulp. And it’s probably a blessing Philip is away. I seem to remember him wishing you an extremely violent death.”
“I did Philip a favor,” Lysander said. “Believe me, Fulston, he’s better off with the wife he has.”
“Perhaps. He seems happy, right enough.” Henry regarded him for a moment. “Maybe you did Catherine a favor too. But you hurt her in the process, damn you. Nearly destroyed her, in fact.”
“I know, and if it means anything at all, it almost destroyed me too.” Lysander grimaced and rubbed at his temple. “And if Catherine feels that strongly aboutnotseeing me, it might be best if I leave.”
“It might,” Henry replied, “but I think she also needs the answers that only you can provide. The thing is, I’m not sure what led up to your dalliance with Helena. Certainly, there were some strange rumors flying around at the time. Knowing you as I did, your actions seemed to be out of character. That being so, I’ve always tended to give you the benefit of the doubt, though I kept it to myself. As for what you’re hoping to achieve by coming here, I trust it’s because you want to try and right a wrong.”
“That is theonlyreason I’m here,” Lysander replied. “There was some truth in those rumors, Henry.”
“Hmm.” He looked dubious. “I doubt you’ll ever persuade my sister of that. She’s always been convinced that you were guilty on all counts.”
“Like I said before, I can’t really blame her.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed. “She was devastated.”
“Yes.” Lysander released a sigh. “I know.”
“Just be careful how you approach her,” Henry said. “Don’t make me regret what I’m doing.”
“If she asks me to leave her alone, I will.” Lysander went to turn away, but hesitated. “I’m curious. Why has Catherine never married? I can’t believe she hasn’t had offers over the years.”
“She’s had several and refused them all,” Henry replied. “And do I really need to explain why?”
Lysander swallowed over a sudden tightness in his throat but said nothing. He merely nodded, turned on his heel, and made his way down the hall. Breath clouding, he stepped out into the chill night air, pausing when he saw the trail of footprints in the snow, leading toward the orangery.
Catherine’s footprints.
