“Mr. Whitehall, yes. But Dauntry might object to your dealing with such things in his absence.”
“He obtained a marriage license without my say-so.”
“Did he? Oh, dear. Talk to Andrew first.”
Ruth was looking worried again, so Kitty said, “Of course, but I don’t see why he’d object.”
Andrew didn’t. “I should have thought of it. We can have Whitehall draw them up, and Dauntry can review them when he returns.”
Kitty relaxed a little. Settlements would give her some financial independence and provide for her in the case of her husband’s death.
All the same, Dauntry’s running off to London was a bad sign.
What did he seek to hide until after the knot was tied?
***
Lord Cateril considered the letter that had arrived that morning. Viscount Dauntry presented a good case for his need of Kathryn as his wife, laying out logical arguments like a lawyer. The postbag had also brought a letter for his wife from Kathryn. He’d thought nothing of it and sent it to her, but now he went to the parlor in trepidation.
She was sitting by the fire, the letter open in her hands, but staring at the flames.
“Is Kathryn enjoying her visit to her friend?” he asked.
She turned to him, seeming puzzled rather than distressed. “I believe so, but... She wants to marry again.”
“Truly?” She seemed calm about it. He sat nearby, hoping for the best. Before he could find the right words, she burst out, “Howcouldshe?”
“She’s a young woman, my dear. With her life ahead of her.”
“But to replace Marcus!”
“Never in her heart, my dear. Never that. But perhaps she needs a purpose in life.”
“That’s what she says”—she rattled the paper—“but if so, I’ll find her a position. As a companion. Not this... thissacrilege. I shall write to tell her so—”
He put out a hand to stop her rising. “Sarah, my dear, think about this. What sensible woman would seek employment when she could be a wife? Unless the man she has in mind is too low for her.”
“Low! She claims to have an offer from a viscount! Perhaps she’s deranged.”
He sighed. Did all deranged people fail to see it in themselves?
“A viscount?” he said mildly. “Odd goings-on, to be sure, but I’m sure Marcus’s wife is worthy of any peer of the realm.”
He’d just used a sentence from Lord Dauntry’s letter and suspected it had been planted there, but it had an effect.
“Of course she is. But how could it have come about? She’s not been gone a week.”
More arguments from the letter came to mind. “Its being so sudden argues against any unseemly passion, don’t you think? Does Kathryn say how they met?”
“Viscount Dauntry’s seat lies close to Beecham Dabittot, and he was acquainted with Reverend Lulworth in the past. She met him at the parsonage. But for him to make approaches to a woman in mourning!”
“It’s well over a year since Marcus died, my dear. I believe Lord Dauntry has recently come into the title. There was something in the newspapers about it, because the search for the heir took some time.”
“Then he has no business seeking a wife in a hurry.”
“On the contrary. I have the impression that he is the last of the line. It is his duty to try to beget an heir.”
“An heir!” His wife pressed her black-edgedhandkerchief to her face. “When she never bore poor Marcus a child.”
