This was no longer her life.
What was the matter with her?
Tears rolled down her face in spite of her pride. She kept trying to swallow them back, over and over again, but they just kept coming. It was as if the sheer grandeur of this place was a mockery in and of itself. It reminded her of what she could not have. Not without selling another piece of herself in order to obtain it. It was hard to reconcile the fact that she had lived here in London among these people and had accepted her lot in life.
She would have been one of those shallow women seeking nothing more than a marriage and for those around her to like her. Yet now that the worst thing she could ever think of had already happened to her…it was oddly liberating at the same time. She felt as if her worldview had expanded.
The sound of leaves scuffing against the stone floor of the veranda caught her attention, and she whipped around to see who it was that had come to join her. In a fluid movement, she wiped the satin of her gloves under her eyes to rid her face of tears. Though, no doubt, her eyes were red-rimmed and overly obvious despite her best efforts.
Richard Landry stood there, looking as if he had been caught committing a crime. His eyes widened in shock as he realized he had been caught. If Catherine had been in need of a sign that she was consorting with the enemy, here it was.
He took half a step forward and faltered as if he were afraid to get too close to her while she was so upset. Catherine swallowed thickly and chose to look anywhere but his eyes. “I beg your pardon, my lord. I was just leaving.”
“No, please,” he interjected. “Do not leave on my account…you are very welcome here.”
Catherine scoffed at his word choice. “It certainly does not feel that way.”
“That is my fault. I do apologize for that. I truly do. I can imagine the terrible sorts of things that you have no doubt been thinking about me…and I know…I keep saying that it was not my intention, but that means very little when I have to say it over and over again. I know.” Richard offered an olive branch, but she was not inclined to listen to it at all.
“Then stop saying it!” Catherine commanded. Her sorrow gave way to bitterness and anger that she could not stop. She could not contain it from flowing out of her lips as she targeted him as the sole person responsible for her family’s situation. “Stop attempting to fix things when all you succeed in doing is making things worse!”
Richard floundered. “That was not my intention…Lady Catherine…”
“Stop. Do not say my name as if I have somehow wounded you in some fashion or another. I do not understand your purpose, and you are not clear. Even if your intentions are good, you only serve to make matters worse at every turn!” Catherine gesticulated wildly as she spoke.
She could feel herself on the verge of crying all over again. “Unless you are going to march back in there and demand that our holdings and money be returned to us, I do not think that you have anything more that I wish to hear from you!”
Before she knew what happened, Richard’s arms were around her. Firm and steady, he held her as the tears battered loose from her chest. All of those emotions that she had been quietly suppressing so that her mother would have the space to feel any sort of way that she wished to feel about things all came out in the same moment.
“I hate him.” Catherine cried into his chest. The words felt cathartic as they left her. “I hate you. I hate this house. I hate…I hate…”
She was not a woman who was allowed to indulge in her feelings very often. So often was she told that she needed to contain herself and remain composed in every situation. Of her mother and herself, she was not the one who was allowed to react theatrically or be comforted. Yet…it was nice. She felt that wall of grief well in her chest, and slowly, the knot started to ease.
The veritable shock waves that she had been containing at every turn started to temper themselves into something manageable that, for a moment, just one moment—she forgot who it was that held her. She was just a woman in the arms of a man who supported her. A man who rubbed soft circles down her back and did not seem to care how unladylike she appeared by surrendering to the pain in her chest.
When the pain lessened, and her sanity returned to her, she pushed off of his chest slowly. Her fingers splayed over the muscle there, indulging in the fine fabric that covered him. Her chin lifted, and her now dry eyes were lost in the forest of green that were his own as he pushed a stray hair back and away from her forehead with one hand and continued to hold her close with the other.
She could feel his lungs rise and fall against her chest. She could feel his steady, strong heart under the tips of her fingers, and she was…transfixed.
Nobody had ever held her like this before. She had never been so close to a man in her life, and she forgot how to breathe.
“You have been wronged. You have every right to be angry,” Richard whispered low enough that his words were almost lost to the breeze that passed through the limited space between their bodies. His fingers trailed over the shell of her ear and danced down the side of her neck.
Her pulse started to race. She ought to end this; she should put a healthy distance between them, lest somebody come out here and see them. Then, the smaller, darker thought filtered in through her mind that if she was ruined anyway, then perhaps she did not need to care so much what others thought of her. Perhaps, for once, she could just have something for herself that she actually wanted.
Something that might make her forget about her present circumstances and the hardships that would be waiting for her come morning. Catherine found herself clinging to whatever he was about to say next. “My father’s actions are not my own. I…I want to help you. He has crossed many lines in the past, and he has done many deplorable things, but this is a line that he had not previously crossed.”
“And you stand by and watch him do it? Ever the dutiful son?”
Richard shook his head. “Not any longer. I have a plan, but I need your assistance in order to execute it properly. Please, I just need you to hear me out, and then if you say the word, I promise to never darken your doorstep again.”
Catherine finally came to her senses enough to push away from him. His fingers trailed over her waist and were reluctantly pulled from her before they fell down to his sides. As promising as revenge might be to her, she was not the only one presently affected by this situation. She needed to be responsible.
“I do not trust you. I cannot trust you with the welfare of my mother. She has been through enough. Please do not contact us again. You and your father have done enough.”
She sidestepped him, her eyes downcast, for if she looked back at him and took another lingering glance at the sincerity and sadness in those forest-green eyes, she might be lost forever. She needed to retain whatever semblance of dignity that she had left and be on her way. That was the only option.
“Wait, Lady Catherine, please,” Richard begged, his hand outstretched to grab her upper arm, but in the movement, his foot caught on the hem of her skirts, and she was wrenched awkwardly back and away from the doorway. She was oblivious to the oncoming sound of voices as she let loose a startled yelp, and suddenly, the world was tilting on its axis. Her body pitched, and she was falling.
