He was an abominable man. Never mind that she had resolved not to honor his rank—and here she was spitting out the honorific. But calling him anything else, anything more intimate, rankled her equally.
“What about Edington? Or simply Breminster? It has a good, strong quality to it, I think.”
“John is what you will call me. That is what I paid for.”
“It hardly seems appropriate.”
“I didn’t notice your curtsey when I came into this room. Or was it so slight that I missed it altogether?”
“That is different.”
“Is it? Anyway, I believe I paid for this particular favor. You wouldn’t want me to revoke our agreement, would you? Ten thousand pounds is a lot for a woman of Halston Place to lose.”
She felt breathless at the prospect. He had her trapped.
“Only if you call me Catherine in return,” she spat out before thinking, only to avoid complete capitulation.
She knew she shouldn’t be tearing down any walls between them. And yet she couldn’t countenance him calling herMiss Forsterwhile she called him John. She wanted them on the same footing. She had promised herself, after all, that they would be.
“Very well.” His smile was easy, as if what he called her mattered little. He indicated towards his desk and the armchair opposite. “Please. We have much to discuss.”
The duke went around the desk and sat in the leather chair on the other side. She hated herself for admiring the ease of his movement.
She sat down on the chair opposite. With the large oak desk between them, his proximity to her felt almost manageable.
Unless she looked at his hands. Or his mouth.
“We need to discuss our travel. I have a few details that I would like to share with you, if you do not object.”
She gave a slight nod. She had to admit that she was curious about his plan for addressing their problem. How would they find a woman who, if alive, clearly did not want to be found?
“We will set out this morning for Edington. There, we will question your aunt’s former intimates and ascertain what they might be able to say about her current location. I understand that many of the gentlewomen in the area were her personal friends and that she had a literary society for ladies. To keep chatter down, you will call on them when we return and tell them you are trying to find her for your own purposes. If I were to make similar inquiries, they would undoubtedly begin to speculate. I also presume they would be more willing to give over her location to you than myself. Hopefully, these ladies can tell us where she might have gone or, better yet, if they have heard from her recently.”
Catherine worked to keep her face impassive but it delighted her to know that he needed her so badly. At least, in this capacity, she had power over him. And his plan was better than she had expected him to concoct. She herself hadn’t thought to ask her aunt’s friends. She hadn’t seen any of those ladies in years and the few that she had seen hadn’t treated her differently than the rest of theton. None had seemed the types—despite their former bluestocking leanings—to carry on a secret correspondence with a ruined woman. Nevertheless, she saw the wisdom in beginning with them. They very well might know something that could help them.
“Once we arrive at Edington, I will return to the Hall and you will stay at the local inn, the King’s Arms, and we will only correspond through mail. I have a few trusted couriers there. On the road—it should only take two days by coach, if we make haste—we will travel under assumed names, Mr. and Mrs. Aster. We will stop at one inn, a quiet country place, where we can pass as a gentry couple of no note.”
“That’s what your butler called me—Miss Aster.”
“I have put it out among my own staff here in Grosvenor Square that you are a Miss Aster, a tutor on deportment, who I have hired for my sister before her coming out this fall. Only my coachman, Marcel, will know that you are neither tutor nor wife. He is my most trusted servant and his discretion is unimpeachable.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Aster.” She turned the new names over in her mouth, just to feel them there, but, as soon as she said the words aloud, she saw him blanch.
“Given the state of most genteel marriages, posing as a couple will take little effort. And, of course, at the inn, we will have separate chambers.”
“Obviously,” she replied, keeping her tone even. She didn’t want him to think that shewantedto share a room with him. Technically, she told herself, biting the inside of her cheek, she didn’t.
“Do you have any objections?”
Catherine recognized his solicitude, no matter how brusque. It couldn’t be easy for him, given that he disliked her and all she stood for, to show even this meager level of consideration for her thoughts and feelings. Moreover, most men of his rank would hardly show such deference to their closest friends, never mind a woman they were only associating with out of desperation.
“I see you have everything planned,” she said, trying to sound reasonable if not friendly. “May I suggest, however, a small detour?”
She had not come unprepared. While his plan was better than she had anticipated, she had not been about to trust herself to his wisdom. And she had an advantage, knowing her aunt as she did.
He raised his eyebrows. “Please.”
“A week after my aunt disappeared…” she reached into her pocket and withdrew a small square of paper “…I received this letter.”
