Lastly, she knew—because it was so obvious—that John loved his sister very much.
Luckily, they were only hours away from Edington. With the way Marcel was driving, they would be there by midnight. John had told the coachman to make haste and he was doing it, taking turns that made Catherine’s stomach flip.
Now, John looked out the window of the carriage, the lines on his face a portrait of anguish, and Catherine felt a gnawing hollowness in her chest at the sight of his pain. However, she was unsure how he would receive her attempts at consolation. Given the hostilities between their families, he might find her insincere.
Still, it hurt her to see him staring out the window like that, a knuckle at his mouth.
And she couldn’t take any more silence.
Catherine leaned over the space between them and reached for his hand. He didn’t move away but let her wrap her fingers around his. She counted it as a good sign, even though he kept his gaze on the road.
“You must be so worried.”
He squeezed her hand in return. “I always tell myself I will protect Henrietta,” he said, still looking out the window. “And yet I always fail.”
Catherine felt that pang again in her chest. She shook her head. “That can’t be true.”
“It is,” he said, and, for a moment, she heard his voice waver. “Ever since she was born, I promised myself I would protect her. But I’ve never kept that promise. I never came back enough, particularly in the past few years. I knew she was lonely in that big monstrosity with just my father. I came back twice a year, at most. And I could have done so much more. But I was selfish. I hated being there withhim. And so I stayed away and let her suffer.”
“Youdidgo back. That’s what matters.”
“And then the will. I should have known my father had this scheme and prevented it.”
“You never suspected he might do something of the sort?”
He shook his head. “It still doesn’t make any sense,” he said, now looking at her, and she was startled by the intensity of his gaze, more open than she had ever seen it. “Sheishis daughter. I would swear my life upon it. And I know he loved her. He doted on her. I always knew, with her there, he would go on for as long as he could. That’s why I can’t understand this provision. I have to think that he never intended for the money to go to Baron Falk. Only for me to find your aunt. That he knew I would. Somehow.”
“Look at me,” she said, and the sage of his eyes met her own. “If what you say is true, he would never leave the money away from Henrietta. He was afraid if he asked you to deliver the annuity to Mary, you would refuse. It was insurance. He knew you loved your sister. He knew you would let no harm come to her.”
“But I don’t know where Mary Forster is! We aren’t even close to finding her. And now Henrietta is sick. She may die.”
Catherine reached across the carriage, placing her hands on his chest. “We’ll find Mary. And Henrietta is young and strong. She is stronger than your father was.”
They locked eyes and, despite his anguish, she felt it there, again: the current that connected them, always, that hum of attraction that nothing seemed able to diminish.
He looked away. “We need to think of how to do this,” John said, quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“The original plan of having you stay in the inn. I won’t have it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m not letting you stay there by yourself. You need to stay in the Hall, but you can’t under your own name, obviously. Even if you use an assumed name, I’m afraid you will be recognized.”
“I will be very safe in the inn,” she said, not wanting him to take such trouble when he was so worried about his sister. “I have to approach the Edington gentry, my aunt’s old friends, to ask them if they know anything, and it will look less suspicious than if I do it from the Hall.”
“No,” he said, hoarsely. “You aren’t staying in the inn. I won’t have it. I will tell everyone at Edington Hall that you are my sister’s tutor in society manners—in preparation for her season. And while we are there, we will be officially closed to visitors. We will blame the fever and Henrietta’s delicate health. If she recovers, God willing. If you take a circuitous route to your aunt’s old friends, you can approach them as yourself, as if you were coming from elsewhere, and no one will know the difference.”
“It’s too risky.”
“I won’t accept anything else.”
She didn’t respond. Itwouldbe easier to find her aunt this way—with both of them at the Hall, they could more easily discuss and carry out their plan. And she would be closer to him. Which had its own appeal. She bit her lip. And its own problems.
The carriage lurched. Marcel had taken another hairpin turn and it nearly threw Catherine out of her seat.
Then, with another lurch, Catherinewasout of her seat and in John’s lap.
