At that moment, his countenance had reminded her of the way he had looked that night in the Tremberley gardens. He had had that same expression of horror and disgust.
She hadn’t been sure, however, until she had put her hand to his shoulder. He had thrown off her touch and stormed from the room. He had left. Again.
And now it had been three days and she had hardly seen him.
This state of affairs left Catherine in a low-lying, softly bubbling rage. John didn’t have to continue what had happened between them in the carriage or the study, but he had no right toavoidher, as if what had happened was her fault.
And, after all, he had kissedherin the study. He had been the one who had called her beautiful. Who had confessed feelings that had overwhelmed her completely.
So, she resolved to avoid him in turn. And she had plenty to occupy herself.
First, she was busy with Henrietta, who had made a complete recovery from her fever and was avid to learn about theton. She had begun instructing Henrietta on society etiquette and precedence, as well as answering her many questions about courtship and how to behave in a seemingly endless number of improbable circumstances.
Second, she had written a long letter to Lady Wethersby and Ariel, giving an abridged account of her journey, including the multiple inns, the Durdle Door, and her visit to her nurse Martha and excluding her fiery, mind-addling encounters with the Duke of Edington.
When she wasn’t with Henrietta, she had found time to work on her book in the Edington library. She had edited a thorny passage on Stonehenge. She had fantasized about what she would do once she had the full ten thousand pounds and could focus on her research. She would go and see Wayland’s Smithy, the famous burial mound in Wiltshire, and Roche Rock in Cornwall. She would watch the morning light stream through the arched windows of Fountains Abbey and take in Castleton from the top of Peveril Castle. She would be free to do her work. And unlike her other fantasies, she didn’t need a sage-eyed duke to make them come true.
That morning, however, she hadn’t been able to take the silence anymore. John might not want to talk to her, to be with her inthatway, but they nevertheless had work to do. They needed to resume their search for Mary Forster and they also needed to talk to Henrietta about the scandal. Catherine had been tempted to do it herself, but she knew that, for Henrietta’s sake, John needed to participate in that conversation.
For these reasons—and definitely not her desire to be alone with him—she confronted John after breakfast, which he had, of course, not eaten with her and his sister. He was striding out of the Hall, seemingly intending to go for another ride around the countryside, an activity that had begun to look much like a method of avoiding both of the women in his house.
“Miss Aster,” he said, inclining his head as she accosted him.
She scoffed and looked around them. There was absolutely no one in sight.
“Miss Aster? You cannot be serious.”
“What?” He reeled back at her tone, casting what appeared much like a longing look at the stables.
“You may have forgotten, but we have pressing business. Finding Mary Forster? Talking to Henrietta? Do you remember or have any care for these objectives?”
“Lower your voice!” He pulled her outside the Hall and looked over her shoulder to see if anyone lingered nearby.
“No one is listening to us,” she hissed.
“We can’t be too careful.”
“Very well.” She looked around now that they were outside. “I think we’re most definitely alonenow.”
“We’ll talk to Henrietta.”
“Tomorrow,” she countered. “We’ve already waited too long.”
“Fine,” he barked, anger flaring in his eyes, which only made her more exasperated with him.
“And finding Mary Forster?”
“Tonight we can start with my father’s papers. Meet me in his—in the study.” With that, he strode off again.
“Thank you, Your Grace!” she yelled after him, just to annoy him, and he turned and scowled at her before disappearing into the stables. “Have the very best of mornings!”
Then, that hitch in his speech came back to her.
His study.
Of course. She couldn’t believe she had been so daft. It had been a well-known detail among thetonthat Mary Forster and the Duke of Edington had been found copulating in his study. And, of course, yesterday, they had been in that very same room.
Perhaps, the study was the key to his strange mood.
