Now, he’d soused himself to shake his mother’s curse.
Another mistake, clearly. Although he’dlikedspending time with the men below—shocking—but what he really should have been doing was finding a way to make certain his mother’s curse would not come true. But how?
“Lizzy,” he slurred, “p-pardon my asking, but what makes a good husband?”
Lizzy chuckled. “A good income, of course.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Not en-nuff.”
Lizzy’s smile turned saucy. Her gaze dropped to the fall of his breeches. “You have what it takes, I imagine.”
He blinked.
“Don’t you worry, my lord.” She patted his arm. “You’re safe. Lady Katherine’s my friend.” She flung open the door and winked. “And I think you’ll find your answer inside.”
She nudged him into the room and then closed the door. Her laugh echoed down the hallway as she returned below stairs.
An answer? In the smallest chamber of a coaching inn?
He was no more enlightened on this side of the door than he had been on the other.
What did make a good husband? When he’d set out to woo Katherine,hisqualifications hadn’t been his concern.Didhe have what it took—male parts aside?
Julia had given him a clue, hadn’t she?Kindness. He’d always been responsible, but, unfortunately, responsible was not the same thing as kind. Then again, he’d never tried to be kind, had he?
He’d never downed illegal gin with a group of farmers before today, either. Hecouldtry to be kind…for Katherine.
Somehow, she’d become more than just a means to an end. She was like…like seasoning on supper, an addition that made everything taste good.
…And without her everything would again taste bland.
Terrible thought.
He stepped closer to the warm glow emanating from the hearth and rubbed the haze out of his eyes. Most of the room was in shadow, but a single candle lit a steaming basin on a stand. He swayed over to the stand and leaned forward, allowing wet heat to curl fingers of steam around his face.
He hadn’t meant to stay at The Pillar so long…or drink so much. Rayne and Farring were probably enjoying the company of his betrothed right at this moment. Farring was effortlessly kind. He scowled. And Rayne could charm the garters off a spinster with a single smile, if he were so inclined.
Best not be absent for long.
He peeled of his coat and waistcoat and tossed both in the vague direction of the bed. He peered into the mirror. Wind-burn and gin left his cheeks scoured. A splash of hot water soothed. He scrubbed off whatever dirt was left from the road and then, slowly, he stretched his neck from side to side. An improvement, yes. But not quite enough. He undid his cravat and loosened his ties. Then, he pulled the voluminous linen over his head.
A feral hiss sounded from the recesses of the room.
He finished shrugging out of the shirt and then turned. Firelight cast otherworldly hues in strange ribbons of light. He blinked. And then blinked again. In the far corner of the room sat his betrothed—a vision in a plain, white shift.
“Katherine?”
She emerged from the shadows, her shift fluttering as she moved.
He squeezed his eyes closed, shook his head. Then, he opened his eyes again.
“Are—are you an apparition?”
“Like a ghost?” she asked.
“Like an angel.” She must be an angel. An angel hovering just beyond his reach.
She stepped close enough for him to catch her scent.
