“Since?”
“Since the day I barred her from Bromton grounds.”
She gasped. “You let me believe you approved of her marriage.”
“I know,” he admitted miserably.
“But you hated her marriage so much, you banished her.”
He fancied he could smell lavender, hear his mother’s trill of laughter. His back stung with the slap of his father’s cane. She’d abandoned him to cruelty’s care. And she’d abandoned him again, as soon as the marquess’s death allowed her freedom.
“Yes,” he spat. “I banished her. She’s a—”
“You,” Katherine interrupted, “had better think very carefully before you say another word.”
He clamped his mouth closed. His hands hung at his side, unable to capture Katherine any more than he’d been able to stop his mother from leaving.
“It occurs to me, Bromton,” Katherine said with malice, “that an heir is an heir. Tell me, if you had found me repellant, would you have turned your attention to Julia?”
He visibly withdrew. “Julia is…is…I mean, I could never…”
Katherine snorted. “Deceiving me, that was bad. Deceiving yourself, Marquess? That’s abhorrent.”
She was right, no matter how the truth excoriated. “I would have waited until Julia had more experience.”
Katherine’s unshed tears sparkled with loathing.
How could he have thought blood, honor, and integrity were the highest stakes of all? The highest stake was love—only love.
“I love you.” The words seeped out.
“Go to the devil, Bromton,” she replied, turning away.
He did not have to go to the devil. He was already in hell.
Chapter Thirteen
Katherine leaned against a Doric column within her mother’s folly, memorizing her favorite view of Southford. She needed the column’s support. Her knees weakened into jelly just as they had the last time she’d stood in this spot—for entirely different reasons.
In vain, she sought her mother’s calming presence.
What have I done, Mother?
She wasmarried. Married before God, and man, and the village of Southford. Images from the ceremony floated like delicate clouds through her mind. The much-anticipated, magical moment had been wretched, tedious, and wearisome—holding to Markham’s arm, placing her hand in Bromton’s hand, affirming each vow.
She’d glanced at Bromton’s face only once.
Once had been enough to leave her haunted. His skin had been ashen and drawn, his fathomless eyes, dulled with a sleepless daze. She doubted her appearance was any less a shock to him.
Then, before she could come to any conclusion, the ceremony was finished. She’d dipped her quill into a reservoir to sign the register, hesitating for a moment. That moment had been enough to leave a smudge of ink on the parchment.
Then, she’d written through the blotch. TheKin Katherine appeared darker than the rest. A small blemish. So small that, years from now, if someone ran their finger down the page of signatures succinctly summarizing the inhabitants of the village of Southford, they might not even notice the mistake.
Or perhaps the mistake would be obvious. Perhaps they would see the blemish and wonder at the nervousness of the bride—the lucky daughter of Southford who’d had the good fortune to marry a marquess.
“Good fortune,” she murmured with a snort.
Though, itwasgood fortune, was it not?Good, even though the heavy gold band felt more like a manacle.Fortune, even though, figuratively, the path she must forge was swamped with fog.
