Perhaps I should be willing to. The fault may be mine that I cannot accept the man as he is now and forget his past.
But, above all, if he was not the true Aaron, whathadhappened to her Aaron?
“Will we dine together?” she asked as they drew nearer to Caerleon.
“I would like to. I think we should make it the norm. Because that is what it is,”Aaronsaid, stirring beside her.
He had been staring with brooding eyes out of the window of the carriage since they had said goodbye to Jeremy and Isabella. Catherine’s attempts at conversation had been waves battering rocks. In time, perhaps she would have worn him down, but in the short term, she could not make headway.
“It should be, and I would also like it to be our norm. Our beginning was anything but normal—we should take normality where we can find it.”
“Does it trouble you that our association has been unconventional thus far?” he questioned.
“Ourassociation?” Catherine looked at him, “You make us sound like a gentlemen’s club or an extension of your business arrangement.”
“It is not yet arranged, merely an ambition. And may never come to fruition,” he brooded, “and did we not begin as a form of business arrangement?”
Catherine felt uneasy at his distancing himself from her with his words. Making their marriage and their relationship something impersonal.
“Do you seek to remove yourself from me?” she asked, bluntly. “Make me just another entry on your ledger?”
He frowned. “Is that what I am doing?”
“That is how it sounds.”
“I think you are overly sensitive.”
“Or just sensitive enough. Since the incident with that boy in the park, you have changed.”
He looked away to the rolling fields that had replaced the buildings and streets of London. He scowled.
“I do not like to think of the past. I am for the future.”
“I would also like to let go of parts of my past. The time I spent as ward to my Aunt and Uncle could be wiped from the tables of my memory quite happily. But I do not want ever to forget the time growing up with my parents… Or with you.”
“I am not so sentimental. My past has no redeeming qualities.”
“Me?”
Aaron did not answer, and Catherine fell into silence. She could not understand the intimacy they had shared and the glacial coldness that followed. It was as though he were at war with himself. He weakened and gave away more than he wanted to. Then lashed himself in punishment for his weakness.
A determination crept over her. It was a different kind of coldness, one born out of the desire to make a lasting connection, to not be shut out again. It was steel, unbending and unbreakable.
When they reached Caerleon, she resolved to learn more, to get her answers.
Later that afternoon, Catherine sought out Mr. McKay. She found the butler in his small office within the nest of servants’ rooms at the rear of Caerleon Manor. He stood rigidly as she opened the door, after knocking first, seeming surprised that she was there. Despite that, he received her with his usual implacable dignity.
“Your Grace, to what do I owe the pleasure? How may I be of assistance?”
“Mr. McKay,” she began, careful to keep her tone light, “I remember something Sally once told me. There was a letter, addressed to a former member of staff. She said you forwarded it on to that person. Do you recall?”
The butler’s expression did not flicker. “I cannot say that I do, Your Grace.”
“Oh, well, I am sure that you deal with dozens of letters every day in your role. It would be difficult to remember one in particular, received some years ago now. It would have been around the time of the start of your employment with the current Duke—I mean, my husband.”
McKay shook his head, lips tight. “I do not recall such a letter, Your Grace. Do you know the name of the member of staff perchance?”
“Alas, I do not. Perhaps an efficient man such as yourself would have made a note, kept a record…?”
