He spun back. “I beg your pardon?”
Meg rolled her eyes. “‘I beg your pardon?’” she mimicked before she put her hands on her hips. “You like her. I think you might more than like her, judging by what I’ve seen.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. Lied. He lied.
She shook her head. “Great God, Robert, she would be a good match for you. She never lets you have even a quarter and that is exactly the kind of woman you need to keep from getting bored. But I know you. You’re about to buck and run like an unbroken stallion, in order to escape what you truly desire. And that could get you both hurt. So I beg of you, fight your impulses to be an utter ass.”
He stared at her. Meg had always been direct, but this was far even for her.
“Is that all, Your Grace?” he asked, trying to keep his tone icy but only managing to sound as flummoxed as he felt.
“No, but I have a lady to comfort and right now that is more important.” She smiled at him and reached up to pat his cheek. “You know we all adore you, right? Get yourself together.”
With that, she turned on her heel and marched from the room, leaving him to gape after her. Not only had Meg been shockingly direct, but what she said didn’t feel too far off the mark. And that was abjectly terrifying.
Chapter Fifteen
Katherine could hardly breathe as she stumbled into her chamber and raced for the settee. She threw herself into it, trying to calm her throbbing heart. Trying to fight the tears that clouded her vision.
What had she done?
Her blossoming friendship with the duchesses was something she enjoyed so much. She’d been isolated all her life—being around them now felt like finally having the connection she’d lost when her mother died. That she was just barely reestablishing with her aunt.
Now with one foolish loss of control with Robert she had probably not only threatened her relationship with the women, but destroyed it. And if they broke with her, especially publicly? All her hopes of even the smallest return to Society would be dashed.
There was a light knock at her door, which she ignored. She didn’t want to see anyone. Didn’t want to see their judgmental stares or hear Robert try to explain how she should just surrender to the life of a wanton and forget everything but pleasure.
“Katherine, please may I come in?”
She shook her head as she rose. She recognized the Duchess of Crestwood’s muffled voice in the hallway. Of course Emma would not come.Shewas likely horrified. From Katherine’s observation of the women, Meg was one of the most direct. Likely she had come here to ask Katherine to leave.
She deserved no less, though she had no idea how she would explain it to her aunt.
Resigned, she got to her feet and trudged to her fate. “Your Grace,” she said as she opened the door, refusing to look at her visitor.
“Katherine,” Meg said, touching her hand.
Katherine forced herself to look into the duchess’s eyes and was surprised to see kindness there. That empathy broke the dam of her emotion and the tears she had been fighting began to fall.
“Oh, what you all must think of me!” she burst out.
Meg’s expression softened further and she drew Katherine in for a hug. “Dearest, oh dearest, you mustn’t. If you believe I came up here to chastise you about a kiss, or even more than a kiss, then you are wrong.”
“You didn’t?” Katherine asked, confusion cutting off her tears as she stared at Meg in disbelief.
“No, I didn’t. Emma and I were looking for you in the hopes that you’d join the ladies for tea. I believe your aunt is resting, so it would just be the duchesses.” Meg squeezed her hand tighter. “Please, won’t you come?”
Katherine found herself nodding, though she wasn’t certain it was the best idea. After all, Meg might be kind, but that didn’t mean anyone else would understand what she’d been doing in the parlor.
She was in no less danger of being ostracized by her new friends. Yet she could not refuse, so she followed Meg through the hall and down to the parlor where the other ladies had gathered. They were talking all at once, but when Katherine entered, it stopped.
She froze at the entryway, heat flooding her cheeks. This was the worst part of being a pariah. Either conversation went on about you, around you, or it tellingly stopped the moment you entered a room.
“Good afternoon,” she said, not lifting her gaze from the floor as she awaited the hissing, the tone of voice to tell her she didn’t belong.
Instead, as Meg stepped in to join Adelaide, Charlotte, Helena and Isabel, Emma rushed forward and took Katherine’s hands. Katherine dared to look at the duchess and found Emma with the same gaze of understanding that Meg had on her face when she came to Katherine’s chamber.
“Come in.” Emma drew her into the room and ushered her to a place in the middle of the settee. She was now surrounded by the duchesses, who were all watching her, save for Emma, who had hustled off to get her tea.
