The paper returned and Catherine took that as her cue that she was excused.
She fled before her mother could think to waylay her and retreated to her room. Once she was there, she stared at her wardrobe and the few items on her dressing table, considering if she might be able to leave and start a new life elsewhere. The problem was the proper references to find a suitable position where she could be her own person, could make her own choices without falling prey to a lifetime of misery at the hands of an unwanted husband. She might not care to go into service as a lady’s companion, but it did not seem where shehad much choice. At least it would solve the issue of where she might find lodgings until she was able to get on her feet. However, the child inside of her would be a strong impediment to any situation.
No doubt she could find shelter at a local brothel for a steep price.
Catherine sighed. She didn’t consider herself a loose woman completely without morals. True, she might have discovered mutual satisfaction with David, but that was as far as the affair had gone. There was no love lost between them. She could easily have this child in secret and no one would have to know her reputation had been in danger. But instead, her parents would rather she attempt to pass off the babe as the son or daughter of another man. How was that any better? It was not as if she had ever wanted children in the first place. She did not care to be the biddable wife at home while her prominent husband went out and had his own escapades. She might have considered marriage if it had been a mutual relationship with a full understanding that they could have their own lives separate from the other. But not like this.
Without any other solution open to her currently, Catherine fell back on the bed and stared at the velvet canopy above her. She wasn’t certain what sort of man was being prepared for her future, but she already decided that if he was cruel, she would not withstand such ill treatment. Joining a brothel would be infinitely more preferable to man she despised.
She hoped she might have the chance to meet her intended before they were marched down the aisle with a special license—because her father would, no doubt, expect an immediate wedding. But she wasn’t sure she would be granted that much courtesy from a woman who seemed dedicated to her own importance without a true care to her victims.
Chapter Two
By the timeBenjamin was shown into the private quarters of Mrs. Dove-Lyon, the empty bottle of spirits had been tossed aside at the front door and he was having trouble focusing on what was in front of him.
However, the lady had no such hesitation as she strode in like a queen dominating her domain. But he supposed the Lyon’s Den was her livelihood. At least, for as long as she could maintain her reputation. If Benjamin had anything to say about it, she would soon find herself in dire straits. Maybe then she would learn not to interfere in other people’s lives for her own amusements.
“I was hoping we might have a chance to speak while you were sober, but I can see that is not the case. Wishful thinking on my part, I’m afraid.”
Benjamin glowered at the Black Widow as she took a seat in front of him. Mrs. Dove-Lyon was dressed in widow’s weeds, as usual. He tried to remember how long she’d actually been in mourning and decided that it didn’t really matter. If she thought wearing black would intimidate her victims somehow, she would learn that she was sadly mistaken when it came to him.
She lifted a brow. “Nothing to say? Very well. I shall get to the point of our meeting.”
“That would be preferable. I didn’t come here on a social call.”
“No, you did not,” she concurred, making a point to ignore the sarcasm dripping from his tone. “I have a proposition for you that I feel you won’t want to refuse.”
“I’m all agog.”
Her mouth thinned, the only indication of her annoyance. “The Duke of Lancaster has a daughter of marriageable age. Her name is Lady Catherine Cecil. I wish for you to marry her.”
It took a moment for the woman’s words to penetrate the fog surrounding Benjamin’s brain, but once it did, he burst out laughing. “Is this some kind of sick game you enjoy playing?” He got to his feet. “You, madam, are mad if you think I willever—”
“I know what happened to your wife and son, as well as the dire circumstances you have thrust yourself into yet again at the gaming tables.”
He found his balance to be lacking, so he reached out and grasped the mantel. “You are a viper,” he snapped.
“Because I am well informed?” she countered. “That doesn’t make me a bad person, Lord Fontaine. It just makes me aware of any possible clientele.”
He gave another sharp bark of laughter. “As if I would ever do any favors for you! It’s because ofyourunjust manipulations that I am in the situation I currently am.”
She snorted. “You cannot blame me for your failings. If you truly wish to direct the finger of blame at anyone, you should be directing it at yourself.”
Benjamin blinked.Murderer…
He screwed his eyes tightly shut. “Stop it! Get out of my head!”
“Lord Fontaine…”
He heard Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s voice coming from a distance, but itwas overpowered by that of his late wife whispering through his drunken stupor. Benjamin backed up a few steps and turned to make an escape, anything but to remain and face this torture any longer, but he tripped over a rug on the floor and soon found himself flat on the floor.
“Look at you. Your life is a mess, Lord Fontaine. You are bordering on the brink of madness, unable to take care of yourself.”
Benjamin had a few choice words for the lady, but he couldn’t seem to bring them forth. Instead, his conscience whispered in betrayal,You can’t argue because she’s right.
Refusing to give in to her demands, he pulled himself back to his feet. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”
“I can see that,” she returned dryly. “But Lady Catherine needs you. As does her unborn child.”
