Once she was inside, Catherine collapsed on the bed. She was finding it difficult to breathe and her eyes were stinging, but she refused to let a single tear drop for anyone who didn’t care about the fate of their own flesh and blood. She had long suspected that she was nothing more than a bargaining chip in this miserable house, but to hear it blatantly confirmed was not something she’d been expecting.
As her maid entered the room and saw her mistress in a state of upheaval, the woman’s face drained of color. Catherine never could seem to remember her name because it had never seemed of any significance to her. She supposed she was like her father in that regard. “My lady—”
“Get me out of these blasted confines,” she snapped to the woman who was not much younger than Catherine. And yet, their difference in station was apparent, as her dark eyes went wide with the eager desire to please at the sharp command.
As the servant went to work losing her stays, Catherine slowly found her breathing returning to normal, but her chest still felt tight,as if a giant weight were pressing upon her.
“Is there anything else I can do?” The young woman at her side asked in concern, her brow furrowing.
Catherine knew it was her job to dote after her mistress, but she found that a lack of her own true companionship over the years made her want to confide her troubles in someone who might care, however fleetingly. Not that it mattered, as it sounded as though the baron had his own household staff and her maid’s services would no longer be needed since the baron had offered to hire a new one for her. “I’m to be married today and I don’t know anything about my future husband.”
The maid nodded, her expression showing dismay. “That is regrettable.”
“His is the Baron Fontaine.” Catherine glanced at her. “Do you recall anyone by that title?”
She knew her maid could read and often liked to peruse the papers when her father was finished with them and sent them downstairs.
“Fontaine…”
At the hesitant tone in the maid’s voice, Catherine’s heart leapt. “Do you know something?”
The servant slowly nodded. “I seem to recall mention of a Baroness Fontaine earlier this year. I believe the article mentioned that she had died from childbirth and the babe was stillborn.”
Catherine’s hand instinctively went to her abdomen. “Oh. How dreadful.” She thought of the same fate happening to her and wondered if maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible. It was not as though she were eager about her future at this point. Perhaps this loss was the reason he’d agreed to marry Catherine—because his own happiness had been ripped away with such stark contrast. She suddenly found the idea of marrying a stranger who was a widower was not quite as terrible as it might have been before.
Sitting up a bit straighter, she looked at the maid and forced asmile to her face. “Since it is to be my wedding day, I will need a special dress for the occasion and extra care taken with my appearance. I should like to make a good first impression.”
If Catherine was doomed to this life, then at least she could offer this unfortunate man something he’d been denied: a family. If he was deserving of one, that is. She supposed time would tell.
When Benjamin wasdropped off by a hansom at the Duke of Lancaster’s townhouse with its affluent, whitewashed exterior, the first thing he thought of was that the duke’s daughter must have been rather plain for someone of this magnitude to be forced to hire the services of the Black Widow in order to marry her off. Then again, Benjamin recalled that the chit was carrying another man’s child and he thought perhaps she was comely, but a misery to be around. She might very well make his life a living hell, but then, he supposed it wouldn’t be much different than how he felt now.
Every day he woke up, he was reminded of his failings and had to look in the mirror at the wretch he’d become. He wanted to blame his father for his harsh treatment, but if he did that, he would also have to blame his mother for allowing it to happen. But she had known her place. She would never have intervened when it came to her husband’s territory, and as the heir to the Fontaine title, Benjamin had always been nothing but his father’s property, just as his mother had been.
When the previous baron had died, Benjamin had made it his sole purpose to see her settled and if he could find a way to benefit and have a bit of the fun he’d been denied for so many years, then so be it. He hadn’t intentionally set out to target his stepsister,Beatrice. She had been a means to an end when he’d wanted more out of life than a barony that he despised. If she had accepted his initial suit, he wouldn’t have had to resort to such drastic measures and put her in an asylum, but he had believed it for the best. At least for him.
He clenched his jaw and pushed such thoughts aside. What was done was done and there was no changing the past. He might have considered himself the worst sort of scoundrel for his actions now, but it had all worked out for the best for Beatrice. She was living in a castle in Scotland with the man she loved and a family to surround her, while Benjamin had nothing.
Yet.
He knocked on the wood and the door was opened shortly thereafter by a perfectly acceptable footman. Once Benjamin had given his name to the butler, who stood nearby, the silent footman stepped aside and allowed him to enter the hallowed sanctuary of the duke’s residence before taking his outerwear. One glance at the massive columns in the foyer and the highly polished parquet wood floor and Benjamin wondered if he shouldn’t have read the marriage contract a bit more closely. He might have gained more blunt had he negotiated further. But considering the odds were decidedly in the duke’s favor, he decided he better not press his luck in case he was quickly shown the door on the way out and the contract was canceled.
“The duke is waiting for you in his study.”
Benjamin inclined his head and followed the butler to a closed door. After a sharp rap and the muffled, commanding sound to enter, the servant announced the baron’s arrival.
“Send him in.”
The voice was so reminiscent of his father’s that Benjamin nearly faltered, but reminding himself that he wasn’t that boy any longer, that he was a man who could be a worthy adversary if crossed, he strode into the room with full confidence.
The study was everything that Benjamin had expected a wealthyduke to have. A globe sat in one corner, as well as a sideboard with an array of various spirits in gleaming crystal decanters. Books lined the shelves, and if Benjamin would hazard a guess, he was sure there wasn’t a single novel present among the titles. There were a few pieces of furniture near the hearth so that the duke might converse with a fellow peer or perhaps read in private. Everything was masculine, from the hunting scenes depicted on the walls to the sparse furnishings throughout. This was a room designed for purpose, for majesty, if the imposing mahogany desk in the center of the room were any indication.
Silence reigned except for the steady tick of the case clock in the corner as the duke acknowledged him. “Lord Fontaine.”
Benjamin was almost tempted to bow surrounded by such grandeur and self-appreciation of one’s status. Instead, he merely inclined his head. “Your Grace.”
He remained standing as the duke got to his feet and crossed to the sideboard. “Would you care for something to drink?”
“Brandy, if you have it.” Benjamin could use the fortification getting through the rest of this meeting would provide. Following this interlude, he was due to meet his bride and take her as his wife.
