Conversation in the withdrawing room did not go as well. Sylvia's control started to slip, and something in the room bothered Lord Arthur.
"You were right, Chadbourn. Sometimes, a man has to face his demons," the old man said. "But if this room were mine, I would strip it of its furnishings and change it completely."
Catherine looked suddenly wary. She put a hand on her father's arm. Lord Arthur, however, appeared lost in his own thoughts. "This is where I told m'father I planned to wed my Mary."
Stunned silence greeted that announcement.
"He disapproved," Will said, and immediately regretted it, when Lord Arthur went on as if he hadn't heard.
"Beat me over the head." He pointed to a finely carved side chair next to the folded card table. "There used to be two of those. He broke one over my shoulder. Dislocated it. I never saw him again."
Lord Arthur looked around at the company and blinked. "I am sorry, Your Grace," he said to Sylvia, who had gone pale as a ghost. "Old history."
"Chadbourn, I… I feel poorly. I need to lie down," the duchess said, rising unsteadily to her feet. Will wondered, fleetingly, what ghost Lord Arthur's description of violence had resurrected, but he took her elbow to assist her.
He stopped and addressed Lord Arthur. They had come this far; he couldn't let it drop.
"Why? What did he have against your lady?" he asked.
Perhaps it was his use of "lady" to describe Mary, but Lord Arthur seemed to stand a bit straighter. "Believed the disgrace would 'taint' the family, as if we didn't have worse blots on our family escutcheon, as if my Mary weren't a treasure that would enrich any family."
Will opened his mouth to ask more, but Sylvia sagged against him.
"Come, girl, we'd best leave," Lord Arthur said to Catherine. "I hope you feel better, Your Grace. I'm sorry I upset your evening." Lord Arthur bowed correctly, but left the room without pausing.
Catherine looked at Will, perplexity and sorrow in her expression.
"We'll talk later," he said.
Catherine desperately wished that "later" meant in a year or two. She wished, at least, that Will would give her a week to think about his sister's distress, to recover from her father's revelation, and to steel herself against the perilous attraction she felt every time he came close. He gave her no such time.
The big bay trotted down the lane, raising dust and Freddy's hopes. For weeks now, the earl had arrived by phaeton with Charles. Today, he came alone.
"Where can we talk?" he asked without preamble, while Freddy happily led Mercury to the meadow for "a gentle walk."
"Alone?" she asked. She shouldn't be alone with him. She couldn't.
"Catherine, I won't hurt you. I won't—" He broke off with a curse and led her to the tool storage closet in the barn.
She tripped along next to him, and her thoughts raced.
He closed the door and pulled her into a fierce kiss, before putting a hand on each arm and setting her carefully away.
Trapped between a desire to slap his face and a sharper desire to throw herself into his arms, Catherine crossed her arms around her waist, as if to protect herself.
Will ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. That probably doesn't help my cause, but I thought of nothing else last night." He took a steadying breath.
"I won't be your mistress," Catherine burst out, unable to hold the thought in.
"What? Of course not! What do you take me for?"
"I take you for an earl who has family and friends among the highest ranks in England, who knows full well the place of a baseborn daughter of a country squire. But, Will, I can't do it." She searched his eyes, begging silently for understanding.
"Aren't you getting ahead of me? What I need first is a friend, a friend and a partner."
"What do you mean?"
"I carried on alone for months, Catherine. My father died, and Chadbourn Park fell to me. He left it in good condition, but the responsibility weighed on me. Before I met you, I had no idea how lonely I had become."
