Even though Eliza was voicing Catherine’s deepest desires—more or less—it suddenly felt as though she was speaking not as Catherine’s best friend, but as herstepmother. Catherine didn’t know if she should be pleased or incensed. How could they have done this? How couldElizahave done this? Even though Catherine had encouraged her friend to pursue her father as a husband, shouldn’t she have told her that she was betrothed to her father?Beforethey had arrived at the publishing house?
It’s not like she hadn’t had the opportunity. At least this morning. But how long had this been going on, behind Catherine’s back?
For a moment, his bushy brows furrowed as a fist went to his hip. “As long as it wasn’t anotherpublisher,” he hedged. “A competitor, if you will,” he added with more force.
Catherine blinked several times, aware that tears threatened to rob her of breath. “It’s a capital idea,” she managed to say as she lifted her chin. She wasn’t about to let her father see her disappointment.
Or to allow Eliza to know how betrayed she felt.
She put on a smile, but when she spoke her cheerfulness sounded forced even to her own ears. “Why, I shall begin my search this afternoon. Right after I drop you atyourhome,” she added, directing her comment to Eliza. It galled her that they had apparently plotted a life together without her knowledge—and apparently, they had plotted her life for her as well—all without telling her. How could they?
Eliza and Cornelius exchanged quick glances. “Very well,” Eliza said before she dipped a curtsy. “Good day, Mr. Kingston.”
“Oh, do call me Cornelius,” he said, bowing from the waist.
Suppressing the urge to scoff, Catherine hurried from the office, pushing past Eliza and past Benjamin’s desk without so much as agood day, and out the front door of Kingston Publishing. She was already in the town coach when Eliza emerged from the building. She gave the coachman directions to take them to Buxton House.
“Oh, Cathy, I’m not sure what to say,” she said as she took the bench opposite Catherine. “Please, tell me you’re not upset with me.”
“I’m not upset with you.”
Eliza dipped her head. “Thank you for bringing me with you today, and for acting as a matchmaker,” she murmured. “It has obviously worked,” she added brightly.
“Obviously,” Catherine replied, trying hard to keep the sarcasm from sounding in her voice.
“As for your father’s comment about you being underfoot, please know I would not mind if you continued to live at Kingston House. After your father and I marry.”
Relaxing into the squabs, Catherine took a shuddering breath. She was on the verge of tears, doing her best not to break down in front of Eliza. Could she abide living in the same house knowing her best friend and father were married and sharing a bed? “I appreciate it. However, I do believe it’s time for me to find a new situation.” She opened the gathers of her reticule and hefted her coin purse as she considered how she would proceed.
Land a position, preferably one involving books.
Arrange for a place to live.
Move out of Kingston House.
She was thinking of how she might keep her lady’s maid when a calling card appeared in front of her face. She glanced up to discover Eliza holding it out to her.
“Take it.”
Furrowing her brows, Catherine gingerly took the white pasteboard card between her thumb and forefinger and read it.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon
Matchmaker
9 Cleveland Row, St. James’s, Westminster
Glancing up, she regarded Eliza with a curious expression. “Why doyouhave this?”
Eliza lifted a shoulder. “She came highly recommended, but I didn’t think I could afford her services,” she replied. “And now that Mr. Kingston has proposed marriage, I don’t need them.”
Catherine couldn’t help but wince as her friend’s words confirmed that her father and her best friend were already betrothed.
They were going to be married.
Her gaze going back to the card, Catherine asked, “What makes you thinkIcan afford Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s services?”
Eliza lifted a shoulder. “Mr. Kingston said you have a hefty dowry.”
