The earl smiled benignly. “Then I look forward to learning more of you, Sather. I suppose I will have to make sure you stay for tea tomorrow. Bring your grandmamma, as well as Lady Rachel. I would enjoy visiting with the dowager duchess, as would Lady Statham.”

  “I will see if Cor is free and if so, I’m sure she’ll accompany us. I’m only sorry I cannot fetch Luke from Eton so that all the St. Clairs could be represented tomorrow.”

  Statham laughed heartily and Jeremy could see where Catherine had gotten her deep, rich laugh.

  He noticed cards being dealt and picked up the two in front of him. After winning two hands and losing another, he excused himself and returned to the ballroom. He found three dances remained before the final one of the evening. Searching the room, he spied Catherine’s sapphire gown. She danced with a man old enough to be her father, a marquess who had never wed and had a string of mistresses. The gentleman spent more time looking at Catherine’s bosom than appropriate. Jeremy forced himself to remain in place instead of storming across the ballroom and slamming his fist into the man’s face.

  Fortunately, the dance ended and her next partner behaved more admirably.

  Jeremy watched how graceful she was, caught up in the music, her face flushed. Again, he doubted he should become further involved with her but found himself helpless to fight the strong attraction he felt toward her. He hadn’t come to the Wethersby ball looking for a wife. It was the last thing on his mind. Something he’d never planned on doing. And now, it was the only thing that he could think of.

  Making this woman his.

  Chapter Seven

  Catherine’s head spun from all the dancing she’d done. She’d had a partner for every dance since she’d returned to the ballroom. Fortunately, one suitor never showed up, allowing her to catch her breath. She and Charlotte drank a cup of punch to quench their thirsts.

  “I’ll forever be in your mother’s debt,” her friend said. “Saving the two most important dances on my card was well worth my while. Cheltham took the supper spot. I took to him so we will partner again for the last dance of the night. What about you?”

  “I will end the evening with Lord Sather,” Catherine said, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach as she thought of being in the marquess’ arms again.

  Charlotte gave her a knowing look. “Everyone noticed how he led you to a table for two. You were the talk of supper. You both laughed quite a bit.”

  She felt her cheeks pinkening. “Sather is very entertaining.” She paused. “He’s coming to call tomorrow.”

  Charlotte’s eyes lit up. “I knew I sensed something between the two of you. I wonder what flowers he will send.”

  Catherine didn’t care about flowers. She’d received so many bouquets since the Season began that they’d lost meaning for her. “He’s bringing his sister. She’s Leah’s age and he hopes they’ll get on.”

  “Hmm. A doting older brother. As much as you prize family, he’s certainly found a way into your heart.”

  If only Charlotte knew how much Jeremy St. Clair had already wriggled into Catherine’s heart—and soul.

  “Would you like to shop in the morning with me?” her friend asked. “I need a new pair of gloves.”

  “I can’t. I promised Leah that we would go to the bookstore. She’s desperate for an outing that just the two of us can take.”

  “Very well. Let’s go the day after. By then, Sather will have called and most certainly you will have danced with him again at the Rutherford ball tomorrow night. Since he is childhood friends with Lady Amanda, he’s certain to be there.” Charlotte smiled. “I’m sure we’ll have much to talk about.”

  Catherine agreed and finished her punch. She danced twice more and then saw Sather approaching her. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest as she smiled at him.

  “Lady Catherine.” He bowed to her and took her hand in his. “I believe this dance is meant for us.”

  They moved to the center of the ballroom. About a quarter of the couples who’d been present at the height of the ball had now left, leaving more room on the dance floor. As the string quartet launched into another waltz, the marquess drew her near, one arm about her and his hand taking hers.

  This time, they did not speak. Instead, the music spoke for them as Sather twirled her about the ballroom in grand fashion. She felt light on her feet and giddy on the inside as she smiled up at him, his gaze never leaving her during the entire dance. When the last note sounded, he brought them to a stop.

  “May I return you to your parents?”

  “Please.” Catherine looked about. “There. Mama is in green, speaking to that striking older woman. Oh, she has beautiful posture. She must have been a true beauty in her day.”

  He grinned. “That woman is my grandmamma. Come, I want you to meet her.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and they wove their way through the parting couples.

  Her mother beamed as they arrived. “Catherine, darling, you must meet the Dowager Duchess of Everton. I only learned tonight that she and my mother were the best of friends as young girls.”

  The duchess assessed Catherine, her head high but her eyes twinkling. “Lady Catherine, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her eyes flicked to Sather. “I see you have met my grandson. I believe you danced twice tonight.”

  “Yes, Your Grace, we did. Lord Sather is a most excellent dancer.”

  The old woman nodded sagely. “Jeremy is excellent at many things. I’m only glad he’s come home to England. I have missed his company this past year, though he did write beautiful letters to me regarding his travels.” She paused. “Have you met the Countess of Statham?” she asked her grandson.

  “No, though I’ve had the pleasure of meeting the earl during card play tonight.” He bowed to her mother. From the look on her mother’s face, it was obvious she was taken with Sather’s charm.

  “Speaking of the earl, Cor, I told him that Rachel and I were calling on Lady Catherine and her sister tomorrow afternoon. He asked if you might wish to accompany us and stay for tea.”

  Catherine wondered why he addressed his grandmamma as Cor and thought she would ask him about it tomorrow. She had a thousand things she wished to learn about him. In a dozen hours, he would be at her house, seated next to her. She shivered with anticipation.

  “I would be happy to visit with Statham.” The dowager duchess faced Catherine. “And you, too, Lady Catherine. You’ve made quite an impression on the ton during your come-out.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. I look forward to spending more time with you. Do you have any sweet that you prefer? Our cook is most talented and would be happy to make something special for you.”

  The dowager duchess laughed. “My grandson is the one with the sweet tooth. Rachel, too.” She looked at Sather. “It’s unusual to bring one’s sister when you call upon a lady.”

  “Lady Leah is the same age as Rachel. I thought they might have something in common,” he replied.

  The Earl of Statham arrived and greeted everyone. “Has Sather asked you to tea?” he inquired of the dowager duchess.

  “He has and I’m delighted to accept your invitation.”

  “Then we will see you tomorrow.” The earl turned to his wife. “Ready, my love?”

  “We are.”

  They said their goodbyes and then Catherine’s father led them outside. As usual, carriages were everywhere. They found their coachman, who bounded down from the driver’s seat and assisted her mother and then Catherine into the carriage. She thought she caught a whiff of whiskey on his breath and wondered if he’d abandoned the coach to spend time in a tavern.

  Her mother regaled them with a few stories the dowager duchess had shared as they sat some minutes before the coach took off.

  As they traveled through the streets of London, her father asked, “What is your opinion of Sather, Catherine?”

  “I have a high regard for him,” she replied. “We danced twice and took supper together. He is most interesting. More than any man I’ve met during the Season.”

  Her mother smiled. “He’s from a very good family. The St. Clairs have held the dukedom for many years and have numerous properties scattered throughout England. The dowager duchess herself possesses an estate that came to her through her own family, before she wed.”

  “Though I liked Sather, I would beg to differ, my dear,” her father said. “The current Duke of Everton is an embarrassment to his title and family. I can’t remember the last time I saw the man sober. And he has yet to show up at Parliament this session.”

  Catherine spoke up. “Sather told me he is not close to his father. He conveyed disapproval of the duke without being disrespectful. He’s very close with his grandmamma, though. She seems to have been a strong influence on him and has been the one to raise him.”

  “Hmm. He seems like a capable young man with a good head on his shoulders,” the earl said. “What do you think his intentions are, regarding you?”

  Catherine sensed her cheeks heating and was glad the carriage was dark.

  “I think we have a real chance at becoming friends. And maybe more.”

  “Friends? A man and a woman don’t become friends,” her mother chided. “No, the marquess is definitely interested in you, Catherine. You must know you would have our approval if he wished for a match between our families.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mama,” she warned. “Though I learned much of him tonight, I would need to know other things.” She paused. “And I would need to fall in love with him. Like you and Papa. I couldn’t possibly settle for anything less.”

  “Love is grand,” her father said, “but if you are compatible, that’s a good start. Love can grow from friendship, Catherine. Remember, you may take your time. There’s no rush to wed. If you’re drawn to Sather and he offers for you at Season’s end, though, I’d consider it. You’re both attractive, intelligent people. I think it would be a good match.”

  “Even if we are not in love?” she asked softly.

  “Even then,” her father confirmed. “What you see between your mama and me is the result of many years together. Yes, we are deeply in love, but it started as a physical attraction—with a bit of friendship mixed in. By our wedding day, I knew I loved her but that love from long ago is nothing to compare to the depths to which it has grown over our years together. For a decade, it was only the two of us, before you arrived. It gave us ample time to know one another and grow together, both in friendship and love.”

  Catherine knew that was the only disappointment in her parents’ marriage. It had taken her mother ten years before she gave birth to a child. Another seven years passed before Leah arrived. No babies had come since then. With no son, the earldom would pass to her uncle, Edward, and if he were gone, the title and lands would go to his son, Martin. Though her father never spoke of it, she couldn’t help but think he was slightly displeased that the woman he worshipped had been unable to provide him with an heir.

  Suddenly, the coach, which seemed to be traveling too fast, bucked as a wild horse. Catherine was tossed to the floor. She pushed herself up and sat back on the seat across from her parents.

  “I think Robert has been drinking,” she announced. “I thought I smelled whiskey on his breath when we left the Wethersbys’.”

  The coach lurched again and her fingers tightened on the velvet seat. Her father lifted his cane and rapped on the roof of the carriage.

  “Slow down, Robert. At once!”

  Instead, the horses seemed to run even faster as the vehicle begin swaying from side to side. Fear filled her. The team must be out of control to be moving at such a great speed.

  Then they crashed into something and the carriage flipped on its side, tossing its occupants about. It rolled again, flinging them once more. Catherine screamed as her head collided with something hard and her leg snapped at the same time.

  For a moment, all was still within the coach. She could hear the wheels outside spinning and then the agonizing cries of injured horses. Something warm trickled down the bridge of her nose and she wiped it away. Her leg ached something awful. She knew it must be broken. Her head began pounding fiercely.

  Shouts came from outside. Someone tried to open the door. Confusion filled her. She wondered where her parents were as something dripped into her eyes. Catherine heard her mama gasp and moan. No sound came from her papa. Then darkness swallowed her whole.

  *

  Jeremy allowed Cor to speak to a few more people before he steered her toward their coach. He waved off the driver and helped his grandmamma in and then followed, sitting across from her.

  “Did you enjoy your time at the Wethersbys’ ball?” he asked. “I know it was your first event to attend since your arrival in London.”

  “I had a wonderful time catching up with everyone, especially my friend.” She eyed him with interest. “It seems to me that you, too, enjoyed your first ton outing.”

  “It was good to see some of my friends,” he said guardedly.

  In truth, his spirits soared higher than a kite on a blustery day. All because of Catherine Crawford.

  It was madness to think he might have found the one woman that completed him, especially when he had no intentions of making a lifetime commitment to any female. Yet he’d been the happiest he’d ever been in her company, a thrill of what was to come building inside of him. Already, he counted the hours before he would see her again. The ease with which they’d spoken, as if they’d been acquainted for years, was part of his euphoria. He thought about how much she put family on a pedestal and how she believed in love.

  For Jeremy, he’d never seen that love existed, at least between a man and woman. The three women his father had wed had come with large dowries, if Jeremy believed their gossiping servants. He saw little affection between them. His grandfather had passed before Jeremy was born. He wondered if Cor had loved him. Though most of his friends had fallen away over the years, he couldn’t think of one of them who had married yet, much less been in love. At ton events, wedded couples rarely interacted. Society’s unwritten rule asked that a woman provide an heir and a spare and then she could do as she pleased, while a man could take a mistress at any given time, before or during marriage.

  He’d never remotely felt any kind of attachment or affection for any woman of his acquaintance. Jeremy was no angel, having sowed enough wild oats at Cambridge and while on his travels through Europe. None of those women appealed to him in any way, shape, or form.

  Except Catherine.

  She possessed not only beauty but the good name and fortune that society required—yet so did dozens of other women who were present at tonight’s ball. He found it hard to explain to himself why he was so drawn to her. Some intangible that refused to be named.

  Love?

  He wouldn’t have thought so before tonight.

  Cor pulled him from his thoughts. “Jeremy St. Clair, I am asking you about Lady Catherine.”

  “What about her?”

  “It was obvious you connected with her in some way. I noted you danced twice with her and only once with others. You both seemed quite engaged in your supper conversation. My goodness, I’ve never seen two people laugh so much.”

  He shrugged. “She puts me at ease. We spoke of . . . many different things. Even Timothy.”

  Cor’s brows rose. “I see. Tell me, Grandson—how do you feel about her? When you’re dancing together. Strolling. Talking.”

  Letting down his guard, he said, “As if I’m myself. The real me who’s been hidden away for so many years. The Jeremy St. Clair who enjoyed life to the fullest.” He sighed. “She makes me feel alive, Cor. As if every bone within me wants to move with joy. When she was in my arms, it felt right. That someone was by my side and would stand with me against the world.”

  He raked his hands through his hair. “I can’t get her out of my head. I can still smell her subtle perfume. Hear her laugh. I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight because I’m excited to see her again.”

  Cor patted his knee. “I’m sure Lady Catherine is as taken with you as you are with her.”

  “I hope so. Or I don’t. Cor, I never wished to wed,” he admitted. “Father tried thrice and made a disaster of each marriage. He was a terrible husband and an even worse father. I know he’s your son but—”

  “No apologies needed, my boy. The important thing is you are not him. You are a very good man, Jeremy. As you mature, you’ll become an even better one. You will make a good husband and wonderful father, for you know to act the opposite of your own father. You will lavish attention upon your children—and your wife. It remains to be seen whether Lady Catherine will be that wife or not.”

  She took his hand. “Tomorrow will take care of itself. Either your eagerness to see the girl will die out—or it will magnify. If it hits the point where you don’t think you can live without her, then she is the one for you.”

  “Is that what love is, Cor? When you so desperately need to be with another?”

  She smiled mysteriously. “It’s a part of it.”

  The coach slowed and Jeremy said, “It looks as if we’re home.”

  He opened the door when the carriage came to a halt and jumped out, handing Cor down. They started toward the house when the front door flew open. Barton appeared, looking disheveled. Jeremy’s heart sank, knowing the news would not be pleasant.

  “My lord, Your Grace, thank goodness you’re home.”

  “Is it His Grace?” Cor asked, her voice steady as always.

  Barton nodded. “His Grace came home from his club an hour ago, his speech slurring and his gait irregular. It wasn’t his . . . usual manner. Simmons got him to his chamber and then His Grace collapsed. I sent for Doctor Walmsley at once. He is with His Grace now.”

  Dread filled Jeremy. He looked to Cor. “We should go to him.”

  Taking her arm, he led her into the house and up the stairs, Barton following closely behind them. They reached his father’s bedchamber as Walmsley ventured from the room.

  Seeing them, the physician shut the door, his face grave. “It’s apoplexy. I doubt His Grace will survive the night.”

 

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