Chapter One #2
“Halston,” Katherine murmured. “How perfectly strange to share a name with a total stranger.”
“Quite, but perhaps you’ll become fast friends,” Rosabel countered with a small smile. “Though that would make for an interesting twist, wouldn’t it?”
“This situation hardly needs more twists,” Katherine replied dryly. “What else?”
“He’s been abroad for several years. America, I believe, though there are whispers of time spent in France and Italy as well. He returned to England only upon learning of his inheritance.”
“How convenient.”
“Indeed. He’s unmarried, naturally, and by all accounts...” Rosabel hesitated.
“A rake? A libertine? A scoundrel?” Katherine supplied. “The ton does love its colourful descriptions. Not that we have any true reason to believe any of the tales.”
“All of the above, if Lady Swansea is to be believed,” Rosabel said with a slight roll of her eyes. “Though, like you, I’m inclined to reserve judgment until we meet the man. Gossip has a way of exaggerating the truth.”
“Nevertheless, his reputation appears to precede him.” Katherine smoothed her pale grey silk skirts, a shade that indicated her position between deep mourning and half-mourning. “A man who consorts with actresses and gamblers is hardly likely to have a nuanced understanding of estate management.”
“Don’t underestimate him, Katherine,” Rosabel warned gently. “Men like that often cultivate certain reputations to mask their true capabilities.”
“You sound like James,” Katherine replied, smiling despite herself.
Her practical brother had always cautioned her against making hasty judgments.
“A high compliment indeed.” Rosabel glanced over Katherine’s shoulder, her expression shifting subtly. “Speaking of judgment, Lady Pemberton is looking this way. We should circulate before she decides we’re being antisocial.”
Katherine nodded, gathering her composure. “Of course.”
As they rejoined the crowded room, Katherine found her thoughts stubbornly fixed on the impending meeting. What could this Drake Halston, this unexpected heir, possibly want that required her personal attention?
Her settlement had been meticulously arranged, the terms clear and binding. There should be nothing to discuss.
Unless...
A cold tendril of unease wound through her at the thought that her freedom might not be as secure as she’d believed. She had paid dearly for it, after all—five years of a cold, loveless marriage to a man who had shown her nothing but disdain and disappointment.
“Lady Katherine, you’re looking quite well,” came a voice to her left, pulling her from her thoughts. “Black never did suit you. This softer grey brings out the blue in your eyes.”
Katherine turned to find Lady Beauford, an elderly but sharp-eyed widow who had been one of the few to show her genuine kindness during Edmund’s lifetime.
“Thank you, Lady Beauford,” she replied, offering a genuine smile. “It’s a relief to move beyond the deepest mourning.”
The older woman harrumphed softly. “I should think so. Six months of black for that man was five months and three weeks too many, in my estimation.”
“Lady Beauford,” Rosabel chided gently, though her eyes sparkled with barely suppressed mirth.
“Oh, don’t ‘Lady Beauford’ me, Your Grace,” the woman replied, unrepentant.
“We all know what kind of husband Edmund Halston was.” She patted Katherine’s hand. “And now you’re free of him, with a tidy fortune to boot. The question is, what will you do with your freedom, my dear?”
Katherine felt a rush of warmth for the forthright old woman.
“Enjoy it, primarily,” she answered honestly. “Though I do have some plans for improvements at Willow Park.”
Lady Beauford nodded approvingly. “Your dower property. Sensible of you to focus there rather than on Greythorne lands.”
“The new earl is welcome to Greythorne and all its entanglements,” Katherine said, unable to keep a hint of bitterness from her voice. “I have no desire to involve myself in its management any longer.”
“And yet,” Lady Beauford said shrewdly, “I hear the new Lord Greythorne may have other ideas.”
Katherine stiffened. “News travels quickly.”
“It always does when it concerns a handsome bachelor and a wealthy widow,” the old woman replied with a knowing look. “Particularly when said bachelor has requested a meeting with said widow.”
“For estate matters only,” Katherine clarified firmly.
She really wanted to demand how the other woman could possibly know that when she herself had just found out.
“Of course,” Lady Beauford agreed, her tone making it clear she believed nothing of the sort. “Though I must say, from what I’ve glimpsed of Drake Halston, ‘estate matters’ might prove more interesting than you anticipate.”
“You’ve seen him?” Rosabel asked, curiosity evident in her voice.
“Leaving White’s, with my nephew,” Lady Beauford confirmed. “Tall, broad-shouldered, with the most arresting grey eyes. Quite the contrast to poor Edmund, who always put me in mind of a dyspeptic weasel.”
Katherine choked on a startled laugh, earning several curious glances from nearby guests.
“Lady Beauford, you are incorrigible,” Rosabel said, fighting her own smile.
“At my age, one earns the right to speak plainly,” the woman replied with a dismissive wave.
She fixed her sharp gaze on Katherine. “My advice, dear girl? Don’t go into this meeting expecting another Edmund. You might find yourself dealing with a very different sort of man entirely.”
Before Katherine could respond, a commotion near the entrance drew their attention. A ripple of whispers spread through the room as heads turned toward the doorway.
“Well, well,” Lady Beauford murmured, “it appears another scandal is brewing.”
Katherine followed her gaze to where a cluster of young ladies had gathered around an unfamiliar gentleman near the entrance to the card room. Though she could only see his profile, something about his confident stance made her breath catch unexpectedly.
“Who is that?” she asked, trying to sound merely curious.
“Lord Carrington’s youngest,” Lady Beauford replied.
“Just returned from the Continent with a host of scandalous stories, if rumours are to be believed. The mamas are already plotting his capture, poor man.” She chuckled. “Though something tells me he’s not so easily caught.”
Katherine relaxed marginally, relieved it wasn’t Greythorne after all. “Another fortune hunter, no doubt.”
“You’ve become quite cynical for one so young,” Lady Beauford observed, studying her with shrewd eyes.
“Realistic,” Katherine corrected. “Life has taught me the true nature of men.”
“Some men,” Rosabel interjected gently. “Not all.”
“Enough to know I have no desire to repeat the experience of marriage, at the very least,” Katherine replied firmly.
Lady Beauford patted her hand. “Wise to be cautious, my dear, but do remember—not every man is Edmund Halston.”
“Indeed,” Rosabel agreed, her expression growing serious. “Speaking of which, Katherine, perhaps we should prepare you for tomorrow’s meeting. If Lord Greythorne is as... formidable as Lady Beauford suggests, you’ll want to be ready.”
Katherine nodded, grateful for the reminder even as anxiety tightened her chest. “Yes, of course. Though I doubt there’s much to discuss beyond the formalities.”
“One never knows with these matters of inheritance,” Lady Beauford said enigmatically. “Particularly when a titled gentleman finds himself unexpectedly entangled with a beautiful widow.”
“There is no entanglement,” Katherine insisted, perhaps too forcefully. “Merely business to be settled.”
“If you say so, my dear.” The older woman’s eyes twinkled knowingly. “But I’ve lived long enough to recognize the beginning of an interesting story when I see one.”
As they moved to take their leave, Katherine caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye—a tall figure passing by the window outside, his broad-shouldered silhouette momentarily backlit by the afternoon sun.
Something about the confident stride made her pause, a curious flutter of apprehension stirring in her chest.
It couldn’t be him, she told herself firmly. Pure coincidence.
“Katherine?” Rosabel touched her arm. “Are you ready?”
She pulled her gaze from the window, pushing away the sensation that she was being watched. “Yes. Let’s go home.”
As their carriage pulled away from the Countess of Pemberton’s residence, Katherine found herself glancing back, half-expecting to see a dark figure observing their departure. But the street was empty save for the usual bustling traffic of London in full Season.
Still, as they made their way through the crowded streets toward Wexford House, Katherine couldn’t shake the feeling that her carefully ordered world stood on the precipice of change.
Tomorrow, she would face Lord Greythorne—this man who had inherited not just Edmund’s title and lands but potentially the power to disrupt the independence she had so dearly won.
“It will be alright,” Rosabel said softly, reading her anxiety. “James and I will be with you.”
Katherine squeezed her sister-in-law’s hand in silent gratitude, but her thoughts remained troubled. She had survived Edmund’s coldness and cruelty. She had endured the whispers and pitying glances that followed a childless widow. She had rebuilt her life piece by careful piece.
She would not allow Drake Halston, the new Earl of Greythorne, to threaten any of it—no matter how handsome or charming Lady Beauford claimed him to be.