Chapter Twelve #2
It was a flawless performance, one Katherine herself had been trained to execute in her debutante days. And Drake appeared to be responding exactly as a gentleman should—attentive, engaged, appreciative of the attention.
So why did Katherine suddenly wish to spill her wine down the front of Lady Elizabeth’s exquisite pink silk gown?
“They make a handsome couple, do they not?” Lord Barrington observed, materializing at Katherine’s side with unfortunate timing.
“I couldn’t say,” Katherine replied coolly. “I’ve never given much thought to Lord Greythorne’s appearance.”
A blatant lie, but one she delivered with perfect composure.
“Ah, but you must have some opinion,” Lord Barrington pressed. “Having been married to his predecessor, you are uniquely positioned to assess his suitability as the next Earl of Greythorne.”
Katherine bristled at the reminder of her connection to Edmund. “My experience with the late earl hardly qualifies me to judge his successor, my lord.”
“Perhaps not,” Lord Barrington conceded. “Though I understand you’ve been assisting with estate matters. Most admirable, considering the circumstances.”
There was something in his tone—a hint of patronizing approval—that grated on Katherine’s already fraying nerves.
“The welfare of Greythorne’s tenants remains important to me,” she said stiffly. “Excuse me, I believe dinner is about to be announced.”
She moved away before Lord Barrington could respond, only to find her brother at her elbow once more.
“Katherine,” James said in a low voice, “you might attempt to appear less like a general surveying a battlefield and more like a dinner guest. Lord Barrington was clearly interested in engaging your attention.”
“And I am clearly uninterested in engaging his,” Katherine replied through a fixed smile. “Really, James, did you select these gentlemen solely on the basis of their availability, with no thought to compatibility?”
James looked affronted. “Both Lord Barrington and Sir William are highly respected gentlemen of impeccable character.”
“And utterly tedious conversation,” Katherine muttered.
Before James could chastise her further, the butler announced dinner, and the assembled guests began moving toward the dining room.
Katherine found herself seated between Lord Barrington and a portly baron whose name she had already forgotten, directly across from Drake, who had Lady Elizabeth on one side and a vivacious widow on the other.
Someone must have rearranged the cards she had placed earlier. Her gaze flickered toward Rosabel whose innocent expression didn’t reassure Katherine in the least.
The seating arrangement gave Katherine an unobstructed view of Drake throughout the meal—a fact she tried to ignore as she mechanically responded to Lord Barrington’s attempts at conversation.
Despite her efforts, her gaze kept returning to Drake, watching as he navigated the attentions of the ladies on either side of him with practiced ease.
Lady Elizabeth, in particular, seemed determined to monopolize his attention, leaning close to speak in tones too low for Katherine to hear, her golden curls practically brushing his shoulder.
Whatever she said occasionally drew a smile or even a brief laugh from Drake, each one sending a most unreasonable spike of irritation through Katherine.
“You seem distracted, Lady Katherine,” Lord Barrington observed midway through the second course. “I hope my reminiscences of the Peninsula campaign haven’t bored you.”
Katherine forced her attention back to her dinner partner. “Not at all, my lord. It’s merely that I’m...concerned about estate matters at Greythorne. The spring planting is at a critical stage.”
It wasn’t entirely a fabrication. The planting was indeed important. But it certainly wasn’t what had been distracting her from Lord Barrington’s interminable military anecdotes.
“Estate matters,” Lord Barrington repeated, his expression suggesting he found a lady’s interest in such things faintly inappropriate. “How conscientious of you. Though surely those concerns now fall to Lord Greythorne?”
“We have a collaborative approach to certain aspects of management,” Katherine replied, her tone cooling further.
“Most unusual,” Lord Barrington commented. “Though I suppose a transitional period is to be expected. Once Greythorne marries, naturally, such arrangements will conclude.”
Katherine’s grip tightened on her fork. “I wouldn’t presume to speak for Lord Greythorne’s future plans.”
“No, indeed,” Lord Barrington agreed, oblivious to her rising irritation. “Though I understand the entail’s provisions make his marriage rather urgent. Lady Elizabeth seems particularly well-suited, wouldn’t you agree? Such a charming young woman, and from an excellent family.”
Katherine glanced across the table, where Lady Elizabeth was touching Drake’s arm again, her face tilted up to his in an expression of rapt attention.
“She appears...enthusiastic,” Katherine managed, aware that her tone bordered on acidic.
At that precise moment, Drake glanced up, his eyes meeting hers across the crystal and silver.
Something in his expression—a flash of what might have been frustration or even boredom—gave Katherine an unexpected jolt of satisfaction.
Perhaps he wasn’t enjoying Lady Elizabeth’s attentions quite as much as it appeared.
The thought was immediately followed by a wave of confusion.
Why should Drake’s enjoyment or lack thereof matter to her? If anything, she should hope Lady Elizabeth pleased him. A suitable match would secure Greythorne’s future and simplify their own working relationship.
Yet as she watched Lady Elizabeth lean even closer to Drake, her hand lingering on his arm, Katherine was forced to acknowledge that her feelings on the matter were far from simple or practical.
The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of courses and conversation, with Katherine maintaining the barest minimum of civility toward Lord Barrington while her attention remained fixated on Drake and his dinner companions.
Her irritation mounted as Lady Elizabeth’s flirtation grew more obvious, culminating in a moment when the young woman actually fed Drake a bite of dessert from her own plate, laughing delightedly at her own daring.
By the time the ladies withdrew to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port, Katherine’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point.
She positioned herself by the window, ostensibly admiring the view of the garden but actually seeking a moment’s respite from the stifling atmosphere of matchmaking that permeated the gathering.
“He’s not interested in her, you know,” Rosabel’s voice came quietly from beside her.
Katherine started, turning to find her sister-in-law watching her with knowing eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Lord Greythorne,” Rosabel clarified, though they both knew it was unnecessary. “He’s been perfectly polite to Lady Elizabeth, but there’s no genuine interest there.”
“His interest or lack thereof is none of my concern,” Katherine replied, striving to sound indifferent.
Rosabel’s lips curved in a small, knowing smile. “Is it not? You’ve barely taken your eyes from him all evening.”
Katherine felt heat rise to her cheeks. “I was merely...observing his interactions with potential brides. His choice will affect Greythorne’s future, which naturally concerns me.”
“Naturally,” Rosabel agreed, her tone making it clear she believed nothing of the sort. “And I’m certain your reaction to Lady Elizabeth’s rather obvious flirtation was purely professional concern.”
“She was being ridiculous,” Katherine said before she could stop herself. “Feeding him dessert as though he were a child or a pet. It was undignified.”
“And it bothered you,” Rosabel observed quietly. “More than it would if your interest were merely in Greythorne’s management.”
Katherine opened her mouth to deny it, then closed it again. Lying to herself was one thing; lying to Rosabel, who knew her better than perhaps anyone, was quite another.
“I don’t understand it,” she admitted in a low voice. “I have no desire to remarry. None whatsoever. And yet the thought of him marrying someone else...”
“Makes you jealous,” Rosabel finished for her when Katherine trailed off.
“Concerned,” Katherine corrected, though the distinction felt hollow even to her own ears. “He deserves better than a simpering miss who views him as nothing more than a title and fortune.”
“As would you,” Rosabel said gently. “Not all men are like Edmund, Katherine. Some are capable of genuine partnership, of seeing a woman’s value beyond her decorative qualities or social connections.”
Before Katherine could formulate a response to this uncomfortably perceptive observation, the drawing room doors opened to admit the gentlemen. Her gaze immediately sought Drake, finding him engaged in conversation with James near the entrance.
As though sensing her attention, he glanced up, his eyes meeting hers across the room. For a moment, they simply looked at each other, a silent communication that felt more intimate than any conversation they had shared.
Then Lady Elizabeth appeared at Drake’s side, reclaiming his attention with a light touch to his arm and a tilt of her golden head. Katherine watched as he turned back to the younger woman, his expression politely attentive once more.
And there it was again—that sharp, unreasonable stab of jealousy that no amount of rationalization could dispel.
“I need a moment,” Katherine said abruptly to Rosabel. “Some air, perhaps.”
Rosabel’s knowing gaze held no judgment, only understanding. “The terrace doors are open. Take a few minutes to compose yourself, but don’t linger too long—your absence will be noticed.”
“Thank you,” Katherine replied, grateful for her sister-in-law’s discretion. “I just need to clear my head.”
She made her way toward the terrace doors, slipping outside into the cool evening air.
The garden below was beautifully illuminated with strategically placed lanterns, casting a soft glow over the manicured hedges and spring blooms. Katherine drew a deep breath, trying to calm her turbulent emotions.
Before stepping back inside, she glanced once more through the terrace doors. Drake was still engaged with Lady Elizabeth, but as though sensing Katherine’s gaze, he looked up suddenly, his eyes finding hers across the crowded room.
For a brief moment, their eyes held. Then Drake’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile—a knowing look that seemed to ask the very question Katherine had been avoiding all evening.
Are you jealous?
Katherine turned away quickly, unwilling to acknowledge the question or its answer, even to herself. But as she gathered her composure to rejoin the gathering, one truth became impossible to ignore: her feelings for Drake Halston had progressed far beyond professional respect or even friendship.
And that realization was more terrifying than any boundary dispute could ever be.