Chapter Fourteen
“She’s perfect for him,” someone whispered nearby, loud enough for Katherine to hear despite the crowded drawing room of Lady Fairchild’s afternoon reception.
Katherine’s teacup paused halfway to her lips as her attention was reluctantly drawn to the conversation taking place just behind the ornate settee where she sat.
“Lady Westmore, you mean?” another voice replied with equal indiscretion. “I quite agree. A widow of independent means, no troublesome family connections demanding attention, and mature enough to understand a marriage of convenience without romantic expectations.”
The first voice tittered. “And still young enough to provide an heir, which I understand is rather urgent in Lord Greythorne’s case.”
Katherine carefully lowered her cup to its saucer, fighting to maintain her composed expression despite the uncomfortable twist in her stomach.
She had accepted Lady Fairchild’s invitation only because Rosabel insisted she couldn’t remain in seclusion forever—not because she had any interest in Society gatherings where Drake Halston’s marital prospects were dissected with the enthusiasm usually reserved for hunting trophies.
Yet here she sat, unable to avoid hearing precisely such a discussion, conducted with typical aristocratic disregard for who might be listening.
“Lady Katherine,” a gentle voice intruded on her thoughts. “You seem distracted today.”
Katherine turned to find Lady Beauford studying her with shrewd eyes. The elderly woman had positioned herself beside Katherine early in the reception, declaring that she preferred “sensible conversation to mindless chatter about ribbons and romance.”
“Forgive me,” Katherine replied, forcing a smile. “I was momentarily lost in thought.”
“About Lord Greythorne and Lady Westmore, no doubt,” Lady Beauford observed with characteristic directness. “Their tête-à-tête by the window has become the afternoon’s primary entertainment.”
Despite herself, Katherine’s gaze followed Lady Beauford’s subtle nod toward the far side of the room, where Drake stood in conversation with a striking woman of perhaps thirty years.
Lady Cecilia Westmore, widow of Viscount Westmore, was everything the gossiping ladies had described—elegant, self-possessed, and owning a fortune substantial enough to make her one of London’s most sought-after widows.
Unlike Katherine, who had deliberately maintained a low profile during her widowhood, Lady Westmore had embraced her independence with unapologetic enthusiasm.
Her salons were famous for their intellectual conversations and artistic displays.
Her charity work was extensive but selective, focused on causes that genuinely interested her rather than merely conferring social prestige.
In short, she was exactly the sort of woman who might appeal to someone like Drake—intelligent, independent, and unburdened by romantic illusions.
The thought made Katherine’s chest tighten uncomfortably.
“They make a handsome pair,” Lady Beauford continued, watching Katherine’s reaction closely. “Though not, I think, as compelling a match as other possibilities I’ve observed.”
Katherine dragged her attention back to her companion. “I’m sure Lord Greythorne will make whatever choice best serves his interests.”
“How coldly practical you sound,” Lady Beauford observed with a small smile. “One might almost believe you genuinely have no opinion on the matter.”
“Why should I have an opinion?” Katherine countered, perhaps too quickly. “Lord Greythorne’s marital choices are of no concern to me.”
“No?” Lady Beauford’s eyebrows rose. “Despite your shared interest in Greythorne’s management? Despite the considerable time you’ve spent in his company these past weeks? Despite the rather intense conversation you shared at your brother’s dinner party last evening?”
Katherine stiffened. “You’ve been remarkably well-informed about my activities, Lady Beauford.”
“I observe,” the older woman replied simply. “A habit acquired over six decades of navigating Society. And what I observe between you and the new Lord Greythorne is far more interesting than whatever calculation Lady Westmore is currently presenting to him.”
Before Katherine could formulate a suitably dismissive response, the drawing room doors opened to admit another group of visitors.
The collective intake of breath that followed this new arrival drew Katherine’s attention to the entrance, where a strikingly handsome naval officer in full dress uniform stood scanning the room with confident ease.
“Captain Reginald Halston,” Lady Beauford murmured. “How fascinating.”
“Halston?” Katherine repeated, startled by the surname. “Is he related to Lord Greythorne?”
“A cousin of some degree,” Lady Beauford confirmed. “And, if gossip is to be credited, the next in line should the current earl fail to fulfil certain conditions of the entail within the prescribed time.”
Katherine felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the drawing room. “You seem remarkably well-informed about the Greythorne inheritance as well, Lady Beauford.”
The older woman’s smile was knowing. “My late husband was a lawyer with a particular interest in unusual entails. The Greythorne provision requiring marriage within a year of taking title was one he often cited as an example of dynastic anxiety overriding common sense.”
Across the room, Katherine saw Drake notice the captain’s arrival. Even from a distance, she could read the sudden tension in his posture, the slight narrowing of his eyes as he assessed this unexpected addition to the gathering.
Lady Westmore, observing Drake’s changed demeanour, turned to follow his gaze. Her expression registered recognition, followed by what appeared to be calculation.
“Interesting,” Lady Beauford murmured. “It seems Lady Westmore is acquainted with the captain.”
Indeed, the widow was already moving toward the new arrival, her hand extended in greeting. Captain Halston bowed over it with practiced gallantry, his smile suggesting a relationship beyond mere casual acquaintance.
Drake remained where he stood, watching the interaction with an expression Katherine couldn’t quite interpret from across the room. After a moment, Lady Westmore beckoned him forward, clearly intending to facilitate an introduction between the two Halston men.
“How obliging of her,” Lady Beauford observed dryly. “Ensuring the current earl and his potential replacement become properly acquainted.”
Katherine felt a surge of protectiveness toward Drake that surprised her with its intensity. “Captain Halston cannot possibly expect to inherit. Lord Greythorne has only to marry—any suitable lady would be eager to accept his proposal.”
“Indeed?” Lady Beauford’s penetrating gaze returned to Katherine’s face. “Yet he hasn’t secured a bride, despite the Season being well advanced and his deadline approaching. One might wonder why.”
Katherine had wondered precisely that, particularly after witnessing Drake’s evident disinterest in the eligible young ladies her brother had presented. Even Lady Elizabeth Crawford, widely considered the Season’s greatest beauty, had failed to capture his sustained attention.
“Perhaps he simply hasn’t found a compatible match,” Katherine suggested, striving for a neutral tone.
“Or perhaps,” Lady Beauford countered gently, “he has found compatibility where he least expected it, but believes it unavailable to him.”
Katherine’s cheeks warmed under the older woman’s knowing gaze. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course not, my dear.” Lady Beauford patted her hand sympathetically.
“But you might consider whether your determination to avoid another marriage is worth watching a worthy man ally himself with someone like Lady Westmore—or worse, lose Greythorne to that naval opportunist currently charming his way through Lady Fairchild’s drawing room. ”
Before Katherine could formulate a response to this startlingly direct advice, they were interrupted by the arrival of Rosabel, who settled gracefully onto the settee beside them.
“Lady Beauford,” she greeted the older woman warmly. “I see you’ve been keeping Katherine company. I hope she hasn’t been too poor a conversationalist—she’s been rather distracted these past days.”
“Understandably so,” Lady Beauford replied with a significant glance toward Drake, who was now engaged in what appeared to be stiffly polite conversation with Captain Halston, Lady Westmore observing them both with evident interest.
Rosabel followed her gaze and sighed softly. “I see the captain has made his appearance at last. James mentioned he had returned to London recently.”
“You know of him?” Katherine asked, surprised.
“James made inquiries when we learned of the entail’s conditions,” Rosabel explained in a low voice. “Given Lord Greythorne’s deadline, it seemed prudent to understand who might benefit should he fail to meet its terms.”
“And what did your inquiries reveal?” Lady Beauford asked, leaning forward with interest.
Rosabel glanced around to ensure they weren’t overheard.
“Captain Halston has distinguished himself in naval service, by all accounts. Recently granted shore leave to recover from an injury sustained during a skirmish with French privateers. Unmarried, but rumoured to be seeking a suitable alliance before returning to active duty.”
“How convenient,” Lady Beauford observed. “Shore leave precisely when the Greythorne inheritance hangs in the balance.”
“James thought the same,” Rosabel agreed. “Particularly as the captain appears to have developed a sudden interest in estate management—a subject that reportedly never concerned him before.”