Chapter Fourteen #2
Katherine’s unease deepened as she watched the interaction across the room.
Captain Halston’s handsome face was animated as he spoke, his manner confident to the point of arrogance.
Drake’s expression remained carefully neutral, though Katherine could read the tension in his jaw, the slight stiffness in his shoulders that indicated carefully controlled irritation.
Lady Westmore, meanwhile, observed them both with the air of someone watching a particularly interesting chess match.
After a few minutes of conversation, she placed a hand on Drake’s arm, drawing his attention away from the captain.
Whatever she said caused Drake to look at her with new attention, his expression shifting from polite restraint to genuine interest.
The sight of Lady Westmore’s elegant fingers resting on Drake’s sleeve sent an unreasonable spike of jealousy through Katherine’s chest.
“It appears Lady Westmore has something compelling to say,” Rosabel murmured, watching the interaction with the same attention Katherine couldn’t help but give it.
“Undoubtedly proposing a mutually beneficial arrangement,” Lady Beauford suggested. “She’s a practical woman, Cecilia Westmore. And remarkably direct when it suits her purposes.”
Katherine’s fingers tightened around her teacup. “What sort of arrangement?”
“Marriage, of course,” Lady Beauford replied matter-of-factly. “She has wealth and independence but lacks the social standing a new title would provide. He needs a bride quickly, preferably one who understands the pragmatic nature of such unions. They’re ideally suited—at least on paper.”
Katherine felt as though the air had been suddenly drawn from her lungs.
Of course, Lady Westmore would see the opportunity presented by Drake’s situation.
And of course, Drake would recognize the practicality of such an alliance.
It was the perfect solution to his dilemma—a marriage based on mutual respect and shared understanding of its purpose, without messy emotional entanglements.
Exactly what he needed. Exactly what Katherine had told herself she wanted for him.
So why did the prospect fill her with such dread?
“Katherine?” Rosabel’s concerned voice penetrated her distress. “Are you unwell? You’ve gone quite pale.”
“I’m fine,” Katherine insisted, setting down her teacup with hands that weren’t quite steady. “Perhaps a bit warm. The room is rather crowded.”
Lady Beauford’s shrewd gaze missed nothing. “Perhaps a brief turn about the room would help restore your colour. The French doors to the terrace are open, I believe.”
Katherine seized the suggestion gratefully. “Yes, I think that would be wise. If you’ll excuse me?”
She rose, careful to move unhurriedly despite her urgent desire to escape.
As she made her way around the perimeter of the drawing room, she kept her gaze deliberately averted from where Drake still stood in conversation with Lady Westmore and Captain Halston.
The last thing she needed was to catch his eye and reveal the turmoil his interaction with the widow was causing her.
The terrace offered blessed relief from the stuffy drawing room. Katherine drew a deep breath of the cool spring air, steadying herself against the stone balustrade as she fought to regain her composure.
What was wrong with her? She had no claim on Drake Halston. No right to feel this twist of jealousy at the thought of him considering another woman’s proposal. Indeed, she should be grateful that Lady Westmore had appeared to offer him a sensible solution to his predicament.
Instead, she felt only a hollow ache at the thought of Drake marrying anyone—even someone as apparently suitable as Lady Westmore.
“Lady Katherine.”
The voice—deep, familiar, and entirely unwelcome at this moment—came from behind her. Katherine closed her eyes briefly, gathering her defences before turning to face Drake.
“Lord Greythorne,” she replied, proud of how steady her voice sounded. “I’m surprised you could tear yourself away from your admirers.”
Drake’s eyebrows rose slightly at her barbed tone. “I observed your hasty retreat and thought you might be unwell.”
“Merely in need of fresh air,” Katherine replied, echoing her excuse from her brother’s dinner party. “The drawing room was rather close.”
“Indeed.” Drake studied her face with unsettling intensity. “Though one might almost suspect you were avoiding certain conversations taking place inside.”
Katherine stiffened. “I have no interest in Society gossip.”
“Not even when it concerns you directly?” Drake asked, moving to stand beside her at the balustrade. “Captain Halston had quite a lot to say about your influence at Greythorne. It seems he’s been making inquiries.”
This was not what Katherine had expected. “About me? Whatever for?”
“Apparently, he considers you an important factor in his calculations,” Drake replied, his tone carefully neutral. “Should he inherit Greythorne, he would want to ensure good relations with the dowager countess who holds such sway with the tenants.”
“How considerate of him,” Katherine said, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. “Though his concern is premature at best, is it not? You still have several months to satisfy the entail’s conditions.”
“Seven months, to be precise,” Drake confirmed.
“Though the captain seems remarkably confident about my prospects—or lack thereof. He even suggested that should I find the marriage requirement too onerous, he would ensure I received generous compensation for any improvements I’ve made to the estate. ”
The audacity was breath-taking. “He’s already planning to buy you out? Before you’ve even had the opportunity to seek a bride properly?”
Drake’s mouth curved in a humourless smile. “It would seem Captain Halston prefers to plan ahead. A quality no doubt valuable in naval strategy, if somewhat presumptuous in this context.”
“And what did you tell him?” Katherine asked, trying to keep the anger from her voice.
The thought of this stranger—this opportunist—taking possession of Greythorne, of undoing all the good Drake had begun, of treating the tenants as mere sources of income rather than people deserving care and consideration, filled her with indignation.
“I informed him that I had no intention of relinquishing Greythorne under any circumstances,” Drake replied. “And that should he continue to present himself as my inevitable replacement, he might find his shore leave less pleasant than anticipated.”
Despite her turbulent emotions, Katherine couldn’t suppress a small smile at this. “I imagine he didn’t receive that warning graciously.”
“He maintained his composure,” Drake acknowledged. “Though Lady Westmore seemed quite entertained by the exchange.”
And there it was—the reminder of the widow who had so captured Drake’s attention. Katherine’s brief moment of satisfaction evaporated.
“Lady Westmore appears to have made quite an impression on you,” she observed, striving for casual indifference and failing utterly.
Drake turned to face her directly. “Lady Westmore made an interesting proposition.”
Katherine’s heart seemed to stutter in her chest. So, Lady Beauford had been right—the widow had indeed proposed marriage. And judging by Drake’s manner, he was seriously considering it.
“How fortunate for you,” she managed, though the words felt like glass in her throat. “She seems a woman of intelligence and independence. Precisely the sort of bride who might suit your circumstances.”
“That was my initial assessment as well,” Drake agreed, his grey eyes never leaving her face. “She’s practical, direct, and has no romantic illusions about marriage. She suggested an arrangement that would satisfy the entail while allowing us both considerable personal freedom.”
Each word was like a small wound. Katherine forced herself to nod.
“A sensible proposal.”
“Remarkably so,” Drake continued. “She even addressed the matter of the western fields without prompting.”
That caught Katherine by surprise. “The boundary dispute? What concern is that of hers?”
“None, directly,” Drake replied. “But she was astute enough to recognize that the tension between Greythorne and Willow Park represents an ongoing drain on resources and attention—one that could be resolved through a clear agreement about respective rights and responsibilities.”
“How pragmatic,” Katherine said, unable to keep the edge from her voice. “Did she propose specific terms, or merely the general principle of resolution?”
Drake’s expression was unreadable. “She suggested that as countess, she would have no personal interest in the disputed lands. They could be formally transferred to Willow Park’s ownership in exchange for a nominal annual payment to acknowledge Greythorne’s technical claim.”
It was a perfectly reasonable solution—one that would give Katherine exactly what she had been fighting for since Drake’s arrival. The western fields would be hers, legally and unequivocally. The conflict that had defined their relationship from the beginning would be resolved.
She should have been pleased. Instead, she felt only a growing sense of loss.
“You must be relieved,” she said quietly. “To have found such a convenient solution to both your marital deadline and our boundary dispute.”
“Must I?” Drake countered, his voice equally low. “Is that what you believe I want, Katherine? A convenient solution?”
The use of her given name, here in this semi-public setting, startled her. “What else would you want? Lady Westmore offers everything you need—wealth, social position, intelligence, and a pragmatic approach to marriage that aligns with your own stated preferences.”
“Everything except the one quality I find I cannot do without,” Drake replied, his gaze intensifying.
Katherine’s breath caught. “And what quality is that?”
Before he could answer, they were interrupted by the appearance of Lady Westmore herself at the terrace doors.
“Lord Greythorne,” she called, her voice carrying clearly across the space between them. “I believe we were discussing matters of mutual interest when you were called away.”
Drake did not immediately turn to acknowledge her, his eyes still fixed on Katherine’s face with an expression that sent her pulse racing.
“We were indeed, Lady Westmore,” he replied after a moment, finally turning toward the widow. “Though I find myself requiring more time to consider all possibilities thoroughly.”
Lady Westmore’s gaze moved between them, intelligent assessment in her dark eyes. “I see. Perhaps we might continue our discussion another time, then? Such important decisions deserve careful consideration.”
There was no resentment in her tone, only a certain knowing quality that suggested she understood the complexity of his situation.
“A sensible suggestion,” Drake agreed. “I appreciate your patience in the matter.”
Lady Westmore smiled slightly. “Of course.”
With a graceful nod to Katherine, she withdrew, leaving them alone on the terrace once more.
Katherine stared after her, confused by the exchange. “She seemed remarkably understanding about the postponement.”
“Lady Westmore is astute enough to recognize when a conversation requires... deferment,” Drake replied. “Unlike Captain Halston,” Katherine observed.
“Unlike Captain Halston,” Drake agreed. “Though his presence today has clarified certain matters for me.”
“In what way?” Katherine asked, uncertain of his meaning.
Drake turned back to her, his expression suddenly resolute. “In making me recognize that I cannot afford the luxury of indecision any longer. Not with Greythorne at stake.”
Katherine’s heart sank. So, he would accept Lady Westmore’s proposal after all, despite this cryptic exchange. The practical solution would prevail, as it must.
“Of course,” she said, unable to meet his eyes. “You must do what’s necessary to secure your inheritance.”
“I intend to,” Drake replied. “Though perhaps not in the manner you anticipate.”
Before Katherine could ask what he meant, the terrace doors opened again to admit Rosabel, whose expression suggested concern mingled with apology for the interruption.
“Katherine, forgive me,” she said, approaching them quickly. “But your brother has just arrived and is asking for you. Something about an urgent matter regarding Willow Park.”
Katherine’s brow furrowed in confusion. “James is here? But he had meetings at Parliament this afternoon.”
“So, he told me,” Rosabel confirmed. “Yet here he is, looking rather agitated and insisting he must speak with you immediately.”
Concern for Willow Park overrode Katherine’s reluctance to end her conversation with Drake. “I should go to him.”
Drake nodded, though his expression suggested frustration at the timing. “Of course. Estate matters take precedence.”
As Katherine moved to follow Rosabel back into the drawing room, she glanced back at Drake. He remained by the balustrade, watching her with an intensity that made her heart flutter uncertainly.
Whatever he had been about to say, whatever clarification Captain Halston’s arrival had prompted, would have to wait.
But as she turned away, Katherine couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had shifted between them—something that even Lady Westmore had recognized with her knowing retreat.
What that meant for their future, however, remained as unclear as the fate of the western fields that had first brought them into conflict.