Chapter Sixteen #2
“Perhaps you’re wondering why I arranged this visit through your brother,” he suggested, his tone careful. “It’s somewhat unorthodox, I realize.”
“A bit,” Katherine agreed, relieved to address the matter directly. “Though James assures me you and I met during my debut Season, I confess I have no recollection of the occasion.”
Lord Clifton smiled slightly. “That doesn’t surprise me. You were surrounded by admirers at every event—the duke’s sister, beautiful and accomplished, with every eligible bachelor in London vying for your attention. I was merely one among many, and considerably older than most of your suitors.”
“Yet you remembered me,” Katherine observed, curious despite herself.
“You made quite an impression,” he replied.
“Not merely for your beauty, though that was undeniable, but for your intelligence. I recall a conversation at Lady Jersey’s ball where you thoroughly demolished Lord Harrington’s arguments about his latest ventures in Parliament with such precision and wit that half the room was struck speechless. ”
Katherine felt a flicker of pleased surprise. “You remember that?”
“Indeed.” His smile warmed slightly. “It was most refreshing to encounter a young lady whose interests extended beyond fashion and gossip. Unfortunately, before I could seek a proper introduction, you were betrothed to the Earl of Greythorne, and the opportunity was lost.”
“I see,” Katherine said, unsure how to respond to this revelation.
“When I heard of your widowhood, I considered approaching you directly,” Lord Clifton continued, “but propriety demanded I respect your mourning period. More recently, when your brother mentioned you might be ready to consider Society again, I took the liberty of expressing my long-standing admiration.”
It was a flattering explanation, and Lord Clifton’s manner as he delivered it was perfectly respectful.
Yet Katherine found herself unmoved by this confession of years-long interest. Instead, she felt a growing certainty that no matter how much she might come to respect Lord Clifton, she would never feel for him even a fraction of the complex emotions Drake Halston stirred in her.
“You honour me with your regard, my lord,” she said carefully.
“But you don’t return it,” he finished for her, his perception surprising her.
Katherine hesitated, unwilling to be unkind yet unable to offer false encouragement. “We are barely acquainted, Lord Clifton. I would not presume to make such a determination after a single afternoon’s conversation.”
“Yet you have,” he observed without rancour. “I can see it in your expression. Your brother suggested you might be reluctant to consider remarriage, given your experience with the late earl.”
“James shouldn’t have discussed such personal matters,” Katherine replied, discomfited by her brother’s presumption.
“He spoke only out of concern for your happiness,” Lord Clifton assured her.
“And if I may be equally direct, Lady Katherine—it was not only your beauty and intelligence that drew my notice all those years ago, but a certain liveliness of spirit, a fire that has noticeably dimmed since then. I had hoped perhaps to see it rekindled.”
Katherine was startled by this assessment.
Had she changed so much? Had Edmund’s subtle cruelty extinguished something essential in her that others could perceive?
“Marriage can either nurture or diminish one’s spirit,” Lord Clifton continued quietly.
“I was fortunate in my first union. It seems you were less so. I would not press unwelcome attentions upon you, but I would ask you to consider whether retreating permanently from the possibility of marriage serves your happiness.”
The gentle wisdom in his words caught Katherine by surprise. For the first time, she felt a genuine connection to Lord Clifton—not romantic attraction, but a sense that he saw her more clearly than she had given him credit for.
“That’s a fair question,” she acknowledged. “Though I’m not convinced marriage is necessary for happiness.”
“Certainly not,” he agreed readily. “But closing oneself off from possibility rarely leads to contentment, in my experience.”
They continued walking through the garden, their conversation shifting to less personal topics—the management of their respective estates, agricultural innovations they had implemented, the challenges of dealing with tenant concerns during difficult seasons.
To Katherine’s surprise, Lord Clifton proved knowledgeable and forward-thinking on matters she had assumed would hold little interest for him.
“I’ve been experimenting with crop rotation using methods similar to those you mentioned,” he remarked as they discussed sustainable farming practices.
“Though I’d be interested in your results with nitrogen-fixing plants.
The western fields at Willow Park have shown remarkable improvements under your management, I understand. ”
Katherine glanced at him sharply. “You’re familiar with my work at Willow Park?”
“I make it my business to understand neighbouring properties,” he replied. “And your brother has spoken of your agricultural experiments with considerable pride. I believe he mentioned you’ve implemented similar innovations at Greythorne in consultation with the new earl?”
There was a question in his tone—not accusatory, but curious. Katherine found herself reluctant to discuss Drake with Lord Clifton, as if the mere mention of his name in this context would somehow tarnish the unexpected accord that had developed between them.
“Lord Greythorne has been receptive to modern methods,” she said carefully. “The estate had fallen into some neglect under Edmund’s management.”
Lord Clifton nodded thoughtfully. “The new earl seems a man of different character altogether. I’ve not had the pleasure of making his acquaintance, but his reputation for fair dealing preceded his inheritance.”
“He’s been most concerned for the tenants’ welfare,” Katherine agreed, unable to prevent a certain warmth from entering her voice when speaking of Drake.
Lord Clifton studied her with perceptive eyes. “His concern seems to have made a favourable impression on you.”
Katherine felt herself flushing slightly. “Lord Greythorne has shown appropriate interest in Greythorne’s people, as any responsible landowner should.”
“Of course,” Lord Clifton replied, his tone suggesting he heard more than her words conveyed. “Though I understand he must marry with some urgency, given the entail’s conditions. Has he selected a bride yet?”
The question, for all its seeming casualness, struck Katherine like a physical blow.
Had Drake already accepted Lady Westmore’s proposal? Was an announcement imminent? The thought made her stomach twist with an emotion she refused to name.
“I couldn’t say,” she replied, striving for indifference. “Lord Greythorne’s personal matters are his own concern.”
Lord Clifton made no reply, but his expression suggested he found her answer revealing.
They had nearly completed their circuit of the rose garden when Lord Clifton paused, turning to face Katherine directly.
“Lady Katherine, I hope you won’t think me presumptuous, but I feel I should speak plainly.
When your brother approached me about this visit, I was genuinely pleased at the prospect of renewing our acquaintance.
I have admired you from afar for many years and hoped we might discover a compatibility that could lead to a deeper connection. ”
Katherine tensed, anticipating an unwelcome declaration.
“However,” he continued, surprising her, “I now believe such a connection is unlikely to develop between us. Not because you are unwilling to remarry in principle—though you may believe that to be the case—but because your heart appears to be engaged elsewhere.”
“I—that’s not—” Katherine stammered, caught completely off guard by this assessment.
Lord Clifton smiled gently. “You needn’t deny it on my account, Lady Katherine. I’m simply making an observation based on how your expression changes when Lord Greythorne is mentioned. There’s no shame in developing an attachment to a worthy gentleman.”
Katherine felt uncharacteristically flustered. “Lord Greythorne and I have a professional association centred around the transition of estate management. Nothing more.”
“If you say so,” Lord Clifton replied, clearly unconvinced. “Though I might suggest that such an association need not remain strictly professional, particularly if mutual regard exists.”
“It’s not that simple,” Katherine said before she could stop herself. “Lord Greythorne must marry quickly to secure his inheritance. He needs a young bride who can provide an heir. I’m—” She broke off, suddenly aware she was revealing far more than intended.
Lord Clifton’s expression softened with understanding. “You believe yourself unable to fulfil that particular requirement?”
Katherine looked away, uncomfortable with discussing such personal matters yet somehow unable to maintain her usual reserve. “Edmund made it very clear that the failure to produce an heir was mine. Five years of marriage without a child—the evidence speaks for itself.”
“Does it?” Lord Clifton asked quietly. “My late wife and I had no children during our first several years together. When we consulted a physician, it was discovered that the difficulty might lie with me, not her. Yet how many would have assumed, as your husband did, that the woman must be at fault?”
Katherine stared at him, startled by this candid revelation. “But you have children now?”
“Two sons, eventually, to our mutual joy,” he confirmed. “The point being, Lady Katherine, that you should not allow Edmund’s pronouncements to dictate your future choices. He was wrong about many things, I suspect, including your worth beyond your ability to produce an heir.”
He paused for a moment, his cheeks colouring as though he shouldn’t say what he was about to. “According to gossip, your husband didn’t remain faithful. Have you ever heard if those unions produced offspring?”
Katherine wished the ground to open and end this uncomfortable conversation. “Edmund said all women know how to prevent their increasing and that I must be employing such means.”
“That isn’t necessarily true, my dear.” Lord Clifton patted her hand where it still rested in the crook of his elbow.
His words struck Katherine with unexpected force.
She had accepted Edmund’s assessment of her barrenness so completely that she had never questioned it, never considered the possibility that the failure might not have been hers alone.
Even now, the idea seemed too convenient, too perfectly aligned with her unacknowledged wishes to be credible.
Yet Lord Clifton had no reason to fabricate such a personal story merely to offer her comfort. And his gentle wisdom throughout their conversation had earned a measure of trust she had not anticipated granting him.
“You’ve given me much to consider, my lord,” she said softly.
“I’m glad to have been of some service, then,” he replied. “Though I rather suspect your brother will be disappointed by the outcome of our garden stroll.”
Katherine smiled ruefully. “James has always had definite ideas about what would constitute my happiness, without necessarily consulting me on the matter.”
“A common failing among elder brothers,” Lord Clifton observed with answering humour. “Though his intentions are undoubtedly good.”
They had reached the entrance to the garden, where stone steps led back up to the house.
Katherine paused, glancing toward the drive that curved around the front of Thornfield Park.
For a brief, absurd moment, she found herself half-expecting to see a familiar figure approaching—Drake, arriving dramatically to interrupt her meeting with Lord Clifton as he had interrupted her conversation with Lord Barrington at her brother’s dinner party.
But the drive remained empty, save for James and Rosabel’s waiting carriage.
Of course, Drake hadn’t come. How could he? He had no knowledge of this visit, no reason to seek her out here. And even if he had known, why would he interfere? Whatever connection existed between them, it certainly didn’t give him any claim on her attention or time.
Yet the dart of disappointment she felt at his absence could not be denied, nor could the implications of that disappointment. Somewhere along the way, despite all her defences and denials, she had developed feelings for Drake Halston that went far beyond professional respect or friendly accord.
And now she had to face the possibility that those feelings might never be reciprocated—that Drake might even now be composing his acceptance of Lady Westmore’s proposal, securing his inheritance and his future in a single practical arrangement.
“Shall we rejoin the others?” Lord Clifton asked gently, perhaps noting her momentary distraction.
Katherine nodded, gathering her composure. “Yes, of course. And thank you, my lord—for your understanding, and for your candour. Both are more valued than you know.”
As they ascended the steps, Katherine found herself wondering what Drake would do if he knew where she was today, what he would say if he could see her walking through Lord Clifton’s rose garden, considering the possibility of a life that didn’t include him or Greythorne.
Whether he would care at all, or simply wish her well as he moved forward with his own plans for marriage.
She would likely never know. And that uncertainty was perhaps the cruellest aspect of the feelings she had so unwisely allowed to develop for a man who had never indicated he wanted anything from her beyond her knowledge of his estate.