Chapter 7
Seven
The church was suffocating.
Kitty perched rigidly in the pew, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that the knuckles ached. The oppressive weight of innumerable eyes upon her was unbearable, their intrusion, their judgment—so thick she could feel it weighing her down to her seat.
Beside her, Jane sat calm as ever, but Kitty knew not to mistake her calm for indifference. The moment the banns were read aloud, Jane’s grip on her own prayer book tightened by a fraction, the only indication that she, too, was bracing herself.
Kitty took a sharp intake of breath as the words were read aloud.
“If you know of any just cause or impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in holy matrimony, you are to declare it.”
Silence.
Her breath was still trapped in her chest.
This was her moment. If escape were possible, it was now.
But she had no justification, no excuse that would set her free.
Nothing which would not be scandalous, or disastrous.
She could not claim herself to be betrothed to some other man.
She could not forge some atrocious offense against the duke.
She had no actual remedy short of sheer refusals, and even these were crumbling. Her fists clenched in her lap.
The Mass continued, but Kitty heard little of it. The words blended into a monotonous hum in her ears, obscured beneath the storm of her own thoughts. She had fought, argued, and raged against the inevitable, and yet here she sat, expecting something she was powerless to change.
Following Mass, the congregation overflowed into the churchyard, in small groups of people. Kitty moved as if through a mist, her limbs carrying her on their own accord towards the waiting carriages.
“Kitty!”
The voice caused her to freeze. Cynthia.
She turned, molding her face into a bland smile, though she believed her eyes still betrayed her with fear and disgust.
Cynthia smiled across with the rehearsed expression of forced warmth, the same saccharine venom she always carried in her tones.
“Sweetheart, congratulations,” Cynthia said, taking Kitty’s hands in hers. “What a lucky turn this is for you.”
Kitty’s lips barely opened before Cynthia continued, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. “Oh, how quickly things change. Just moments ago, you were one of us—an equal—but now? Now you shall be a duchess. I trust you won’t forget the rest of us poor souls left behind.
The implication struck like a lash. Kitty recognized what she uttered.
Cynthia believed that she had schemed, had manipulated events to ensnare the duke.
To Cynthia, Kitty had risen the social ladder by deceit and scandal.
The very thought sent flames racing to Kitty’s cheeks—outrage, humiliation, helplessness all commingling in a foul mix.
Before she could answer, another voice sliced through the air.
“I don’t recall my betrothed having to deceive me in order to win my approval.”
Norman.
His tone was even, but the edge in it was unmistakable. Cynthia whirled around, taken aback, though she was quickly in command again, looking up at him with a winning smile. “Your Grace, I only meant that we are all so delighted for dear Kitty.”
“Is that the case?” Norman asked, his blue eyes almost black and unreadable. “And yet, as I recall, it was you who ensured we had a crowd that night in the garden.”
Cynthia’s smile faltered, but only briefly. “I was…merely looking out for her. I wished to keep her safe—away from Grewin of all people.”
“And yet you didn’t appear so concerned with keeping the rest of the party away.”
The following silence was oppressive and terribly uncomfortable.
Cynthia could not deny it—she had been too obvious.
So she breathed a laugh, as if the whole thing were some absurd mistake. “Well, what’s done is done. The match is made, and we can only rejoice at it.”
Norman smiled, slow and deliberate. “Indeed. You will have ample opportunity to do so at the engagement party.”
Kitty blinked. “The what?”
Cynthia stared just as surprised.
“The engagement party,” Norman said smoothly. “It will be at my country estate, until the wedding. A grand party, of course. I insist you come, Lady Cynthia.
Kitty was dumbfounded.
He had only decided just now. She could feel it. There had been no mention of such a move previously, and yet he had spoken of it as if it had been premeditated all the while. He had done it just to surprise Cynthia, to let her see that he was the one setting the conditions, not she.
Cynthia smiled coldly. “How…generous.”.
Norman leaned forward. “Save your well-wishing for the party. I shall see you there.”
With that, he turned to Kitty. “Come. We are leaving.”
Kitty walked to the McGowan’s carriage, still dazed, while he walked a step behind her.
Before she climbed inside, she turned to him, finally finding her voice. “That was—”
“Necessary.” He did not look at her, looking at the church entrance instead. “It will silence those who would otherwise gossip. If they see us as a suitable match, if they see our engagement being hailed on a large scale, they will have no other option but to accept it.”
Kitty observed him, trying to see the man standing in front of her. He was infuriating beyond description, insufferable in his pride, and yet—
She paused. “Thank you,” she whispered.
His gaze flashed to her. “For what?”
“For standing up for me.”
He remained silent for a very long time before speaking. “It is not that I was simply standing up for you. I am also ensuring—now that you are associated with me—that you are treated as is due your station.”
Kitty breathed slowly, looking down at her boots.
She still loathed him. She still felt imprisoned. But for the first time since this nightmare began, she felt something else as well. A peculiar, disquieting feeling twisting in her gut.
Uncertainty.
The rhythm of the carriage wheels over the gravel should have been soothing, but Norman found his gaze drawn again and again to the window opposite him.
Kitty’s carriage trailed close behind his own, and though he could not see her through the paneled walls, he imagined her there with her spine stiff and her eyes sharp, watching the world as though it might suddenly turn against her.
He still couldn’t quite believe it—that they were all heading to Wharton, his ancestral home, not for a somber family gathering or a political affair, but to celebrate his engagement.
The notion felt absurd, unreal. As if at any moment, someone might tap the glass and inform him there had been a mistake.
“You do look rather worried,” Eleanor said, her voice slicing neatly into his thoughts.
Norman turned back to his sister with a carefully arranged expression. She was perched across from him, her gloved hands resting lightly on her lap, her brown eyes bright with curiosity. Eleanor rarely let things go unnoticed.
“I’m not worried,” he said coolly.
“About Miss Katherine?” she pressed, arching an elegant brow.
Norman resisted the urge to sigh. “What about her?”
“Well, she seems very... spirited,” Eleanor said. “I can see why you like her.”
He met her gaze directly. “I never said I liked her.”
Eleanor gave a little smirk. “You didn’t have to. The way you defend her. The party you planned. The way you stare at her carriage like it holds all the secrets of the earth. You can’t stop staring. Even now…”
Norman’s jaw ticked. “You read too much into things.”
“Perhaps.” She said lightly, her eyes glinting. “Or perhaps I simply have eyes. She is interesting, I’ll give you that. She is different from all the other girls around you. I think I should like to talk to her more. Get to know her. We’ll be sisters, after all.”
Norman blinked, caught off-guard. “Sisters?”
“Of course,” Eleanor said with a shrug. “Once you’re married.”
Married. The word landed like a blow. In his single-minded focus on duty and damage control, Norman had forgotten this simple truth— Kitty wouldn’t just be his wife. She’d be Eleanor’s sister.
Christ. His lips parted, an objection half-formed on his tongue—some sharp retort about meddling—when his mind caught on the image of Kitty laughing with Eleanor over tea, Kitty defending his sister from society’s vipers, Kitty’s steadying presence when his own responsibilities kept him absent.
The realization struck him with uncomfortable clarity—he’d been so busy calculating how this marriage would serve him, he hadn’t considered how it might bless Eleanor.
A loud crack shattered the moment.
He bolted upright. “Stop the carriage!”
The driver reined in the horses, and Norman threw open the door, leaping out before the wheels had fully settled. The air was sharp and damp, the sky gray with threatening clouds.
Behind him, Eleanor called, “Wait for me!”
Norman didn’t wait. He rounded the side of his carriage and spotted the problem immediately. Kitty’s carriage had veered slightly off the road, the left wheel sunken into thick, wet mud. The wooden rim was splintered, the wheel clearly cracked beneath the pressure.
The coachman was dismounting, muttering under his breath, while Richard stood outside the door with a furrowed brow.
Norman pushed past, his heart thudding harder than it should have. “Is everyone unharmed?”
Kitty emerged from the carriage with all the reluctant dignity of a queen forced into a farmer’s field. Her skirt was lifted delicately above the mud, her eyes already narrowed at the situation.
“We’re unharmed,” Richard answered. “But the wheel’s done for.”
“It was the road,” Jane added, stepping carefully beside Kitty. “Too narrow.”
Eleanor arrived then, her cheeks flushed and her hair slightly askew from her hurried descent. “Oh my! That looks awful.”
Norman moved closer to the damaged wheel, assessing the situation. Beyond repair in the field, that much was certain. He turned back to the small gathering.
“There’s no use trying to fix it here. I’ll send a man to take care of the wheel and bring the carriage back to town. In the meantime, the only option is for all of you to travel in mine.”
Kitty’s eyes flared. “Your carriage is not large enough.”
“It will suffice,” Norman said shortly.
“It will be cramped and uncomfortable,” she countered.
Before she could dig in further, Eleanor clasped her hands together. “Oh, how wonderful! We can all be together. I’ve wanted to get to know you more, Kitty. This is perfect.”
Kitty blinked, momentarily silenced by Eleanor’s uncontained enthusiasm.
Norman seized the opportunity. “Very well. Inside, everyone.”
He ushered them back toward his carriage.
The seating arrangement became something of a comic ballet—Eleanor and Jane settled on one side, adjusting skirts and giggling at the awkwardness.
Kitty ended up between Richard and Norman on the opposite side, her back ramrod straight, clearly trying not to breathe.
Richard exhaled with exaggerated weariness. “Well, this is cozy. Like five pigs in a barrel.”
The women laughed, even Kitty offered a reluctant smile. Norman didn’t. He was very aware of the warmth of Kitty’s body pressing lightly against his side, the way her arm brushed his every time the carriage hit a bump.
He stared at the window, not seeing the countryside. His mind was a knot of confusion and discomfort—not from the space, but from how much he didn’t hate it.
He shouldn’t be enjoying this. The closeness. The laughter. The way Eleanor and Kitty had launched into conversation like old school friends.
“I think your gown is absolutely stunning,” Eleanor said.
Kitty glanced down at her pale blue skirts. “You like it?”
“Very much. It brings out your eyes.”
Kitty blinked at her. “You’re very kind.”
“No, really. I’m glad we finally got a chance to get to know each other.”
Kitty smiled, and Norman saw her shoulders relax for the first time since the accident.
“And now we’ll have two whole weeks together at the estate!” Eleanor added, eyes gleaming. “It shall be grand!”
Kitty laughed, light and clear. “I shall do my best not to make you regret it.”
“Impossible,” Eleanor declared.
Norman watched them. Kitty’s face had changed—she was warmer, more open, her eyes lit with amusement and perhaps a little curiosity. It stirred something in him he couldn’t quite name.
But he couldn’t allow it.
He shifted slightly, careful not to let his thigh brush hers again.
He would keep his head. No matter how charming her laugh. No matter how good it felt to see her smile. No matter how utterly maddening it was to have her this close.
Because if he let his guard down—
He might want something she would never give him.
“We’re almost there!” Eleanor announced.
Everyone leaned slightly to peer out the window.
“It’s going to be a perfect fortnight,” she said with a dreamy sigh. “I just know it.”
Norman swallowed hard and glanced at Kitty.
She was still smiling.
And for the first time, he realized just how dangerous that smile might be.