Chapter 22
Jamie had not slept, which was never unusual.
What was unusual that specific time was the reason why.
He stood at the window in his study before dawn and watched the gray first light peek over the grounds with a heavy, unsettled feeling.
He had been handed a solution and discovered he did not want it. And Eloise’s words would not leave him.
Lady Catriona Drummond is precisely that woman.
The sentence had been practical. Reasonable. Wise. It had also landed in his chest like an anchor. He turned from the window and paced the room again, one hand behind his back, the other curling and uncurling at his side.
He was not angry because she had offered him a sensible answer. He was not even angry in the way he had been when Lawrence smiled too much or when the petition first arrived. This was worse. This felt like loss.
He had thought, perhaps foolishly, that the thing between them had become something more than the usual arrangement of governess and employer. More than accidents and arguments and shared concern for the children.
Then she had looked him in the eye and given him Catriona as though she were handing him the only key to a door he had been standing in front of for ages. And he had understood, all at once, that she would not offer herself.
He had no right to expect that. He knew that. It did not stop the disappointment, or the hollow ache that followed it. He stopped in the middle of the corridor and swore under his breath.
Then went for Logan. Logan was in the breakfast room with a cup of tea and a newspaper when Jamie entered and looked up at once with an expression that said he already knew something was wrong. He folded the paper and set it aside.
“You look like a man who has had a terrible idea,” Logan said.
“I have not had an idea.”
“That is often where the trouble begins.”
Jamie ignored that. “She offered a solution.”
Logan’s brows lifted. “Eloise?”
“Yes. She thinks I should marry Catriona.”
The silence that followed was immediate. Then Logan leaned back in his chair and stared at Jamie in a long, measured way, as if deciding whether to be impressed or offended.
“Well,” he said at last, “that is one way to make a fellow feel humble.”
Jamie glared. “Do not begin.”
“I have not begun.”
“You are about to.”
Logan drank before answering. “What did you expect?”
“I did not expect anything.”
“That is a lie.”
“It is not.”
Logan set the cup down. “You expected her to offer herself.”
The words hit too cleanly. Jamie went very still. Logan’s gaze remained on him.
“That is not what this is about,” Jamie said.
“It is exactly what this is about.”
Jamie turned away and crossed the room two paces before stopping again. At last, he huffed. “What I want is irrelevant,” he said, more harshly than he intended.
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you look like a man who has been struck?”
Jamie turned sharply. “Because this is about the children.”
Logan’s face became patient. The sort of look he reserved for when Jamie was being particularly stubborn. “You are lying to me now too.”
Jamie’s jaw tightened.
Logan continued. “If this were only about the children, you would not be pacing like a man who has just been told he is not allowed to be happy.”
The room had gone too still for comfort. Logan leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “You care for her.”
That was not a question.
Jamie let out a breath through his nose. “That is obvious.”
“No. What is obvious is that you care for her enough to be wounded when she does not offer herself for your cause.”
Jamie stared at him. Logan looked back without flinching.
“I like Catriona,” he said, despising how petulant and defeated he sounded.
Logan nodded slowly, clearly not believing the honest reply Jamie wanted to give but had not said.
“But do you want to be married to a woman you like, but do not love?” he asked.
The truth of Logan’s words chilled Jamie. He was talking about binding himself to a woman for whom he had no romantic feelings, while the woman he did love was right in front of him, in his very own house. And she essentially gave me to another woman, he thought with a heavy, wounded heart.
“My wants are irrelevant,” Jamie said again.
Logan gave him the look he only gave when he believed Jamie was being especially foolish. Yet he said nothing else as he left the room. He did not need to say anything else. The silence after what he had said was more than enough.
Jamie was furious with the situation. He wanted to find Eloise and ask how she could dare come up with such a foolish idea to push him to marry a woman he did not love. He wanted to know how she could offer such a thing when they were so clearly building such a strong, affectionate bond.
But Logan had been right, as he often was. Jamie did not want to be married to a woman he did not love. He had seen what loveless marriages could turn into, and he did not want that for himself. Nor did he want it for Catriona.
At last, an idea occurred to him. He had also been right when he told Logan that what he wanted was irrelevant. At least where the courts were concerned. All that mattered to them was the appearance of a normal, loving family.
But while having a wife might look especially good for him, it was not officially a strict requirement. If he could make it look as though he intended to marry Catriona, he could recant the engagement after he secured the children’s future with him.
Then, he could deal with Eloise and her stubbornness and ask her how she could ever choose to not offer herself as a worthy wife for him. But that would have to wait. Right then, he needed to find Catriona.
He found her in the morning room after breakfast, seated near the window with a book open in her lap. She looked up when he entered and did not appear surprised to see him, which was, in its own way, unnerving.
“Lady Catriona.”
She closed the book. “Jamie.”
He glanced toward the doorway, then back at her. “May I speak with you privately?”
She stood at once. “Of course.”
He led her into the garden without ceremony. They walked side by side for a minute before Jamie realized he was being too silent even for himself.
Catriona waited.
At last, he sighed. “You may have heard rumors.”
“About Lawrence?”
“Yes.”
“I have heard enough.”
Jamie nodded once. He chose his words carefully, having no intention of making the thing smaller than it was.
“The Marquess has petitioned for custody of my wards. His case is built around stability. He claims the household is not suitable. That I am not suitable. That the children would be better served elsewhere.”
Catriona said nothing.
He went on. “My solicitor believes my position is defensible.”
“That is not the same as secure.”
“No.”
She looked at him carefully. He had rehearsed this twice in his head.
It had been easier there. Then the thought came to him, briefly and with a rush of pain so immediate it made him want to look away, that he had hoped Eloise might be in this garden instead.
That was not sensible. It was not even possible.
But the thought had arrived with such force that he nearly lost the rest of his words.
“What are you asking me?” Catriona said.
He looked at her. The request did not feel elegant. It did not feel noble. It felt necessary.
“The most effective answer would be my marriage to a woman of suitable standing,” he said. “At minimum, I need something enough like it that the court sees a settled household and a clear future.”
Her brows lifted. He drew in a careful breath.
“I thought of you first.” The words sounded too plain once spoken.
He regretted nothing about them and everything about how they sounded.
“Partly because of the connection between our families. Partly because I think you would be kind to the children.” He swallowed.
“And partly because you have the right name and standing, and no reason to be regarded as a risk by anyone in London.”
“I cannot offer love,” he said, feeling as though honesty was the only fair path.
The sentence hit him harder than he wanted to admit.
Because he was in love with another woman.
A woman who had offered him practicality instead of herself.
A woman who had, in all likelihood, done so because she cared more about the children than about her own hopes.
He could not marry Eloise, not when Lawrence was at the door and the court was listening and the children’s future hung by a thread.
That realization had no use. Only pain. But perhaps, there was still a way that he could avoid marrying a woman he did not love, as well.
“I am asking you,” he said, “to pretend. For the court. For anyone who asks. That we are engaged. That a marriage is coming. That the household is settled and that Lawrence has no case.”
Catriona remained silent. The garden had gone very still.
Finally, she smiled slyly. “You are asking me to stand beside you publicly. To accept the appearance of an engagement. And to do so when you do not love me.”
“Yes.”
She studied him. Not displeasure. Not pity. Something more thoughtful.
At last, she gave a small nod. “I will accept.”
He stared at her. Catriona’s mouth curved faintly at the edge. “You look as though you expected me to slap you.”
“I had not ruled it out.”
That made her smile more fully. “Jamie. I have my own reasons. My jointure is sufficient for me to make my own choices, which is a luxury I intend to keep. And truth be told, my life as a widow is slow enough to be dull. A little excitement would not be unwelcome.” Her expression softened. “And I am fond of you. That helps.”
Jamie sighed, wishing he felt relieved.
She looked at him more carefully. “But do not pretend the person you actually care for is not important.”
He stilled.
“There is someone,” she said quietly. “I am not blind. I have been in this house for nearly a fortnight.” The pause after that was deliberate. “Miss Beauchamp is not difficult to see. Nor is the way she is cared for.” She paused, looking at Jamie pointedly. “By all of you.”
The words felt as though they had been obvious to everyone except the two people at the center of it. He supposed they had been, since both Logan and Mrs. Maggie seemed to hint at what Catriona had just said. Jamie stared at the grass at their feet. Catriona said nothing more. She did not need to.
Then, she held out her hand. The gesture was simple. Formal. Final. Jamie looked at it for a moment, then took it. Her hand was cool and steady. His own was not.
The thing was done.
***
They announced it before dinner. Jamie had thought the matter would be easier if they told everyone all at once. He was wrong. It was simply harder in a different direction. He stood at the head of the dining room table while the household assembled.
The children were already in their places. Clara had settled near the sideboard with studied indifference. Mrs. Maggie stood at the edge of the room, looking as though she understood that something had happened and had not yet decided whether it was a disaster. Eloise entered last.
Jamie looked at her only once. He could not read her expression. That was not reassuring.
Catriona took her place at his side. He kept the announcement brief. “Lady Catriona has done me the honor of granting me her hand in marriage.”
The room went still.
Duncan looked from Jamie to Eloise and then back again. There was disappointment there. Jamie felt it like a weight.
Maisie looked horrified. Then, she blinked. “Does that mean Miss Eloise has to leave?”
The room went silent in a new way. One with edges.
Jamie looked at Maisie. Eloise answered first. “Not immediately,” she said gently. Maisie frowned. “Only when you grow up,” she added delicately.
The child considered what was said with deep seriousness, as though making sense of a terrible but survivable fact, then nodded, though not happily.
Lawrence had been standing quietly enough to seem almost forgotten until that moment.
But right then, he stepped forward with a smile that was immediate and gracious.
“Wonderful news,” he said. He took Catriona’s hand and bowed over it with easy gallantry, then stepped to Jamie and clapped him on the shoulder with the familiarity that only a man who had known him all his life would use. “Truly excellent. I am delighted.”
Jamie watched him closely. The smile remained. The warmth did not. There had been a flicker in his eyes. Brief. Cold. Calculating. Lawrence was not defeated. He was recalculating.
Lawrence turned to Eloise. “Miss Beauchamp. I am sure you are pleased for all concerned.”
Eloise’s expression remained composed as she dipped her head.
“I am thrilled,” she said, almost too smoothly. “Lord Macalpine and his family deserve all the happiness in the world.” She paused, smiling sweetly. “As does Lady Catriona.”
Lawrence blinked, studying Eloise for several seconds. Jamie resisted the urge to interrupt under the pretenses of keeping propriety with his gaze. But the marquess mimicked Eloise’s head dip.
“I could not agree more,” he said.
When Eloise reached him, her face was calm. Too calm. He took her hand. The contact was brief. He wanted nothing more than to ask if she had meant it when she said he should marry Catriona. He wanted to know if she was certain.
Instead, he remembered she had offered the answer for the children. He released her hand.
The meal continued.
After dinner, Lawrence caught him in the corridor. Jamie had taken only three steps away from the dining room when the marquess appeared beside him, smiling still, though the warmth had gone entirely from it.
“Delighted,” Lawrence said.
Jamie kept walking. “I should hope so.”
“Oh, truly.” Lawrence matched his pace with irritating ease. “When is the happy event?”
Jamie looked at him. “Soon.”
“Marvellous.” Lawrence tipped his head slightly. “I do hope you will invite family.” His tone was smooth. Too smooth. “After all, family is so important, is it not?”
Then he walked away whistling.
Jamie stopped in the corridor. The sound followed him for a few steps and then faded. He remained where he was, staring after the retreating figure, with the strange and growing certainty that the game had not ended. It had changed. And he was no longer sure what piece had just been moved.