Catherine and the Marquis (Bluestocking Brides Book 4) Page 11

  “No,” Thorne cut in. “I’m going to take Lilith home immediately.

  Catherine thanked Lilith profusely for her help, aware of her brother glowering at her as she did so.

  “It was quite an adventure,” Lilith declared. “I shall come back tomorrow and check on you all. Please give my best wishes to your father.”

  As Catherine waved Lilith off, she blinked back the tears. “Stop being silly,” she told herself. “A little heartbreak never killed anyone.”

  Why oh why then did this feel so painful she was not sure she would ever recover?

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Damn.” Thorne cursed yet another broken quill. He pulled his knife from the desk to re-sharpen it and eyed the inky mess he’d made of his letter. His visit to London a week ago had been successful so long as he could procure the funds needed for a stud horse of excellent breeding and two new mares.

  He dropped the quill and pushed away from the desk to stand. He had tried to write this letter nigh on five times now, but the correct words would not come. Why writing a damned business letter was so hard, he did not know.

  And yet he did. That damned woman. It was her fault. He could not cease remembering her face—how excited she had been when he had approached her about courting, how beautiful she had looked when he had leaned in to kiss her, and how damned hurt she had been when he’d flung vicious words at her.

  He leaned against the window frame and peered out at the pleasant day. The two new gardeners were doing excellent work of reestablishing the formal garden at the front of the house and he would hire a few more once the estate was doing better. The stables were ready and new fences had been erected for the additional horses. Everything was going as planned. Before long, Lilith could have her coming out ball and hopefully she would cease asking to see Catherine by then.

  Thorne narrowed his gaze at the figure darting across the gardens. He shook his head. It seemed Lilith was sneaking out and he had a fine idea where she was going. Why could she not understand that Catherine was not a suitable friend?

  Pushing away from the window, he strode out of the house and caught up with Lilith quickly. She whirled when he shouted her name and stopped, folding her arms as she jutted up her chin. “You cannot stop me.”

  “I damn well can.”

  “Thorney, this is silly. I do not know what happened between you and Catherine, but she is my friend—she is a good friend. Never once did she judge me for our father or anything else. She never thought me too plump or…or bookish or young. She likes me for me and I want to see her.”

  He shook his head. “I cannot have you spending time with such a woman. She is irresponsible.”

  “Is this because of me riding out for the doctor?”

  “She should never have let you go.”

  Lilith planted hands on hips. “And what do you propose she might have done? Tied me up whilst dealing with an injured father and an overwrought mother?”

  Thorne grunted. “You are coming back to the house.”

  “No.” She stood firm as though expecting him to drag her back bodily. “What else would you have done? You and Mama brought me up better than that. Should I have sat around like a hopeless, pampered lady, just hoping help might arrive?”

  “It was dark and wet.”

  “Yes, it was. But it was a risk I was willing to take.”

  “What if it was a risk I was not willing to take? You are my sister, Lil. I have been with you almost every day since you were a baby. You expect me to be happy that you ran off into the night and put yourself in danger?”

  “No, but I expect you to understand, and I certainly do not expect you to blame Catherine for my own behavior.”

  “She’s a bad influence.”

  Lilith shook her head. “I would have done that no matter who I was with. You know that.”

  Thorne winced at the sound of his mother calling his name. He waited until she had approached before turning to face her. Was it not enough that he was dealing with one stubborn woman, did he have to deal with another?

  “What’s going on?” his mother demanded. “I could hear you two arguing from the patio.”

  “Thorney will not let me visit Catherine. He thinks her a bad influence. He’s still annoyed about last week,” Lilith confided. “When I helped Miss Chadwick. You remember, Mama?”

  Apparently, his sister had been telling his mother all. What else she had told her, he did not know. As far as he was aware, neither knew of his intention to court her.

  “Yes, I remember.” His mother faced him square on, her eyes steely. “You really must cease being such a bear. You are becoming intolerable.”

  “Well forgive me for looking out for you all,” he grumbled.

  His mother put a hand to his arm. “We appreciate all you do. You have made many sacrifices and I am not unaware of that, but Lilith is grown, as are the rest of your siblings, and you need not play the overbearing brother anymore.”

  He arched a brow. “You think I was playing?”

  “You were not always so rigid and in control. I would very much like it if you could remember that young man, son.”

  Pushing out a breath, he shook his head. “Here I thought I was trying to look after you all, but it seems I am nothing more than an unbearable, controlling beast of a man.”

  Lilith gave a gentle smile. “Thorney, we love you no matter what, and I will always appreciate all you have done for me, but you really must cease being so uptight.”

  He flicked his gaze between the two determined women. In his attempts to make their lives better, it seemed he was making them worse. And he was adding his own life to that. The only time he genuinely enjoyed himself these days was…well, it was when he was with Catherine.

  “You were much more pleasant when that Miss Chadwick was visiting,” his mother mused.

  Thorne narrowed his gaze at her. “Miss Chadwick has nothing to do with this.”

  “Nonsense.” His mother folded her arms. “She has everything to do with this. You have been one hundred times worse since you decided Lilith should no longer see her. All because she does not bow down to you when you scowl at her.”

  “I do not expect anyone to bow down to me,” he protested.

  “This is silly, Mama, he shall not back down. He is always calling me stubborn, but I swear he is the most stubborn man I know. I shall write to Catherine instead and tell her what an awful bear my brother is being.” Lilith stomped off in the direction of the house and his mother shrugged.

  “She is not entirely wrong.” His mother headed after Lilith and Thorne watched the two women until they were out of sight.

  Pressing a hand through his hair, he shook his head. Was he really so awful to be around? He considered the past week and all he had said to Catherine. Perhaps he was. He would have to apologize to the women in his life it seemed—starting perhaps with Catherine.

  Not bothering to return to the house for a coat or even a hat, he made his way up to the folly and sat on the bottom step. His fingers tingled at the recollection of Catherine’s hand in his. He had never been sure how or why, but she seemed to bring out the best in him. The worst sometimes too, perhaps. If she even accepted his apology, he anticipated they would have a great many more disagreements in future.

  “Damn it.” He stood. He didn’t care if he spent the rest of his days arguing with her, so long as he was with her. His awful mood was nothing to do with Lilith’s late-night ride or him believing Catherine to be irresponsible. It was that she was not in his life and the knowledge that he had treated her abominably.

  He had an apology to make.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was an odd thing when one was pleased to come home to one’s overbearing mother. Catherine shook her head at herself and pushed open the front door. Her sisters meant well but all their probing as to why Catherine was so unusually quiet had been too much. What could she even say? No one knew of her feelings for Thorne and she was not sure she wanted
anyone to know. Her sisters had all been lucky in love. They would never understand.

  “Catherine!” Her mother rushed into the hallway as Catherine unbuttoned her spencer jacket. “Do not take that off. Quick, quick button it up.”

  “Why? Is father hurt again?”

  “No, no, silly girl.” Mama brushed away Catherine’s hands and proceeded to button up the jacket as though she were a small child again. “Lord Thornefield was here. Only moments ago too. He stayed for tea but when you did not return, he left.”

  Air caught in her chest. Her heart stretched uncomfortably. Why had he come? Why did he wish to see her? Had he come to scold her again?

  “You must go and find him. Hurry, hurry.”

  “Mama, I am not running after Lord Thornefield. It would be most undignified.”

  Her mother peered at her. “Since when did you care for dignity?”

  Catherine considered this. Since Thorne had come into her life, she supposed. Sometimes, she had decided, there was a little need for dignity. If only very rarely.

  “Anyway, what does dignity matter when it involves a marquis?” Her mother grabbed her by the shoulders, turned her around and gave her a push toward the door. “Go chase after him. See what he wants.”

  Catherine sighed and opened the door. When she peered back, Mama was watching her from the window. She had little intention of chasing anyone. He already thought poorly of her, she would not add to that impression. Perhaps if she vanished for a little while and returned home, she could pretend she had tried to catch up with him but could not find him.

  Yes, that was a fine plan.

  Catherine headed toward the end of the garden and hitched up her skirts, placing a foot on the trunk of her favorite tree and lifting herself up between the two branches. At least it was a pleasant day and she would not get caught in the rain whilst hiding from her mother for the second time this month.

  “What are you doing up there?”

  She glanced down to see Thorne smiling up at her. Her wretched, traitorous heart bounded at the sight of him. She frowned when she realized he was holding Mr. B, who looked quite comfortably settled in his arms for the moment.

  “I’m hiding. What are you doing with my cat?”

  “He took a little bit of a liking to me and tried to follow me home. I feared he would get lost so endeavored to return him.”

  She huffed. First he smiled at her and made her feel all weak at the knees, then he rescued her cat from getting lost. Why did he have to make it so hard to dislike him?

  “Can you come down?”

  “Not sure,” she muttered.

  “Please, Catherine?”

  “Oh, fine.” The sooner she spoke to him, the sooner she could send him on his way and have some peace.

  She clambered down and faced him head on. “What do you want?”

  The cat suddenly took exception to being held and wriggled to get free. Thorne loosened his hold on the cat but not quickly enough to prevent a swipe across the face that left several angry and bleeding scratches.

  “Oh no. Bad Mr. B.,” she shouted after the cat.

  “That’s the thanks I get I suppose.”

  “Cats are ungrateful creatures.” She eyed his face. “Come back inside, you need to have that cleaned up. If I send you back to Lilith like that she shall think I did it.”

  “And she would probably congratulate you.”

  Catherine did not question the comment, mostly because she was bracing herself for her mother’s over-the-top excitement that Catherine had found the marquis. Indeed, her mother spent several minutes groveling until Catherine could persuade her that Thorne needed his face tending to.

  “I shall leave you to it, Catherine. I am sure you can see to him better alone.” Her mother gave her a none-too-subtle wink but what she even expected of Catherine, who knew.

  “Sit.” Catherine motioned to the chaise longue and grabbed a pitcher of water from the side table. Dampening the handkerchief she retrieved from her sleeve, she sat next to Thorne and eyed the scratches.

  “It shall not scar but you will look a little beaten for a few days.”

  “No less than I deserve.”

  Catherine ignored the comment. She could hardly think straight as it was, being so close to him, feeling warmth radiating from his body and his minty breath dancing over her face.

  Dabbing the scratches, she avoided his gaze but could feel him watching her. Her throat tightened.

  “That will do,” he murmured, taking her wrist and casting the handkerchief aside.

  His fingers were warm on her wrist. That coarseness of his touch, so at odds with his station, sent heat swirling into her belly. She braved a look into his eyes.

  “I have been an utter ass, Catherine.”

  She could not help but smile at this.

  “I have judged you and scolded you, but it was I who should have been looking at his own behavior.”

  “I understand why you did,” she said softly.

  “My family’s status is in society is not your concern and it should never have been. However…” He released her wrist and took her hand fully in his.

  Catherine’s breathing hitched. Never had a ‘however’ felt so important. She could feel the weight behind the word, see the passion glinting in his eyes.

  “However?”

  “However, I would like it to become your concern. To an extent of course.”

  Her throat constricted further. She searched his gaze. Did he mean what she thought he meant or was she entirely wrong?

  “To an extent?” The words came out a harsh whisper.

  “I would like to make you part of the family.”

  “I would make a terrible marchioness,” she blurted out.

  He smiled. “Yes, probably.”

  “I will still argue with you.”

  He nodded. “I would expect nothing less.”

  “And I will tell you when you are being an ass.”

  “What more could a man want from a wife?”

  Wife. The word echoed around the room before settling firmly in her mind. He really, truly wanted her for his wife?

  “I—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips, chuckling when she scowled at him. “I need laughter in my life, Catherine. I need someone to tell me when I am being an ass. I would rather spend the rest of my days arguing with you than not have you in my life at all.”

  She opened her mouth and closed it. This was not how she pictured their next meeting. She had thought she might scold him a little, as he had done her, or even just walk off and ignore him.

  She tried again. “I just—” Catherine blew out a frustrated breath. “I did not—”

  “It appears I have done the impossible and silenced the infamous Miss Chadwick.”

  “Do you mean it, Thorne?”

  “Do you really think I would say such words without meaning them? I love you, Catherine.” Thorne brought her hand to his mouth, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “I have a lot to make up for. I hope you will let me start straight away.”

  For the life of her, she could not seem to draw in enough air. Her head swirled, and her limbs were weak.

  “Thorne…”

  “Albion.”

  She blinked. “Pardon?”

  His lips curved sideways. “That’s my name. Albion.”

  He said it with such distaste that a laugh escaped her.

  “See, now you have all the ammunition you might ever need against me. Should I ever behave so abominably again you can threaten to tell all of my God-awful name.”

  “It is a terrible name,” she conceded. “It does not suit you one bit.”

  “I am glad you think so.”

  “I think I shall stick with Thorne for now.” She leaned in and spread a gentle hand across his scratched cheek. “Perhaps I shall use Albion only in the most private of moments.”

  “Does that mean you want private moments?” His eyes flared as she shifted closer and he eased
a hand around her waist.

  “Yes.” The air around her heated as their bodies came into contact. “Many, many private moments.”

  “You shall be my wife then? Say it, Catherine, or I will not lay a single hand on you again. Say you shall be my wife.”

  “So demanding.” She grinned. “Yes, I shall be your wife.”

  “And you love me?”

  “I love you, Albion.”

  He said nothing. Barely moved. She waited, her pulse beating a tattoo in her ears. His gaze remained intense as he drew her completely into him and speared his hands into her hair. She moved into the touch and closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his hands on her.

  “Your mother may come in at any moment,” he murmured.

  “Yes,” she agreed.

  “I will not take you before we are married.”

  She opened her eyes. “But you will touch me?”

  “I cannot help myself. See, you are already a bad influence on me, Catherine.”

  “Good.”

  He pressed her back on the chaise longue and pushed her hair back from her face. His gaze ran over her, a slight smile curving his lips. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her with a feather-light touch that had her gasping for more.

  Lacing her hands around his head, she took in the feel of his strong body atop hers. A hand skimmed her side and came down to grip her rear. She sucked in a sharp breath, but he swallowed the sound with a deep kiss.

  His tongue tangled with hers, sweeping and exploring while she writhed underneath him. She felt his hardness against the juncture of her thighs and the ache there increased.

  “We must marry quickly,” she breathed.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “With as much haste as possible.”

  His hand slid down the outside of her gown and he bunched her skirts up impatiently, finding the top of her stocking. She shuddered when rough fingers touched skin. His fingers trailed higher while he showered kisses on her cheek, ear, and neck.

  Staring up at the ceiling and eyeing the patterns molded into them, Catherine bit down on a moan when his fingers found her sensitive flesh. She could hardly believe it. A marriage proposal and a scandalous liaison! Thorne would keep her on her toes with the unexpected, there was no doubting that.