For so many years, he had been alone. Those who had tried to connect with him, he’d declined their help, seeing it as a lowering weakness. He’d refused to bow to his infirmities and had shrouded himself in cold distance from it all—empathy, curiosity, love, and understanding. All the things Katherine offered. And more: her smiles, her kindness, and her breathtaking acceptance of all he was.
Alexander wasn’t a beast, but nor was he a beauty.
And she seemed to like him despite all of it.
But where to start when he had been so foolish…where to start when he could not give her more than his title?
Anything but silence…a deep stillness inside him whispered.
And Alexander hoped he could start with a letter and a prayer.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kitty’s return to town a few days after she had departed Alexander’s estate was unremarkable. Other than a few newssheet articles speculating if she had run off to marry the duke in secret, there had been little other mention of her almost three weeks’ absence. Her family appeared to have been very well without her, and her sisters happily spent hours that evening informing her of their generous reception within society. They’d received more invitations to balls, picnics, and routs over the last few weeks than during the three years Kitty had been out in the ton.
A Miss Laura Powell, a very charming young lady of six and twenty with brisk common sense, was now employed as a governess for Henrietta. Miss Powell and her charge got on rather famously, and Henrietta seemed to take to her lessons with pleasure, a feat Kitty had never been able to accomplish. Normally Henrietta tolerated her lessons in Latin, geography, and literature with a stoicism reserved for a more mature child. Now she hummed with eagerness to begin her daily lessons with Miss Powell.
Another sum to add to the growing bill she would eventually owe the duke. A painful breath sawed from Kitty at the thought of Alexander. She felt so cold and empty, her heart destroyed. His words tormented her and cut daily into her like a poison-tipped knife.
Kitty was aware of a strange numbness somewhere deep inside. In the nights as she lay in the dark thinking of him, that numbness would thaw, and she’d rage, resenting him with such passion, she trembled. Then that rage would switch so fast to deep yearning, tears would come to her eyes. Kitty hated the conflicting emotions, for she knew the duke did not spare her a thought. For the sake of her family, she had to put on a serene countenance and try to exist as if all were well.
Alexander’s godmother, Lady Darling, had enveloped Kitty’s sisters under her bosom with encouraging glee, and after spending the better part of the afternoon taking tea with Lady Darling and her mamma in the drawing room, Kitty suspected the countess had relished the challenge of making society fall in love with the poorly received Danvers girls. Kitty also believed the entire mission had enlivened the countess’s boredom.
“So tell us, my dear, how is my godson?” Countess Darling asked, taking a sip of tea and peering over the rim at Kitty with a searching stare.
Her mouth dried, and she shot her mother a disconcerted glance. “Mamma?”
Fortifying herself with a deep breath, her mother replied, “Lady Darling…Sophia and I have become dear friends, Kitty. I told her the truth. That you were in Scotland with the duke and not in Derbyshire. You’ve been home several days now, and I can see the pain in your eyes. We want to help in any way that we can.”
Kitty bit back her groan and tried to affect an unconcerned mien, but nonetheless she flushed. Gripping the delicate china teapot, she poured more tea into a cup, frantically gathering her thoughts on what ought to be a proper response.
Lady Darling smiled. “You may rest
assured of my confidences, dear. My heart was awfully glad to hear you were with Alexander in that ghastly remote place of his. I have despaired for him for so many years. When news of the engagement swept through society, I was perturbed and believed it another baseless rumor. There have been so many over the years, you know. Your mother reassured me greatly on the legitimacy of the attachment. Please do not take her to task for telling me.”
The countess set down her teacup, arranged the skirts of her dress in a more conformable fashion, and pinned Kitty with an assessing stare. “Now, Katherine, why are you here?”
Because he sent me away, with cruel words and emotionless eyes. Because I was simply a plaything to him and an utter fool to my own heart.
Because he does not love me.
The memory of it all churned her stomach. She had reacted like a silly miss, rushing from his chamber with tears blinding her vision. What had she really expected from a man who had never promised any tender sentiments?
She had packed hastily and had said her goodbyes to Mr. Collins and an upset Penny, who had tried to convince Kitty to stay. The servants had been somber, the housekeeper’s eyes had been suspiciously bright, and a few of the maids had sniffled. The butler had bravely asked if she would return. Kitty had made no promise, her heart an aching mess as he’d loaded her two valises and small portmanteau into the carriage and departed from the duke.
You bore me… Now go.
“Well, my dear?” the countess prompted.
“I beg your pardon, my lady, but this is my home.” Temporarily. She had to find other accommodations very soon. They could no longer live off the duke’s generosity, not when the sum she owed was already so very astronomical. Not when the hopes he would fall in love with her silly self had been dashed so painfully. “And the duke requested I return to town.”
Her mother and the countess both looked utterly aghast.
“Is…” The countess cleared her throat, her pale blue eyes glowing with worry. “Is the engagement off? Is that why you have returned?”
Another silence fell, broken only by the ticking of the large clock on the mantelpiece.
“The duke and I had no conversation regarding our…affianced state before I left McMullen Castle,” she answered with great discomfort, and not for the first time wondering if she should have stayed and fought more. But for what? To be slapped with a more humiliating truth, that she had been the only one to lose her heart to the reckless passion that had burned between them?