She needed someone who had listened to the gossip for years, who would know the older scandals, or lack thereof.
Relief flowed through her and she smiled as she thought of a name.
Yes, it was perfect.
And trustworthy.
A sense of peace eased her anxious mind as she started to work out the details. The desk was a short walk from her place near the fire, and with a few steps, she was sitting before a leaf of paper and writing a quick note.
Your Grace,
It would be my sincerest honor to have you over for tea. Would today be acceptable?
Yours,
Catherine Greatheart
Catherine sealed the message and set it just to the side of her desk, awaiting dawn. With a plan formed, she returned to bed, hope filling her heart, and finally fell asleep.
When she awoke, the sunlight was already brightly streaming through her bedroom window. It took only a moment for her to remember her plans from earlier, and with a determination she hadn’t felt in some time, she rose from bed and slipped the letter from her desk. Ringing for her maid, she swept her hair to the side and over her shoulder, pondering the other aspects of her plan that she would need to put into motion today.
As she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she paused. Her grandmother would be proud of her progress, taking control—and doing it regardless of the fear that could easily consume her.
Fear of the unknown.
She nodded to her reflection, determination patching all the leftover cracks that hadn’t been filled before. The door opened, and Millard entered, offering a quick curtsy.
“Good morning. Please have this dispatched to the Duchess of Wesley’s residence.”
Millard took the note. “Shall I have the messenger wait for a reply?”
Catherine thought for a moment. “No.” She was quite certain the Duchess of Wesley would accept the invitation; Quin had already implied she was planning to visit anyway.
“Right away, my lady.” Millard left to give the message to the servant who would deliver it, leaving Catherine with her thoughts once more.
She looked at the clock on the mantel over the fireplace and noted she had a lot of time before she could expect the duchess.
Perfect.
When Millard returned, Catherine put on a lovely day dress. She was going shopping—and not just for clothes, but for everything else that could land her the most important piece of her plan.
A husband.
The season would start soon, and she needed the dresses they’d already ordered to be ready, but with a few changes. She wasn’t a debutante anymore. But neither was she a widow. However, there was a thin line between the two that allowed for some freedom in her choices in clothing. She wasn’t going to sit by idly, waiting for someone to win her heart. No. She had done that and lost nearly everything.
The morning light illuminated her desk as she approached, her need to write a list burning inside her. Something to keep her focused. Something to keep her from settling for less. She inked the pen and hovered over the paper.
Husband requirements:
• Rich—no fortune hunters
• Not belittling of women in business ventures
• Interested in supporting the arts
• Established
• No gambling history