The Duchess of Wesley gave a decisive nod of her head, her stare fixing on Catherine.
“Because of my grandmother’s condition, our solicitor will be contacting Lord Bircham. He’s the trustee of the estate…” She let her voice trail off, allowing the Duchess of Wesley to put together the pieces.
“I see,” she replied with an understanding tone. “And you want to make sure he’s not a wastrel.”
“Exactly.”
The Duchess of Wesley frowned. “Cambridge, you say?”
“Yes,” Catherine replied, taking a sip of her tea.
“Hmm, interesting” was the response.
When her guest didn’t elaborate further, Catherine moved forward with her questions.
“And I’m sure you can see what a position this puts me in.”
The Duchess of Wesley took a sip of her tea, pausing before answering. “You need a husband.”
Catherine froze, only listened to her heartbeat as she carefully gauged the Duchess of Wesley’s reaction. Would she be hurt? Offended? Good Lord, she couldn’t offend such a powerful person in theton.
“Well, you do.” The Duchess of Wesley gave a shrug. “Don’t look so terrified.”
Catherine found her voice. “Yes, well, but I don’t wish to offend—”
“Pish, dear. You’ll have to do worse than that to offend me.” The duchess speared her with a calculating stare. “Not that you should take that as a challenge.” She waved her hand in the air dismissively. “I think you’re wise to look ahead, and I’ll help you.”
Catherine swallowed, not quite believing her ears.
“That is what you want, is it not?” the Duchess of Wesley added when Catherine didn’t reply.
“Y-yes, please. I find I’m quite…”
“Lost?” the Duchess of Wesley finished for her. “Of course you are, and I’m the right person to ask. I have the connections you need, and there’s already an established connection between you and my family.” She flicked her fingers as if it was simply common sense, not a plan born painstakingly in the middle of the night.
“Thank you.” Catherine nearly crumpled with the relief that flowed through her.
“Well, shall we start, then?” the Duchess of Wesley asked, her eyes dancing with anticipation. “I don’t have any daughters, so you’ll have to excuse my eagerness. This should be fun.”
“For you, maybe,” Catherine grumbled, but a laugh escaped her lips. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to it.”
“You will. By the end of all this, you’ll look back and see it wasn’t as bad as you thought. Now, do you have anyone in mind?” the Duchess of Wesley asked, her attention dropping to her teacup, hiding whatever expression was in her eyes.
Catherine’s brow furrowed, and then she answered, “No. And I wish you to know there isn’t anyone in my heart since Avery.”
The Duchess of Wesley nodded. “I trust that, but—” She paused a moment. “But my eldest is no longer here, and we must move forward. You included.”
Catherine didn’t know what to say, how to react to such a gift from someone who’d suffered even more than she did at the loss of Wesley. Words weren’t enough. “I have no words to express—”
“You don’t need any. Now. Have you been to the modiste? I think I remember you mentioning it…”
Catherine went on to describe the dresses, quickly gaining approval of the colors and styles. The duchess wasted no time in diving into thoughts of potential suitors, and before long she had created a list.
One name was missing that Catherine had hoped the duchess wouldn’t mention.
Quin.
Because while he was a good friend, some lines couldn’t be crossed.