drew him in her direction, and he rested his elbows on his knees to lean forward. In the twilight, the rest of his senses were heightened.
“Is Miss Ferguson talented with her teas and herbs? Morgan is a good a man. I’d hate to see him hurt or given false hope.” Christian let the words trail to silence.
“Very talented. Morgan is in good care,” Katherine answered. “Willa was renowned in our old neighborhood.”
“Where was that?” he asked.
“Up north.” Without offering anything more, she pulled aside the curtain to glance outside.
“Why does she call you Kat? It’s a little unorthodox, isn’t it?”
“It was my mother’s pet name for me, and Willa isn’t simply a companion.”
The rustle of velvet warned she had moved, then her knee brushed against his. At the sensation, he stilled instantly, his body tensed with a hunger for more. He fought the urge. He was a gentleman, firstly. A respected former member of the British military, secondly. And finally, she was his half brother’s wife.
Unaware of the turmoil he battled, she continued, “She’s my family. Willa was my mother’s companion. Now she’s mine.”
Her mellifluous voice wrapped around him as the word mine burrowed into the recesses of his mind. For a wild moment, he wanted nothing more than to make her his.
Ridiculous thought.
He broke the silence between them. “You mentioned you lost your mother. When?”
“About ten years ago. I was fifteen.” Her face relaxed, revealing her affection as she spoke. “She was always there for me. She told me never to take anyone for granted, work hard, and always try my best. Good advice from an amazing person and mother.”
It was exactly the way he felt about his own mother. “I lost mine when I was six.”
“Was she ill?”
He shook his head. “She died from injuries suffered in a carriage accident.”
“I miss mine every day.” Katherine’s voice held a hint of loneliness in it. “It’s hard, isn’t it?”
“Indeed. I miss mine too.” He shifted in his seat. “She was quite the gardener. I helped her tend her roses. We’d spend hours upon hours in the hothouse. I still continue to grow and graft roses. It was her hobby and … now it’s mine.”
The woman across from him was either a menace or a magician. He’d told her things that he’d never spoken aloud to anyone before. Surprisingly, it actually felt quite nice.
“May I call you Katherine?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Or you can call me Kat.”
“Call me Christian.” How long it had been since he’d heard his name on the lips of a woman? He rubbed a hand down his face. “I take it you had an uncontrollable need to see me, Katherine?”
She nodded. “After you left Mr. Hanes’s office, I found myself with the other women Meriwether had married. Their names are Miss Constance Lysander and Miss Beth Howell. I discovered they’re in dire straits. Neither have anywhere to stay.” Her voice trembled slightly.
He wasn’t certain if it was from outrage or empathy.
Perhaps both.
“One is with child and the other, the sister of a viscount, is scared of discovery. They realize that if society hears of this, then all of us will suffer. You understand that.”
He nodded. Lord, did he understand that. The stench of his brother’s madcap scandals never stopped.
She continued, “They’re staying with me.”
He sat motionless, waiting for more. Her smooth, honeyed voice serenaded him, making the moment feel almost intimate, like friends confiding in one another, sharing their secrets.
“Why did you take them with you?” It was the only question he could think of so she’d speak again.
“But for the grace of fate, I could be one of them. Meriwether could have married me second or last.”
“That’s noble of you.” He struggled for something else to say. Most women, if forced into that situation, would be aghast to offer such help. But the enigma across from him wasn’t most women.
“Christian…”
The minty scent of her breath kissed his cheek. He’d always had a weakness for mint leaves, but the hesitation in her voice caused his gut to cinch.
“Constance will deliver within weeks. We must do something.”
He had promised himself not to become entangled with any of these widows when he’d first walked into Hanes’s office. However, the plights of Kat and the other two women were real and couldn’t be denied.
The carriage arrived in front of his home, where lanterns lit the drive. The sight never failed to move him. Sometimes with happy thoughts, but mostly it reminded him of the garish parties that his father and