had been knocked out of her. Was God punishing her for the sins she had planned, before she even had a chance to commit them? He must be.
The woman’s eyes darted about the room behind Katherine in search of something before she spoke. “Miss Blake. How lovely to see you again.” Her tone was superior and her greeting lacked any true warmth. “I had hoped I might find the Duke of Foxleigh here.”
The mention of his name was all it took to stir Katherine’s ire and shake her out of her stunned silence. “Then your hope was ill-founded. He is not here.” Katherine slammed the door in Marie’s face and lowered the wooden bar across the portal as loudly as possible. She might not be mistress of her own household for much longer, but while she was, there was no earthly reason why she should have to put up with that woman’s prying eyes.
How had Marie found her? Obviously Katherine was not as well hidden as she thought. But perhaps the better question was why? If things were really over between Foxleigh and Marie, why should she go to all the trouble of searching for him—and at Katherine’s cottage, of all places?
It was a mystery. But Katherine did not want to think about it. The suspicion that they were still having an affair churned her stomach. Or perhaps that was just starvation. It was becoming hard to know which of her life’s torments was responsible for her pain. She sat down and called Dog to her so she could bury her face in the soft fur of his neck. She needed not to think of any of it, not to worry and not to hurt, if only for a few moments.
But when she looked up, she was affronted again by the hateful sight of Marie’s face peering in her window. Had the woman no shame at all? Katherine glared at her as she stomped over to the glazing and pulled the curtains shut. Did the nasty harlot really believe Katherine was somehow hiding a duke in her tiny abode?
A moment of madness seized her, and she rushed to snatch up the pistols from the table. She should drive the woman off of her property. It was a trespass, after all. But Katherine slumped despondently into the chair moments later. She was not a fool and she was not a violent person. Let the tart get cold and bored and go on her way.
She lay her head in her arms and dozed off. Being hungry made her terribly tired. After a half hour she thought it must be safe to go outside. She could not hope for another boon of eggs from the poor hungry chickens, but she wanted to go check on them anyway. She put on her patched wool cloak and wandered along the path to the hen house.
What on earth would she do with them? She could not leave them there to starve when she got evicted, but how could she travel with them? It had not snowed that day, but the temperature was cold enough that the existing blanket of white remained. It would be horrid to have no shelter during such a winter as this, but at least the snow would permit her to pull her possessions on her sled. Maybe she could find a way to take the hens along, even if it was merely delaying the inevitable.
These sad reflections were interrupted by the sight of Marie. Katherine froze and stared in disbelief as the uninvited guest wandered around, peering behind trees and finally trying the door of the chicken house. Finding it unlocked, she peeked inside before turning around and realizing that she had been caught spying.
“Are there no limits to your gall, Mrs. Dubois? Have I not made it clear that you are unwelcome?”
Marie flounced up to Katherine, smiling sweetly and pretending not to have heard. “Yes, quite right. It is rather cold. I thought I would take a quick peek around the place. So cheerful and snug. Why you will be as happy here with your four legged friend,” she gestured at Dog, who stood beside Katherine, “as anyone can be!”
To his credit, Dog did not look overly impressed by this speech either. Katherine tilted her head and glared in open contempt at Marie, not speaking a word.
Marie smiled more intensely and emitted a faint, through-the-nose laugh. “I only hope that Foxleigh and I will be as cozy and content as you