Blame It on Bath Page 0,32
It paled next to Durham House, Gerard’s family’s town house, but he could see the expense that had gone into it. Howe had made good use of Katherine’s money.
“He’s bound to be angry,” Katherine said, very softly.
Gerard shrugged. “I thought we were past caring what he thought.”
Some color came back into her cheeks, and she nodded. He could tell she was still uneasy, though. He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her near. She came reluctantly, as if she were uncomfortable being held, but when he raised her chin to look at him, her eyes were all but pleading. He smiled. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “All will be well.”
“I hope so.” None of the tension faded from her face, which irked him. She must have thought him up to this task. It was a little annoying that she couldn’t show her faith by at least breathing normally.
The door was thrown open then, and a man strode into the room, only to stop short. “Katherine!”
She tried to jump back, but Gerard tightened his arm around her. There was no reason Lucien Howe shouldn’t know from the beginning she belonged to him now.
Howe’s expression of blank shock transformed in an instant into icy, furious comprehension. “Katherine,” he said again, his voice brittle. “How good of you to come home, after frightening us all out of our wits by going missing. Your mother has been frantic with worry.”
“I must take the blame for that, sir,” said Gerard, before she could speak. “I refused to let her return home—I feared if I let her go, she might change her mind and never see me again.”
Howe looked between the two of them. He clearly understood what was happening. “Indeed.”
Katherine stirred in his arm, and this time Gerard let her step away. “I’m sorry to have caused worry here, Lucien,” she said. “But I have some news.” She hesitated, glancing at Gerard from the corner of her eye. “Very happy news. May I present to you Captain Lord Gerard de Lacey . . . my husband.”
A muscle twitched in Howe’s jaw as he glared at her. He was a handsome fellow, with wavy blond hair brushed back from his high forehead and piercing blue eyes. His clothing was austere in style though very high in quality. But there was nothing of joviality about him, and he looked as kind and warm as a fireplace poker. For once Lady Eccleston had been unerring in her assessment. Howe was exactly the sort of starched, pompous arse Gerard hated, and instinctively he warmed to the battle.
“You are married?” It sounded as though Howe was biting off each word.
Gerard smiled broadly. “This very morning! Naturally we should have taken a bit more time, had a bit more of a celebration, but I insisted until Kate finally agreed with me.” He caught her hand halfway through this declaration, so felt her start at the nickname. He winked at her and pressed her knuckles to his lips. “I’m rather impatient where she’s concerned.”
“Gerard,” she said in the same quiet, placid voice as before, “do let me introduce you. This is Lord Lucien Howe, my late husband’s nephew.”
“A pleasure, sir.” Gerard bowed. Howe barely returned it.
“I’ve come to pack my things,” Katherine went on. “My husband has business out of town, and we must be on our way soon. I’m sorry to be so abrupt.”
“Yes,” said Howe tightly. “I imagine you are.”
“I would like to see Mama before we go,” she said. “Is she here?”
Howe jerked his head in a nod. Katherine released Gerard’s hand; he wondered if she realized that she’d been clinging to him more than he’d been clinging to her. But her regal manner hadn’t betrayed any sign of it. “Let me fetch her,” she said to him. “I would like to introduce you to her.”
“Of course, my dear. I cannot wait to meet your mother.”
She nodded and left. Howe silently stepped out of her way and closed the door when she was gone. He walked back across the room toward Gerard, arms folded over his chest. “I should sue you for damages.”
“Damages?” Gerard affected surprise. “For what?”
“A hasty marriage, without word to the bride’s family . . . How dare you swindle us this way?”
“She’s not your daughter. I wonder what claim you could lay to her at all, as a widow of legal age and no blood relation to you. And what, pray, are your losses?”
Howe’s gaze narrowed. “De Lacey . . . Yes . .