Blame It on Bath Page 0,34

ma’am.”

“Ah!” Her face lit with delight. “The Duke of Durham’s sons! Three of the most eligible bachelors in England!”

“Not any longer,” muttered Lucien Howe.

“And one wanted my Katherine!” Mrs. Hollenbrook beamed at Gerard, ignoring Howe’s remark. “Well, I might have hoped for the eldest, but you’re quite a handsome fellow.”

Gerard ignored the shaded compliment to himself, caught up in watching Kate. He already liked that nickname very much; she should try being Kate instead of Katherine. She stood in silence as her mother expressed amazement that anyone wanted her, let alone one of the Durham family. There was an air of remoteness about her, as if she was accustomed to this and had managed to distance herself from it. He frowned slightly. Surely a mother would think more of her child.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hollenbrook, but as long as my wife prefers me to my brothers, I shall be content,” he said. “I am the tallest, you know.”

She laughed. “And devilishly charming, I see. Well! This is all quite a shock, but you are very welcome to our family. We all thought Katherine would marry dear Lucien, so you must forgive some upset on his part.”

Gerard smiled. “Of course. In his place I should feel devastated to have lost her. Rest assured I shall appreciate my good fortune all the rest of my days.”

“Mama, I must pack,” said Katherine quietly. “The captain has business out of town, and we are leaving today.”

“Oh, no!” Her mother’s eyes rounded. “Leaving? Of course you may not go! We must have a wedding breakfast—Katherine, whatever are you wearing? And your hair is simply frightful. Lucien, dear, send for tea, so we may get to know my new son-in-law better. Katherine, do go up and change into something more flattering.”

“This is my best dress, Mama,” Katherine said. Her mother blinked at the dress as if she’d never seen it before. “And I will change, but into my traveling clothes.”

Mrs. Hollenbrook’s eyes welled up. She put one hand to her lips. “You cannot go,” she said plaintively. “Can a mother not celebrate her daughter’s wedding? You must stay the night at the very least. We must send word to the newspapers—my daughter, married to a Durham! You’ll need wedding clothes, Katherine, and really, my dear, you must call on at least a few people—imagine, a Durham! Everyone will want to meet him, dearest. We’ll be invited to dine everywhere, and it would be very bad of us not to accept. No, you simply cannot leave before the end of the week.”

“No, Mama,” Katherine tried to say.

A tear leaked from her mother’s eye, then another. It looked natural, but Gerard had a feeling Mrs. Hollenbrook could weep on a moment’s notice. “Katherine, dear, how can you be so cruel to your mother? And at such a happy time. Lucien, you must help me persuade her.”

“Clearly I am not good at persuading her,” replied Howe, still glowering at Katherine. Gerard wondered again that she could stand this torrent of pressure and pleas. Perhaps this was why she chose to sneak off in the dark of night to propose her bargain to him.

“As much as it pains me, dear madam,” he said, stepping into the breach once more, “we must be off. My affairs require it. However, I feel certain there will be a great ball at Durham House later this Season to celebrate; my brothers will want to welcome my wife to our family just as warmly as you have added me to yours, and my aunt, the Countess of Dowling, will be over the moon at having another female in the family at last. I feel certain there will be celebration in excess, in due time. But for today, to my sorrow”—he lifted her hand to his lips—“we must say farewell.” He turned to his wife. “Kate, darling, we must be on our way.”

“I—yes,” she said. “I shall go make sure Birdie packs everything.”

He beamed at her. “Excellent. I’ll come with you.” And he walked out of the room, taking her with him despite the open astonishment on Mrs. Hollenbrook’s face and the thunderous scowl on Lord Howe’s.

“Wait!” she exclaimed, as he hurried her up the stairs. “You don’t have to come with me!”

“We’ll never get out of here if your mother has her way,” he muttered. “This room?”

She nodded, and he turned into the open door near the stairs. It was a modest room, with all the severity of the drawing room below and little of the