Blame It on Bath Page 0,6
line that gave no hint of their shape. She stared at him, unsmiling, for a moment, as open in her appraisal as he was in his. Gerard couldn’t recall the last time a woman had looked him over so frankly. “Shall we sit down?”
He must have passed inspection. More amused than anything else, he decided to stay and see what she had to ask of him. He took the seat she gestured to, in front of the fire, and she finally came forward to take the opposite chair. The old woman fluttered around the back of the room before bringing two glasses of wine. Gerard waved her off, and she shot him a disapproving look but set the glass on the table beside him. His companion took a small sip of her wine and handed it back to her servant—he couldn’t believe the old woman was anything else from the way she hovered so solicitously at the younger lady’s elbow—who retired to the back of the room.
“Your maid wouldn’t tell me your name, yet she made certain of who I was,” Gerard said. “I don’t like being toyed with, so let’s dispense with the mystery, shall we?”
“My name is Katherine Howe,” she said. “I don’t expect you to know it.”
“Or remember it after tonight, apparently.”
She looked at him oddly, almost as if she didn’t understand what he said. “I know of your family—I was raised near Lastings in Sussex. Then I was Katherine Hollenbrook. My father was Mr. Edgar Hollenbrook of Henfield. He was a wool merchant.”
He tilted his head and studied her more minutely. She had the air of a judge contemplating sentencing him to hard labor, grave and reserved and so very stiff in her chair. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize the name. I’ve not been in Henfield these last five years or more.”
“I don’t expect you to recognize it. I tell you merely to assure you that I’m familiar with your situation and am not acting capriciously. My family knew of yours—your father in particular. I decided to approach you when I heard the recent rumors in London.”
Gerard’s temper stirred. “Well, if you’ve come to stir up trouble in that regard, you’ll have to join the queue,” he drawled. “And I think that ends our conversation.” He started to get to his feet.
“Wait.” She held up her hand. “I haven’t finished.”
“Yes, I think you have.” He started walking toward the door.
“I came to make you a proposition,” she said in a rush as his hand closed on the doorknob. “One that will suit both our needs.”
He turned and flashed a disdainful smirk at her. How dare she come try to take advantage of his family’s troubles? “Unless you want to come upstairs and warm my bed for the night, I can’t think of anything you could offer me to suit my needs.”
Her jaw firmed. Her glare was withering. If she’d had a switch, she probably would have blistered his palm with it. “I came to propose a marriage, Captain,” she said coldly. “If the rumors are true, you will be disinherited and declared a bastard. You will need money. I have money, but need a protector.”
“I don’t need money badly enough to marry the first woman who offers herself,” he growled.
She raised her chin. “You will.”
“I’ll let you know when it happens.”
“Don’t you dare leave, Captain!”
Gerard was so astonished by the order, he turned around. She was pale and rigid with fury, on her feet now with hands in fists at her sides. The old woman stood behind her, clutching the wine bottle as if to hurl it at his head if he set foot outside the room. He put his hands on his hips, annoyed with himself as much as with her. Damn his curiosity. He should have ignored the knock on his door and stayed peaceably in his room. “Why not?”
“Please let me explain,” she said stiffly. Her throat worked. “I apologize for the abruptness of my manner. I haven’t much time before I must be home.”
“You came to propose marriage to a man you’d never met, and you can’t spare more than a few minutes for it?”
“No,” she said bitterly. “I’ll be missed if I don’t return soon, and if that occurs, this will all have been for naught, whatever you decide.” She took a deep breath. “I am in a desperate moment, Captain. Please listen to what I have to say. If you decline, I’ll leave, and you’ll never hear from me again,