Page 26 of A Season for Christmas

Blinking in surprise, Catherine coughed delicately into her hand to give herself a moment. She was beginning to understand where the duke got his bluntness from, though he kept his bald way of speaking far more socially appropriate than his mother did. Then again, allowances were often made for older women, especially those among thehaut ton.

“We are still deciding,” she replied after a moment.

“He is a good boy. Very solid. And I do not think hemeans to be traveling overmuch now that he has returned to England, if that is your worry.” The duchess handed Catherine a glass of sherry, then began pouring her own. “Even while he was away, he remembered to write me every month. He is a good boy.”

He was, though Catherine meant it in a very different way than the duchess did. She clearly still saw him as the young student he’d been when she’d been introduced to him. Catherine thought it rather telling that he’d been so dedicated to writing to the duchess while he was away.

“I do not think he means to travel much, either, but I would have no qualms about joining him if he did mean to travel.” Catherine sipped her sherry rather wistfully. “I have always wanted to see more of the world.”

“As have I.” The duchess sighed. The comment was probably innocuous, but coming on the heels of a dinner when she had shown no interest in going to London rather surprised Catherine. Her hesitation must not come from an aversion to travel if she had always wanted to see more of the world.

Perhaps it was an aversion to London itself? Despite the interest she’d shown in hearing about the goings-on of the city?

“Will you travel once your period of mourning is over?” Catherine asked, trying to hedge around the question rather than approach it directly. She did not feel she knew the duchess well enough to speak so plainly, even if the duchess felt comfortable enough to do so. There was the matter of rank, after all.

“Oh. Oh no, I do not think so.” The duchess took another drink from her glass, her free hand picking at the lace decoration on her ruffled skirt. “I stay on the estate.”

The way she said it made Catherine frown. It sounded asif a myriad of meanings were hidden in those simple words. There was such a finality to it, as if the estate was the only place she could be… which was completely crossways with the yearning for travel she’d just expressed.

“You cannot leave the estate?”

“I…” The duchess’ gaze darted around, her shoulders rounding slightly in a hunch, and the animation drained from her face. “My husband prefers me to stay on the estate.”

Catherine took a small sip of her sherry to cover her surprise. The duchess spoke of her late husband as if he was still alive, and from what she could see now, she had a feeling the duchess had feared him when he was so. She feared him so much that the fear lingered, even now.

It also suddenly, forcibly, occurred to Catherine that neither the duchess nor the new duke appeared to be in mourning. There were no draperies around the house to indicate mourning. The bright colors the duchess was wearing were that of celebration, not grief. And not once had the late duke come up in conversation throughout the whole of supper. None of the staff were wearing armbands.

Perhaps because she had not known the duke or because she was so distracted by Samuel and her own affairs, she had literally not noticed the absence of the trappings of mourning. As his widow, the duchess should certainly still be dressed for mourning.

Yet, it seemed entirely natural that she was not.

She wondered if the duchess might have reason to want her late husband dead. Perhaps the son had nothing to do with it at all but a different member of the family. However, the way she spoke of him might indicate otherwise. Why would she fear someone she’d killed or had killed?

“Did your husband stay on the estate with you?” sheasked, as it was the most innocuous question she could think of.

“Oh no, he preferred London.” The duchess brightened again. If she had been fearful of him, that would explain why she had no interest in visiting the city. “We spent most of our time apart. Do not worry. I am sure Samuel will not be parted from you in such a manner. You two are a love match. I can tell.”

And the duchess still believed in love. That belief shone from her honest and open face, along with a kind of yearning. However her late husband had treated her, he had not been able to stamp out her dreams completely.

Samuel

“So, you and Catherine. Again.” Gregory raised his eyebrows suggestively as he swirled the brandy around its glass, leaning back in his chair as if he had not a care in the world.

Samuel knew better.

Unlike Catherine, he had quickly cottoned on to the lack of mourning around the household. Marguerite’s dress had been an immediate indicator that no one missed the old duke. Did Samuel think that meant Gregory had engaged in patricide? Absolutely not. But it could not be denied that there was something going on.

Still, he would not immediately force his friend to delve into such heavy matters.

“Again,” he agreed easily. “Though very different this time.”

“Indeed. What are your intentions with her?” There was nothing but pure curiosity in Gregory’s voice, wonderingwhat Samuel would do. Possibly because he was looking at his own prospects for the parson’s trap.

“To marry her. As soon as possible.” Samuel grimaced. “Perhaps see if this time I am more successful at convincing her to run off to Gretna Green with me.”

That made Gregory chuckle, though his amusement only lasted so long.

“Are you so sure of her answer?”

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