Page 96 of In Search of a Husband
“Yes, well the whole incident was rather unfortunate.”
“Yes, I remember.”
Her mother leaned forward. “He nearlydied, Katherine.”
And so had she.
She had almost died in a million tiny ways at each shocked whisper, at each mention in the gossip rags, or each passing day where she was made to feel small and worthless.
Kate stood up, her chair sliding back behind her so quickly it almost tumbled to the floor. “I don’t wish to speak to him, and I do not appreciate the fact you have brought him along with you when you know how I was treated.”
“You asked to be treated as you were for how you behaved. You have embarrassed our entire family. Your father couldn’t go to his club for months. And I was cut from guest lists across Town.”
The marquess strode in. “Am I interrupting?”
“Please, help yourself. You must be hungry after such a long journey. The scones are particularly delicious.”
“I baked them myself,” Kate said, walking to the opposite side of the room. She pulled back the lace curtains to reveal the cold, gray day outside.
“You…baked?”
The marquess was at least polite enough to clear his throat to try to disguise her mother’s repulsed gasp.
“You must return to London and marry,” her father said. “And the marquess has discovered the error of his way, and he wishes to restore your virtue.”
“My virtue was never lost.” Kate spun around, her temper flaring.
Then Gabriel strode in, filling the doorway.
“Sir Martin and Lady Bancroft, I hope yer accommodations were pleasant enough. I apologize for having to remain behind to manage events at the inn last evening.”
“Was there a spot of trouble?” The marquess looked up from his heaping plate of food with a sly grin.
Let him find out what happens on the other end of Gabriel MacInnes’s temper then. Perhaps that would solve the whole problem. But it wouldn’t answer why, even though he was flawlessly turned outas if he were about to meet a friend at a London club, his face was bruised and cut, as were his fists that were clenched by his thighs.
And he could barely look at Kate.
“Aye, spirits were high last night. It is all under control now.”
The marquess set the plate of food on the table and glanced between Kate and Gabriel, then hovered awkwardly.
Her father cleared his throat as if to urge the marquess on.
“As this is a private matter,” the marquess began, “I wish to speak to you, Miss Bancroft. Alone.”
One glance toward her father and she knew she must accept, so she nodded, then made the mistake of meeting Gabriel’s stare from across the room. It reminded her of the day they first met, that impenetrable light to his eyes.
And suddenly, she felt adrift.
She licked her lips, then nodded, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Her mother puffed up as if a peacock, thoroughly pleased with herself.
“Follow me, my lord.”
She didn’t wait for the marquess, couldn’t, not even as she strode past Gabriel, furious. It wasn’t lost on her that she needed to brush by him in order to leave, as if he was stubbornly anchored to keep her close. Or the smell of whisky still clinging to his lips from the evening before.
That wasn’t like him at all.
The echoing footsteps followed closely as she weaved her way down the halls of the castle, then pushed upon the door to enter the garden. She grabbed her shawl and inhaled, shivering as the cold morning air nipped at her skin and settled down into her bones.
