Page 24 of A Night of Desire with a Duke
"Lieutenant Morrison," Catherine acknowledged coolly.
"Must have been quite cozy, sharing the chambers," Morrison continued with a knowing wink. "Though I'm sure everything was perfectly proper, what with the maid and all."
James's hand clenched on his coffee cup. "Indeed. Miss Mayfer conducted herself with perfect propriety, as any lady would."
"Oh, naturally, naturally. Though one does wonder what sort of lady travels alone in such weather. Running from something, perhaps? Or to someone?"
"I fail to see how my travel arrangements are any concern of yours, Lieutenant," Catherine said with icy politeness.
"Simply making conversation, miss. Though if you're bound for London, perhaps we might share the road? I'm heading that way myself, and I'd be honoured to offer my protection."
The thought of Morrison anywhere near Catherine made James want to reach for his sword. "I'm certain Miss Mayfer has adequate protection arranged."
"Indeed I do," Catherine agreed. "My coachman may be injured, but we've hired additional men from the village. I'm quite safe, I assure you."
"Still, a lady can never be too careful. There are all sorts of unsavory characters on the roads. Gentlemen who might take advantage of an innocent's trust."
The implication was clear. James started to rise, but Catherine's hand on his arm stopped him.
"How right you are, Lieutenant," she said sweetly. "Why, just last night, a drunken officer tried to force his attentions on me in this very room. Fortunately, there were gentlemen present who knew how to behave with honour."
Morrison's face reddened. Several people at nearby tables chuckled.
"I say, that's rather..."
"Rather what, Lieutenant?" James asked quietly. "The lady speaks only the truth. I recall the incident quite clearly. Don't you?"
Morrison muttered something and retreated to his own table. But the damage was done—everyone in the room was now acutely aware of the unusual situation, of the night spent in shared rooms.
"Perhaps we should depart," Catherine said quietly.
"Yes." James signaled for the bill, which Hartwell brought with unseemly haste.
They walked to the inn yard together, where their respective transports waited. Catherine's carriage had been repaired, though it showed signs of its ordeal. James's horse stood ready, Peters holding the reins with an expression of long-suffering patience.
"This is farewell then," Catherine said, extending her hand formally.
James took it, bowing over it properly, resisting the urge to turn it palm up and kiss the sensitive skin of her wrist the way he had last night.
"It seems so." He straightened, still holding her hand. "I wish you safe travels, Miss Mayfer. And every happiness in London."
"And I wish you... peace, Mr. Wrentham. In whatever duties await you."
Their eyes met and held, saying everything they couldn't voice aloud. Then she withdrew her hand and turned toward her carriage.
"Catherine," he called, unable to help himself.
She paused but didn't turn. "Yes?"
"If circumstances were different..."
"But they're not." She looked back at him then, her chin raised, pride keeping her spine straight. "We are who we are, Mr. Wrentham. Last night we pretended otherwise, but morning always comes."
"Yes," he said quietly. "It does."
She climbed into the carriage without another word. James stood watching as it pulled away, carrying her toward London and a future that wouldn't...couldn't...include him.
"Sir?" Peters appeared at his elbow. "We really must go."
