Page 19 of Devoted to the Duke (The St. Clairs 1)

“Lady Leah is the same age as Rachel. I thought they might have something in common,” he replied.

The Earl of Statham arrived and greeted everyone. “Has Sather asked you to tea?” he inquired of the dowager duchess.

“He has and I’m delighted to accept your invitation.”

“Then we will see you tomorrow.” The earl turned to his wife. “Ready, my love?”

“We are.”

They said their goodbyes and then Catherine’s father led them outside. As usual, carriages were everywhere. They found their coachman, who bounded down from the driver’s seat and assisted her mother and then Catherine into the carriage. She thought she caught a whiff of whiskey on his breath and wondered if he’d abandoned the coach to spend time in a tavern.

Her mother regaled them with a few stories the dowager duchess had shared as they sat some minutes before the coach took off.

As they traveled through the streets of London, her father asked, “What is your opinion of Sather, Catherine?”

“I have a high regard for him,” she replied. “We danced twice and took supper together. He is most interesting. More than any man I’ve met during the Season.”

Her mother smiled. “He’s from a very good family. The St. Clairs have held the dukedom for many years and have numerous properties scattered throughout England. The dowager duchess herself possesses an estate that came to her through her own family, before she wed.”

“Though I liked Sather, I would beg to differ, my dear,” her father said. “The current Duke of Everton is an embarrassment to his title and family. I can’t remember the last time I saw the man sober. And he has yet to show up at Parliament this session.”

Catherine spoke up. “Sather told me he is not close to his father. He conveyed disapproval of the duke without being disrespectful. He’s very close with his grandmamma, though. She seems to have been a strong influence on him and has been the one to raise him.”

“Hmm. He seems like a capable young man with a good head on his shoulders,” the earl said. “What do you think his intentions are, regarding you?”

Catherine sensed her cheeks heating and was glad the carriage was dark.

“I think we have a real chance at becoming friends. And maybe more.”

“Friends? A man and a woman don’t become friends,” her mother chided. “No, the marquess is definitely interested in you, Catherine. You must know you would have our approval if he wished for a match between our families.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mama,” she warned. “Though I learned much of him tonight, I would need to know other things.” She paused. “And I would need to fall in love with him. Like you and Papa. I couldn’t possibly settle for anything less.”

“Love is grand,” her father said, “but if you are compatible, that’s a good start. Love can grow from friendship, Catherine. Remember, you may take your time. There’s no rush to wed. If you’re drawn to Sather and he offers for you at Season’s end, though, I’d consider it. You’re both attractive, intelligent people. I think it would be a good match.”

“Even if we are not in love?” she asked softly.

“Even then,” her father confirmed. “What you see between your mama and me is the result of many years together. Yes, we are deeply in love, but it started as a physical attraction—with a bit of friendship mixed in. By our wedding day, I knew I loved her but that love from long ago is nothing to compare to the depths to which it has grown over our years together. For a decade, it was only the two of us, before you arrived. It gave us ample time to know one another and grow together, both in friendship and love.”

Catherine knew that was the only disappointment in her parents’ marriage. It had taken her mother ten years before she gave birth to a child. Another seven years passed before Leah arrived. No babies had come since then. With no son, the earldom would pass to her uncle, Edward, and if he were gone, the title and lands would go to his son, Martin. Though her father never spoke of it, she couldn’t help but think he was slightly displeased that the woman he worshipped had been unable to provide him with an heir.

Suddenly, the coach, which seemed to be traveling too fast, bucked as a wild horse. Catherine was tossed to the floor. She pushed herself up and sat back on the seat across from her parents.

“I think Robert has been drinking,” she announced. “I thought I smelled whiskey on his breath when we left the Wethersbys’.”

The coach lurched again and her fingers tightened on the velvet seat. Her father lifted his cane and rapped on the roof of the carriage.

“Slow down, Robert. At once!”

Instead, the horses seemed to run even faster as the vehicle begin swaying from side to side. Fear filled her. The team must be out of control to be moving at such a great speed.

Then they crashed into something and the carriage flipped on its side, tossing its occupants about. It rolled again, flinging them once more. Catherine screamed as her head collided with something hard and her leg snapped at the same time.

For a moment, all was still within the coach. She could hear the wheels outside spinning and then the agonizing cries of injured horses. Something warm trickled down the bridge of her nose and she wiped it away. Her leg ached something awful. She knew it must be broken. Her head began pounding fiercely.

Shouts came from outside. Someone tried to open the door. Confusion filled her. She wondered where her parents were as something dripped into her eyes. Catherine heard her mama gasp and moan. No sound came from her papa. Then darkness swallowed her whole.

*

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