Page 29 of Devoted to the Duke (The St. Clairs 1)

He rose, determination filling him. “Cor, if you will excuse me?”

“Are you off to see Lady Catherine?” she asked sharply.

For a moment, he was taken aback and then said, “You are perceptive, as always.”

“I saw the way you looked at her. What will you say to her?”

“I will ask to speak to her father and make known my intentions before I delicately bring up the matter of the marriage contracts and the amount of her dowry.”

“You realize we don’t know how much you are in debt at this point.”

“I understand—but I can’t see myself spending my life with any other woman.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t mistake my words, Grandson. I like Lady Catherine. A great deal. But this is a time when practicality must rule, Jeremy. You must put your feelings for her aside and do what’s best for this family. I’m begging you to wait until we have a better idea of the total amount of debt before you offer for the Crawford girl. Only then would you know if her dowry would be ample enough to make a difference.

“And only then can you decide if it’s her—or you abandon thoughts of a union with her and search elsewhere.”

His head told him that Cor was right but his heart wanted to secure a commitment from Catherine today. Still, a week or so wouldn’t matter. He could bury his father and let the vultures come out. Once he had a handle on the debts, then he could speak with Lord Statham. If the earl did not provide a large enough dowry, Jeremy would withdraw his offer and never let Catherine know the two men had spoken. He only hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

“All right. I won’t speak of marriage today. I’d written her a note explaining why we wouldn’t be able to come for tea this afternoon. I’ll have it delivered so she won’t think we forgot.”

“Thank you for being reasonable, Jeremy,” Cor said. “I know this is a heavy burden for you to bear.”

He left her and found the note had vanished from the table in the foyer. Finding Barton, the butler told him that he’d seen it sitting there and had one of the footmen deliver it. Relieved that the letter had already been sent, Jeremy decided to take a walk to clear his head and think about the future.

As he left the house, he spied one of their footman coming down the street, what looked like a folded letter in his hand. Jeremy called to him.

“Did Barton send you to deliver a note to Lady Catherine Crawford?” he inquired, wondering if Catherine had sent a reply. If so, he was eager to read it.

“Yes, Your Grace,” the servant said. “She won’t get it, though, I’m afraid.”

Jeremy’s pulse quickened. “What do you mean?”

The footman shook his head and handed Jeremy’s original letter back to him. “It was a bad business all around. A mourning wreath graced the door when I arrived.”

He gripped the letter. “What happened?” he demanded.

“I didn’t know if I should ring the bell or not,” the footman said. “You know, with the family in mourning. Then the door opened and two men came out. One carried a surgeon’s bag. I asked him what happened. He told me the family had been in a carriage accident on their way home last night. The earl was in a bad way. I asked about the lady and the surgeon told me she didn’t survive. They pulled her dead from the coach.”

Jeremy’s jaw dropped. He staggered back.

Catherine... wasdead?

He closed his eyes and could feel her in his arms. Smell her perfume. Hear her rich laugh.

“Your Grace? Are you well?”

Jeremy reluctantly opened his eyes, seeing a world without Catherine in it. He pushed past the footman.

And wanted to die himself.

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