Page 32 of Devoted to the Duke (The St. Clairs 1)

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An hour later,Uncle Edward and Cousin Martin arrived. Catherine didn’t think it would do for her to receive them in her room so she’d had Tilly ask for Jervis and Strong to help her downstairs. Strong, built as solidly as his name, easily carried her as Jervis brought the crutches.

When they reached the bottom floor, she asked that she be allowed to spend a few moments with her mother. Strong brought her to her mother’s sitting room, where the countess had been laid out. She thanked the valet and took the crutches from Jervis. Both servants promised they’d be waiting outside the door when she finished.

After they left, she eased toward her mother, who was resting in a pine box, her hands folded over her heart. She was dressed in a soft lilac gown, one of her favorites. The pungent odor of the freshly-cut wood filled her nostrils. Catherine would never smell the scent again without thinking of death and the deep ache in her heart. As she stared at the woman who’d given birth to her, she understood what Leah had referred to. It was her mama lying there—but it wasn’t. The sparkle that was an inherent part of the Countess of Statham had departed. Only an empty shell remained.

Still, Catherine placed both crutches against the table and leaned over so she could place a hand atop her mother’s. The other stroked the dead woman’s hair.

“Oh, Mama, I am going to miss you so very much. I think of all the things that we would have talked about over the years to come and it saddens me to know those are conversations we’ll never have. I give you my solemn oath that I will care for Papa the best I can. Know when we lay you to rest, that one day he will be by your side in death as he was in life.”

She bent and kissed the cold, lifeless cheek and then slid the crutches under her arms again and slowly made her way to the door. Strong lifted her again and carried her to the parlor so she could receive her uncle. Catherine had already given instructions for Jervis to send word to Statham Manor so they would know what to expect. When they saw the coaches coming up the lane, they were to send for Doctor Patterson, the family physician. She wanted him to supervise the servants as they moved the earl into the manor and then she would let the physician read the letter from Doctor Crane regarding Papa’s care.

The butler entered the room. “The Honorable Edward Crawford and Mr. Martin Crawford, my lady.”

“Send them in, Jervis.”

Immediately, her uncle pushed his way into the room. Martin strolled in after his father, looking bored as usual.

“My dear, how are you? You look dreadful. Whatever has happened? We saw the mourning wreath.” He knelt and took her hands in his.

In that moment, Catherine glimpsed behind the curtain of her uncle’s eyes. He’d always been obsequious to his older brother and extremely attentive and polite to the rest of the family. What she saw for a brief instant was a hunger that needed satisfying and she realized Edward Crawford hoped that it was his brother who had passed.

Because he would become the new Earl of Statham.

“We were in a carriage accident last night, Uncle. Very close to home. Mama did not survive the impact. It is her death we are mourning.”

Uncle Edward released her hands and rose. “I am very sorry to hear that. It looks as if your leg is broken.” He paused. “How does my brother fare?”

“He is alive,” she confirmed and saw the shadow of disappointment that crossed her uncle’s face.

“Well, that is good news, indeed,” he proclaimed, his smile wide—and to her eyes, insincere. “I would hate for anything serious to have happened to keep him from his duties, either here in London or at Statham Manor. Managing an estate and a family’s investments takes quite a bit of stamina.” He paused. “Of course, I would be willing to step in and lend a hand for as long as needed to help my beloved brother.”

Catherine wasn’t sure how much she wanted to tell these two men about her father’s condition. Something told her not to reveal everything at this time.

“Can we see Uncle?” Martin asked, stepping toward her. “Father is right, you know. Both of us are willing to do whatever is necessary, Cousin Catherine. If Uncle’s injuries are severe, we would be happy to handle all of his affairs until such time when he is able to do so himself.”’

Martin’s words, coupled with both men’s eagerness to get their hands on the family fortune, chilled her. Based upon her suspicions and their forwardness, Catherine decided not to reveal the extent of her father’s injuries.

“Papa is sleeping at the moment,” she said. “Not only is he quite bruised from the coach having turned upside down, but he broke his wrist, which has caused him some pain. Doctor Crane came last night and stopped by again this morning. He gave Papa something for the pain less than an hour ago and told me Papa would sleep most of the day.”

She smiled sweetly. “Other than that minor inconvenience, he was quite well and perfectly capable of continuing to manage everything. It was kind of you both to offer your help, though. Papa will appreciate hearing that.”

Both men appeared disgruntled by her words.

“We both are out of sorts,” Catherine added. “My leg will be in this cast for a good six weeks or more.” She paused, letting that sink in before adding, “We are leaving for Statham Manor in the morning. As you can guess, Papa has had enough of London and only wishes to go home.”

Uncle Edward nodded sagely. “Of course. I completely understand.” He turned to his son. “Martin, we must let Catherine get her rest. Do let us know if there’s anything I can do for you, my dear.”

“I wish you a speedy recovery, Cousin Catherine,” Martin said perfunctorily.

Both men bid her goodbye and quit the room. It was only after they left that she realized neither had offered condolences regarding her mother’s death, much less made mention of attending the Countess of Statham’s funeral. As far as Catherine was concerned, she hoped to never see either of them again.

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