Twice the Temptation (15 page)

“The question had crossed my mind,” Lucas admitted with a smile, taking an instant liking to the man. He liked that he didn’t have any airs about him. British aristocrats were widely known for their airs. Their
heirs
tended to have even more airs than the rest of them. “I don’t believe we’ve met unless I’m mistaken,” he said. But there was no mistake, they’d never met.

“I never saw you before in my life. But it appears we are both well acquainted with Miss Catherine Rutherford.”

Lucas immediately felt his spine tighten and he appraised the earl a second time, this time far more critically.

Granville had the sort of looks many women would no doubt find infinitely appealing. He was also an earl, so a man of rank. And by the cut of his garments and the hat that he’d placed on the side table, he definitely wasn’t a pauper. Taken as a whole, the man had a great deal to recommend him, as the English would say.

“First, let me assure you before you start thinking of ways to off me, that I’m not interested in Miss Rutherford for myself,” Granville said with a rueful laugh.

Lucas narrowed his gaze. “Then for whom?”

“My sister. That is to say, I’m here on behalf of my sister Olivia. She and Catherine are extremely close and she strongly encouraged me to speak with you when I was next in town.”

“Ah, I see. In other words, size me up?” The irony of it didn’t escape him.

“Well she did say you plan to marry Miss Rutherford and that I should make sure you’re up to snuff.”

“When did you speak to your sister last?” Lucas asked, curious now as to why Catherine hadn’t informed her friend about the recent events.

“Yesterday, when I left the country.”

“I see.” It had been four days since she’d dismissed him from her life and three days later, she still hadn’t informed her friend of it. But perhaps she’d yet to see her again. “I’d have expected a visit from her brother first.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure one is coming just as soon as Parliament recesses for Easter. Some of us have to work for our exalted place in society,” Lord Granville said, his tone all mockery and dry wit.

“And what do the others do?”

“Some of us dispense financial advice to those seeking to keep or maintain their fortunes. The rest laze about doing nothing at all and I’m told they prefer it that way.”

It was decided. He liked this man.

“So you’re marriage-bent are you?” the earl asked, settling back into the chair as if he’d looked around, found the place and the company acceptable and decided to stay a while.

Lucas chuckled. “That isn’t precisely how I see it. Marriage isn’t the lure, the lady is.”

Granville’s smile broadened. “And her dowry? Are you aware she’s worth thirty thousand pounds?”

“She’s worth a great deal more than that to me. If you will, let me put your mind at ease, as I myself have grown accustomed to dealing with fortune hunters. I don’t need nor do I desire Miss Rutherford’s fortune. I would take her if she came with forty thousand pounds of debt. I’m a very wealthy man, my lord. And what little I was given, I earned the bulk of my fortune honestly and through hard work. If Miss Rutherford were to marry me, she’d want for nothing. I hope you’ll pass that along to your sister.”

Granville chuckled. “I believe my sister will be more than happy to hear what I have to tell her.”

It appeared he’d won the earl’s approval. “Are you married?” Lucas asked, his curiosity about the man now piqued. If Lucas had to guess, he’d say not.

“No, I’m not. And the duke won’t let me forget it either, I’ll have you know,” he said laughing, amusement lighting his eyes.

“The duke?” Lucas asked, puzzled. Which duke and what does he have to do with the earl’s bachelor status?

“My father, the Duke of Wiltshire. I am his only son thereby making it my responsibility to continue the line with an heir. So far, I’ve thwarted his plan that I marry by my thirtieth birthday, which incidentally was four years ago.”

Hell, the man who’d presented himself at his door was the heir to a dukedom. Lucas knew enough about the peerage to know that dukes were as high as it goes. Beyond that was the monarchy. Things were so much simpler in America.

“Then I take it you won’t be long for the altar? I’m sure you’re able to pick and choose at will.” Not many women would turn down a duke, much less a young and wealthy one.

Granville gave a hearty laugh. “If you’re pursuing Miss Rutherford then you must also be acquainted with Lady Windmere, am I right?”

Lucas nodded. The countess. Beautiful woman.

“Well I’ll have you know she refused me ten years ago and only this past year, Lady Meghan Townsend rebuffed my suit. So whatever advantage you believe I have because of my current and future title, I should like to disabuse you of it right now.”

The countess’ refusal didn’t surprise him given his observations of her and her husband and what Catherine had told him of their courtship.

“From what I understand, the countess had been in love with her husband since she was a child. Perhaps Lady Meghan’s situation is similar,” he offered. Not that he needed or intended to assuage the man’s ego. For God’s sake, the man was going to be a duke one day.

An emotion he couldn’t place flickered across Granville’s face. An easy smile followed thereafter. “Perhaps,” was all he said on that. “And you’re correct in regards to the countess. I knew full well that she’d refuse me before I proposed. But my proposal accomplished two things. Firstly, it spurred Rutherford into action. They were married and produced a healthy set of twins in the year that followed. I should have insisted they name me godfather for the critical role I played in bringing the whole thing about, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Lucas replied, highly amused. “And the second thing?”

“My father didn’t broach the subject of marriage with me for five years,” the earl stated satisfactorily. “But alas, my reprieve could only last so long, so now I must get serious about the matter of choosing a wife. The duke is growing older not younger as he never fails to remind me with ever increasing frequency.”

The responsibilities of being an heir.

Lucas wouldn’t accept an English title if it were offered up on a silver platter encrusted with flawless diamonds. He particularly disliked the practice of primogeniture and entail. Should he have children, his daughters and younger sons should by law, have as much right to an equal portion of his estate when he died as his first-born son. And surely they should be able to sell off his properties to avoid financial ruin.

“As I said, I’m sure you’ll be able to pick from a plethora of beauties.”

“Well now that you’ve appeared on the scene, there’s already one less beauty for me to choose from, isn’t that right?” Granville asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“It is. Miss Rutherford is very much taken,” he replied with the same facile smile. Now he just had to get her to agree by convincing her that he’s not secretly holding a torch for her twin.

C
HAPTER
T
EN
 

W
hoever said that
eavesdroppers seldom hear good of themselves
failed to mention that at times, the truth about oneself was painful but necessary.

Catherine didn’t leave her room for the remainder of the day and missed supper altogether. Even had she desired food, she couldn’t present herself to dine with puffy, red-rimmed eyes and a blotchy complexion, which individually were bad enough, but together would set the servants whispering and cause her sister and brother-in-law even more distress. 

Knowing that at some point during the day, her twin would seek her out, Catherine had feigned sleep when Charlotte had knocked on her door and then, getting no answer, she’d quietly entered the room. When her whispers of
Katie
failed to elicit a response, she’d eventually left. Only then did Catherine open her eyes and roll onto her back. She stared sightlessly up at the pale-green, lace-trimmed canopy and thought of Lucas. More tears fell. 

Sleep finally claimed her well after midnight. 

A
sun that sat high in an unusually blue sky brought in the morning. Catherine lifted her head from her pillow and blinked against the nearly blinding glare of the sun. Her gaze then sought the person responsible for her harsh return to wakefulness and found Jillian bustling about the room. She had already drawn the dark-blue curtains and was busy poking at the fire.

Catherine pulled herself into a seated position and ran a weary hand through the tangled mess that was her hair. She’d been in no state to braid it as she always did before she went to sleep. 

“Good mornin’, Miss Catherine,” Jillian chirped happily, looking as beautiful as always in a simple, be-ribboned, white frock that still managed to showcase her lovely figure. “Miss Charlotte said I was to come back and draw the curtains if you wasn’t up by midday,” she stated almost apologetically. “She said you wa-were sure to be hungry when you woke up.” 

Midday?
Catherine’s eyes widened in alarm. She hadn’t intended to sleep as long as that. And then as if the mere mention of food had been a cue to her stomach, its growl must have been one of agreement. Indeed, she
was
famished. 

“Good Lord, what time is it?” Catherine winced at the harsh, scratchiness of her voice. 

Jillian’s head turned sharply, her hazel eyes rounded in concern. “Half past. Miss Catherine, you don’t sound so well. You’re not feeling ill are you?” 

Catherine cleared her throat and swallowed several times, praying that would help with the worst of the hoarseness. “Nothing fresh air won’t take care of,” she assured her. 

And a restful night where I do not cry myself to sleep,
added the voice in her head. But
a
t least now she sounded less like she’d swallowed a mouthful of sand. 

  “I was also to tell you that Mr. Beaumont will be calling on you at three this afternoon. It will be good to see him again. He was always so kind to me.” 

Catherine’s breath halted and her chest grew tight as if her heart had suddenly sprouted wings and hadn’t room enough to take flight. It wanted to soar and rejoice. But accompanying her unbidden response was the sobering reality of their circumstances. In the wee hours of the morning, she’d made herself accept that reality. She and Lucas would never be. 

Blast Alex for telling her. No, blast Lucas for not telling her from the beginning. If she’d known, she’d never have allowed herself to fall so hard and so quickly. She’d never have allowed herself to hope. 

But if he was to come at three that afternoon, she was determined that he wouldn’t find her waiting patiently, prepared to sit through the emotional torture of his visit. She’d intended to go to the school in any case. Get herself out of this house and hopefully out of the doldrums she’d been living in for too many days. 

“Where is my sister?” she asked, throwing off the covers and getting out of bed. 

“She and the master have gone to town.” 

Catherine thought it more likely that her sister had been anxious to get her husband out of the way before Lucas arrived. Which meant they probably would not be home until late. 

“Where is Esther?” Catherine asked of her own lady’s maid. 

Jillian straightened, restored the poker to its proper place, and turned around to face her. “Darning the trim on your blue gown. She come up earlier but told Miss Charlotte you were still in bed.” 

“Came up, Jillian. Came,” Catherine instantly corrected, as she’d gotten in the habit of doing whenever they were alone and Jillian misspoke. 

 “She
came
up,” Jillian repeated obediently. “But I can help you with your toilette. I’ll go get your bath ready.” 

Before Catherine could form a reply, Jillian disappeared through the door connecting the bathing room. 

“I will be going out after I have something to eat,” Catherine said, raising her voice so Jillian could hear her over the running water.