“And Lord Pemberton offered for your hand?”
“Yes.”
“And the two of them actually came to blows in front of half of London society?”
“Yes.”
Lady Vivienne was silent for a long, deliberate moment. Then her lips twitched. “How perfectly splendid.”
“Splendid?” Catherine stared at her aunt, horrified. “How can you possibly call this splendid?”
“My dear child, you have two eligible gentlemen, one a duke, no less, fighting for your favour. Do you not comprehend? Half the unmarried ladies in London would commit any number of sins to find themselves in precisely such a position.”
"It's not a problem, it's a disaster. By tomorrow, I'll be the talk of the ton."
"You're already the talk of the ton. At least now it's interesting talk."
"Aunt Vivienne!"
"What? Would you prefer the usual gossip about who's wearing last season's gowns and who's been caught kissing in the garden? This is much more entertaining."
"I'm glad my life provides entertainment," Catherine said bitterly.
Vivienne's expression softened. "That's not what I meant. Catherine, something has been going on between the Duke and you since you arrived in London. Don't deny it—I'm not blind. The way you two carefully avoid each other, the tension when you're in the same room. It's been obvious to anyone with eyes."
"Has it?"
"Oh yes. The only question was when it would explode. I'm just surprised it took this long."
Catherine was quiet, watching the London streets pass by the window.
"Do you love him?" Vivienne asked gently.
"Does it matter?"
"It's the only thing that matters."
"Then yes," Catherine admitted. "I love him. I've loved him since..." She stopped, not ready to confess about the inn.
"Since you met," Vivienne finished. "However that happened."
Catherine looked at her aunt sharply. "What do you know?"
"I know you arrived in London different than you left Yorkshire. I know the Duke returned from his father's deathbed changed. I know that two people don't develop that kind of tension from a few polite conversations at balls."
"It's complicated."
"Love always is. The question is whether it's worth the complication."
Catherine thought about James's face when he'd defended her, the fierce protectiveness in his voice. She thought about thepain in his eyes when he'd said watching her with Pemberton would kill him.
She thought about that night at the inn, when everything had been simple and perfect and theirs.
"I think it might be," she said quietly.
"Then fight for it," Vivienne said firmly. "Society will gossip regardless. At least give them something worth gossiping about."
That evening, Catherine sat in her room, Martha brushing her hair for bed. The events of the day felt surreal, like something from one of the novels she secretly read.
