Page 13 of Truly, Madly, Daring

“We cannot bother Harry and Alana with this! They just got married!” Cat wailed as her mother brushed her hair. She had tried to get some sleep, but it had been impossible. Try as she might, she could not rid herself of the sight of her father’s face, or the pain in his eyes. The knowledge that she had let him, and Mama down sat heavily in her chest like a burning coal. Now she was exhausted and fretful, but with only herself to blame.

“They will want to be with you, love. How do you think Alana will feel when she finds out and discovers you married without telling her?”

Cat groaned, imagining just what Alana would say. Both she and Harry had warned her, but… well, she’d never listened to anyone before. Why should she begin now?

“Catherine, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Mama turned her so they faced each other, and Cat returned a sad smile. “We’ll find a way. Given time, perhaps—”

“But I do want to, Mama. I think perhaps you understand that in a way Papa simply can’t.”

Her mother nodded, her expression resigned. “I do. I only hope you’re right about him, Cat, but either way, you’re in for a hard road.”

Cat swallowed hard. “I know. But he’s not the Devil, Mama. He’s just—”

“Broken,” her mother said with a heavy sigh. “There is something wrong with the female race, if you ask me. When one sees a man who is so obviously broken he will inevitably cause one a deal of hurt and misery, the first instinct ought to be to run as far and fast as one can, not to rush to fix the blasted fellow.”

Despite everything, Cat laughed at her mother’s irritation. “But where would we both be if you hadn’t fixed Papa?”

Her mother laughed and nodded. “True. He is the best thing that ever happened to me, or could possibly happen. I am the luckiest of women, but I want that for you too, Cat. I want you to be happy.”

“I think I will be,” Cat said, though perhaps not with as much conviction as her mother might have liked. “But it will not be easy if he means to keep his word and live in France. How am I supposed to form any connection with him if he is in another country?”

“Bide your time, love. He obviously thinks you are too young to know your mind and you’ve a deal of growing up to do. Let him be, Cat. Enjoy your position as marchioness and make the most of it. Kilbane might take you a lifetime to figure out. There’s no rush.”

Cat tamped down a surge of frustration at the advice, which she suspected was sound enough. She did not want to wait. If Kilbane was her husband, she wanted to be his wife, but she knew he would not allow it. Not yet. So she must figure out a strategy to cope with him and this peculiar situation. For now, they were waiting for her father and Gabriel Knight. They had left at dawn to go to Doctor’s Commons to secure a special licence.

Cat looked up at a knock on the door as Lady Helena poked her head in.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Cat said with a wry smile. “Do come in.”

Helena entered, looking as dashing and splendid as always in a gown of deep blue gros de naples. Cat had always admired Helena’s poise, elegance, and inimitable sense of style.

“I have come to enquire if you are coming down for nuncheon, or if you prefer a tray in your room,” Helena asked kindly.

“Oh, in my room, if I may. I’d rather not face everyone just yet,” Cat replied at once, the idea making her stomach lurch.

“Of course,” Helena said kindly, patting her hand.

“Does Emmeline know yet?” Cat asked. She bit her lip, wondering how many people were talking about her and relishing the scandal.

Helena shook her head. “She went to bed early last night with a migraine. I haven't had the heart to disturb her. She always feels rather fragile afterwards. She’s not yet rung for her maid, so I assume she’s still sleeping. I was going to check on her after seeing you.”

“Oh, no. Don’t,” Cat pleaded, folding her arms across her stomach. “That is, let her sleep as long as she may, for I know she’ll upset herself on my behalf. She’s such a dear creature, and I don’t want to be responsible for making her ill again.”

Helena smiled at her, warmth in her eyes. “As you like, love, but you need your friends around you, and I know Em would want to be with you at such a time.”

“Yes,” Cat agreed. “But later. Please. Wait until she wakes up.”

“Very well, I’ll let her sleep a little longer. Now then, I suggest we all eat in here. We can have a picnic,” Helena said with a grin, reaching out to take hold of Mama’s hand. “And we always manage upsets better over large quantities of tea and cream cakes. We’ve overcome difficult situations before now with such tactics, haven’t we, Tilda, dear? The Peculiar Ladies always triumph in the end.”

“Indeed, they do,” Mama replied, regarding Helena with affection.

“Then the Daring Daughters had better follow suit,” Cat said, striving to smile and not to look as if she was scared out of her wits. “Send for as many cream cakes as they can carry. I believe I need them.”

They reached Lancaster a little after midday to discover a carriage awaiting them. Mr Humboldt truly was efficiency personified. They did not delay, everyone eager to be away from the railways where Emmeline’s father held such sway. So the carriage set off at breakneck speed, and the weary party endured the bouncing and jolting in stoic silence.

They finally allowed themselves a break when they reached Kendal. It was already mid-afternoon and there was no chance of reaching their destination before nightfall. If the weather held, there might be moonlight enough to press on. Otherwise, they would have to spend the night somewhere.