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Chapter Thirty-One
The attempt and not the deed confoundsus.
—Shakespeare,Macbeth
Catherine pulled thecover snug to her chin as another knock sounded, even harder this time then the last.
“Give me a moment, would you, Langdon?” Nicholas barked at the door, then turned back to Catherine, sighing. “I’ll get rid of him as quickly as possible.” He dropped her robe on the bed and then slipped into his. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “This day is ours to celebrate.”
She caressed his cheek, his morning stubble a new sensation. He was always clean-shaven. “Your homecoming.”
“Our homecoming,” he corrected, placing a finger on her nose and tracing it to her lips. She kissed it before he withdrew.
He gestured toward the tray. “Eat. You’ll need your energy.” He luridly moved his eyebrows up and down.
“You are a rake, sir!” she teased back, thrilled by his endless desire.
He headed toward the door but paused before opening it, looking back at her over his shoulder, his grin mellowing to a tender smile. “I’ll send up some water for a bath. I promise to return shortly to enjoy it with you.”
She blew him a kiss before he left, the clicking of the closing door creating a short, ominous echo in the room. What a foolish thought. They’d shaken the dark cloud that had hovered over them since his return. Truth now lit their lives. She’d been full of fear and worry for so long it had become customary practice. Grabbing the pillow Nicholas had lain upon, she pressed its downy softness to her nose, inhaling deeply. Well, she was going to toss the practice of fretting over everything and replace it with a new habit. Nicholas. Her man.
She slid from the bed, slipped on the silk, and stood staring at herself in the vanity mirror as she snugged the tie. Did she look any different? Her hair was a wild nest, and she cringed at the work that lay ahead for Sadie, not to mention the pain for Catherine, as the girl worked to tame the mess. She peered closer, tracing her lips with her fingers, amazed at the bruising and swelling.Who am I now? A wife. Thank the Lord above, finally Nicholas’s wife in truth. She hugged herself tight, grinning like an idiot. A well-loved wife!
A light tap at the hallway door pulled her away from her pleasant ponderings. She grabbed a shawl from the chair and pulled it on, glancing down to ensure she was decent before letting in the men with her water. “Enter.”
The door opened tentatively, and Sadie’s pale face peeked around cautiously.
“Sadie?” Catherine was surprised to see her so early. Sadie had much to do reversing yesterday’s decision to move back to Stratton Hall.
“My lord?” Sadie’s nose scrunched as she glanced around the room. Did she fear catching Nicholas in dishabille? It certainly was something they would both have to consider now.
“He’s in his chambers. Do come in.” Catherine strolled to the table. She grabbed a biscuit, tore off a piece, and popped it into her mouth. Her stomach gurgled in appreciation. She ripped free another morsel.
“My lady?” Sadie thrust out her hand. She clutched paper, keeping it at arm’s length as though it was offensive, and she seemed on the verge of tears.
“Dear Lord, Sadie, what is it?”
“I don’t know, but it bodes ill, it does. It was sitting on the side table in the hall this morning. I asked all the staff, and none put it there.”
Catherine’s throat thickened. Unable to swallow, she grabbed the napkin from the tray and spit the half-chewed biscuit in it. So much for new habits. Apparently dread remained a well-ingrained response, for fear was coursing through her veins. Sadie stood motionless by the door, still holding out the parchment. Catherine strode to her, took the missive, then walked over to the hearth and sank into the chair.
She flipped over the note. The neatly printed script was unfamiliar. Nothing alarming about that, yet her hands shook as she broke the anonymous seal and pulled out the paper. She glanced at Sadie, who remained stationary by the door. They were both being foolish.
“Go see about my bath. Lord Walford was to send up the men, but it seems he has forgotten.” Sadie closed the door, and for the second time that morning, the sound reverberated portentously deep inside her soul.
My Lady Walford,
It is a great relief to know you have returned to your father’s home. While it was my greatest desire to wish you felicitations, I found I could not. I know full well the cloud that darkens the halls of Woodfield and did not wish for it to taint your life or your soul.
The men of Woodfield deserve their fate. They have all sullied their hands. But you, you are an innocent among the wolves. I am relieved of the burden of guilt I would carry had you remained under their roof.
I admire your grace and strength, your willingness to sacrifice for another. I would not see you hurt. Please forgive me should the stain on the others’ hands cause you undue grief.
Your servant, always.
Catherine released her breath. Who had written this? She flipped over the plain paper. There was no signature, no indication of its author. What was meant by “deserve their fate”? Was Nicholas being threatened?Dear Lord!
She pulled open the door and ran into the sitting room. His door was open, and the murmur of voices spilled out. “Nicholas!” Panic welled as she ran across the room.
