Odette was a fierce opponent, and Katherine needed to gauge the opposition.
When the opportunity arose, she swapped places with George, artfully introducing a topic that enabled Katherine to engage Odette in interested conversation while the men discussed their latest horseflesh. And on this topic, Jack was a master. A horse had brought his adoptive parents together, and he’d had many a faithful mount when in Bombay. The moment he made mention of his latest steed the men huddled closer.
“Who will win the Lancashire Derby?” asked Lord Derry, with a nod to Jack’s superior knowledge in that field.
Meanwhile, Katherine was on the sofa beside Odette now, and she asked, “I believe you met Jack in Bombay. When did you travel over?” Odette might be in love with him, but she did not have the devotion of a lifetime behind her. There were less than six weeks to their wedding and Katherine’s mission was a difficult one, but she had to use whatever she had at her disposal to tip the balance in her favour.
She hoped Odette didn’t notice the way her gaze slid to Jack’s face. She loved his animation. His expression was so malleable, unlike many men’s. Freddy had had a few stock expressions she’d come to know well: boredom, avarice, lust, and discontent. But Jack seemed to pulse with life. She’d forgotten that about him. Perhaps because she’d taken it for granted that men displayed enthusiasm on topics of importance. Freddy had found little that he considered of importance unless it was lining his pockets with another ill-fated venture, or showing Katherine he was master. Not that he was overtly cruel, and never physically. He just had a habit of being cynical and dismissive about most of what Katherine cared about.
Miss Worthington tipped back her swanlike neck and fluttered her eyelashes at the ceiling before swivelling her glance back to meet Katherine, hesitating en route to take in Jack.
So, she was more vigilant than she’d like others to realise. Katherine would have to remember that.
“My father worked for the East India Company, and he took Jack on in the early days when Jack was just a lowly clerk. I loved him then, too,” she said, artlessly. “And you?”
She might have been asking if Katherine loved him too, but Katherine merely said, “Jack visited the home of my uncle, Earl Quamby, when we were children, to be playmate to my cousin George. In those days, George could be a fiend to us both, though Jack seemed to know how to manage him.” She dressed it up lightly. “Jack and I became allies, and I was sad to see him leave for so long, but now he’s home I hope we’ll see more of you both.” What else could she be but welcoming? It was the only way to ensure Odette was not on her guard where Katherine was concerned.
For she needed to be.
She glanced over at Jack at the very moment he glanced in her direction. Something in his look made her heart still, but she was on parade. Odette’s instincts would be easily aroused, and even one unguarded look could be enough to destroy any further chance of Katherine gaining access to Jack, either alone or with his betrothed.
So Katherine tossed her head, in an attempt to deflect the look, and clasped Odette’s wrist warmly, saying, “My aunt is having a house party next weekend and Jack’s parents will be there, so of course you and Jack are invited.”
She was relieved when the party broke up shortly after Odette had accepted. Exhausted by the nervous energy she’d expended in appearing unaffected when every nuanced look at or by Jack made her heart pound and her palms clammy, she nodded to the remaining gentlemen after Jack and Odette and her chaperone had departed.
“If you’ll excuse me, I shall retire for the night.” She barely smiled in Lord Derry’s direction, though she was sure she must have as she passed through the door. It would be a mistake to set up his bristles but, really, he was suddenly of so little consequence, she barely gave him a thought as she trod lightly up the passageway, her heart singing as she relived, again and again, the kiss in the darkness she’d shared with Jack.
Katherine would have done well to have considered Lord Derry’s feelings a little more. He was positively seething as he accepted a brandy from George after the rest of the household had retired.
“It’s your cousin,” he responded after George asked him why he was looking so hangdog. “She says we have no agreement.”
“No agreement? Why, she’s going to marry you, old fellow. Her reputation depends upon it.”
“Apparently not.” Lord Derry began to pace, the contents of his glass sloshing against the side before he downed the drink in one go before pouring another. “By God, I’ve waited a long time. Seven years! And now she’s going to slip out of my fingers.”
George shrugged. “Sometimes one has to accept a hopeless cause. Not worth the trouble, I’d say.”
Lord Derry’s nostrils flared as he glared at George. He must have consumed a great deal for he was not usually prone to such agitation. “I don’t admit defeat so easily.” His breathing was rapid. “There must be some way to persuade her.” He glanced up suddenly. “You don’t suppose there’s someone else?”
“Not that I’ve heard of.” George refilled Derry’s glass. “Come along, old chap. No need to get all maudlin. You’ll find another girl with spirit who’ll suit you even better.”
“I don’t want another. I want Katherine. And I want to vanquish that damned spirit of hers!” He closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped. “That’s not true. I want to make her happy. I know I can.”
George patted his shoulder. “I’m sure you can. And you will.”
“Katherine is devoted to her parents.” Derry sounded gloomier than ever. “Despite the fact Freddy left her with nothing except debts, she has her parents’ support, so she has no need to get married.”
George nodded, considering. “But Katherine is…impulsive. Wayward. Katherine needs bringing into line. Devoted, her family may be, but they think it, too. A discontented widow is more of a wild card than an impulsive debutante who’s still under the authority of her parent.”
He went on. “As a widow, Katherine answers only to herself. She can do what she wants to please herself and there’s not a damned thing her family can do about it.”
“But you’re family. Or at least, you’re th
e son of that aunt she’s so devoted to. Surely you can help me?”
George felt a rare jolt of pleasure at the hopeful, interested look Derry was directing at him. As if George had sway and influence.
Yes, Derry was looking to him to influence matters. Just as Marwick had all those years ago.