A Stranger at Castonbury(37)
She curled her hands into fists and buried them in the folds of her skirt to keep from shouting out. The woman had used Jamie’s name, used the tragedy of his death, to further her own ambitions. She had come here to his house, claiming a place that should have been Catalina’s, if so many things had been different.
Catalina closed her eyes and bit back a sob. She had never wanted this place; it would have been as nothing without Jamie. She could never have belonged here, especially not without him. Yet it sounded as if for a time Alicia had belonged here.
‘It was very hard for the duke to learn the truth,’ Elena said. ‘I understood he had become quite fond of the child. But now that Jamie is home again and the money troubles solved, I am sure all will be well. Everyone is eager for him to find a real wife soon. Especially Giles, I think. He never wanted to be the heir.’
Catalina laughed. If only they knew! And if only she knew what to do now. How to make it right. ‘A real wife?’
‘I think that may be why your Miss Westman was invited.’
‘Miss Westman?’ Catalina looked at Elena in astonishment. She had wondered herself if Lydia might make a match with another Montague cousin—but Jamie, the heir to the dukedom? ‘Is she truly thought of as a bride for Lord Hatherton?’
‘Did you not suspect? Harry is quite sure of it. No one has seen her in so long, and yet the duke insisted at the last minute that she must come,’ Elena said. ‘It does make a sort of sense. After all that has happened, the duke will want his heir’s wife to be someone he can be sure of.’
‘Lydia has a generous dowry, but not a large one,’ Catalina murmured.
‘That will not matter so much now that the inheritance troubles are in the past. Miss Westman is family, pretty and well-bred, well-behaved thanks to you. All of Jamie’s siblings have made slightly shocking marriages, some rather more scandalous than others. But Jamie is the heir. Miss Westman will be an extremely proper match.’
Catalina looked at Lydia where she sat perched in the boat. She held her lacy parasol on her shoulder and was smiling shyly at the curate, her red-gold curls and pink cheeks so pretty in the sunlight. Lydia was a sweet girl, and always eager to please. As open and kind as a warm summer’s day. She would never give the Montagues trouble or cause to fear more scandal. Unlike Catalina.
Yet Catalina also knew that being a duchess was no easy task, and the boisterous Montagues were no easy family. Like Jamie, they were complicated. Had she been sent here to help Lydia learn a new role? To help her be a suitable Marchioness of Hatherton?
It was so very strange she had to laugh. Could she let Jamie go to find a truly proper wife? She knew she could, that she had to. What they had in Spain had been nothing more than a dream, a wild folly. It could never have survived here with the pressures of everyday life. Lydia was truly more suited to this life in many ways. She was English.
Yet Catalina couldn’t stop the shiver that went through her when she remembered how it felt when he touched her last night. How she couldn’t quit staring at him, fearing that he would vanish again. And then she would never know the truth.
She rose from the bench and shook out her skirt. ‘I should make sure Lydia comes inside soon. I understand we are to go to the Assembly Rooms in Buxton tonight, and she should rest before then.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Elena said brightly. ‘I should see if I can persuade Harry to...take a rest as well. I have so enjoyed our talk, Mrs Moreno. I hope we can converse more soon.’
‘I have enjoyed meeting you as well,’ Catalina answered. It had been very educational—and given her a great deal more to think about. She turned and hurried down to the small boat dock to wait for Lydia to return to shore while Elena went to meet her husband.
Catalina saw what she had to do now. Let Jamie go to find his true wife. But how was she to do that?
And how was she to persuade her heart that it had to cease to care?
Chapter Ten
The lane leading to the Buxton Assembly Rooms was crowded with carriages, moving so slowly, inching forward, so that surely everyone for miles around was just waiting there on the road. And Catalina was sure that at least half the equipages belonged to Castonbury.
She drew her shawl closer around her shoulders and peered out of the window at the buildings creeping past. Ahead of her was the great landau bearing Lily and Giles, along with the duke and Mrs Landes-Fraser. And behind was Jamie in a dashing little new curricle. Not that she had paid any attention—except to be all too acutely aware of where he was at every minute.