The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(71)

“Katherine,” Mrs. Whittier said, “I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now, but I love your father. I just—”

“He didn’t care how I felt about this,” she continued, backing out of the room. “And why would he? I haven’t any control over what happens, obviously. All these decisions are made without any thought whatsoever to my consideration.”

The betrothal agreement, the gain and loss of the museum property, her father’s engagement. Even the land Preston had purchased for her. None of it had been her decision, yet her life was greatly impacted by it.

“Katherine, you’re being rude,” her aunt admonished. “And I cannot believe you are begrudging your father this happiness.”

Katherine shook her head, more tears burning her eyes. It was too much. Today, of all days, it was too much to learn that her father was beginning another life with another woman. She would be forced to see Mrs. Whittier everywhere. At her mother’s breakfast table, in her mother’s garden.

In her mother’s bedchamber.

Katherine bent over, her hand pressed tight to her stomach as she struggled to breathe. She didn’t particularly care if anyone thought her rude or childish. This was more than she could handle at the moment, and pretending to be happy about it was impossible.

Without another word, she whirled and ran upstairs.

Tears blurred her eyes as she reached her bedchamber, her limbs shaking with anger and frustration. She considered throwing herself on her bed and having a good cry, but there wasn’t any comfort in it. Not in this house, surrounded by the memory of her mother and the specter of her father’s new life. Nor did she want to stay in this city, where thoughts of Preston loomed around every corner.

No, she couldn’t stay here.

It felt like she was about to crack open, like her bones and flesh couldn’t contain all of the emotions inside her. She wanted solace and solitude. Away from everyone she knew, someplace where only she mattered. Somewhere far, like Spain.

Could she board a steamer and sail away?

She grabbed a small traveling case from her closet and threw it on the bed. Just as she gathered an armful of clothing, her bedroom door opened.

Aunt Dahlia appeared, her lips twisted in remorse. “Katherine, I’m terribly sorry. I shouldn’t have told you like that. I should’ve let your father do it, but I . . . well, it doesn’t matter now. Are you all right?”

“No,” Katherine choked out, wiping away a tear. “I’m definitely not all right.”

“Oh, you poor dear.” Her aunt came forward and regarded the clothing on the bed. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“Leaving. I need some time alone. Away from New York. Away from this house.”

“This is very dramatic, Katherine. You can’t just run away from us. You must be chaperoned—”

Katherine gave a harsh bark of laughter. “You’re worried about my virtue at a time like this? You must be joking.”

“It has been my primary concern for two years, so yes. I am worried about your virtue.”

What would her aunt say if she knew there was no virtue to worry about, thanks to Preston Clarke?

Walking to her wardrobe, Katherine gathered more things and tossed them on the bed. “I’m not running away. And I don’t care if it’s dramatic or not—I cannot stay here.”

“Did something else happen? Something other than your father’s engagement?”

The knot in Katherine’s chest tightened.

Your father stole it from me. I’m merely setting things to rights.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said as more tears fell.

“It matters to me. Tell me what’s happened to upset you.”

She couldn’t, not without revealing her stupidity in falling in love with Preston. “I don’t want to talk about it, not right now. I’m going back to Spain.”

Aunt Dahlia put her hands on her hips. “Over my dead body, young lady. You are not going across the ocean, to a foreign country, without a proper escort. It’s bad enough you’re traveling to the Meliora Club without a chaperone, but I won’t allow you to go all the way to Spain by yourself.”

Unfortunately, her aunt could prevent Katherine from leaving the house in any number of ways. But there were other properties her family owned where she could be by herself. “Fine, then I’ll go to Newport.”

“The cottage is closed for the season. Only the lodge in the Adirondacks is open.”

“Fine. The Adirondacks, then.”

Her aunt’s gaze turned skeptical. “You want to sit in the middle of the woods in that musty cabin all by yourself?”

A few days away from the reminders and anyone who wanted to talk to her? That sounded like heaven at the moment.

“Yes,” Katherine said, putting her hands together, begging. “That is exactly what I want. Will you help me? I can’t stay here.” Her voice broke. “I just can’t. Please, Aunt Dahlia.”

“Oh, you know I can’t resist you when you cry. I never had my own children, but you’re like a daughter to me.” She dabbed at her eyes with her fingers, as if trying to stave off her own tears. “If I let you go, how will you look after yourself up there without a cook or a maid?”

“I’ll be fine, I swear. I’ll pack some food and extra clothing. And I won’t stay long. Just a few days.” She didn’t know if that was true or not, but figured it would ease her aunt’s mind.