Love Me Always (29 page)

A tear slipped down Nick’s cheek. “Thank you, Uncle Grant. This is the best thing you have ever done for me. I do love her and I don’t want to live without her.”

“Then make her yours.”

The knot in Nick’s throat tightened enough to keep words from escaping. He leaned over, gave his uncle a hug then kissed his cheek. Nick watched closely for any more signs of discomfort, but there seemed to be none. Then a peaceful look came over his relative’s face and he opened his eyes again.

“I can see,” Grant exclaimed. “There’s a bright light ahead of me, and I can see it.” His mouth turned into a pleasant smile. “Elizabeth? Is that you?”

Chills shot up Nick’s spine and tears fell in buckets. His uncle was dying and the good Lord had sent Grant’s wife to take him to heaven with her.

Grant said nothing more, but slowly closed his eyes. And just like that, the breath left his lungs. Nick still held his uncle’s hand and could actually feel the very life being taken away. It was as if his uncle pulled his hand out from Nick’s grasp, yet his limb didn’t move. As though a hand slipped gently from a glove.

He sniffed. “Uncle Grant, I love you,” he whispered brokenly before resting his head on the duke’s chest and sobbing out his anguish.

* * * *

“This isn’t proper.” Mrs. Berkley tossed Catherine a scowl as the old woman marched toward the closet with a satchel in her hand. “We must get you packed immediately.”

Catherine’s heart pounded as fear climbed through her body, she grasped the older woman’s elbow as she passed. “Stop now! Don’t touch my clothes. We are not leaving.”

Lines appeared on Mrs. Berkley’s forehead, around her lips, and made crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes. “Grant is dead, and you are now living with his nephews – whom I might add, are not married. If you stay any longer, your name will be tarnished. Rumors will fly through England and neither you nor your father will be able to hold your head in society. And I, for one, will
not
be your companion if that happens.” Her chest heaved as she planted her hands on her beefy hips.

How could Catherine stop Mrs. Berkley from packing? How could she stop her father from taking her back home? They were right. It wasn’t proper...but then again, she couldn’t leave. Since Grant died, she’d waited for Nick to proclaim his love for her to the world; to ask for her hand in marriage on bended knee. It didn’t matter that her mind told her it would never happen, she still could not leave.

Moisture stung her eyes and she turned away from Mrs. Berkley. Agony clenched Catherine’s heart. Her bottom lip trembled, so she bit it to keep it still. Blinking, she tried to hold back the tears.

“What do you wish me to do, Miss Catherine?”

A knot of emotions lodged in Catherine’s throat. What did she wish?
For everyone to go
away
.
I want to be in Nick’s loving arms.
She wanted to be told her girlish dream would come true and Nick would be her husband.

She cleared her throat. “Please, Mrs. Berkley, just one more day. It’s too soon after the funeral.”

“As you wish.”

When the door clicked shut and Catherine remained the only one in the room, she allowed the tears to stream down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook in silent sobs as she clutched the bedpost, her head resting on the smooth, round oak.

If she couldn’t have Nick, how could she live? How could she go from one day to the next knowing he was courting another woman? She sniffed. Plain and simple...she couldn’t go on. And to think she’d have to go back and live with her father?
Impossible!
She wouldn’t live with the man who thought she killed her own mother.

She tore herself away from the post and wiped her eyes. Something had to be done. Now. She couldn’t leave the estate. She
wouldn’t
go! Not without the man she loved.

Straightening her shoulders, she marched to the door, yanked it open and hurried down the hall. Down the corridor, she saw Hodgson, so hurried to catch up to him. When he saw her, he smiled and gave her a hug.

“My dear, Catherine.” He rubbed his thumb underneath her eyes. “You’ve been crying again.”

She shrugged. “It seems lately I cannot control my tears. They burst forth no matter how hard I try to stop them.”

“
They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.
”

Catherine grinned from the verse in Psalms he quoted. How could she forget he grew up with her father and attended the same sermons her grandfather gave? “Thank you, Hodgson. I firmly believe one day I’ll reap in joy…but it’s so hard to know what will happen next in my life.”

“Nobody knows the outcome, my dear.”

She sighed heavily. “Very true.” She clutched his hand. “I’m relieved to know I shall always have your love and support.”

“Until the ends of the earth.”

“Hodgson? Have you seen Father? I really need to speak with him.”

“I haven’t. Would you like me to help you find him?”

“Thank you, but no. This is something I have to do on my own.”

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Determined to talk to her father, she hurried toward her destination.

* * * *

Fielding, old chap, you’re in mourning for one year.
Nick glanced at his solemn reflection in the rain-splattered window. Outside, the wind blew hard against the glass. Trees bent so far they threatened to break. Heavy, dark clouds mirrored his tattered emotions.

His uncle had given him permission to take Catherine as his wife, yet society would require him to wait twelve months to do it.

It had been this morning since they laid Grant in the earth. His final resting place. Now there was a new duke...head of the estate and the shipping companies; one who wanted to go against society and make himself happy. Would he disappoint his family by wanting to follow his heart so soon after the funeral?

A knock came upon the study door, announcing two people he didn’t really want to see at this moment. Gregg and Ian walked in. Both moved to the liquor tray and fixed their drinks before taking a chair. The drab black mourning garb they were required to wear for the next year did nothing to help their dreary expressions. In fact, it made them gloomier.

During the funeral, Gregg hadn’t left Catherine’s side for one minute. How Nick had wanted to stand beside her, giving her the comfort and love he’d dreamed about for so long. But all eyes were upon him, expecting him to act proper. To behave proper...just as he’d been taught.

Nick sat back in his chair and linked his fingers over his stomach. “Have all the guests departed?”

Gregg nodded. “Catherine saw the last one to the door a couple hours ago. She retired to her room soon afterward.”

“She’s certainly been a godsend. She’s been so helpful these past several days.” Nick massaged the ache in his bruised arm. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Ian humphed and shifted in his chair, bringing his drink to his lips and gulping a large amount as he trying to drown out his sorrow…or was it anger?

Nick scrubbed his hand over his unshaven chin. His brother had been acting this way for a little while. So different from the way he’d been with Catherine when she first arrived. It seemed Ian had been upset with her more than necessary. Definitely, something was on his brother’s mind, and Nick would get his sibling to talk even if he had to strangle it out of him.

He leaned forward in his chair. “Ian? What ails you? Is your drink not to your satisfaction?”

Ian rolled his eyes. “My drink is fine.”

“I’m sure you’re aware,” Nick continued leaning forward, “that eventually both you and Gregg will have to give up that sin altogether.”

Ian scowled. “What sin?”

“Drinking, of course.”

Gregg chuckled and took a gulp out of his drink. Ian shook his head. “Nick, this is the way we are. I do not rather care if you’re vexed with my vise. And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your sermons for the good church members.”

Nick gave his brother a hard stare. Indeed, something was upsetting Ian. “Obviously, you have something on your mind. Would you please share it so we can know why you have been so irritated lately?”

Ian brother shot him a glare. “I don’t wish to share at this time.”

Gregg met Nick’s gaze, then switched to the younger Ian. “You’ve been acting this way for a few days, maybe even longer. Something is wrong and I think you should tell Nick what it is.”

“I agree with Gregg. Tell me what’s bothering you.” Nick pushed his fingers through his hair and leaned on the desk beside him. “Your temperament is annoying.”

Ian huffed and jumped to his feet. In two long strides, he stood in front of Nick. “Annoying? Well, what irritates me is seeing both of my brothers fawning over a woman who just may be insane.”

Nick bunched his hands. “Explain yourself before I release my temper with my fists and you find yourself on the floor.”

“That...woman,” he ground out, motioning toward the closed door, “is not in her right mind.”

Gregg bounded to his feet and quick as lightning stood in front of Ian. He grasped his younger brother’s shoulders and gave him a hard shake. “Why do you say this? You are sounding like the crazed person.”

Ian flung out his arms, breaking the contact. “The only crazed person in this house is Catherine. Her father was right...”

Nick rose to his feet, anger seething inside him and growing with each second that passed. “What did her father say to make you believe such rubbish?”

“The colonel said his wife had been cursed with insanity and now Catherine is showing signs. He fears for our safety.”

“Augh!” Gregg paced the floor. “I cannot believe I’m hearing this. It’s utter nonsense!” He stopped in front of Ian. “
Our safety?
What does Colonel Martin expect Catherine to do? Harm one of us? That dainty woman doesn’t have the strength to even knock one of us to our knees and you well know it.”

Nick actually agreed with Gregg...but the fact still remained, why was Ian so adamant about this?

“Colonel Martin explained that to me,” Ian continued. “When a person has gone mad they have the strength of the devil himself. Catherine is possessed, I tell you.”

“That’s hogwash,” Gregg shouted.

“Ian.” Nick stepped closer. “Why have you suddenly turned against Catherine? Do you have proof she has gone insane?”

Ian frowned. “Not exactly...”

“Then why fling the accusations without proof?” Gregg accused, pointing a finger in Ian’s chest.

Pushing Gregg away, Ian glared. “Because she’s been seen around the people who were injured...right before they were injured, in fact.”

Gregg’s arms lifted, his fists ready to fly. Nick stood between his brothers before Gregg let his temper get away from him.

Nick narrowed his gaze on his brother. “Ian, explain yourself or I’ll do the boxing instead of Gregg.”

Ian huffed and marched toward the window, leaning against the frame. “Catherine had been with Uncle Grant in the buggy when he had his first attack. She was seen at the stables before Gregg’s saddle was cut. A few servants saw Catherine speaking to Mary hours before the maid was killed.” Over his shoulder, he pierced Nick with a stare. “And the colonel said he saw her near your carriage before you left that night. Some servants witnessed her near our uncle’s room before his last attack.”

“Good grief, Ian. Of course Catherine had been in those places...she lives here or have you forgotten?” Nick swung around, raking his fingers through his hair.

Ian glared. “Admit it, Nick. All of these so-called accidents are too coincidental.”

“What possible reason would she have to want to harm us?”

A slow chuckle started from Gregg that quickly ballooned to a roaring laugh. Nick arched a brow at his demented brother. Perhaps Gregg had been consumed with madness instead.

Gregg shook his head. “Ian, I cannot understand why you would think the worst in Catherine just because of this. You should know her better like Nick and I do.”

Ian’s eyes darkened, and Nick waited for fire to shoot out.

“And I cannot believe you. Either of you,” Ian said. “She has batted her eyelashes and put both my brothers in a trance. Why not try using your brain to think instead of your heart?”

In three strides, Nick stood in front of his brother and grasped the lapels of his jacket. He lifted him in the air and pushed him against the wall. “I ought to strangle the very life from you for saying that.”

Ian chuckled. “What’s wrong, Nick old man? Is the truth so distasteful? Does the nectar from Cat’s kisses hide reality from you?”

Nick growled and gave his brother another shake, ready to plow his fist through his sibling’s face. The soft tap on the study room door stopped Nick from doing what he wanted. He’d do it later when they were alone. Then he could pound some sense into him.

Releasing his hold, he took a deep breath to control his anger. He turned toward the door as Gregg hurried to open it.

Standing in the hallway, twisting her hands against her stomach, stood Patsy, Nick’s deceased driver’s wife. Poor woman. It’d only been a few days since her husband had died in the accident. Nobody had time to mourn for Timothy or attend his funeral.