“I know,” Katie said over her shoulder. “But you were napping, and Big George had a question, and it was easier to go with him than try to explain.” That was partially true. She didn’t add that she had already been at the Fallows’ cottage when Big George asked his question.
“But my lady,” Mrs. Murray said, following Katie into her bedchamber. “Your father would not approve of your spending so much time at the tenant farms, especially not unchaperoned.”
Katie turned. “The duchess visits the farms all the time. No one chides her.”
“Was Her Grace at the Fallows’ farm today?”
“No.”
“Then you were unchaperoned. She no longer requires a chaperone.”
“I don’t require a chaperone either,” Katie said. “Once someone sees my birthmark, they don’t even want to look me in the face. I’m not worried I’ll be ravished on the side of the road.”
“You could be robbed, or…”
Mrs. Murray went on, but the thought of the road made Katie remember the Duke of Carlisle. He was the reason she’d come home so angry. Imagine seeing the man strolling down the lane just as free as you please in his expensive clothing from all the best shops in London while his tenants starved. She should not have spoken to him as she had. She should not have chastised him. That wasn’t her place. Katie wasn’t certain what had even come over her. Perhaps it was because she’d just left the Fallows’ cottage and she was angry that even though she was helping to improve their home, the family still looked thin and hungry.
But there was no use in taking her anger out on the duke. The land and the farmers weren’t his responsibility any longer. That responsibility fell on her family now, and the truth was that she was angry with herself for moping about in her room for weeks instead of helping where she was needed.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Murray,” Katie said, interrupting the litany of dangers waiting for her outside the walls of the great house. “I shouldn’t have gone, but it’s hard to sit about and read or sew when there’s so much to be done. I feel as though I should help the farmers.”
“You are not one to be idle,” Mrs. Murray said. “I wish you could write to your friends in London, but your father forbids it.”
Of course he did. She didn’t have any friends besides Mrs. Kretz, and the marquess worried if Katie wrote her, they’d hatch another plan to hie away to Paris.
“I did ask him if he might send some of your art supplies—perhaps a pencil and sketch paper.”
Katie felt her heart clench, and she clasped her hands tightly in hopeful anticipation.
“But he still refuses.”
Katie sighed. Why had she even hoped? Her father would never allow her to draw or paint again. That was another reason she wanted to help the tenant farmers. She missed painting desperately, and helping the families, and especially the children, took her mind off the hole in her life created by the absence of her art.
“I saw the Duke of Carlisle on my way back,” Katie said. And then she saw the look on Mrs. Murray’s face and wished she could take the words back.
“The duke is here?” Mrs. Murray asked, her eyes wide.
“He has come to visit his mother. I encountered him walking down the lane on the way to the dower house.”
“And you”—she gestured to Katie—“looking like that? And without your veil?”
Katie felt her cheeks heat at the implication she should have been hiding her birthmark. She lowered her head, feeling suddenly self-conscious, even though she hadn’t felt that way all day. “I sincerely doubt the duke cares what I look like with or without my veil. My father won the duke’s estate in a card game. I daresay the duke and I will not be friends.” Mrs. Murray opened her mouth as though to argue, but Katie held up a hand. “Furthermore, after the way he has treated his tenants, I hope I never see him again. He is a disgrace, and I told him so.”
“Y-you said that to the duke?”
“I did.” Katie lifted a brush and attempted to pull it through her tangled hair. “I had just come from the Fallows’ farm and was still angry at the condition the tenants are living in.”
“But to insult the man to his face? That’s not like you, my lady.”
Mrs. Murray was correct. Katie never argued or made a scene. She didn’t like people, especially men, to look at her. Even when her father had sent her away, she hadn’t argued. She’d just packed her things and done as he bade. But the difference was that Katie had never spoken on someone else’s behalf before. She couldn’t imagine speaking up for herself, but it was different when she advocated for someone else.
“You’re right, Mrs. Murray. But there is something about speaking up for others that makes me brave. In any case, I doubt I will see the duke again. I’m sure he will not stay long with his mother.” She pulled the brush out of her hair and frowned at it.
“Perhaps you would like me to call for a bath, my lady? We could walk after dinner.”
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Murray.”
When the companion was gone, Katie went to her window and looked out. She couldn’t see the dower house from thiswindow, and she doubted the duchess would walk by today. She was welcoming the prodigal son. Why had he come home, and how soon would he be on his way again? Katie hoped he could fix his coach and be gone by tomorrow. She didn’t ever want to see him again.
