Catherine Brisby? Martha’s sister?
“See her i–” he cut off, his body going still from how he had been readjusting already at the thought of the company as his butler was forced forward and the sitting room door opened further from the hallway without him ever finishing his sentence.
“I told him not to stand on protocol,” Catherine huffed, bustling past the affronted-looking butler with a warm smile as she swept into the room amid the heavy wave of perfume that came with her. “We’re family, I told him, but he insisted!”
She clucked as if she couldn’t believe the affront, and Henry hurried to rise to his feet, his own smile stiff on his lips ashe quickly received her and bent to kiss her proffered cheek just as he had done all the years she had been his sister-in-law.
“Catherine,” he greeted as warmly as he was able, unable quite to keep the question from her name. “How lovely to see you. I didn’t know you were in town. How long has it been? Two … three years?”
Catherine’s smile faltered, her eyes narrowing slightly before she fixed her expression into one of pleasantness and backed away to take a seat across from the chair Henry had just risen out of to greet her.
“Three years,” she sighed. “Yes. I didn’t realize it had been quite so long.”
Henry had.
He hadn’t actually needed to ask. He hadn’t seen her since the evening of Martha’s funeral, that awkward scene still hanging between them like a burial shroud.
“We’ve just been so busy,” Catherine continued quickly, her tone overly cheery. “John has all his business in London, and we’ve received so many different invitations to travel abroad I could hardly refuse!”
“John.” Henry eagerly latched onto the subject. “Did he travel with you?” He only just stopped himself from lookingtowards the door as if in hopes that he would wander in later than his wife.
Catherine’s expression faltered again, her nose wrinkling before she smoothed her features. “Oh, no. You know John and his … exploits.”
Henry did, though he was surprised Catherine made such a bald mention of them. And even more uncomfortable because she had. Catherine’s husband’s preference for women whose company he paid to keep over his wife’s was something that Henry had always tried to ignore. And the only fault he had ever found with the otherwise agreeable man.
“I kept myself busy,” Catherine continued, brushing the topic off as one might a gnat. “I needed to regardless of how things … And … well,” her voice faltered, her eyes dropping as all the positivity seemed to seep out of her. “With Martha …”
Her name struck Henry like an anvil, his own practised social smile faltering as his heart wrenched to a halt within his ribs.
“It just still feels so sudden,” Catherine murmured. “As if it were just yesterday.”
The air in the room had grown frigid, Henry’s grief lifting to encompass him like a too-well-worn blanket.
“And then I saw your betrothal announcement in the paper,” Catherine continued, her eyes finally lifting to meet his once more, a shadow passing behind them so quickly he almost thought he had imagined it.
He winced, his teeth gritting together at how she had phrased it and how accusatory he took it despite what he was sure were just her curious intentions.
“Yes,” Henry muttered, still off balance and taking a moment to clear his throat. “I really ought to have written to you first …”
“Oh, nonsense,” Catherine demurred. “A … happy occasion indeed. Where did you meet the young lady? And … when?”
When.
Again, her phrasing struck him, his mind putting a dastardly spin on her normal line of questioning. A spin he had to fight to ignore as he slowly sank back into his own chair.
“I met her here,” he answered honestly. “And just the other day.”
Catherine didn’t bother to hide her surprise or how scandalous she found the news, her face dropping as disappointment filled it.
For a moment, Henry was almost actually ashamed.
“It’s an arranged marriage, Catherine.” He cleared his throat again, feeling rather silly for having to explain himself. “I need heirs. I wouldn’t want you to think–” he cut off, his throat closing over the words. “I wouldn’t want you to think I had met her any earlier.” The implication that he might have entertained her before was left silent in the back of his throat. “A marriage of convenience.”
Catherine’s eyes were shrewd, her gaze intense as he spoke. Her expression cleared some, though she wasn’t quite smiling as she nodded. “Of course. I could never think poorly of you, Henry. You must know that.”
Henry’s lips twitched in what he hoped was some semblance of a relieved smile. However, with the way she stressed her words and the odd tone behind them, he felt anything but.
“I could be your wife, Henry.”
