“Showing up with no notice,” Catherine teased, a pleased look filling her features as she crossed the room to stand in front of Henry with no apparent sign of knowing why he had come. “I am very glad to see you though, Henry, however unexpected.”
Her words weren’t inappropriate in the slightest, though the way she spoke them was enough to send a sliver of discomfort down Henry’s spine. She looked up at him coquettishly, her smile growing with each word, her voice dropping in places that changed the tone of what she said entirely.
As if he had come to visit her led by passion.
“I do apologize for the lack of notice,” Henry murmured somewhat more stiffly than he would have liked. “I had been hoping to see you and John …”
Catherine’s pleased expression flickered, her eyes narrowing slightly before her smile was pasted almost immediately back in place. “John prefers London, Henry. I just told you that the other day. My husband and his preferences.” Her laugh was short and bitter, her fingers flicking as if to dismiss the topic entirely.
“Ah, yes. Well–”
“His mistresses,” Catherine continued frankly, finally saying aloud what she had been alluding to since last they met. “They’re always in London, you know. And his preference for them is the entire reason I’ve remained so barren.”
Henry was struck mute.
He didn’t know what to say in the face of her candour about such a subject, the bluntness of her words catching him off guard and momentarily making him forget why he had come in the first place.
She sounded bitter talking about John’s mistresses. More than bitter. She sounded … barren just like she had said. And Henry suddenly realized that maybe more than just one griefhad driven her to her recent actions. And maybe that combined grief could explain how over the top and opulent her country home was.
“Have I offended you, Henry?” Catherine almost looked apologetic, her smile softening as she gestured to the loveseat in front of the window. “That wasn’t my intention.”
Henry cleared his throat, following her and sitting carefully after she did.
“You didn’t offend me,” he told her honestly. “Surprised, rather.”
“By talking so freely of John’s exploits? Or by mentioning my lack of children again?”
“Both.” Henry felt himself relaxing infinitesimally with the frankness of their conversation. She wasn’t batting her eyelashes at him or selling herself like some sow on a shelf for him to pay for. She was just speaking to him, laying out her scars like one might do with a friend.
And that was so much easier for him to handle.
Grief was a heavy burden.
“After our meeting the other day, I gave our conversation more thought,” she admitted. “I realized that maybe we could understand one another better than I had expected.”
Henry didn’t know how to take that. Not with how she had approached their last two meetings.
“Wanting an heir and being unable to have one is a hard thing,” Catherine said softly, a look passing over her features that Henry equally didn’t understand before she looked down to where her hands were clasped in her lap.
Henry felt his sympathy deepen.
Catherine had known more loss than almost anyone he knew. Her parents, Martha, her loveless marriage. And the loss of her dream to be a mother as well? He reached out without thinking about it, placing his hand atop hers.
“You could have talked to me about this any time, Catherine. I’m sorry if I made you feel as if you couldn’t. After Martha …” he hesitated, his throat tight. “I was so consumed by my own grief I’m afraid I did you a disservice by not being there for you more.”
Catherine didn’t look up, what looked like tears gathering in her eyes as she turned her hand over to grip his with obviously strong emotion.
“You were grieving,” Catherine murmured, finally looking up with a look of such compassion that Henry was almost staggered by it. “We were grieving,” she corrected. “Let us agree not to hold it against one another, shall we?”
Relief filled Henry as he nodded. To have her be so understanding and have come to her senses all on her own without his ever having to have discussed it with her was so much more than he could have hoped for.
“Grief makes us do crazy things,” he agreed, forgiving her already as he squeezed her hand.
“I told myself that after meeting Lady Josephine.” Catherine half-laughed. “I never imagined …”
“No, no,” Henry held up a hand, stopping her from having to apologize again. “Give that no more thought, Catherine.”
Her eyes shone as she smiled at him, her body shifting as she leaned forward.
