Katherine
"So how did it go?"
"How did what go?" I inquired, glancing at my mother, who sat beside me with her own needle and thread, each of us stitching delicate patterns into the cotton caps recently acquired in preparation for my new station as a wife.
Shirley—ordinarily the first to steal the prime spot by the tea tray and incessantly inquiring when we might be done—was nowhere to be seen.
I had overheard the maids gossiping that she had taken to spinning dreams for the stable boys, footmen, and any poor soul inclined to lend an ear. Perhaps today, she was regaling Cook instead.
"The coupling with lord Stratford," Mother said plainly.
The title sounded strange coming from her lips, perhaps because not too long ago she had been the wife to a man answering it.
"There's no need for coyness, are you in any pain, discomfort, ache?" She asked, parodying Lewis earlier concerns.
Pausing my embroidery, I fixed her with a steady glance. "We did not couple, Mother."
An uncomfortable silence settled over our heads as we stared at one another.
"Why ever not?"
"Because Cillian didn't want to force himself on me, he…" I paused, giving her an answer different from the one I had mentally prepared.
"Ah. Cillian is a good man," she said, her voice soft with something akin to relief.
I heard the silent comparison with my father and looked back at my piece to continue the embroidery.
"Did he say when he intends to call upon you again?"
Hopefully never. "I suspect he'll allow his prudish wife a reprieve before attempting again," I said with a lift of my chin, pride blooming in my chest.
"I take it that you'd rather he takes a mistress then, men always seem to go the extra mile for a warm and willing…"
My air in my chest whizzed out. I hadn't thought about it, Cillian taking a lover to satisfy his needs because men were like dogs and would have from anyone anywhere.
I barely registered Mother's voice until I saw her studying me, her expression bearing the familiar softness she wore whenever I was hurt.
"Don't pity me," I snapped. "I know what I'm about. He may take a mistress if he pleases. When I am ready, I shall provide an heir. As Father wished."
"Kat…"
The door creaked open just then, saving her from finishing the thought. Luther appeared in the doorway, posture stiff and voice clipped as ever. "Lady Briona."
Before he could finish, she swept past him, her skirts billowing as she approached with that infuriatingly confident air. Strutting towards where my mother and I sat.
Disgust on his face, Luther turned to go but I stopped him with my words. "Please fetch a servant that would prepare tea and biscuits for us."
I rose slightly, putting on the guise of a composed hostess. "We had not expected your visit, Marchioness."
We hadn't been expecting her ever, after she had missed fathers burial and my shot gun marriage despite how close she had been with father because of her husband's trades.
"Ah, the funeral. My mother was indisposed at that time, necessitating my prolonged attendance. But I have returned. May your late father rest in peace."
"Thank you," I replied coolly. "And what brings you here on such a fine day?"
Her eyes sparkled as if recalling some forgotten thought and she sat more upright in her seat.
"Ah, indeed. I understand congratulations are due. Word has it you have taken your mother's place and assumed the title Lady Stratford."
"Well…" She cut me off with a wry smile. "The new lord is a man of fine calibre, I must say. Strong hands, broad shoulders, and a striking visage. I chanced upon him and your sister riding together just as I arrived. Your sister's joy suggested she might have been the bride instead. They looked perfectly content."
The servant with a tray of the requested tea and biscuits interrupted at the perfect time, dropping the tray in front of the both of us and quickly excusing herself.
To distract myself from her words, I picked up the teapot, forgetting to ask how she liked her tea and turned a generous amount for both of us, with two sugars each.
I drank the hot tea and it burned a path down my throat only to get to my stomach and feel sour.
My mother's words echoed within me. Cillian might be inclined to keep a mistress—but would he stoop to taking my own sister? Knowing his bitter rancour towards my father, and by extension myself, this might be the cruelest blow of all.
Keeping my elder sister as his mistress only to get me with the heir when I was ready.
I gulped.
"I meant not to sour your spirits, Lady Stratford," Lady Briona continued softly. "but such marriages of haste typically favour the lady. It is hardly surprising a gentleman might seek solace elsewhere, pursuing what he truly desires…"
"You've done enough Briona. I am glad your mother is well enough for you to return to twin and continue ruining the moods of others," mother said rising from the chair where she has sat quietly at the corner of the room.
The marchioness rose, scoffing.
"I am here only to impart some wisdom to your daughter, urging her to be less inflexible with her husband, as you once were, lest she suffer a fate similar to your own."
What precisely she meant by that I could not fathom.
Gathering her skirts, she made her exit without partaking of refreshments, leaving me to ponder her words.
"Ignore the woman Katherine, Cillian and Shirley wouldn't…"
"Excuse me mother." I shot to my feet and stormed out, unwilling to be pitied by anyone at all and made my way to fathers study, well now Cillian's as he is the lord.
The familiar scent of aged paper and faint cigar smoke lingered, a ghost of Father's presence. The room looked as Father had always kept it, save for a few scattered letters upon the desk.
Drawn by curiosity, I approached and picked up one with a broken Earl's seal. Curios to know something probably kept a secret from me, I walked to the table and took one of the letters.
I shouldn't be here.
But something was gnawing at me.
It had the Earls seal, but it was broken. Perhaps a letter that father had written a while ago. Opening the letter confirmed my suspicions, it had been from father. His neat cursive handwriting decorated the paper l, leaving no doubt he had written it.
And he had written it to Cillian.
The letter was unreasonably long, first informing Cillian of new arrangements which had been made for him to continue his service, then outlined everything which he was forbidden to do or risk loosing it and finally father spoke about attaching a painted image of his future wife, an image that was missing from the letter.
"I believe that you reading my letters has granted me the permission to read the ones you are constantly bent over writing," Cillian asked from behind me.
I had been too engrossed in wanting to know what he and father spoke about that I hadn't heard him coming.
"My letters?"
The one I write to the man I'd rather marry than be stuck with him.
"Yes, the one to Everett, if I am not mistaken."
"Ah." I fought a blush and shook my head letting go of his letter and turning around the look at him.
He leaned leisurely against the wall next to him, gradually perusing my figure as I stood looking like a deer caught in headlights.
"Since your arrival, you have declared my father deserving of your wrath. Yet this letter suggests he cared for your welfare."
"Of course you would think so," I replied stiffly. "What prudent man would write anything incriminating, should it become evidence?"
Cillian pushed off the wall, closing the distance between us. "Know that I do not seek to intimidate, my dear wife. By law, I am your husband and guardian. That authority alone carries weight beyond mere threats."
He twirled a stray lock of my hair between his fingers, a mischievous smile curving his lips as he leaned close enough that our breaths mingled.
Keep searching, Katherine. You may yet discover what truly ended your father."
Blood rushed to my ears and my spine stiffened, but I held my ground.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I require solitude in my office."