down the wide hall. She hesitated a moment and then swept up her damply clinging skirt and proceeded in the direction he’d indicated.
On her left was a vast salon, perfectly proportioned from the sweep of its tall Palladian windows that lined the wall to the graceful Adam fireplace and the finely executed plaster medallions overhead. And perfectly empty. Catherine wandered in, wondering what she was supposed to do. She turned, allowing a small sarcastic lift of one beautifully shaped auburn brow.
“And?” she said.
“This way,” he commanded and, shrugging, she followed.
It was exactly the same over the entire lower level of the mansion: elegant rooms of stately design and size, completely unfurnished. Raven didn’t comment as he led her through the vast dimness, their footsteps echoing over the bare floors. He took her finally into a small study, sparsely furnished with a huge desk and chair, another chair facing the desk, and a tall cabinet. The surface of the desk was cluttered with ledgers and papers. “I had thought, if you didn’t mind, that I would leave this as it is. To serve as my office. And there’s a small bedroom that I’ve left as I found it, simply for convenience. However, if you have any objections, I assure you I won’t stand in your way in redecorating those. I myself have little interest in such things. A chair and a bed and I’m perfectly happy.”
“This is your house?” Catherine asked, beginning to make some sense of this mysterious tour. “You’re living here.”
“A rather Spartan existence at present. But soon, I hope-”
“Inmy redecorating?” she interrupted, having just registered the gist of his explanation. “You expect me to redecorate?”
“I promised a house you might furnish as you pleased.”
“This… You intend that I… That you and I…” Despite several attempts, she couldn’t seem to complete the suggestion he once again appeared to be making. Apparently her father had not convinced him that he couldn’t have what he had decided he wanted. “Mr. Raven, you must realize—”
“They tell me it’s rare that such a property becomes available in Mayfair. That such houses as this seldom change hands. It was the first one they showed me, and I must confess, I felt it to be perfect. However, you know far more about such matters than I. If you think—”
“Mr. Raven…” She broke in again and then found herself at a loss. Nothing she said seemed to make an impression. Nothing her father had said or done seemed to matter at all. John Raven was without a doubt the most obstinate man she’d ever met.
“Then it won’t do?” he asked in the sudden silence.
“It’s not the house. It’s wonderful. You must know that.”
“The original furnishings are in storage, until you’ve had the opportunity to choose any of them you wish to keep. Or you may discard them all and begin anew. My solicitor assured me there are some very fine pieces among them, however. I’ll make arrangements for you to see everything as soon as—”
“Mr. Raven,” she interrupted, more strongly than before.
He stopped. The small depression at the corner of his lips deepened, but his expression was otherwise under perfect control, the blue eyes resting on her face with polite interest.
“I can’t marry you,” she said softly.
He glanced down briefly at the toe of his evening shoe, which gleamed softly at the bottom of his impeccably cut formal trousers, and she saw the breath he took before he spoke.
“Then perhaps I should show you the second thing I brought you here to see,” Raven said.
“Perhaps that would be wise,” Catherine agreed. “And then you promised to have me returned to my father’s house. I can only hope that he hasn’t already found that I’m not there.”
“Your father won’t be home for at least another hour.”
“How can you possibly…” The realization was as startling as the idea that he could simply bribe her father’s trusted servant to do whatever he wished. “You arranged for my father to be called away. So you could bring me here.”
“If things don’t turn out tonight as I hope they will, it seemed the safest way for you. No one will know that you’ve been here. Tom will take you home, and nothing will ever be said about your visit. If you decide that’s what you want.”
“If I decide?” she questioned.
“After you’ve seen what I would like to show you now.”
There seemed to be nothing to do but let him play out this fantasy, whatever else he had in mind. Whatever else he had to show her. Jewelry? she wondered, trying to think what he had mentioned in the original offer.
Turning, he chose a paper from the clutter on the desk and held it out to her.
Catherine had hesitated in the doorway, somehow reluctant to enter the suddenly too small confines of the room, which he seemed to dominate simply by standing, completely unmoving, waiting for her to take the paper he offered. In the dimness, his eyes shone in the spare, rugged beauty of his face.
Beauty? She repeated that incredible thought, wondering at her own description.
Shaking her head slightly to break the spell he always cast over her senses, she walked forward, laid her gloves and reticule on the desk and took the proffered sheet. She looked down at what she held, expecting a deed or some bill of sale, some added inducement to all that he had already offered. Something to sweeten the pot. And yet… he had never offered her the one thing she was beginning to realize she really wanted from him, the one thing that she knew would affect her decision.
She started to read, scanning what was written on the paper. One more obstacle to be overcome, and then he had promised to have her conveyed home…. She stopped suddenly, some sense of what she held finally dawning, and her eyes flew back to the top of the page to carefully peruse what she had only glanced at before: “… His Grace, the seventh Duke of Montfort, is pleased to announce the forthcoming marriage of his daughter, Lady Catherine Montfort, to Gerald Blaine, third Viscount Amberton.”
“That’s to appear in thePost and theGazette tomorrow,” Raven said.
“How did you get this?”
“Most things are for sale—given enough money. I was afraid your father might try something like this, so I took precautions against it.” Raven had offered her freedom, the only thing she did not have, and he could only pray that she would desire it enough to escape the trap they had devised for her.
Catherine felt the sickness growing in the pit of her stomach. Her father had broken a promise to her for the first time in her life. He was going to give her to Amberton without in any way considering her own wishes. And then, even more disturbing than that betrayal, came the remembrance of Gerald’s behavior on the dance floor. As if he were already certain of his control over her. As, of course, he had been, she realized—assured of that control through her father’s treachery.
Unconsciously she flexed the bruised fingers the viscount had gripped so painfully earlier tonight. “But he promised,” she whispered, fighting the urge to give in to the tears that she so
