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Elias sighed deeply. “Catherine, I have been wanting to…to apologize for this. I never imagined that I would force you to marry against your will, but I?—”

“You can see no way to escape without destroying our reputation,” Catherine interrupted. “I understand. It is not your fault, and at least, Dorothy will be able to keep the promise she once made to herself.”

Dorothy fidgeted with her skirts, her eyes darting from Elias’s face to Catherine’s. “I thank you for that,” Dorothy said softly.

“You do not need to thank me.”

Catherine sensed that there was more her sister wished to say, but instead, Dorothy fell quiet. She clasped her hands in her lap, the picture of a perfect lady, and fixed her gaze on her slippers, peeking from beneath the folds of her gown.

“This mood is all rather melancholy,” Catherine noted dryly. “I feel as though we ought to be celebrating. I am to marry a duke, after all. Did any of us anticipate that I would marry anyone, much less so well?”

“You would have!” Bridget exclaimed, reaching across the space to clasp Catherine’s hands in hers. “You would have found someone perfect to marry!”

Catherine shook her head and squeezed her sister’s hands. “We both know that is unlikely.”

“It would have happened,” Bridget insisted.

“It may still,” Elias ventured. “It may be that Cat and the Duke of Sarsen become friends. That is not the same asloveexactly, but it is a foundation from which love might eventually grow.”

Catherine thought of her parting kiss with His Grace. She still felt the phantom touch of his hand on her right breast, kneading it with his hand and pinching her nipple. His touch had sent jolts of aching pleasure straight to her core, and after His Grace left, she noticed that her thighs were damp with the evidence of her desire.

The Duke of Sarsen claimed that he would correct her behavior if she was not a proper duchess, and although Catherine did not know precisely what that meant, she wondered if it might have anything to do with how fiercely he had kissed her. If that was his manner of correction, Catherine might wish to reconsider her promise to be a proper Duchess of Sarsen. At least, she relished the chance to learnmoreabout that.

“We shall see,” Catherine said.

“He does seem rather frightening,” Bridget said, biting her lip. “Perhaps, he will prove to have hidden depths, though.”

“Most men do,” Dorothy said. “He seems frightening to us, I suspect, because he is taking Catherine from us.”

“Does he seem frightening to you?” Catherine asked, looking at her brother. “You have known him longer than the rest of us.”

“Indeed,” Elias said, “but I must confess that Sarsen and I have seldom spoken in recent years. Who can know if the boy I remember from my childhood resembles anything of the man now?”

“We all do change a little over time,” Dorothy said, “but I think that there are some inherent parts of us that even all the time in the world cannot change. I know, for example, that I will always love all of you. My affection will never diminish, no matter what life may give me.”

“His Grace has sisters,” Catherine said suddenly. “He hopes that I can be a feminine presence in their lives. I cannot recall if I mentioned that.”

“You mentioned the sisters,” Dorothy said. “I did not realize that his intention was for you to be their mother.”

“He says it is not that,” Catherine said, “quite fortunately. Just a feminine presence—not their mother. I leave the nurturing to you, Dory.”

Dorothy hummed. “You know that if you need anything, you can always come home. Always.”

The coach came to a halt, and Catherine took a deep breath. “I know.”

The footman opened the coach and bowed stiffly. “Welcome, Your Grace and my ladies.”

They left the coach one at a time. As Catherine’s feet lighted upon the stone path, she looked about her. Verdant Castle, the ancestral home of the Duke of Sarsen, was aptly named. The magnificent castle stretched as far as the eye could see. It harkened back to the Middle Ages, but only a few remnants of that time remained. Over the centuries, towers had been rebuilt and arches designed anew. It now bore flying buttresses, elegant carvings of flowers and vines, and soaring towers. In some, there were windows set of elegant-colored glass, which must look even more splendid inside those long corridors. In the distance, Catherine spied a church; it looked like a traditional English church with a rose window and a modest interior.

Both buildings were surrounded bygreen. The color was present in the delicate, sweeping fronds of weeping willows, in the lush grass, and in the thin stems of purple and pink wildflowers. Bridget had been right on one account; Verdant Castledidlook as though it belonged in a medieval romance. She almost anticipated the otherworldly enchantress Morgan le Fay to make a grand appearance.

“It is quite lovely,” Bridget said with a dreamy sigh.

“Yes,” Catherine replied. “Beautiful and remote.”

Appropriate for the Duke of Sarsen, perhaps.

“Shall we?” Elias asked.