Free In the Shadow of Arabella by Lois Menzel Page A

fragrant blossoms and warm earth.
    “I am learning, my lord, that people in society are more realistic than I, and that if I intend to make my way in this world I must learn to accept the facts of life.’’
    “Which are?”
    “Which are, that if a woman wishes to find security, she had best put aside all notions of love, destiny, and other such nonsense and make the best bargain she can with whatever assets she has at her disposal.”
    “Sell yourself to the highest bidder, in fact?”
    She met his eyes defiantly. “Yes. Why not? If I cannot have the life of my dreams, I can at least have the security that wealth and position offer.’’ As she finished speaking she dropped her eyes to the handkerchief she had been ruthlessly twisting between her hands. A long silence followed.
    Finally Rudley put his hand beneath her chin and lifted her face until her eyes met his once again. He spoke gently. “I cannot bear to think of you wed to Witford. You are much too young to do such a desperate thing.”
    She trembled at his touch but managed to answer him quite steadily. “I am four and twenty, my lord.”
    An indulgent smile crossed his face. “You are a babe,” he insisted. “You deserve a chance to have at least some of your dreams come true.”
    Confused by the tenderness in his voice, she turned away and without speaking again they retraced their steps to the ballroom.
    * * * *
    Nothing is so detrimental to a good night’s sleep as a mind that will not be quiet. Katherine lay awake long into the night, her eyes open, staring into the blackness above her, pondering questions that had no answers. More now than at any other time in her life she wished for a confidant, someone who could share her burden. She was stuck with one set of thoughts and feelings—her own—and by themselves they had no depth. She had decisions to make that would affect her future, and she found herself incapable of making them. The weight was too heavy, the answers obscure.
    Katherine believed those things she had said to Rudley: that Lord Witford’s offer was a flattering one, and that she should take what she could get in terms of security for her future and Serena’s. Yet she was not ready to give up her dreams. She did not wish to marry Witford, but she was determined to end her dependency on her stepfather. The earl was right in saying that Lord Witford was no bargain, but then neither was she. She was not well-connected; she had no particular beauty; her income was modest.
    The knowledge that she was not likely to receive a better offer had kept Katherine from refusing Witford. But neither had she accepted him. He was becoming impatient, pressuring her for an answer, while she was confused, weighing her options and finding no easy road.
    When Rudley had taken her face in his hand and called her a babe, she had denied it, yet that was exactly how she felt. She wanted more than anything to cry like a child, admit that she was confused and alone, and beg him to tell her what she should do. But she had not been able to admit it, and she could not ask for his help. She had to keep her fears and misgivings about the future to herself, just as she had to bear the pain of James’s rejection, just as she had kept inside, all these years, the anger she felt when her father had died and her mother soon followed him, leaving her alone.
    The following morning Katherine was seated before her dressing table in a close-fitting riding habit of forest green when Charity poked her head in the door. “I saw you disappear with Lord Rudley last night, Katy. Where did you go?”
    “He showed me the duke’s conservatory,” Katherine answered. “It was lovely. There were many blooms, marvelous colors. I am surprised you noticed us though,” she teased. “You seem to have eyes only for Mr. Seaton.”
    “I do admire him a great deal,” Charity admitted, “but I am not letting myself hope for too much.”
    There was so much sadness in her voice that