“In fact, I think you’re most lovely.”
“I can assure you, Mr. Sinclair, that I am not.”
He laughed nervously, steadied himself, and with grave formality asked, “Katherine Sullivan, née Drummond, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She was quiet a long time, then: “You have a ring, I assume?”
He threw a panicked glance at her father. “I, uh, I didn’t think it was . . . haven’t really had the chance to . . .”
“There’ll be a ring, Katherine. Stop torturing the poor boy.”
She smoothed the creases from her napkin. “Very well. I decline.”
A delicious silence followed. Katherine took a sip of wine. Savoring the flavor, and Charles Sinclair floundering beside her,and the heat of her father’s stare.
“Now, now,” Wilson said. “Don’t be hasty. Let’s discuss this at least.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. I do not want to marry this man.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
Charles piped up below her: “I vow that I will love you, care for you, honor you—”
“Oh, be quiet, man,” she told him. “Have some self-respect.”
“Katherine! That is enough!”
“You married me off once, Father. I won’t let you do it again.”
Charles struggled to his feet and stood there crestfallen. Katherine folded her napkin and laid it beside her plate. “Now,if you’ll excuse me.”
“Sit down!” Wilson banged a fist on the table, leaned on his elbow, and pointed at her, Charles standing dumbly at his side.“You listen to me, young lady: Charles is a fine man, the best you could ever hope for. A widow stuck out here—for all yourgood fortune they are hardly beating a path to your door. You think you can do this alone, playing house with the savagesin the wild? This place will swallow you up, Katherine. You will find yourself run off your land, destitute, and who’s goingto want you then? You are not equipped for this world. You were barely equipped for Melbourne—I only agreed to John’s proposalbecause I knew he would make sure you were all right.”
“And I suppose his money had nothing to do with it?”
“I am your father. I do not need to explain myself any more. Charles and I have reached an agreement that is more than fair. The two of you shall be married, and that is the end of it. Congratulations, Charles. Well done.”
Dumbly, Charles shook his hand. Katherine sat very still in her chair. The men parted and she murmured, “I am expecting.”
Wilson frowned. “Sorry? What was that?”
“I am expecting, I said.”
He laughed quickly, shook his head. “Expecting what?”
“A child. I’m expecting a child. A baby.”
“That’s . . . impossible.”
She snorted. “It really is not.”
“Who’s the father?” Charles demanded.
Katherine smiled at him and stood, felt their gazes slide to her midriff. “Where does your proposal stand now, Mr. Sinclair?Am I still so lovely? Will you still honor me and care for me, I wonder, while I carry another man’s child?”
His mask slipped then. No longer the fairy-tale prince. His jaw clenched and his eyes burned and Katherine gave him no chanceto respond, marching around the far end of the table to the door, the candelabra guttering as she went by. Her father calledout but she ignored him, pulling the door closed and exhaling shakily with the click of the latch. She stood a moment, recovering,and noticed the houseboy, Benjamin, waiting outside the room.
“Y’all right there, missus?” he asked her.
“Yes, thank you, Benjamin. I think perhaps I overate.”
He looked at her evenly. His placid, weary face. She had known him longer than almost everyone else out here. Lightly shetouched his arm. “Good night.”
“Night, missus.”
She went upstairs, suddenly exhausted. Her confession had drained her dry. She hadn’t planned on telling them. Couldn’t evenbe certain herself yet. Oh, but it was worth it. The horror in her father’s face.
In her room she locked the door and dressed for bed, climbed in between the crisp, cool sheets. She sighed. Lying on her back staring up at the patterned canopy, the same view she’d endured while John grunted away on top of her; she’d always intended changing the bed but never had. Vaguely she heard raised voices downstairs, Charles and her father arguing, she’d scuppered all their plans. She closed her eyes and lay there smiling. She doubted Charles Sinclair would still be here come the morning; with any luck her father might not stick around either. Was it possible this might be the end of it? That in one fell swoop she’d rid herself of them both?
* * *
Knocking woke her. Total darkness in the room. She roused and found a broken band of light beneath the door. Another knock,a gentle but insistent tapping on the wood. “Yes?” she managed, expecting her father to answer, but instead Charles Sinclairannounced himself, and the proximity of his voice there, its presence in her bedroom, jolted her upright and alert.
“What do you want?”
He took a moment to answer. His shadow shifted beneath the door. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I came to say goodbye, and to apologizefor earlier.”
“Both can wait until morning.”
“I’ll be gone at first light. Please, Katherine—I won’t sleep a wink.”
She sighed and climbed out of bed, spoke to him through the door: “It’s my father who should be apologizing, not you.”
The handle rattled. He said, “Can we at least do this face-to-face?”
“I’m hardly decent, Charles.”
She thought she heard him snigger. “Put on a robe. I promise I won’t peek.”
Irritably, Katherine fetched her robe from the stand, flapped it around herself, cinched the belt. He’d be out there all nightotherwise, she’d never get any peace. She unlocked the door and cracked it ajar, found Charles Sinclair grinning at her, fullydressed still, clutching a lantern, his face woozy and flushed with drink. He traced the length of her body, lingered on herbare feet.
“Say your piece and leave me. I’m tired. I want to go back to sleep.”
His gaze settled on her face again. “Oh, but you are lovely.”
“Good night, Mr. Sinclair. And goodbye.”
She tried to close the door but found his foot blocking it, and in the second it took her to realize what was happening, hehad forced his way into the room.
