For Love of the Duke(94)

He reached his hand out. “Kat—”

The whinny of a horse cut across whatever Harry’s intended words were.

Katherine glanced down the gravel riding path, and her heart thudded wildly in her chest at the approaching rider.

She rose. Her rose-colored skirts fluttered about her feet as the Marquess of Guilford drew his mare to a stop a short distance away. He dismounted.

Harry frowned at the sudden intrusion. “Guilford,” Harry drawled. He sketched a short bow.

Jasper’s friend, the lone witness to their nuptials ignored the other man. He directed a serious stare at Katherine.

Her heart wrenched, feeling ever closer to Jasper just by the appearance of his friend. A question as to her husband’s well-being sprung to her lips but Guilford spoke before she could formulate words.

“Your Grace,” he said, in short, clipped tones suggesting his disapproval of Katherine’s companion.

“My lord.” Even as she curtsied, a frown turned her lips. She’d not be made to feel guilty for keeping company with Harry. Nothing untoward had or would happen with the roguish earl. Katherine might be lonely and broken-hearted, but only one man could fill the empty hole left by Jasper’s disinterest—and that man happened to be her stubborn, aloof husband.

Harry looked between them. The uncharacteristic hardness in his eyes indicated he’d detected the undercurrents of tension between Katherine and the marquess.

“I hope you are finding your time in London pleasant, Lady Katherine,” Guilford said dismissing Harry outright.

“Most pleasant,” she lied through her white teeth.

Harry snorted, and then covered a hand to his mouth, feigning a cough. She shot him a sideways look, knowing he detected the untruth in her words.

Guilford’s gaze slid back over toward the other man. His lip pulled at the corner in a disapproving sneer. When he returned his hard stare to Katherine, he gave a curt nod. “I bid thee good day, Lady Katherine.” He turned on his heel and strode back toward his horse.

A frenzied sense of panic filled her breast. Lord Guilford represented the last fragile connection to Jasper.

Katherine hurried after him. Harry’s kerchief fluttered to the ground, forgotten.

“My lord,” she called, just as he grasped the reins of his mount.

He stiffened and turned back to face her. “Your Grace?”

Katherine stumbled to a halt in front of him. She wet her lips and glanced around at the empty park. “My husband,” she whispered.

He furrowed his brow. “Lady Katherine?”

“How is he?” she implored him with her eyes. Jasper occupied every last corner of her thoughts. She yearned for just some word on the man who would forever hold her heart.

Guilford’s’ frown deepened, and his gaze skittered to a point beyond her shoulder. By the icy disdain in his usually affable stare, she suspected Harry hovered in the distance. “He is…much the same,” Guilford finally said, when he’d looked back at Katherine.

A woeful smile tugged at her lips. “That is saying nearly nothing, my lord.”

Guilford folded his arms over his chest. “And what would you have me say, Your Grace? What words do you seek?”

His furious disapproval could not be clearer if he mounted his horse and rode through Hyde Park shouting disparaging words of her.

“I…” she faltered. All of Society erroneously assumed the Mad Duchess had taken Harry as her lover. The gossip columns bandied that tidbit about as though it were more delectable than a Gunter’s ice. After all, with his reputation as unrepentant rogue, how could Society think anything else of Lord Stanhope? “I…” She could not discuss such an intimate matter with Lord Guilford. “If you see him, will you let him know I’ve asked after him?"

Guilford searched her face with his eyes, and then gave a curt nod. “As you wish. Is there anything else you require, Lady Katherine?”

Tell him I love him. I’ve never stopped nor will I ever. My heart is and will always belong to him. Tell him to come to me. Tell him my life is empty without him.

Instead, she said, “No, that will be all, my lord. Thank you.”

Guilford nodded again. He swung his leg over the chestnut mare, and panic built in her breast. She took another step toward him. “My lord, is he…well?”

The marquess shifted the reins to his other hand, and his knees tightened about the flanks, in a clear attempt to soothe the eager to gallop horse. His mount sidled backwards. Lord Guilford lowered his voice. “It is my belief, Your Grace, that Bainbridge has not fared well in your absence.”

Her heart thudded hard. She held up a beseeching hand, though Lord Guilford could not give her that which she needed. Only again seeing Jasper would be the balm upon her aching soul.