He took her hand, held it between both of his. “I adore you, Frannie. You know that. I always have.”
She gave him the smile that had always warmed him, but it was not one that threatened to bring him to his knees. He would kill to keep that smile on her face. But to keep Catherine smiling, he would willingly die.
“But you love Catherine,” Frannie said quietly.
He felt as though he’d been slapped, but at the same time, relief swamped him. Yes, this was the perfect setting to ask Frannie to marry him, but he’d known he’d not take advantage of it. “How did you know?”
“If you could see the way you look at her. You’ve always held your emotions so well, but with her, the love you feel for her, it can’t be contained. If a man were ever to look at me as you do her, I daresay, I would marry him—even if he were a king.”
He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Forgive me, Frannie, but after all these weeks of asking you to learn all you needed to become my wife, I can’t marry you.”
“I never thought you could. Or should. I adore you as well, but as a sister would a brother.”
“I did not want to fall in love with her. But you’re right. I have. It terrifies me to love her as much as I do.”
“I suspect it terrifies her as well. Does she know how you feel?”
“No, God, no. What if she rebuffs me? I don’t know how I will live with it.”
“You’re a coward.”
Chuckling low, he squeezed her hand. How many times had Catherine pointed out that same flaw in him? “When it comes to the heart, yes.”
“She won’t wait forever, Luke.”
“I know, but I fear I’m unworthy of her.”
“If I were a petty woman, I could take insult at that. You considered yourself worthy enough for me.”
He grinned. “I didn’t mean for that to sound as it did. Do you know I struggled for a year before asking for your hand?”
“Don’t wait that long to ask for hers. If you truly want her, don’t wait another day.”
Catherine strolled through the front door, a mixture of feelings dogging her steps. She was excited about traveling to America, sad about leaving England. But she had purchased her ticket that morning. She’d leave from Liverpool and arrive in New York in a matter of weeks. Once there she’d find lodging. It seemed a lot of Englishmen had begun to immigrate to America. She wouldn’t be alone and they could help each other along.
She’d removed her hat and gloves and set her purse—with her precious ticket inside, along with the documents Frannie had prepared for her—on the table in the entry hallway.
“Ah, there you are,” Sterling said, striding from the hall. “You’ve a visitor. He’s waiting for you in the library.”
“Who is it?”
“Claybourne.”
Catherine’s heart kicked against her ribs. “What’s he doing here?”
“Apparently he wants to see you. He’s been here for two hours waiting. What were you doing out and about?”
“I don’t owe you an accounting of my actions.” She walked into the hallway, and Sterling fell into step behind her. She stopped and faced him. “Nor do I need you to accompany me when I speak to Claybourne.”
“A woman does not go into a room with a gentleman by herself.”
“Sterling, while you were enjoying your travels, I spent a good deal of time alone with Claybourne. I don’t need you now to oversee our meeting. I assure you there is no cause for worry. He’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
He glanced toward the doorway where the footman waited, then looked back at her. “Catherine, I know I’ve not been the best of brothers, but I’m determined now to take my responsibilities more seriously.”
If he took them any more seriously, she’d find herself locked in a tower.
“There’s no need. I’m quite capable of seeing after myself. So, please, don’t disturb us.”
She left him standing there and swept in through the doorway as the footman opened it. She was reminded of that first night in Claybourne’s library, only now he stood by the window and the room was filled with the warmth of sunshine rather than the coolness of midnight shadows.
“My Lord Claybourne, it was so nice of you to come to call.”
“So formal, Catherine, after all we’ve shared?”
There was nothing mocking in his tone, rather it was decidedly sensual. Just the thought of all that they’d shared had her body growing warm, and she thought she might be in danger of swooning again. He looked so amazingly wonderful, dressed so formally. Handsome as sin. Her heart was stuttering at his nearness, her hands wanted to reach out for him. She would miss him terribly—but she would always have and cherish the precious memento of their time together that he’d unknowingly given her.