Page 106 of Go, Rogue

“Now then.” Elizabeth claps her hands. “It’s time to get the Yule decorations under way. Preparations for a fête are not for the faint of heart.”

Catherine barely has a moment to breathe for the rest of the day, much less think—which is likely for the best. There’s nothing to think about. She finds a few stolen moments to seek out McNeil and make her preparations, then spends the rest of the day at Elizabeth’s mercy.

She helps oversee the placement of the flowers, introduces the musicians to the house staff and the space, and lends her expertise to the seating arrangements for the private dinner beforehand. Seconds and minutes and hours tick past as she works, and she feels herself falling again into those familiar, hated rhythms of the ton.

This is the life she was born for: the oversight of balls, the running of a household. She can do it with her eyes closed, even while she reviles it.

Garlands of tropical flowers are wound around the banisters and colonnades, and a large cedar tree is hauled inside and situated in the middle of the ballroom floor. The tree and surrounding tables are decorated with glass ornaments and globes, ribbons and lace, and finally, candles. Footmen are stationed throughout the room to watch for fire while others scatter little parcels wrapped in brown paper and brightly colored string across every available surface. The whole effect is cozy, warm, and lovely—and it is all Catherine can do not to cry.

“Are you missing home, dear?” Elizabeth asks as the two women stand back and examine their handiwork. All that’s left is to hang the mistletoe. Or rather, the Spanish moss, which is as close as they can get to mistletoe on the island. “It’s hard to be away for a holiday.”

“I am,” Catherine says.

And it’s true, after a fashion. She wonders how Violet and her mother and aunt are faring. If they miss her. How they’ll react to the message she’s sent that morning—saying she’s well. That she’d been waylaid on her way to Boston and is now in Jamaica but has every reason to think she’ll be back on the water soon. And that she promises to call on Violet’s father in New York as soon as she arrives.

“And is there something more?” Elizabeth asks. “Something about our new duke, perhaps?”

Catherine smiles bleakly. Her friend is observant—not that she and Andrew had been particularly secretive. They hadn’t known they needed to be. For those few hours after she found Andrew and before they opened the lockbox, they’d just been Andrew and Catherine. She misses those hours already, with a heartsickness she didn’t know was possible.

“Yes,” she says. “A little of that too. It’s different now that he’s a duke.”

“Must it be?” Elizabeth asks. “You seem a woman who knows her own mind. And you are an earl’s daughter. You would fit together and no one would blink.” Elizabeth reaches for her hand and squeezes it.

“I’m an earl’s daughter who left her fiancé at the altar, boarded a ship bound for Boston unchaperoned, and has been cavorting about the island of Jamaica. I’m more than ruined, Elizabeth. I won’t bring him down with me. He’s got too many things to accomplish now.”

“If you insist,” Elizabeth says. “Although some might be more forgiving than you think. I know a number of women who wish they’d left their husbands at the altar and who might admire your bravery in having done it.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

She closes her eyes for a moment and imagines it might be true. That she could have a life with Andrew. But she knows she can’t—not only because of scandal or social standing but because she doesn’t want to live her life in the peerage. She’s escaped her cage, and she’s not going back into it now.

And he’s a man with a new dream she would never stand in the way of. He’ll build his fleet of ships, and she’ll go to New York and do… something. She’ll figure that part out when she gets there. That’s always been her plan—or as close to a plan as she ever manages.

Elizabeth gives her hand one last squeeze. “Well then,” she says. “It’s time to dress. Our guests will soon be upon us.”