FAIR WARNING-- Texas Trio is a longer story-- there's plenty of hot, dirty sex, but it doesn't show up in the first paragraph! There are a few little bits to hold you over, but the really good stuff doesn't start until Section 3. Thank you all for the hearts, stars, & comments! -- Stefanie
->->->->->->--<< Chapter 4 >>--<-<-<-<-<-<-
Sure enough, Cat woke up crabby the next morning, still thinking of the man in the mask. By the time she'd had her tea, dressed and gone downstairs, she'd already snapped at Nanny twice, and Nanny was the last person on earth who deserved that kind of treatment from Cat Connor or anyone else. Nothing mattered to Nanny like the welfare of her "girls." She'd been with Catherine and Becky since birth, and no doubt planned to be with at least one of them right through the birth of her own children.
Catherine hurried to catch her at the kitchen door.
"Nanny." She lifted the older woman's hand, clasping it to her heart.
"Nanny, I'm so sorry. I had no call to speak to you in that manner. Please forgive me."
"Hush, Miz Catherine." Nanny patted her charge's cheek. "I know life ain't too happy for you since Miz Matthews died and you don't have to say nothing more about it. You're a sweet girl and your lil' bit of tongue never bothered me, you know that."
Cat struggled not to tear up at the kind words.
A door closed nearby and both women started.
"Catherine, if you'd like to join us in the dining room before breakfast is entirely ruined...."
Cat steadied her emotions before turning to face him. "Of course, Uncle Harry."
The butler seated Catherine across the table from Mr. Hawkins, who joined them for meals far too often. Cat despised him, but years of training kept her polite smile firmly in place.
The soft clinking of silver on china provided their only mealtime music. No one spoke until Uncle Harry dismissed the house-boys, picking up where they'd left off hours before.
"You disappointed me last night, Catherine. Firstly, there was your appearance, as dull as ever, and next, your apparent lack of interest in all those suitable bachelors at the ball." Harrison shot a stern expression in Catherine's direction, but continued taking small bites of devilled kidney between sentences. "I even saw you dancing with that architect everyone is so taken with-- the one who did the churches. What's his name, Hawkins?"
Hawkins didn't even glance across the table.
"Ah!" Harrison pointed skyward with his fork. "Clayton; that's it. Nick Clayton."
He glared at Catherine, who could barely swallow through the anxiety creeping up her gullet.
"How you could possibly find fault with Clayton--" He stopped himself and got back on track. "I believe we've already discussed a timetable for your betrothal, but perhaps you need to be reminded."
Cat laid her fork on her plate and blotted her lips calmly, keeping her eyes down so the pale, translucent lids shielded her true feelings while Harrison's coarse remonstrance continued.
"As we discussed, you have relied on the kindness and generosity of your aunt and myself for too many years, and it's time now for you to make your own home."
Not only was that a gross misrepresentation of the facts-- her parents' estate provided generously for Catherine and Rebecca's needs-- but she couldn't believe her uncle would speak that way in front of Mr. Hawkins. Cat darted a glance at the giant man, but he just kept shoveling food into his maw, impassive as always.
Catherine chose her words carefully. "I appreciate your generosity more than I can say, Uncle Harrison. Aunt Frannie, too. She always told me to wait for the right man, and I guess I just haven't met the right man yet."
"I know what your aunt said. Your aunt isn't here any more, in case you missed her death notice in the Daily News."
Appalled at his callous tone, Cat peeked at him from under her lashes. His expression was the same one he'd worn last night-- right before he hit her. Her eyes dropped hastily to her lap. She'd been so determined to avoid angering him-- to avoid another burning slap and the swollen eyes which followed-- yet here she was again.
"You've turned down a dozen proposals from perfectly appropriate suitors. Your aunt spoiled you, but she's gone, and it's high time you married. Since you seem incapable of doing the job yourself, I've decided to chose a husband for you."
Cat's mouth opened and her head jerked up, a disbelieving stare on her face.
"A landowner from Argentina has been dining at my club this week. I spoke with him at some length yesterday and he seems to me to be everything a young lady like yourself could possibly desire in a mate. He's wealthy, well-mannered, and to all appearances healthy as a horse. I cannot imagine any of your little friends objecting to such a match, were one of them lucky enough to have the proposal put to her."
Catherine's mouth hung open. Surely her uncle couldn't expect her to marry a complete stranger.
Not to mention which Aunt Frannie hadn't even been dead six months and he'd already forced her out of mourning. She'd be the worst niece in history if the news got out that she were engaged-- a complete social outcast. She swallowed, fighting to control the rapid beating of her heart.
Harrison ignored her dismay. "I've arranged for you to meet your intended before the week is out."
Quivering, Cat stood to make her appeal. "But, Uncle Harry-- "
Harry was around the table in an instant, his rapidly reddening face six inches from her own, his fingers digging so deeply into her forearm that Catherine whimpered involuntarily.
"Listen, you little tart, you'll do what I tell you to do, or I swear I'll take your sister out of that precious finishing school you girls love so well and put you both to work. Do you know what a
bordello
is, my dear niece?"
She was unable to free herself and wouldn't answer. Her uncle didn't seem to expect it; he went on with hardly a pause. "What do you think they'll do to a young lady like you in a place like that? How about your darling sister? On second thought, maybe you'd rather Rebecca wed Señor Allejandro?" He stopped, his lips drawn back in a triumphant sneer. "Or maybe she'd prefer Monsieur Louis for her husband?"
Cat wouldn't cry about the pain in her arm, but the tears spilled over at the idea of Becky hearing even one of the hideous threats with which her uncle had been battering her these past few months. This one was by far the worst, though.
After a final vicious shake Harrison released her arm.
"You have four days to think it over, Catherine," his hazel-eyed sneer skittered down the front of her black cotton dress, "and when Señor Allejandro arrives to meet his betrothed, I better find you appropriately clothed for the occasion."
Uncle Harry and the equally despicable Hawkins departed, leaving Cat alone in the dining room, struggling to control her sobs beneath a sparkling crystal chandelier.
