The Scandalous Love of a Duke (17 page)

With her blonde hair and effervescent smile, Katherine stood out amongst his family like champagne amidst the red wine of the dark-haired Pembroke women.

She spoke animatedly with Phillip, the saintly reverend, her sister and the two Dawkins sons who sat across from her.

John could not hear her voice, he was too far away, and yet he could in his head, and he felt her presence in the region of his chest also.

She was light in his darkness even from this distance. Just to be able to look at her warmed the coldness in his soul.

He did not want to give her up.

She must have sensed his gaze, because she looked his way, then blushed and turned away again, looking at her vicar.

He’d hurt her. He had pushed her away now. It was better things remained as they were. He returned his attention to his aunts and his thoughts to the debacle of his own life. That was what he should focus on, resolving this damned issue with Wareham, and now, if he was to do it, he also needed to find out the answer to the question he had been asking all his life and never actually spoken until today.

Once the ladies had left the table, John decided to progress that aim and he leaned towards his uncle, Richard, “I was recently asked something about my past which I couldn’t answer. I know my mother is closer to Aunt Penny than anyone else. Do you know how I came to live with my grandfather? I cannot recall, I was obviously too young to remember.”

His voice had been as nonchalant as he could make it and yet he saw his hand shaking when he moved to lift the glass of port Finch had poured.

Richard’s eyes widened as he looked back at John and there was a hint of wariness in his expression.

How many of the family knew John’s mother’s secret? He would guess Richard did.

“You know your mother and father eloped?”

No, he had not even known that.

“You did not,” Richard clarified, looking harder at John as John felt his stomach fall like a heavy stone.

He had not locked his expression hard enough, Richard had seen the response. All John’s facial muscles stiffened.

“It is not my place to tell you,” Richard continued, sounding uncomfortable. “The story must come from your mother not me, John.”

But Richard knew it. Who else then?

John’s eyes scanned the men left in the room as Richard progressed. “But I will tell you that your grandfather disowned her when she ran away to marry your father. Of course, it was before I married your aunt, but I know the Duke went to fetch you after your birth. He wished to protect you, John.”

“From what?”

“I cannot say. This is your mother’s story. Ask her.”

John’s gaze fell to his glass of port. “I have done. She will not speak.”

“Well, that is her choice. But remind her you are not a child anymore.”

When John looked at his uncle, Richard continued, “It was not a good time, John. It will take courage for her to recall it. And you will have to show her some understanding if you expect her to talk to you about it, and that is a quality I do not think comes naturally to you now.”

John’s eyes narrowed. His uncle laughed. “If you glared at her like that, I am not at all surprised she did not speak. Have some sympathy, John.”

Sympathy? And who had bloody sympathy for him? It was his life which had been affected and everyone seemed to know the truth but him.

Looking back along the table, John caught his stepfather watching, several places away, with disapproval in his eyes.

John lifted his glass, feeling utterly vicious, and sipped the blood red liquid.
Fuck you
. The granite inside him hardened by another degree, he just couldn’t seem to help himself anymore.

Once he had finished his port, he rose, which meant all the other men must too, and then he led them out to join the women.

Dark, callous anger rolling through his head, he went in search of his mother to share what little he’d learned. But he did not seek her out immediately, instead he bided his time and waited until Edward had stopped watching.

With his guests spread about the room playing cards or dancing in a small set where space had been cleared near the pianoforte, or merely hovering in small groups conversing quietly, he waited, silently watching until the perfect moment came.

She broke from the knot of her sisters to collect a glass of fruit punch from a footman and he moved to intercept her, casually standing in her path, a few feet away from anyone else.

With his glass of dessert wine half covering his lips so no one else could see his words, John asked, “Why did you not tell me that you and my father eloped?”

Her gaze flew up to his, and her skin paled, if that were possible, because it was already alabaster.

“Who told you that?”

“Richard. There is no harm in me knowing it, surely?”

“No, John, there is no harm, but it is also unimportant. What difference does it make?”

“Then why not tell me?”

“Because—”

“Richard also told me Grandfather took me from you after I was born. Why would he do that?”

Her gaze skimmed across John’s face. “John…” She took a breath.

“Why did you never tell me?”

“Because you knew it, you were with him and you knew I wanted you with me.”

“Did I?”

Her forehead furrowed. “John? I loved you. Do you not remember me writing to you? I wanted you back but your grandfather would not let you go…”

“Why?”

Her expression fell.

“Let it be, John,” she whispered after a moment. “Please. It does not matter. It is in the past.”

“It matters to me.”

Ever protective, his stepfather arrived and his hand slipped about her waist. “Are you stirring up a wasps’ nest again, John? Leave it, or someone
will
get stung.”

John’s gaze locked with Edward’s. “Who?”

“The people you are supposed to care about,” Edward answered, looking both exasperated and condescending if that were possible. “Your family.”

John looked back at his mother, burning to know the truth and not knowing what to say to get it from her, but her pale eyes merely looked right back into his as though they searched for something she could not see, and then she said, “I am not sure that he does care anymore. You seem to wish to hurt us, John.” And then she turned from him and walked away.

“What did Richard tell you?” Edward asked when the two of them were left to talk alone.

“That they eloped and my grandfather took me from her.” John stiffened his spine.

“And I helped her fight to get you back. You were all she lived for before I met her. Do you ever remember not knowing your mother existed?”

John shook his head.

“Because she refused to simply melt away. Your grandfather disowned her, but she still managed to keep in contact with you despite that. You should think of that, and nothing else. I witnessed yours and her happiness when you were reunited. I
know
you care, and I know your mother cares for you. Stop this, John.”

“Why?”

“Because it will hurt your mother if you know. It is not important.”

John just looked at him, hard.

“You cannot manipulate or threaten me, John. I did not let your grandfather do it and I will certainly not tolerate it from you. And I will not let you hurt your mother either. If you are modelling yourself on your grandfather, you will be lonely, John. He was a hated man. Is that what you wish for yourself? No one has ever doubted your ability to take his place. You do not need to shut us all out to prove you can.”

John glowered at him.

“And you
are
my son in all but blood, whether you think it so or not.” With that, Edward turned and walked away.

John set down his half empty glass and then left the room, crossing it with brisk strides to reach the open French doors. He needed air. He needed space.

The sky was cloudy and the night, therefore, pitch black, the only light outside was spilling from the windows.

~

Katherine watched John walk from the room through the corner of her eye. She knew he’d been looking at her several times during the evening, but when the men rejoined them after dinner his attention was focused on his mother.

There was something wrong. His posture had seemed hostile and guarded, and now he’d left his guests again and no one apart from John’s father seemed to even notice.

But John’s father did not follow. He turned his back and joined the conversation John’s mother had engaged in.

What was going on?

The family scene was perfect, cosy and homely. Every group was conversing, and laughing occasionally. It was the typical picture of society life as Katherine had always imagined it. Yet John was not included in it.

Pity gripped her heart. Something was wrong, she knew it, something had made him exile himself, and she instinctively knew it was nothing to do with her.

Biting her lip, she looked about the room again. Everyone was talking, no one would notice if she followed. No matter how much he’d hurt her, she couldn’t leave him suffering. She wanted to help him.

Phillip was speaking to Eleanor and Lord Nettleton; Katherine’s mother was engaged in conversation with Lady Ellis and the Earl of Harding, one of John’s uncles and his eldest son; Jennifer and Mary were dancing; and Katherine’s father was sitting in a chair among other local gentleman, talking. None of them appeared to see her slip out into the darkness.

The terrace was shrouded in black, the moon invisible, and a tepid breeze stirred the trees in the park beyond it, filling the air with the sound of rustling leaves.

She couldn’t see John as she walked tentatively into the dark. But then her eyes adjusted and his tall athletically lean silhouette came into view.

He was leaning on the balustrade looking outward into the inky darkness, apparently self-absorbed. He did not even seem to notice her presence as she walked closer.

“What is wrong?” she whispered, laying a hand on his shoulder.

His muscle jolted and then he turned so her hand slipped off. “Go away, Katherine.”

“Is there a problem? Is something—”

“Nothing, Katherine. Go back in. You should not be out here.” His posture was stiff and straight, both defensive and dismissive, but yet again she sensed his vulnerability.

“John?”

“Just go, Katherine, I am only likely to hurt you more if you stay out here. I am not in the best of moods.”

She looked at him and took a deep breath but couldn’t decide what to do. Something was not right. How could she leave him alone?

His shoulders dropped then suddenly and he reached into an inside pocket of his evening coat to withdraw a slender silver box. “Seeing as you will not go away, you shall forgive me if I do the unthinkable and smoke.”

She said nothing as he took out a single slim cigar and then put the box away again. He lit a flint on the stone balustrade to light it.

Her heart was thumping. John was so statuesque in his height, and his movements were always graceful. She remembered how his long, slender fingers had felt when they touched her, warmth and longing flowering inside her again as he leant his buttocks onto the balustrade and looked back towards the house, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles, with one arm across his chest.

“John?”

“Do not try to pry, Katherine. I do not wish to speak.”

She sighed. “Very well, I shan’t. But seeing as you said you planned this all for me, I am sorry it seems to be like torture for you.”

He laughed, but it was hollow, almost as though he laughed at himself. “I told you I do not get on with them, didn’t I? Now you have seen it for yourself. And I cannot blame it on them, can I? They are all perfectly
nice
. Which means the fault must lie with me. By the way, you look beautiful, that dress suits you, and I like you hair. Did you do it?”

“No, Eleanor’s maid did. You don’t know I’m staying here do you? Your mother and Eleanor organised it.”

He took a draw on his cigar.

She moved closer and touched his arm again. “I can understand, John.”

“Can you?”

“Yes. Stop pushing me away.”

“Is that what I am doing? And there was I thinking I was protecting you.” His hard gaze turned to her, diamonds in the darkness, cutting and sharp. “You cannot understand, Katherine. I know you have felt alone, you said so, but you have a very good reason for it, your mother is horrible. The fault is not yours.”

“But she is not my mother. I had no parents, as you had no father. There are things in your life I can understand more than anyone else, John.”

He sighed, and then suddenly there was that soul-deep window in his eyes again. “I had no mother either, Katherine, not until I was ten, and no one will tell me where she was.” But then, almost instantly, as though he regretted saying it, his gaze shuttered and his body stiffened, and he sucked on his cigar before rising and turning and throwing the thing out into the darkness.

“You can trust me, John,” she whispered. “I promise.”

“Can I?” he answered, standing with his back to her and looking outward into the dark.

“Yes, John, you can, and stop hiding from me by answering with questions. I am here for you if you need me.”

“I don’t need anyone, Katherine. I am a duke.”

She sighed, feeling exasperated and hurt, hating the invisible distance he was setting between them. “I survive without bitterness, John, because I have Phillip and Papa. You need someone, John.”

“Do I?”

“Kate! Kate! You are damned well going to dance at least one with me seeing as I have been dragged into the fray.”

Katherine turned to see her brother stepping out of the French door. “I’ll come, I’ll be happy to partner you!” Her heart thumped.

Phillip stopped and looked at them. “John.”

“Phillip.”

“I’m coming,” Katherine called again, and then she turned back to John, met his gaze and whispered, “You do, John, you need someone.” With that, she spun away and walked briskly towards Phillip.

“What were you speaking to John about?” he asked, when she reached him.

“Oh, he is just in a bad mood. He’s argued with his family. But do not say anything to him, Phillip, he will not thank me for telling you.”