The Scandalous Love of a Duke (21 page)

Calling for his curricle, John strode downstairs, pain eating at his innards with harsh, unrelenting bites.

He drove through the streets absentmindedly, nearly running over people at a crossing.

By the time he reached his uncle’s, he’d realised the truth. It had hit him like a fist. He loved Katherine. He’d loved her for months. This infatuation, which was far beyond lust or any physical need, it had to be love. He’d never felt like this for any woman before.

“John!” Mary called from across the hall as he stepped over the threshold. She had their youngest sister balanced on her hip. “You’re early.”

He nodded, without saying a word, feeling too much pain in his chest to speak as he passed everything off to Jenkins.

He had pushed his family away too, and yet
they
had hung on,
because they loved him
. He should try and return that love from now on.

“Mama is upstairs in the nursery, playing spillikins with the little ones. Jemima kept destroying the game so I brought her down.” As she spoke Mary crossed the room, and when she reached him she held the little girl out towards him, smiling brightly.

“Here, take her. I’ll go and fetch Mama.”

Unwilling to refuse and show his discomfort with the younger ones, John took his youngest half-sister, bracing her weight in his hands as he lifted the child to his chest.

“I will not be long,” Mary breathed. “Take her up to the drawing room. I’ll be there in a moment.” Mary turned away, and lifting her skirt with one hand, ran upstairs, with her other hand brushing over the banister.

John followed, cradling the little girl on one forearm, his hand bracing her leg, while his other palm splayed over her back.

He’d held Mary like this when he’d been eleven, or twelve. He climbed the stairs with care while Jemima played with the knot of his cravat.

More memories of Mary, and Robbie, stirred. Although by the time Robbie had come along John had tired of the novelty of having young siblings. He’d lost interest in them soon after. He’d preferred Phillip’s company, so Phillip had been invited to stay for most of the holidays, and in general they’d ignored John’s siblings, only Katherine had been allowed to intrude on their camaraderie, if they were at Pembroke Place.

The possibility of Phillip replacing Harvey occurred to John again. If Katherine would let him have nothing to do with her, he could at least favour her family. He’d hire Phillip.

As John neared the drawing room, Jemima stretched out her legs and her chubby little fingers gripped at the shoulders of his morning coat. It was a silent request to be put down.
God
, he remembered Mary doing the same.

He leant down and set the child on her feet but she couldn’t walk yet and so she gripped his fingers, bouncing on unsteady legs. Thus they crossed the room.

What would it be like to sire a child with Katherine?

A blonde-haired girl, like her mother, with shining blue eyes and a bright smile.

His little sister led him to the window seat, and there she let him go and gripped the cushion instead. He sat down and then lifted her up and instantly the little girl pressed her nose to the pane and looked down at the passing traffic and his curricle in the street below.

He withdrew a shiny sixpence from his pocket and steadying her with one hand, began spinning the coin through his fingers. His Uncle Robert had taught him the trick when John was a child.

Jemima watched and then squealed and tried to catch it just at the moment his mother, Mary and his aunt Jane arrived.

John caught hold of Jemima before she fell, and slipped the coin into his pocket.

His Aunt Jane’s figure was expanding again.

No one could question his family’s ability to breed.

It would have irritated him a couple of months ago but today it made him feel jealous. All his family were in love matches.

“Are you well, John?”

His gaze lifted and met Mary’s questioning look.

He blanked his expression, as his mother moved to collect Jemima.

“I’m well,” he stated, rising. “And you?”

She nodded, smiling broadly. “I am ridiculously excited, I cannot sleep.” John kissed her cheek. “You are still coming tonight, to Aunt Jane’s supper party?”

He nodded then smiled, deliberately letting his guard down. “Come then, tell me all your plans and my role in them.” This would take his mind off his own troubles anyway.

“Are you ready, Katherine?”

Katherine turned as Richard called. They’d slipped back into the old routine since John had left, but it had never felt quite the same. She nodded when he came into the chapel and then took his offered arm.

When he handed her up into his horse and trap a few moments later, she met his gaze for the first time. She had not been able to look him in the eye; now she blushed. He smiled.

As he drove, she sat in silence. It was cold and the autumn breeze swept at her bonnet and brought jewel-coloured leaves spinning down from the trees – amber, ruby and gold.

“Here, put this rug over your lap.”

She glanced at him, accepted the blanket and spread it over her legs.

This was the time to speak but the words would not come. She sensed him look across at her. She did not look back.

Richard sighed, then he said, “What is bothering you, Kate? There is something…”

She still did not look at him, as her hands gripped the rug to stop them shaking.

He slowed the horses from a trot to a walk. “You may trust me, Katherine. I am your friend.”

She turned and faced him. She just had to say the words… “I have made a terrible mistake, Richard… I am with child.”

A look of shock struck his face and he pulled the horses to a halt then tied the reins off.

“It is—”

“Pembroke’s.” His voice was steady but there was a pitch of judgement in it. “I warned you against him. Did he force you?”

“No! No. It was not like that.”

“Just seduced you and then left.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes. Yes, she supposed she had been seduced by the idea of John, not by John.

Richard’s hand lay over hers. “Do not worry. We shall sort it out.”

She shivered. “How?”

His arm came about her shoulders then and he held her. He’d never held her before, but she needed comfort and she held him too, burying her face in his neckcloth and hugging his midriff. But he was not John. He did not have John’s physique or strength. He did not make her feel secure. But what was secure about John?

He was silent for a while, then he said, “Katherine… I…I need a wife. I have wished to ask you anyway… and now… Now… Well, it would seem to be the best answer.” Drawing from his hold, she met his gaze. “I would bring the child up as my own. We will have to change parish of course. We cannot raise it here, people may realise if it were to look like Pembroke. But I swear I shall take care of you both.” She saw sincerity in his eyes and felt steadier.

What choice did she have? She liked Richard. He would do everything he promised.

But he is not John.

“If you agree, we shan’t delay, I will call the banns immediately, and once we are married I’ll give notice here. Will you accept me, Katherine? Will you be my wife?” He caught her fingers up, then kissed them.

What choice did she have? This would solve everything. Her child would have a father. “Yes, Richard.” Her heart beat hard.

“You must know though, Katherine…” His fingers still gripped hers. “…My offer is purely selfish. I am in love with you.”

“Oh, Richard.” She hugged him again. He was good and kind, it was not selfish to willingly take on John’s child. Richard could have despised her. He did not.

“I lay no blame on you.”

He should though, she had let this happen, she had said yes in the beginning, and in the end she was the one who had gone to John. It was her fault. “I do bear blame,” she whispered, looking forwards again. “It was my fault. I loved him, Richard. I’m sorry if it changes how you feel…”

“It does not.” His hand gripped hers harder. “I know what you felt for him, I could see that, and I saw him take advantage of it.”

Richard was painting John as cruel. He was selfish and spoilt, but she did not think him cruel. She still loved John.
Yet I will be Richard’s wife … 

~

John walked into the narrow hall of what was basically a brothel. He was with his Harding cousins, the twins, Harry and Oliver. His cousins from his father’s side were more of an age with him and he’d been close to them at Oxford.

The house was packed to the brim with men of his class.

John had only come because, when Oliver had recommended a night at the opera, and later a party, John had seen an opportunity to cure his apathy. He’d never associated with courtesans before. He hadn’t needed to. Other men’s wives and widows had been more than willing to satisfy his need. But his cousins did associate with courtesans. They’d watched the Opera in the courtesans’ theatre box, with others who sought the attention of the birds of paradise. John had stood at the back and listened to their idle flirtation but not participated.

The women had made much of him, teasing him for his silence. It amused his cousins. It only annoyed John. He found the women’s make-up and their forced high-pitched giggles and low bodices simply crass. Yet he had not been able to just take himself away, because he was bored of his own company and hunting for something tonight, a woman to ease his pain.

They had accompanied the diamonds of the demimonde home, for an open house, but when the invite had been extended he’d foolishly assumed it would only be the occupants of the theatre box here; no, there were three dozen more men massaging the egos of the whores. There was no space in the hall, or air.

He followed his cousins.

He needed a mistress, some woman who’d dispel Katherine from his mind.

Oliver and Harry led him into a packed salon where men stood talking in groups.

The liquor was flowing and one of the women played a pianoforte in the far corner. Four men stood about her. Another woman was sitting in an alcove with a companion, and at the far end of the room two more were playing three card loo with other men. A crowd was gathering about them.

Oliver pressed a glass into John’s hand and John caught the eye of the woman at the pianoforte.

She smiled.

Her hair was a similar colour to Katherine’s and her smile was guileless.

John left his cousins and crossed the room. When she came to the end of her tune, she stood and picked up a glass of champagne, then sipped from it. When her gaze caught his, she dropped a curtsy.

John smiled, well aware she was posturing to capture his interest. He knew these women were favouring him. He would be a coup because he did not normally enter their circles. He was not put off by it. But perhaps that was merely because she reminded him of Katherine.

“The Duke of Pembroke, if I am not mistaken. This is the first time I have seen you here, Your Grace.” Her voice was sweet. It did not have the urging lilt of a harlot.

“That would be because it is the first time I have wished for such relief.”

“I am happy to oblige.” She smiled at his careless innuendo, anticipation suddenly shining in her eyes.

He felt revulsion.

“Your Grace.” She touched his arm.

His distaste sharpened.

She was not Katherine. She was nothing like Katherine. And it was Katherine he wanted.

He set his glass down on the pianoforte and turned away, then left without even finding his cousins and saying goodnight.

Lord, how much longer would this pain endure? He couldn’t bear it.

When he reached the street, he breathed in the cold night air and gathered his thoughts as he began walking home. What would it matter if he wed the girl? His blood was not really blue, it was as red as hers, no matter that his family were descendants of medieval royalty.

A breeze caught the tails of his evening coat, he had no outer coat.

Was he really contemplating marrying her then?

Yes.

If she accepted, it would be hard on her. Society would not easily accept her. But it was fickle, and people would forget.

His family would support her though. She could weather the storm. He’d carry her through it.

The old man would turn in his grave. Perhaps he’d even come back to haunt them.

Did that put John off?

No.

With the thought hanging in his mind, John kept walking. It was not a decision he should make hastily. There would be no going back. He needed to be certain.

But already the weight in his chest seemed lighter, merely at the thought.

~

John strolled about the crowded ballroom.

Mary’s debut ball was crushed full of people. She and his mother were overjoyed.

His grandmother was here, too, of course. She’d been glowing with pride ever since Mary had come downstairs.

His sister looked magnificent in gleaming cream silk with her dark hair pinned high and secured with diamond-tipped pins. They glistened in the light thrown from the chandeliers, and she was illuminated by joy.

John had been the first to take her onto the floor and as they’d danced he’d noted numerous appreciative male eyes following her. He doubted it would be long before she settled.

He watched her now. She was dancing with their father, and Edward’s gaze shone brightly with admiration.

John saw his mother watching, too, across the room. Her eyes glinted with tears.

His parents had been emotional all evening, watching Mary make her mark on society. He knew now his mother had never had her debut. She’d eloped with his father before her time. His Aunt Penny had mentioned it during their planning.

Yet beyond that he still knew very little about her life.

She’d spent the year before his birth as an army wife, on the edge of battlefields, but he knew nothing about what had happened afterwards. Well, not until she’d returned when he was ten.

Mary laughed as the dance drew to a close.

Then the notes of a waltz began, John found himself moving towards his mother without thought. When he reached her, he held out his hand, asking without words.

She looked surprised but accepted, gripping his white-gloved fingers.

He smiled as he led her to the floor, trying to relax and let down his guard a little.

She smiled too as they formed the frame of the waltz. “Thank you. I cannot believe you are both so grown up.”

Her eyes looked past his shoulder for a moment as he turned her.

John saw his stepfather watching. He looked pleased.

“The years have passed so quickly.” She met his gaze.

“Yes.”

Mary was dancing with Lord Griffin, a young man with immense charm, who John had seen courting the attentions of a harlot last week.

John was going to have to give Mary, and Edward, a list of the men she should avoid.

John thought of Katherine, sweet innocent Katherine. The tender bud of an English rose he’d plucked.
God,
if someone treated Mary as he’d treated Katherine, he’d kill them. He’d call them out and press the tip of a pistol or a sword into their chest.

Guilt was a heavy sensation, and it was becoming a common feeling since he’d received Katherine’s terse note telling him to leave her alone.

“I know you’re angry, John…” his mother said. She must have misunderstood the surge of emotion in him. “…Because you did not have the life the young ones have, but I love you equally.”

John’s gaze turned back to her. “I do not begrudge them your love, Mama.”

Her gaze held his but the conversation ended. She probably did not believe him, and she certainly did not understand the mixed-up emotions which tormented him. He had never understood them himself.

Last night, the feelings of loss he suffered over Katherine had somehow got tangled up in it all and his dream had come again, but this time it was not his mother left behind running after the carriage, it was Katherine.

Tears had shone in her eyes as she’d cried out to him, heartbroken.

He’d been shaking when he woke. He wished to have Katherine in his life in a permanent capacity, and the only option now was marriage. Yet he was bound by a stupid deathbed promise to marry someone of his own class.

The music drew to a close with a flourish, and when John stopped dancing, his mother’s hand braced his cheek. “I wish I knew how to reach you, John, you hold yourself so distant, and sometimes I see so much pain in your eyes.”

His stare hardened in answer. He did not wish her seeing into him. “I am trying my best, Mama. I cannot be what I am not.”

“I know, John. I only say it because I care, it is not a reprimand.”

“I know.”

He led her back to Edward then and saw Finch move in the same direction.

“Your Grace, may I speak with you?” Finch said as John let his mother go. John nodded and then excused himself from his parents.

As he followed Finch from the room, John guessed it was not about the entertainment.

In the hall, Finch stopped and turned. “Forgive me, Your Grace, Mr Harvey has called. He believed you would wish to see him.”

“Where is he?” John’s heart raced. Did Harvey finally have something more on Wareham?

“In the library, Your Grace.”

“Thank you.”

A footman opened the library door and John passed through it. It closed behind him.

Harvey was standing at the hearth, warming one outstretched hand. He turned. His other hand held a glass of brandy. He had obviously been waiting a little while.

“Your Grace, I apologise, I did not realise you were entertaining. Had I known, I would not have come, but I knew Your Grace would wish to see this…”

“What?” John asked, crossing to the decanters. He poured himself a drink, watching Harvey collect a file from the desk.

“This.”

John looked at the leather folder Harvey held out.

“Lady Edward’s history, Your Grace. I have not read it. I did not like to. The statements were drawn from a colleague in Captain Harding’s regiment, and also the former owner of a London gambling-house.”

John felt his eyebrows lift and his blood ran cold. Half of him did not want to know. The other half could not endure not knowing.

The brandy burned his throat as he drank from the glass and took the file. Then he moved to sit behind his desk.

Harvey stood in silence as John opened it. Anger and disgust rose with every word John read. He knew they were true. They explained so much of what he’d known and not understood.