Page 55 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
They sat back with a sigh, relieved to find no one else as a traveling companion, and Walter urged on the horses, and set the mail coach on the road south. Catherine glanced out of the window toward the inn, seeing no sign of Rickard in pursuit, but knowing that it would be no time at all before he followed them.
Ian was quiet, and Catherine looked at him, wondering what thoughts were going around in his mind. Had he known of the claims which her brother made against him? He had spoken of his mother in less than flattering tones, but to discover he was illegitimate was surely cause for him to detest her even more. But Catherine could hold no anger against him, quite the opposite, she loved him, and in his troubles, she loved him all the more.
“Did you know?” she asked, and he shook his head.
“I had a thought it might be true, but I can think of no evidence which Rickard and your father could possibly possess, unless the man involved has admitted it to them,” he replied, turning to her with a sorrowful look in his eyes.
“It makes no difference to me; I would love you if you were a pauper or a king. Your father – whoever he is – is not you, and you are not your father. But you have your suspicions?” she asked, and he nodded.
“My mother had an affair with the Duke of Sinclair,” he replied, and Catherine could not help the gasp she now emitted.
“The Duke of Sinclair? You mean, Nicholas’ father?” she said, thinking through the astonishing implications if it were true.
She would be a sister-in-law to Rebecca, related through their husbands, Nicholas would be Ian’s half-brother, and would that mean he had a claim to the estate? A hundred further questions now arose, but she knew better than to ask them, sensing that Ian was somewhat uncomfortable at the subject.
“The very same, though Nicholas can have no idea about it, unless your brother and father have revealed it. They would not be so foolish to do so, though, not if they wish to keep the matter of revelation as a weapon against me,” he replied.
“And me,” she said, and he put his arm around her and sighed.
“It is me they want rid of. They do not approve of me, but it runs deeper than that. The Duke of Sinclair is a businessman, just like your father and brother. They would be glad to see my own business interests fall in favor of their own. To create the scandal of illegitimacy would ruin me, if they have the evidence to prove it,” he replied.
Catherine was angry with her brother and her father, angry that they believed they could control her through such wicked claims. But the thought of Ian’s reputation being tarnished – destroyed even – was enough to bring tears to her eyes, and she felt despair as to what they would do.
“We must prove it wrong, for how can such proof exist? Surely it cannot,” she said, but he shook his head.
“Until I know the fullness of their claims, I can make little by way of defense, unless…” he said, and now he shook his head.
“Unless what?” she asked.
“We pay a visit to my mother,” he replied.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“But you have not spoken to your mother in… years,” Catherine said, and Ian nodded.
The thought of visiting his mother was far from an attractive one. He had not seen her in five years, and they had barely spoken in seven. The discovery of her illicit affairs – particularly with the Duke of Sinclair – had caused such a rift between them as to be irreparable in Ian’s eyes, though his mother had attempted reconciliation on a number of occasions.
Ian had wanted nothing to do with her in the wake of such terrible revelations. The thought that his dear, deceased father was not the father he believed him to be was truly terrible. He had suspected as much for many years, though finding himself confronted by it was almost too painful to bear. He did not know if the Duke of Sinclair was his father – father in name, at least, for his true father would always be the man he had called father in his youth.
“And it pains me to think I will be forced to do so again,” Ian admitted.
But Ian knew the only way to discover if Rickard’s words were true was to go to the source of the scandal – his mother. Only she could tell him truthfully what had happened. It was a story he had never wished to hear, pushed aside, as he had all of womankind, believing that all of them were wolves in sheep’s clothing. But Catherine had proved him wrong, and for her sake, he was willing to confront his fears again, hoping that happiness could still follow.
“Will she admit it?” Catherine asked, and Ian shrugged.
“I do not know. She has attempted reconciliation before, and I have been the one to reject her – the following of my own self-imposed rules. Number one, “have nothing to do with a mother like that,” but perhaps I was foolish, given I still do not know the truth,” he said.
“But if you explain, and tell her of the misfortune that is to befall us. Perhaps she will know of the evidence my brother speaks of, or tell us it is simply nonsense,” Catherine said.
Her words were reassuring. She did not speak of him in the singular, but of the problem as one they shared, as any married couple should share their problems. Ian had spent so long living under his own auspices, that to have another to share his troubles with gave him fresh impetus to succeed. He would not allow his reputation to be destroyed so easily, and if that meant confronting his mother, then so be it.
“I do love you so very much, Catherine, with all my heart,” he exclaimed, and she smiled at him.
“And I love you, too, with all of mine. These problems will pass, all this will pass, but our love will endure,” she said, and he put his arms around her and kissed her, knowing that already the vows they had made were being tested, for better for worse…
* * *
Catherine was nervous at the prospect of meeting Ian’s mother. He had spoken little of her in the time she had known him, only fleeting mentions of a woman it was clear he had little time for. Her own mother had been kind and gentle, the very opposite of her father, who had treated her in the most appalling manner. Catherine had happy memories of her mother, the times she would read to her or play the pianoforte, happy times, and how she wished she had been alive to see her marriage to Ian. It would have made her mother happy to know Catherine had found a man who loved her and whom she in turn loved, too.
