Page 66 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
“Your husband was kind enough to invite us, Your Grace, given our association with your son and daughter-in-law,” he said, and the duchess nodded.
“And you are married?” she asked, and Ian nodded.
“It is not yet widely known. But yes, we are married,” he replied.
The duchess stared hard at Catherine who suddenly felt terribly embarrassed. “Are you not betrothed to the Earl of Westwood? Your father is coming here tonight, is he not? I presume he shares knowledge of this happy state of affairs?” she asked.
“He soon will,” Catherine replied, and the duchess’s eyes widened in surprised.
“I see,” she said.
“Your husband invited us so as to provide some conversation for Rebecca and Nicholas,” Ian interjected.
“Yes, I know Rebecca and your wife are on intimate terms,” the Duchess replied, and Catherine nodded.
The greater intimacy, of course, was that between Ian and Nicholas, half-brothers, even though one did not know it. Catherine glanced at the duke, wondering what other secrets he was hiding, a lifetime of concealment now having reared its ugly head. He looked irritable and ill at ease.
“Will Rebecca and Nicholas be joining us soon?” Catherine asked, and the Duchess nodded.
“They will, though I am still not sure what the purpose of this dinner is about,” she said, turning to her husband who grimaced.
“Business, my dear,” he replied, just as the door opened and Rebecca and Nicholas entered.
The Marquess looked surprised to find Ian and Catherine there, but Rebecca hurried over to Catherine and embraced her. “Be strong,” she whispered, kissing Catherine on the cheek.
“A strange gathering,” Nicholas said, and his mother nodded.
“My thoughts, precisely, Nicholas. Did you know the Baron is now married to your wife’s friend and confidant?” she asked, and Nicholas now looked even more surprised.
“Is that so? When did this happen?” he asked, and Ian gave a brief recollection of almost all the events which had led to that moment, omitting, of course, the true reason for their presence that evening.
“Elopement? Goodness me. I would never have been brave enough,” he said, glancing at Rebecca, who smiled.
“There was no need for an elopement,” she replied, and he laughed.
“None whatsoever. But Father, what is all this about?” he asked, and his father scowled.
“I am tired of being asked why I should wish to invite guests to dine with me in my own house,” he exclaimed, and the room fell silent.
“Sherry, anyone?” Rebecca ventured, and soon the refreshments were served.
Half an hour after Catherine and Ian had arrived, the butler announced that Catherine’s father had arrived, and he was shown in unaccompanied. To say he was surprised by the sight of Catherine would be to entirely downplay his reaction. He stared at his daughter in utter astonishment, before turning to Ian and his host with a look of anger on his face which could have turned milk sour.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, advancing toward Catherine as though he intended to drag her from the room.
But Ian stepped between them, and whilst Catherine’s father had once been a formidable figure, his age and disposition to gout now made him no match for Ian, who raised his hand in threat. “You will not lay a finger on my wife,” he said, and now Catherine’s father’s face turned purple with rage.
“Your wife!” he exclaimed.
“Surely, Rickard has sent word to you, father,” Catherine replied, and her father cursed under his breath.
“I received a letter from him, yes, speaking of Gretna and elopement. But I would not believe it until I had seen it for myself. You have disgraced yourself, Catherine, and I am ashamed of you,” he cried.
“Peace, Ferguson,” the Duke of Sinclair interrupted, “I did not bring you here to speak in such harsh terms.”
“I make no apology for it. My daughter has behaved appallingly, and this man – this man whom I know a great deal about – is responsible,” he said, pointing a finger at Ian.
“Have a glass of sherry,” the duke said, but Catherine’s father shook his head.
