Page 12 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
The butler’s eyes widened. ‘Master Spencer…’ he repeated, looking hard at Phillip.
Katherine let her breath out. This man remembered Phillip. She had forgotten Phillip stayed in this house with John, during some school breaks.
She wished she had paid more attention to John’s life when she was young. She would not have fallen in love if she had realised how different they were. She had been deceived. She had played with him in the grounds of his grandfather’s estate, as though they were equal. But they were not equal. She had never even been in the house there. Only Phillip had been welcome inside the houses, the walls, of John’s life.
‘Refreshment is being served in the dining room, sir.’
‘Where is the Duke, Finch?’
‘I cannot say for sure, sir. I believe His Grace is in the state drawing room, yet I may be wrong.’
Phillip nodded his thanks, and then his grip on Katherine’s arm steered her on again.
They were absorbed in the crowd of elite society.
‘I told you so,’ he bent sideward to whisper.
As Phillip looked for John, Katherine felt her throat dry with a nervous fear.
The drawing room was as ostentatious as the hall. The high ceiling boasted plaques of painted images, scenes of the Greek Gods sprawled on clouds and semi-clad. She had never seen anything so beautiful and so opulent.
John should have been easy to spot, he was so tall, but she could not see him. ‘Where is he?’ she asked Phillip, who was tall enough to look over people’s heads, her heart racing at the prospect of actually speaking to him.
‘He is not in here, but the girls are. We will wait. He will come back this way. You can catch up with Margaret and Eleanor.’
The pounding of her heart became a deafening rhythm as Phillip led her across the room towards John’s family.
John’s eldest sister, Mary Rose, spotted them first. She was dressed in black, as they all were, but unlike many, with her dark hair, pale eyes and skin, even black made her look beautiful.
Katherine pinned a smile on her face. She felt more certain of a welcome from the girls, but she did not wish to appear gauche.
‘I cannot believe it!’ Mary exclaimed as they neared. ‘Phillip! Katherine!’ Her exclamation drew the attention of the others.
Mary had been a young girl when Katherine saw her last.
‘I have not seen you for an age.’ Mary hugged Katherine.
They had never been friends. Mary had been too young and yet as the younger one she had admired her brother’s playmate, with a desire to join their games. Mary had shouted at John as a child over why Kate was allowed to play the boys’ games, when Mary was not. Now, as a young woman, her exuberance was expressed fondly as Mary held Phillip’s offered hand.
Of course, again, Katherine had forgotten how much better Phillip knew John and his family. She had been welcomed into their circle for an hour here or there in the grounds of Pembroke Place. Phillip had lived with John in the way of a brother, both at school and during the holidays.
Phillip gallantly kissed the back of Mary’s hand.
‘John will be beside himself to know you have come. I am sure he did not expect to see you. I shall find him.’ Lifting to her toes, she looked across the room. ‘Oh, I cannot see him, I will go and look.’
‘No,’ Katherine said, as she felt a sudden panic. ‘Please, do not disturb him. I am sure he has more important people to speak with than us.’
Mary’s pale blue eyes, the image of John’s, met Katherine’s. ‘Well, if he has time later I am sure he will come over and speak.’
Katherine gave Mary a grateful smile, then looked at Eleanor and Margaret, who stepped forward. ‘You are both married. I saw the announcements. Are you happy?’ It was probably an impertinent question but she could think of nothing else to say.
They looked at one another, smiled, then they looked beyond Katherine, and Eleanor pointed. ‘They are together, across the room, there,’ Eleanor said. The smile in her eyes said she was happy.
Katherine looked across her shoulder.
‘Harry is the blonde-haired gentleman, my dashing heir to an Earl,’ Eleanor stated. ‘Is he not handsome? And Margaret’s husband, George, is the brown-haired man. He is a little older than Harry?—’
‘But distinguished, don’t you think?’ Margaret interjected. ‘It is lovely to see you,’ she said as Kathrine looked back at them.
