Page 128 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
He started walking. ‘If I recall, you promised to join me for tea that day in Maidstone…’
A vacant hackney passed them at a brisk trot. Mr Wareham made no attempt to hail it. But his head was turned towards her.
‘Where is your brother’s office?’
She told him, watching another hackney pass.
Her heart began beating harder, but it was silly fretting, there was nothing odd in his behaviour. It was just because she knew John had treated him badly and she felt guilty.
‘There is something I have long wanted a chance to discuss with you, Miss Spencer. Now would be a good time for that cup of tea, and then I could explain. I will accompany you home afterwards.’
‘I need to be home by five…’ When she met his gaze she realised his eyes were very similar to John’s. It would do no harm, she supposed. Perhaps she could help Mr Wareham understand John’s dismissal was not personal, just John dealing with his grandfather’s ghost. ‘But I shall have enough time.’
He led her along several streets, turning and turning again until she was thoroughly lost and had no clue which direction the orphanage or home were. He spoke about Ashford society as they walked and then his move to the city. Apparently his mother lived in London.
His arm dropped from under her hand when they reached a tea shop and then he braced her elbow.
A few other people were seated at tables.
Seating her first, he called for tea before sitting opposite and regarding her through narrowed eyes.
‘I knew your mother, Katherine,’ he said. Katherine only just stopped her mouth from falling open, but her heartbeat thumped harder.
The tea was set down before them.
He filled his cup and then he poured hers. She added milk and sugar, not knowing what to say. He watched her but said nothing. The hard look in his eyes reminded her of John again.
She sipped her tea. As soon as she had drunk it, she would go.
She took another sip while Mr Wareham stayed silent.
The buzz of conversation rose in the room, becoming almost deafening.
‘I know…’ Mr Wareham began, but she could not hear properly, and leaned forward to listen. ‘…this will be a shock to you, Katherine, I am your father…’
The room shifted on its axis, then swayed like water.
She had never known who had sired her. This man…?
He had lived within a mile of her.
She had seen him every Sunday in church, and passed him numerous times in the street, and he had never said a word.
She could not speak. Inside her, there was a gaping hole where there ought to be joy.
He drank his tea as though he had just said that it looked like it might rain.
She sipped her tea. Her arm and the cup felt heavy. She took another sip, wishing to simply leave. She longed for John. But how could she leave hurriedly now, when Mr Wareham had just made such a declaration? She could hardly just say thank you and goodbye.
What do I say?The question spun in her mind.
She took another sip of tea.
Mr Wareham watched her, as though awaiting her response.
The room was shifting again and swaying a little.
Her eyes turned to the broad bay window of the shop and the street outside. She did not feel well.
