Page 142 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
‘Well, amen to that,’ Eleanor replied.
John spoke with Nettleton for a moment until the other couple left to continue their circuit of the ballroom.
‘John?’ He felt himself stiffen instantly, and turned. Elizabeth Ponsonby. Could the woman not learn that no meant no?
She smiled her hollow seductress smile. It did not entice, it only revolted.
Katherine’s fingers wrapped about John’s forearm, gentle. He felt them wrap about his heart too and the ice inside him melted. He actually found the smile he had become accustomed to in the last weeks lift his lips. ‘Elizabeth.’
‘What is this, a show of marital bliss? How sickening. It shall not last.’
‘It shall,’ Katherine countered, pressing against him in what he knew was a gesture of possession, and he treasured it. He smiled down at her, knowing his love burned in his eyes. He did not give a damn if others knew. He wished them to. Katherine met it gaze, the same look of love in her eyes. ‘Shall it not, John?’ she whispered.
There was no one else in the room but her as he looked into her eyes. ‘Our love will last,’ he answered as his hand lifted to touch her chin and his lips lowered to hers. He acted without thinking, and then he realised… He had just kissed his wife in a ballroom full of his peers… And then he remembered Elizabeth staring at them.
He laughed, not quite believing himself and how happy he felt. He looked back at Elizabeth with dismissive humour. Her presence no longer made him bristle. He really did not care whether she was there or not.
She threw him a proud, indifferent look and walked away.
His fingers cupping Katherine’s chin, John kissed her again and then they both laughed.
‘Let us play a hand of cards or two, as your shoulder prevents us dancing.’
Her smile shone in her eyes and she nodded.
John remembered the weight of loneliness he had felt at night when he had lived in Egypt, a year ago, and the dark stark memories of his childhood, which had not bothered him for weeks. Everything seemed lifted from his shoulders, and all the darkness gone. He did not expect to ever have the dream again. His mind did not need to look back. He had the birth of his child to look forward to now.
When he turned to the room, those about them were staring, and when he and Katherine walked away fans and hands were raised and whispered behind. He searched for anger and bitterness inside him and found none. None.
He did not give a damn what others thought, not any more.
EPILOGUE
Leaning over the cradle, John watched his son gurgle to himself, in a happy one-sided conversation. The infant’s eyes glowed with pleasure. John smiled.
Paul Harding, the Marquess of Sayle, lifted his arms, reaching in John’s direction.
John picked him up. He was heavy. At six months he was a chubby, hearty, healthy child.
His fingers grasped a lock of John’s hair.
John caught the boy’s hand and carried him to the window to look out over the grounds of The Place.
In the distance he saw the folly tower. ‘All this will be yours one day, Paul. But for now, it is just your playground. I will not let you take its weight too soon, not as I did.’ John kissed the child’s head and felt love fill his heart.
‘So this is where you have run off to. Everyone is waiting for you downstairs.’
John turned to Katherine, his smile broadening as he lifted Paul high, tossed him upwards and caught him, making the boy giggle.
‘He is supposed to be sleeping,’ Katherine complained, but beneath the accusing words was a note of amusement.
‘He had woken.’
‘Because you were watching and disturbed him.’
‘I was checking to see he was comfortable.’
‘And waking him so you had an excuse to take him down and show him off.’ John grinned.
