Page 43 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
Of course Wareham could not have asked Harvey to manage the issue of the defaulted loan when it had been made from stolen money. It must have been paid from his own account not the Duke’s.
Now all the details slotted into place.
* * *
When Katherine entered the room at the top of the tower, John was sitting in the armchair. He had already removed his coat, waistcoat and neckcloth. He did not smile and there was no welcome in his eyes as there had been yesterday.
‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ he charged. His eyes were like bright diamonds as he glared at her and his fingers toyed with a long, jet-black rook’s feather.
He said no more, waiting for her to speak.
He was in an ill-mood, she could see, and his ill-moods obviously intensified his arrogant and spoilt nature.
She undid the ribbons of her bonnet.
He looked detached and austere as she faced him. She guessed he was not. He had become hollow and heartless, to her eyes. But her soul said he was lonely and sorrowful.
He had brought a bottle of wine with him. It stood open on the table with a single glass beside it, he had been here long enough to drink from it.
She had not realised she was so late. ‘My mother had errands for me to run.’ Katherine felt angry with herself for giving excuses. What did it matter? It was her choice to come or not. She was not a servant to be ordered to attend him at a given time.
She set her bonnet aside and removed her gloves.
‘I see,’ he said bitterly.
Oh, he was infuriating today.
She undid her spencer and slid it off, remembering him saying he hated it. It was that comment which had made her call him spoilt. Let him live her life and see how he felt about someone insulting the coat he wore each day. But of course that would never happen, his were cut and tailored on Savile Row, and he probably had three dozen.
‘I thought you had changed your mind.’ He slid the tip of the feather down across his cheek as he spoke.
‘Obviously not.’ If he was going to act like a child, she would treat him like one. ‘But you are sulking because I am late.’
‘I am not sulking. I do not sulk, Kate. If I wished to sulk I would pay someone to sulk for me.’
She poked her tongue out at him, knowing he was referring to her accusation that he was spoilt. She put her spencer down, then crossed the room and bent to kiss his brow, smoothing back his hair. He still did not move.
‘May I have some wine?’ she asked, drawing away.
‘If you wish.’
She did. She poured it for herself and said, with her back to him, ‘If you are not sulking, then you are angry with me.’
‘No.’
‘What are you then?’ She turned back, holding a full glass.
‘Hungry for you. Take off your dress.’
‘A ducal command. How romantic.’ He was in such a strange mood today – studying her – uncommunicative. Had something happened and he was taking it out on her? He genuinely seemed upset.
‘I am not romantic. Do not expect it of me.’
She had not. But she refused to strip on his whim.
She turned and looked out through the window, sipping her wine. The only house visible was Pembroke Place. The pale stone Palladian mansion reminded her of how far apart their worlds were.
‘So, are you going to undress?’ he asked.
