Page 65 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
‘Not until he was ten…’
Drawn along between them, Katherine did not know what to make of their conversation. She had never heard them speak of John so disparagingly. When they were young, they had idolised him. She knew he had changed, but it seemed strange to her that he would keep himself distant from a family she could only dream of having.
But he had admitted to her he trusted no one, perhaps he did not want anyone to understand him. It was probably the shield he used to hide himself behind so no one would see the vulnerability she kept sensing. Perhaps she knew him more than she thought she did.
Katherine was taken to the drawing room first and found it bursting at the seams with John’s family and full of noise.
Everyone was here but John.
After being reintroduced by Eleanor and Margaret who ensured the whole family recognised Katherine and made her welcome, Eleanor then drew Katherine away and insisted she dress in her room. ‘My maid will dress your hair and make you look ravishing tonight. It was such a good idea of John’s to ensure you had something special to wear. At least the brute can still show the occasional kindness.’
17
As John entered the hall of Pembroke Place, Finch followed his welcome by announcing the receipt of an urgent letter.
John instantly knew who it was from when a footman passed it to him on a silver tray. He had spent enough hours studying this writing in the last few weeks to recognise Wareham’s hand.
‘Has everyone arrived, Finch?’
‘They have, Your Grace. Your guests are in their rooms, dressing.’
After his mother’s little tête-à-tête, John had left the house to his family and gone back into town to avoid them, though he had fulfilled his promise and let Robbie drive the curricle before leaving. That afternoon had been amusing, although it had only highlighted to John how distant and different he was to his brother.
Robbie laughed frequently, chatted constantly and smiled readily, as John could never remember doing, but then Robbie had been raised by two loving parents and did not bear the weight of any anticipated title. John’s stepfather was the second son of an Earl. So, Robbie could do what he wished with his life.
Glad his family were out of the way John went to his rooms to read the letter. There was a cold hard knot in his stomach and a sick feeling in his throat as he opened the letter.
The words struck John like a fist to the jaw.
If you do not wish the world to know of your mother’s shameful past, you will give me the sum of fifty thousand pounds.
His mother’s shameful past!She had no secrets… But then, there was something he did not know about his mother…Where was she before I was ten?
John’s hand shook as he swept back his fringe. What did Wareham know that he did not? Realising that Wareham knew his mother’s secrets made him angrier than the notion of blackmail.
The letter fell from his hand and spiralled to the floor. Instinct bid him destroy it but that would be foolish. Even though it bore no signature it was still evidence. Snatching up the note, John secured it in his personal safe, locking away his anger too. He turned and strode out of the room, every muscle in his body tense.
Now was the time to ask the question he had denied himself all these years.
The heels of his boots hit heavily as he marched along the hall, announcing his arrival as he stopped before the door of his parents’ rooms. There was noise within, children’s voices, and Mary’s.
He knocked.
‘Come,’ his mother called, humour and happiness in her voice.
The sitting room adjoining his parents’ bedchamber was full of his siblings. The girls were excitedly looking over his mother’s and Mary’s evening clothes, while the boys were playing a rough-and-tumble game with his stepfather.
‘John!’ Robbie’s bright voice greeted John.
John could remember these hours before a ball. His parents had always spent time with their children before they went out for an evening so he, and now his brothers and sisters, would not feel excluded by the adult world and left behind.
‘John?’ his stepfather said, his expression changing as he swung David, one of the younger boys, from his shoulders down to the ground.
‘I did not know you were home,’ his mother said as she stood.
‘I have just returned. May I speak with you privately, Mama?’
‘Did you have bad news in town?’ Mary asked from across the room. ‘You look like thunder. In fact you look like Grandpapa.’
