Page 80 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke
Hetty entered, waving a letter. ‘Av you not eaten, miss? This letter was left on the table. You’ve barely touched a thing in days. Still, here you are, I brought it up so you’d av it, miss.’
So, Hetty had noted Katherine’s absence.
‘Thank you.’ She accepted the letter.
Hetty bobbed a swift, shallow curtsy, then left.
Katherine felt faint when she saw the bold script. John’s. She took a deep breath and broke the seal.
He had written three lines, to repeat the offer he had made in the summer. Then said again, ‘remember me’. She did not wish to, not any more. She wanted to forget him. She would not live in sin with him. Her child would not grow up being called his bastard. The letter convinced her to speak to Richard. John’s repeated offer only showed his lack of respect for her. Angry, she crossed to her small travelling desk and wrote a letter back.
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When John spotted Katherine’s writing amid his post his heart skipped a beat and his lungs felt as though there was no air in the room. His hand shook as he broke the seal.
It was addressed formally, to the Duke of Pembroke. He knew without reading the contents it was a rebuff.
I am sure youthinkyour contacting me is kindness. It is not. It is as usual, selfish. ‘Remember me.’ ‘Love me.’ Do you ever not think of yourself?
I do not wish to remember you any more. I wish to forget you, and that dreadful mistake.
Then you renew your offer, as though I should be honoured, when it is entirely lacking honour. My answer is no, and will always be, no! Pray, if you have an ounce of human feeling, as you claimed to in your last letter,leave me alone. I do not want to hear from you. What was between us is over. All you are doing is hurting me more because I did love you and you did not love me.
Have a heart, John.
Her letter was not even signed.
A chasm tore open in his chest, a sharp pain that cut him in two.
She had said she did love him. In the past tense. She did not love him now. He had lost her.
The letter fell from his fingers, dropping to the floor. A footman bent and picked it up before refilling John’s coffee cup.
Anger overwhelmed him.Fool, I never had her. She was never mine to have.
He stood, with an urge to run. But where would he run to?
He picked the letter up from the table, folded it and put it in his pocket, forcing himself to regain control. Then picked up the rest of the post and left the table.
Upstairs, in his private sitting room, he dropped the other letters on a small table and then walked to the hearth where the embers still glowed. He tossed Katherine’s letter into them and watched it catch alight and burn. He needed to stop thinking about her. She had stopped thinking about him.
What foolhardy notion had possessed him to make that offer again?Need. Desperate, bloody need.His fingers curled into fists, then released. Tomorrow was Sunday. She would be with her reverend. He longed to go to Pembroke Place and see her, yet it would hardly be worth doing so now. She would tell him to go away. But he was the Duke of Pembroke. He could do anything he wished. He could go there and steal her away if he chose. He could force her into accepting by threatening to destroy her father.
God, you are an ass, John.
He would not do that.
He would do what she asked and leave her alone.
He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and snarled. He did not like the man he saw. His fingers lifted and swept back his fringe.
‘Pray, if you have an ounce of human feeling in your heart,leave me alone.’
Did he? Could he?How do I let her go?
John felt as though she had been the glue holding him together and now he was falling apart. He forced himself to sit down and read his other letters, until the clock chimed eleven. Then, he remembered promising to call on his mother so she could bring him up to date on their plans for Mary.
Inside him was dry, barren sand again. Any lingering doubt that he was able to feel was dispelled. He felt. He hurt like hell. He drove his curricle through the streets absent-mindedly, nearly running his horses into people at a crossroads.
