Page 20 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke (The Marlow Family Secrets #6)

Loitering among the gravestones and crypts in the churchyard, suffering inane conversation, John waited on Katherine’s appearance.

Her parents had already gone, as had half the village. The other half it seemed only stayed to indulge him.

John had initially waited beside the clergyman, his hands clasped behind his back, so he would not be tempted to throttle the man. But then those left had huddled into groups and drawn him into conversations.

He was not in the mood to talk. He was too distracted, and not only by thoughts of Katherine.

Wareham had turned up. Late. To make an entrance.

The whole congregation had turned when the door had opened to let him in.

Then the whole congregation had turned to look at John.

Clearly Wareham had made no secret of his dismissal.

John had ignored them and looked back to the front, very aware of Katherine talking quietly with the children in the small chapel at the side of the church.

When Wareham had left he had smiled at John, hatred shining in his eyes.

It reminded John of the day his grandfather had given John’s mother that same look, now immortalised in John’s recurring dream.

John had smiled back just as viciously. Let the man fret and squirm, John was not ready to move yet, he wanted more evidence to ensure Wareham could not claim the incorrect totals had been made in error.

However, after Wareham had walked away John sent his grooms to follow, and to fetch others to watch Wareham once they knew where he was staying. John wanted to be able to find the man when the time came to make the charge.

John sighed.

He longed to go into the church and drag Katherine out. He was bored of the obsequious company of local society, and her reverend.

When she finally did appear, though, John was a little shocked to face the paragon of virtue again. Last time he had seen her she had allowed him indecent privileges, now she looked as pure as snow once more. It seemed she could hide her emotions as capably as he could when she wished to.

She wore the same tired blue dress she had worn last week. He had never seen his sister, his mother or his cousins wear a dress twice within a month. No wonder she thought him spoilt.

She smiled at her reverend, before even looking at John. Contempt and envy filled him.

He had watched her during the service, moving behind the ironwork screen closing off the chancel chapel. She had grace, and she showed compassion and gentleness to the children.

He had smiled at the thought of her employing those qualities on him. She shone like a light in the barren darkness inside him. Egypt had been the arid desert of his life, Katherine his oasis.

When she faced him, he smiled and felt a lightning bolt of recognition. He knew her naked body. His gaze swept over her.

‘Your Grace.’ She dropped a formal curtsy.

He had become so unaware of the difference in their status he had forgotten she needed to curtsy.

‘Miss Spencer.’

‘I’m sorry I took so long.’

‘Are you ready?’

She nodded.

He offered his arm.

When she laid her fingers atop his coat sleeve, he felt a rush of overwhelming warmth as the ground rocked beneath his feet. It was a mix of gratitude, protectiveness and a deep-seated respect which hit him like a fist to the stomach.

Behind her, her reverend said, ‘If you will wait a moment, Miss Spencer, I shall be free to run you home.’

John seethed with jealousy. Her reverend must have something to hide if he used her given name in private only. She may not realise her reverend wanted her, but he did.

‘There is no need, Reverend Barker,’ Katherine said. John knew she had felt his arm stiffen and sensed his anger. ‘His Grace has offered and I accepted.’

That routed the bloody man.

The reverend turned to John.

John smiled, the stiff taut smile he had inherited from his grandfather. Let the good reverend know the truth, John was claiming his ground and he was never stepping back. He was not saintly.

‘Excuse us,’ John said.

‘Of course.’ What else could the man say? But then the reverend looked at Katherine meaningfully, communicating concern. He and Katherine must be close if they spoke in looks. She must have shared thoughts with him. John’s envy hit him harder.

‘I shall look forward to seeing you at Miss Jennifer’s coming out then, Miss Spencer.’

She nodded and bobbed a lesser curtsy, blushing.

In a moment she was up in John’s curricle beside him, her thigh pressing along the side of his, while one hand clung to the edge and the other held her reticule in her lap.

Behind them John’s groom perched on the step at the back, bracing himself by gripping the frame as John flicked the ribbons again and lifted the animals’ pace from a trot to a canter.

She did not speak, and nor did John. When they reached her home he slowed the horses and steered them onto the crescent drive. Once he had stopped the horses, he jumped down at the same moment as his groom who moved forward to hold the animals while John walked about to the other side.

As he handed her down he heard the door open behind him.

‘Katherine?’ It was her father. ‘If Reverend Barker was busy you should have spoken up, we would have waited.’

Her hand was still in John’s when she turned to her father, it slipped free.

‘John offered, Papa.’

‘I am sure His Grace has better things to do, Kate. You should have said.’

The censure in his voice struck John and he saw it hit Katherine too. She turned an exquisite pink and her gaze dropped suddenly to her father’s shoes.

‘It was no trouble.’ John spoke up before her father could hurt her again. ‘I was coming past your door.’

‘We are hardly en route to Pembroke Place, Your Grace.’

‘True, but I am going to London, sir.’

The man visibly bristled. Apparently her father was as suspicious as her reverend. He had been so the other day but John had smoothed things with a little flattery. Katherine had accused him of manipulating people. He knew how to. He had learned that from his grandfather too.

‘You are going to London today?’ Katherine looked at him.

He had intended telling her when they walked to the door. Her father had stolen that opportunity. But John needed to speak to Harvey and sort out the mess Wareham had created.

‘I will return on Wednesday, for your sister’s celebration.’

Her eyes shimmered with uncertain emotions as she looked at him.

‘Go indoors, Katherine,’ her father said.

Had her father seen her sad look? Had she given them away?

She sent John a swift apologetic smile, full of insecurity, the Katherine he had met in town, and bobbed a curtsy. ‘Your Grace. Thank you for driving me home,’ she added more quietly.

‘You are welcome.’

After that, she was gone in an instant.

‘May I speak with you privately?’ Her father’s words sent a chill running down John’s spine. He nodded, and then followed the man inside.

There was a sense of the absurd in this moment. Katherine’s father was a meaningless nothing of a man in John’s world and John was at least three inches taller than him. Yet he was treating John like a schoolboy about to get a telling-off. Laughter tickled at the back of John’s throat.

He was led into Spencer’s study and the door was shut behind him.

‘I am no fool, Your Grace,’ her father opened, standing before the window.

John stared at him, not sure what he was saying.

‘You may leave my daughter alone after today. I do not wish to see you speaking with her privately nor showing her particular attention. You will leave her be, do you understand?’

The foolish man. John did not like being told what he could and could not do, yet, speaking against him took courage. ‘You of all people, sir, are aware of my long-standing connection with Katherine. She values my friendship and I hers.’

‘And do you take advantage of that friendship, Your Grace?’ There was a bitter challenge in Spencer’s voice. He spoke as though he knew what had happened.

‘No.’ John denied it.

‘My daughter is judged enough for her birth, Your Grace. She does not need vultures circling over her to add to her pain. If you have any conscience, cease preying on her and leave her be.’

‘I would not hurt her,’ John answered instinctively.

‘Then is it marriage you are thinking of?’

A painful fist braced about John’s heart, winding him and preventing him from answering. Of course it was not marriage. She could never be his wife.

‘I thought not,’ Spencer answered, looking at John as though John were the carrion. ‘Then I ask again – please leave my daughter alone.’

No . He was not letting her go, her father and her reverend be damned. ‘If Katherine wishes for my friendship, sir, she shall have it.’ John turned away.

‘Then you are not welcome in my home.’

Looking back, John smiled a vicious smile, feeling his grandfather’s monster rise up inside him. ‘As you wish.’