Page 36 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke (The Marlow Family Secrets #6)

When Wareham played his next card, he surprised John.

In an attempt to distract his thoughts from Katherine, he had spurned ducal pomp and chosen to walk home from White’s after luncheon and sent his carriage and footmen on.

But when he turned into Regent Street, John spotted Wareham immediately.

He walked towards John, approaching him among a crush of people.

Wareham closed the distance, seemingly intent on waylaying John.

John swore under his breath, hoping one of the men trailing Wareham was close enough to bear witness.

He kept walking, refusing to avoid Wareham, feeling certain now Wareham had watchers too. Wareham stopped, blocking John’s path.

‘You look tired, Your Grace, does something disturb your sleep…?’

Unless he wished to step about Wareham John had to stop too. He said nothing, merely held the man’s gaze. His lack of sleep was due to Katherine anyway, not this man.

‘I’ve not heard from you. Are you gathering the funds? If you do not, I shall tell.’

John stiffened. ‘Any information is useless if you publish.’

‘That depends upon my reasons for publishing. Perhaps I would take pleasure in telling the world the truth about your mother.’

And what the hell is it? John should let Wareham do it, at least he would know then. ‘If that was your aim, why write and warn me? Go ahead, publish.’

The man smiled.

Hatred filled John.

Wareham leaned closer. ‘Because, I like playing with you, and the price has just doubled, Your Grace.’

John pushed past him and walked on, oblivious to all the people swelling about him.

What did Wareham know?

God, he needed this resolved, but he would not give the man a penny.

John’s destination changed.

‘Your Grace,’ the clerk said as John entered Harvey’s offices. Then Harvey appeared.

‘I was not expecting Your Grace. To what do I owe the honour?’

‘You owe it to Wareham…’

In Harvey’s office John expanded. ‘I had the unfortunate pleasure of walking into him just now. I doubt it was an accident, which means he is definitely watching my movements as I am watching his and he has upped his price to keep his silence over whatever information he holds on Lady Edward.’

‘Ah.’ Harvey sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk.

‘Ah, indeed,’ John mimicked, ‘but from what I gleaned, I doubt he is interested in the money, it is revenge. Though, what he has to be vengeful over I have no idea. Yet it is clear he feels animosity towards me.’

‘Because Your Grace has spotted the error in his figures, no doubt?’

John was not convinced of that, and Wareham did not even know John had found out yet. No, there was something else.

‘Have you any conclusions on either my mother or the money?’

‘I am sorry, Your Grace, no. I am still working on both topics.’

John gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He just wished this done with.

He opened his eyes again. ‘I want more men put on this. I want it resolved, Harvey.’

The business man smiled.

John did not.

‘Forgive me.’ Harvey leaned back in his chair. ‘There are many times Your Grace has the look of the old Duke, and it catches me unawares. I understand. Of course I will increase our resources as Your Grace desires.’

A prickle ran up John’s spine when he heard Harvey’s reference to the old man. John did feel more and more like him, yet he was feeling less and less in control of his life.

John stood, moved to the window, and then looked out onto the street.

There was a young lad hovering by the railings outside the property next door, staring up at Harvey’s offices.

Well, at least John knew who his shadow was, just a boy.

With his back still to Harvey, he said, ‘I wish you to write to all of my stewards, and all those managing my business ventures. They know Wareham has gone and that I gave him notice but I have not explained why.’ John turned around.

‘Tell them… No. Warn them. I expect to be dealt with openly and honestly, and in return I will manage them and my affairs fairly and with integrity. But disloyal service will bring equal rewards.’

Harvey reached for paper, quill and ink and began to make a brief note. He understood, John knew, but there was no harm in underlining the point.

‘I am not my grandfather. They will have to learn to deal with me, and you may tell them that in the coming months I will be visiting all my properties and reviewing in detail all my investments. I expect to find them in good order, and I shall not give notice of my arrival.’

Harvey’s head lifted and he smiled. ‘I said Your Grace has the look of the old Duke not that Your Grace is like him. They will not have mistaken it, but I shall happily make it clear.’

John valued Harvey. He was one of the few people he felt safe letting his guard down with.

Perhaps that was why he was here. Yet John realised then that Harvey was one of his older staff, and there would come a day soon when John would lose Harvey, and then what?

John sighed and then admitted, ‘I would be lost without you, Mr Harvey…’ He chose his words carefully.

‘But one day I suppose I shall have to manage… I… I wonder if you have ever thought of working with anyone to prepare them to take over when the time comes…’

Harvey’s eyebrow’s lifted but John could see he had taken no offence. ‘My clerks know most of my affairs, but you are right, as ever, Your Grace. I will put some time into finding a suitable replacement and set about ensuring he is capable.’

‘Thank you.’

A knock on the door marked the end of their conversation as a clerk entered.

As John walked home, he thought of Phillip, and an idea began to take shape.

Phillip had already shown his loyalty by raising the issue of Wareham’s loan. Perhaps Phillip could be the one to play understudy to Harvey? That would surely throw Katherine into John’s path again at some point.

Pain gripped about his heart as images of Katherine filled his thoughts once more.

Here he was seeking men of integrity, when he had shown none to Katherine. If she ever did see him again she would most likely cut him dead.

When John reached home he handed his hat and gloves to Finch and walked into the library.

He was a liar. He was perfectly capable of feeling.

He felt anger, gratitude, disgust and loss.

He had been taught not to. He had tried to pretend he did not, then failed in France, and hidden himself away in Egypt so he might have no stimulation.

But emotions were there; he had feelings.

Love and hate and everything in between.

One of his sketchbooks from Egypt was lying on the desk; he had been glancing through it last evening, trying to distract his thoughts.

He sat and flicked through the images of pyramids and temples, until he reached the sketches he had drawn last night, of Katherine. He picked up his charcoal and began refining them.

‘Your Grace, may I fetch you anything?’

John turned the page over so Finch could not see and lifted his gaze. ‘Yes, a brandy, please, Finch.’

When Finch left, John’s eyes caught on his grandfather’s portrait. ‘I am not you,’ he whispered harshly at the portrait. ‘I feel.’

As his gaze dropped, it fell on the pile of invitations discarded on his desk.

His mother and step-father had come to town five days ago. They were planning to bring Mary out during the autumn. They were staying with Edward’s brother, Robert.

John should be hurt that they had chosen to stay in his uncle’s smaller residence. He was not. He had not wished them here.

When they arrived, they had sent him an open invitation to call. He had not gone.

His longing for Katherine rose up again. He felt like he was dying internally without her.

Pushing aside the sketchbook, he picked up paper and a quill. He had to say something more. He wished her here. Perhaps if he asked again?

I miss you still. I wish you were here with me. Have you thought about my offer? If you have changed your mind? Well, just write to me, whenever you wish, whenever you decide. My feelings are unchanged, my offer is not withdrawn.

Remember me,

J

Once the words were blotted and the letter sealed, he felt better. He would see it posted, then call on his parents and try to build a bridge between them.

He went on foot again. He did not want to give Wareham the satisfaction of thinking he had scared John, and had any influence over John’s life.

His uncle’s town house was in Bloomsbury Square.

Jenkins, the butler, opened the door and immediately grinned. ‘Your Grace, it is good to see you.’

John had not called here since his return from Egypt, and like many of his family’s servants, Jenkins had known him since he was a boy.

Jenkins bowed and then took John’s outdoor articles.

‘Is my mother here?’

‘Lady Edward is in the drawing room with Lady Barrington, the Duchess of Arundel and Miss Marlow. Shall I introduce Your Grace?’

‘No, I will surprise her.’ And it would be a surprise.

He climbed the stairs at a jog, knowing he had an apology to make. He had unfairly hounded her at Pembroke Place.

When he reached the drawing room, the door was ajar. Pushing it open, he walked straight in. The women were huddled on the sofas near the hearth, and they turned as one, his mother, Aunt Jane, Aunt Penny and Mary.

His mother stood, blushing, as her chin lifted, as though she expected to have to defend herself. He had watched her do the same when his grandfather had visited them. John felt his stomach tighten in disgust. Was that what he had done to her, made her fear him?

‘John,’ she uttered, ‘we did not expect you.’

‘I had nothing else to do. I hope I am not intruding.’ He forced a smile and walked towards her.

She curtsied.

He took her hand and drew her up then kissed her cheek. ‘Mama.’

A hesitant smile formed on her lips but he could see forgiveness and gratitude in her eyes.

She hugged him then and whispered to his ear, ‘I am glad you came.’ He was glad too.

‘You are interrupting nothing,’ she said more loudly, drawing away and keeping a hold of his hand for a moment.

He sat beside her. ‘But our conversation may bore you. We are planning Mary’s come out. Will you stay for refreshments?’

He nodded, feeling another punch of guilt as he realised he ought to be sponsoring Mary because Edward had no title.

John offered up his town house for the ball, and made a promise to escort Mary to a number of events. His name would offer her opportunities Edward’s could not.

In return he received joyous gratitude from his sister and approval from his mother and his aunts.