Page 38 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke (The Marlow Family Secrets #6)

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 you think your 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.

By the time he reached his uncle’s he had realised the truth. It had hit him like a fist on the chin. He loved Katherine. He had loved her for months. This infatuation, which was far beyond lust or any physical need, it had to be love.

‘Hello, John!’ Mary called from across the hall as he stepped over the threshold. Their youngest sister was balanced on her hip. ‘You are early.’

He nodded without saying a word, feeling too much pain in his chest to speak.

He had pushed his family away too and yet they had hung on because they loved him. He should try and return that love.

‘Mama is upstairs in the nursery, playing spillikins with the little ones. Jemima kept destroying the game so I brought her down.’ Mary crossed the room, and when she reached him she held the little girl out towards him, smiling brightly.

‘Here, take her. I will fetch Mama.’

Unwilling to refuse and show his discomfort with the younger ones, John took his youngest half-sister, bracing her weight in his hands as he lifted the child to his chest.

‘I will not be long,’ Mary breathed. ‘Take her up to the drawing room. I will be there in a moment.’ Mary turned away, and lifting her skirt with one hand, ran upstairs.

John followed, cradling the little girl on one forearm, his hand bracing her leg, while his other palm splayed over her back.

He had held Mary just like this, when he had been eleven, or twelve. He climbed the stairs with care while Jemima played with the knot of his cravat.

More memories of Mary, and Robbie, stirred.

Although by the time Robbie had come along John had tired of the novelty of having young siblings and had lost interest in them soon after.

He had preferred Phillip’s company and so Phillip had been invited to stay for most of the holidays and in general they had ignored John’s siblings.

Only Katherine had been allowed to intrude on their camaraderie, if they were at Pembroke Place.

The possibility of Phillip replacing Harvey occurred to John again. If Katherine would let him have nothing to do with her, he could at least favour her family. He would hire Phillip.

As John neared the drawing room Jemima stretched out her legs and her chubby little fingers gripped at the shoulders of his morning coat. It was a silent request to be put on her feet. He remembered Mary doing the same.

He leaned down, obeying, but she could not walk unaided yet and so she gripped his forefingers and stumbled along on unsteady legs.

What would it be like to sire a child with Katherine?

His little sister led him to the window seat, and there she let him go and grasped the cushion instead. He sat down, then lifted her up. She pressed her nose to the windowpane, looking down at his curricle in the street below.

He withdrew a shiny sixpence from his pocket and steadying her with one hand, began spinning the coin through his fingers. His Uncle Robert had taught him the trick when John was a child.

Jemima watched and then squealed and tried to catch it just at the moment his mother, Mary and his Aunt Jane arrived.

John caught hold of Jemima before she fell and slipped the coin into his pocket.

He noticed that his Aunt Jane’s figure was expanding again. No one could question his family’s ability to breed. It would have irritated him a couple of months ago, today, he felt jealous.

‘Are you well, John?’

His gaze lifted and met Mary’s questioning look.

‘I am well, Mary,’ he said, rising. ‘And you?’

She nodded, smiling broadly. ‘I am ridiculously excited, I cannot sleep.’ John kissed her cheek. ‘You are still coming tonight, to Aunt Jane’s supper party?’ she asked.

He nodded then smiled, deliberately letting his guard down. ‘Come, then, tell me all your plans and my role in them.’ It would distract him from his own troubles.