Page 41 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke (The Marlow Family Secrets #6)

John strolled about the crowded ballroom.

Mary’s debut ball was crushed full of people. She and his mother were overjoyed.

His grandmother was here, too, of course.

She had been glowing with pride ever since Mary had come downstairs.

She looked magnificent in gleaming cream silk with her dark hair pinned high and secured with diamond-tipped pins.

They glistened in the light thrown from the chandeliers, and she was illuminated by joy.

John had been the first to take her onto the floor and as they had danced he had noted numerous appreciative male eyes following her.

He watched her now. She was dancing with their father, and Edward’s gaze shone brightly with admiration.

John noticed his mother on the far side of the room, watching too. Tears glinted in her eyes.

His parents had been emotional all evening, watching Mary make her mark on society. He knew now, his mother had never had a debut like this. She had eloped with his father before her time had come. Yet beyond that he still knew very little about her life.

She had spent the year before his birth as an army wife, on the edge of battlefields. He knew nothing about what had happened afterwards. Well, not until she had returned when he was ten.

Mary laughed as the dance drew to a close.

Then the notes of a waltz began, and John found himself moving towards his mother without thought. When he reached her he held out his hand.

She looked surprised but accepted, holding his white-gloved fingers.

He smiled as he led her to the floor, trying to relax and let down his guard a little.

She smiled too as they formed the frame of the waltz. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I cannot believe you are both so grown up.’

John spotted his stepfather watching. He looked pleased.

‘The years have passed so quickly.’ She met his gaze.

‘Yes.’

Mary was dancing with Lord Griffin, a young man with immense charm, whom John had seen courting the attentions of a harlot last week.

John was going to have to give Mary, and Edward, a list of the men she should avoid.

John thought of Katherine, sweet innocent Katherine. The tender bud of an English rose, that he had plucked. If a man treated Mary as he had treated Katherine, he would kill them.

Guilt was becoming a common feeling since he had received Katherine’s terse note telling him to leave her alone.

‘I know you are angry, John…’ his mother said. She must have misunderstood the surge of emotion in him. ‘Because you did not have the life the young ones have, but I love you equally.’

John’s gaze turned back to her. ‘I do not begrudge them your love, Mama.’

Her gaze held his but the conversation ended. She probably did not believe him, and she certainly did not understand the confused emotions tormenting him. He had never understood them himself.

Last night, the feeling of loss he suffered over Katherine had somehow got tangled up in it all and his dream had come again but this time it was not his mother left behind running after the carriage, it was Katherine. Tears had shone in her eyes as she had cried out in a heartbroken tone.

He had been shaking when he woke. He wished to have Katherine in his life permanently, and the only option now was marriage.

The music drew to a close with a flourish, and when John stopped dancing his mother’s hand braced his cheek. ‘I wish I knew how to reach you, John, you hold yourself so distant, and sometimes I see so much pain in your eyes.’

His stare hardened in answer. He did not wish her seeing into him. ‘I am trying my best, Mama. I cannot be what I am not.’

‘I only say it because I care, it is not a reprimand.’

‘I know.’

He accompanied her as she walked back to Edward. His gaze caught on Finch, who moved about the edge of the floor in the same direction.

‘Your Grace, may I speak with you?’ Finch said. John nodded and excused himself from his parents.

As he followed Finch from the room John guessed it was not about the entertainment.

In the hall, Finch stopped and turned. ‘Forgive me, Your Grace, Mr Harvey has called. He believed you would wish to see him.’

‘Where is he?’ John’s heart raced. Did Harvey finally have something more on Wareham?

‘In the library, Your Grace.’

‘Thank you.’

A footman opened the library door and John passed through it. It closed behind him.

Harvey was standing at the hearth, warming one outstretched hand. He turned. His other hand held a glass of brandy. He had obviously been waiting a little while.

‘Your Grace, I apologise, I did not realise you were entertaining. Had I known I would not have come, but I knew Your Grace would wish to see this…’

‘What?’ John asked, crossing to the decanters. He poured himself a drink, as Harvey collected a file from the desk.

‘This.’

John looked at the leather folder Harvey held out.

‘Lady Edward’s history, Your Grace. I have not read it. I did not like to. The statements were drawn from a colleague in Captain Harding’s regiment, and also the former owner of a London gambling house.’

John felt his eyebrows lift and his blood ran cold. Half of him did not want to know. The other half could not stand not knowing.

The brandy burned his throat as he drank from the glass and took the file.

He sat behind his desk.

Harvey stood in silence as John opened it. Anger and disgust rose with every word John read. He knew they were true. They explained so much of what he had known and not understood.

From his father’s death his mother had lived as a man’s mistress.

As a whore! She had been kept by four different men across the ten years, passing from one to another.

It was noted that on two occasions she had been passed on via a hand of cards.

The second time this had happened in a card game, the last time she had changed protector, Lord Edward Marlow, John’s stepfather, had won.

John let the last paper fall from his fingers and picked up his glass. His teeth were clenched hard against a desire to annihilate the men who had treated her so badly. By these accounts, although they were scarce on detail, his mother had neither been willing nor content but used.

John’s hand covered his mouth for a moment, and then his fingers swept through his hair.

This was not a burden lifted but another to bear.

His gaze rose to the portrait of his grandfather. After his father’s death, the duke had gone to France and collected John, but he had left his mother there, his daughter. He had left her there with no money and no home and left her with no choice and no help…

He saw his mother’s face as she had run after the carriage when he was ten. How must she have looked when he was no more than a babe in arms.

John drained his glass, closed the folder and stood. Harvey watched him.

‘Thank you, Mr Harvey. I appreciate you bringing it here. You may go now.’

‘You’re welcome, Your Grace. Contact me if there is anything I may do.’ With that Harvey bowed and left.

John took a deep breath, and then went to ask the footman outside to fetch his mother. ‘Please tell Lady Edward I wish to speak to her here. She may wish to bring Lord Edward.’

The footman bowed before disappearing.

John shut the door then returned to the desk to collect and refill his glass.

When the door opened again he turned to see his mother slip into the room, alone.

‘Mama, sit down.’ He tried not to sound bitter but he probably failed.

‘What is it?’ she asked uncertainly, sitting in an armchair opposite his desk.

She was the daughter of a Duke. To him she’d always seemed so perfect, sparkling and beautiful – it was like looking up at the sun.

‘I know,’ he said.

She stared at him, clearly not comprehending. But then her chin tipped upwards and her posture straightened, fractionally. ‘What?’

‘Everything,’ John answered as he rested his buttocks on the lip of the desk and crossed his feet and arms.

Her eyes widened.

‘As you would not tell me I had Harvey find out. I have it all here.’ He threw a glance at the file on his desk. ‘A statement drawn from a man in my father’s regiment, and a Madam who ran a club in London you used to attend with Lord Gainsborough.’

Her skin paled and her hand pressed to her chest. ‘Why did you do that, John?’

‘I thought why was my question, Mama.’

Her hands were trembling.

John poured her a brandy and took it to her.

‘I am not talking to you about it,’ she whispered harshly, shaking her head and refusing the brandy.

‘I am not accusing you, Mama. I can see from the statements it was not your choice. I merely want to know why Grandfather took me back and not you? Why did you live like that for so long?’

Her eyes flashed.

He set the glass down on his desk.

She backed away, walking behind the chair, as though seeking refuge, and she held its back.

The door opened.

They both looked across as Edward entered. ‘What is it?’ he asked jovially, looking at John. ‘Mary is wondering where you have gone. The supper dance is next and you had promised it—’ He stopped when he saw John’s mother. ‘Ellen, what is wrong?’ Edward crossed the room.

In the next moment she was sobbing into Edward’s cravat.

Guilt punched him. But why should he feel guilty? He had a right to know. While he had endured a lonely childhood, she had… It was unthinkable. He had not even been Jemima’s age when this had begun.

‘He knows,’ his mother whispered. ‘He had Mr Harvey investigate my past.’

Edward’s brow furrowed and he glared at John.

John stared back.

‘Why would you do that?’ Edward challenged.

‘Because you would not tell me.’ John leaned his buttocks back against the desk and folded his arms again. ‘I know about the card game you had with Lord Gainsborough.’

Edward’s eyes suddenly blazed with fury, and he stepped forward, his hands becoming fists, as though he would hit John.

John merely said to his mother, ‘Tell me what happened. Why did Grandfather not help you?’