Page 46 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke (The Marlow Family Secrets #6)

Nobody said a word during the carriage journey back to town.

John longed to touch her, even just to take her hand. She had said she no longer loved him earlier. He hoped it was not true. He had been all the things he despised to her though. He could hardly blame her if she did not.

Phillip suggested they use a church in Cheapside. He said the vicar there could be trusted to keep the marriage secret. How he knew that, John did not ask.

John took Katherine’s hand when they alighted, and held it tightly as they stood outside, leaving Phillip to make the arrangements. When the vicar came to greet them he was accompanied by his housekeeper, who would be their second witness. ‘Have you a special licence?’

John nodded and retrieved it with his free hand, not letting go of Katherine’s.

‘Thank you. Come this way.’

They were led into the church.

John’s heart began to pound as the enormity of what they were doing struck him. This was a lifelong commitment and he would be asking much of her – to rise from the adopted daughter of a squire to a duchess.

Katherine’s fingers curled about John’s hand as they stood before the altar, accepting the reassurance of his strong grip.

She had not had the courage to look at him, though.

She felt like weeping – on her wedding day.

She was scared. He did not believe he loved her and she had no idea how to live in his world.

When she finally looked at John, he was watching the vicar. She stood on the side of his swollen lip, and his cheek had a lump which was dark purple. The vicar must think this a forced match. But John had come to her before he knew about the child. At least she knew his offer was genuine.

If he had not come, she would have been married in a church full of people, to Richard, with her father there as well as Phillip. Her father did not even know she was marrying John… He would be wondering where she was.

‘Katherine Spencer, I…’ John’s ducal voice echoed about the church as he looked down at her, repeating the vicar’s words, his hand holding hers more tightly, ‘…in sickness and in health…’

Promises. Promises.

She met his gaze but did not trust him. He was no longer John Harding, the youth she had known well.

He spoke as an orator, announcing his words with authority.

This was the facade behind which he hid the young man he was.

But which one was real? The man who had shown all those feelings at her father’s house, or this man?

The other, her heart told her. She must remember even in this man he was there, beneath. But she was afraid of the duke who had asked her to be his mistress, not his wife.

‘Now, Miss Spencer, say after me…’ It was her turn to make promises. He had promised to honour her, she had to say she would obey him.

When it came to exchanging a ring, John did not have one, and so he took a gold signet ring from his small finger.

I am going to be his Duchess . How? This Cinderella ending did not feel like a fairy tale. It felt like a nightmare.

‘I now pronounce you man and wife.’

John’s hands rested on her shoulders and he kissed her temple. Then he reached for his handkerchief because his lip had split open and wiped the blood away before taking her hand again. He had become the duke, she knew because now his hold was impersonal.

He signed the marriage register, writing John Harding, with no title. She wondered if the vicar even knew who John really was.

Phillip and the vicar’s housekeeper signed as witnesses.

The vicar took her hand. ‘Felicitations, Mrs Harding.’ She knew for certain how little Phillip had told him then.

She wished she was merely Mrs Harding. If she were merely Mrs Harding she would be happy because then John would just be John.

Outside the church, John smiled towards her. ‘I will take you home now, but I ought to warn you, my family are there, my parents and the children are staying with me. Mary made her debut recently.’

Sheer terror beset her.

‘I will leave you,’ Phillip said. ‘John’s groom will have taken my curricle back to the mews.’

John nodded while Katherine felt her lifeline being cut.

‘Phillip.’ She hugged him, tightly, not knowing what to say.

She could hardly ask him to stay. She had a new life to begin and yet she felt petrified at the thought of stepping into it.

How could she do it? It was one thing to have dreamed of being with John.

It was another to achieve it. ‘You will call on us…’ she said before letting him go.

Phillip kissed her cheek and whispered, ‘I will call on you tomorrow to see how you go on.’

She nodded and tried to smile but could not. Instead she bit her lip.

When she took John’s hand to climb into the carriage she remembered she had not one stitch of clothing with her, only what she wore. She was a ragtag girl, the illegitimate daughter to a dairymaid, and now his Duchess – with child. What on earth would his family think?

He did not speak as they rode through the London streets. He appeared to be in his own world, looking out the window. She longed for some sign of John, a gentle word or gesture, but John was in retreat behind the duke. She supposed he must be concerned about taking her to meet his parents too.

She longed for her bedroom at home, to be sitting in the window seat with her mending, in a life she knew.

The houses on either side of the street became grander.

She felt too uncomfortable now to look at John.

Then she recognised the streets from their journey on the day of the funeral and felt trapped.

If she listened to her instinct she would leap from the carriage and run.

She did not. But she clasped her hands and held them together in her lap.

She did not even have her reticule or a bonnet or a pelisse. What on earth would his family think?

At least the opulence of his town house was not a shock when the carriage drew up outside it.

The carriage rocked as a footman jumped down from the back, and then the door opened. The house door opened too when the footman helped her down.

Katherine recognised the butler who was framed in the open door.

Her heart pounded. John alighted after her and offered his arm. The action looked purely instinctive, not intentional. Still she clung to it, feeling his solid muscle beneath the cloth of his coat.

He was dressed entirely appropriately in gloves and hat and coat. It would make the state of her undress only more remarkable. John’s fingers covered hers on his arm as they crossed the threshold and the butler’s gaze skimmed over her attire, from her uncovered head to her worn half-boots.

She could have cried she was so glad of the reassurance John’s touch provided. She looked up at him, but he was facing the butler. ‘Are my mother and father at home, Finch?’

‘Lord and Lady Edward are in the family drawing room, Your Grace.’

‘And Finch…’ John added, as the man bowed far less deeply to her than he had done to John, ‘gather the staff in the library in half an hour. I will speak to them shortly. I need to introduce the Duchess of Pembroke.’

The man did well to cover his shock. She would swear his mouth nearly fell open but his lips closed tightly instead, yet he nodded at John in an informal agreement that was clearly a slip before he bowed more markedly again. ‘Certainly, Your Grace.’ Then he turned to her. ‘Welcome, Your Grace.’

‘Thank you.’ Her voice was steady despite her fear. She must set John’s staff an example from the beginning if she was ever going to cope.

When they climbed the stairs a moment later, John said quietly, ‘Are you bearing up?’

She glanced at him and for the first time in four hours she saw John in his eyes. Her fingers squeezed his arm, but she did not answer, she was not quite sure what would come out if she did.

‘You will manage, Katherine,’ he stated so matter-of-factly she found her voice.

‘I’m glad one of us thinks so.’

He laughed and she felt a rush of relief sweep over her.

As they walked along the landing, she could hear conversation, it grew louder the further they progressed. Her heartbeat thundered.

When they reached the open door his arm dropped from beneath her hand.

She felt bereft for an instant, but then he took her hand and held it tightly as he had done at the church.

She remembered at last how strained his relationship had appeared with his family the night she’d conceived their child. She felt sick as they entered, but straightened and lifted her chin.

‘I’ve brought you a surprise,’ John stated.

The room was huge. Over half a dozen times the size of her father’s parlour.

John’s father was kneeling on all fours, forming a climbing frame for the younger children. He carefully spilled John’s younger brothers from his back onto the floor and got up from his knees.

The two older boys, Robbie and Harry, were playing a game of chess in one corner. Robbie looked up and stood as he saw John.

John’s mother held John’s youngest sister on her lap as she sat in between two of the older girls who were busy sewing samplers. Five-year-old Georgiana was on the floor with a tiny porcelain tea set spread before her.

Mary was not in the room.

‘What did you do to your lip? Did you fight?’ Robbie asked in a surprised yet awed tone.

All the children stared after Robbie had spoken.

John’s mother and father must have noticed but had been too polite to say anything as she stood with him.

Katherine smiled towards the children. Then smiled at his parents but her smile felt stiff and awkward.

His mother looked from John to Katherine, her smile uncertain. ‘Kate, this is a surprise.’

John’s father walked towards her. ‘Kate?’ It was a welcome and a question.

John’s hold on her hand was painfully tight. ‘Mama, Papa, Katherine and I are married.’

‘Married?’ His mother sounded upset more than surprised.

‘John!’ His father’s expression was disbelief and reprimand.

Katherine wished the ground would swallow her up.