Page 59 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke (The Marlow Family Secrets #6)

Katherine held the firm muscle of John’s arm through the fabric of his evening coat as they queued, awaiting an introduction to the Devonshires, gradually moving up the stairs.

‘Set your smile and keep it,’ John advised.

‘That is easy for you,’ she whispered back. ‘Sadly not for me.’

John’s Uncle Richard and his Aunt Penny stood behind them, and beyond them were all John’s influential aunts and uncles. The family was showing its solidarity.

The autumn night was chill and the fires in the huge hall in which the stairs were set had failed to chase the cold away.

Katherine shivered. They climbed another two steps and John’s hand covered her fingers as they lay on his arm.

The door to the grand hall was only feet away.

Her heart was pounding. She prayed she would not faint.

A few moments, and a few steps more, and they were there. The Duke did not hide his discontent, while the Duchess of Devonshire’s cold accusing gaze fell on Katherine then lifted to John. Katherine felt John’s Uncle Richard, the Duke of Arundel, step closer behind her.

‘Devonshire,’ John stated to the duke, holding out his hand.

The duke hesitated.

Katherine lowered into a shallow curtsy, one that was appropriate for someone of equal status.

The duke looked at his wife, then back at John and then over Katherine’s shoulder at John’s Uncle and his other family beyond.

Her fate and that of their children depended on what happened next. In or out. Katherine could feel the moments ticking by even though she could hear no clock.

The duke glanced back at his wife and then… ‘Your Grace.’ He accepted John’s hand. Relief washed over Katherine as her fingers returned to John’s arm.

John passed the duke and bowed to the Duchess.

She visibly bristled while Devonshire clasped Katherine’s hand for an instant and bowed over it.

Katherine bobbed the slightest curtsy at the Duchess who did not respond and then John swept Katherine away over the threshold and across the ballroom, smiling in a self-congratulating way.

Whispers passed about the room in a wave but no one turned their backs. Katherine understood that because the Devonshires’ had accepted her, if people cut her now they would be insulting their hosts.

His Uncle Richard caught them up and set a hand on John’s shoulder then whispered something to John’s ear.

The first notes of a waltz reached above the gossip.

‘Come,’ John said to her, and walked on towards the centre of the room, claiming the ground they had won.

She had never danced with him.

Her heart raced, and she felt light-headed as he made the frame of the dance.

His expression was set as he faced her, his ducal armour in place.

It gave her no comfort. She felt isolated by it.

He was shutting out the opinions of those in the room.

Only it also meant he was shutting out her and she had grown unused to it.

Over the past week he had been himself at home, not the duke.

He had told her story after story of his adventures abroad.

He had been attentive, even amid his family.

He had been open, never blank and cold. She had convinced herself he had changed.

He had not changed.

As they danced, he held her gently, but formally, as her gaze roamed about their audience, darting from one group of people who were staring to another.

‘Ignore them,’ John commanded.

‘I am not like you, I cannot,’ she answered.

She wished they were at home in bed. She loved this man, with his chiselled features and his pale all-absorbing eyes, and her fingers itched to run through his jet-black hair.

A smile hovered at the corner of his lips, but he did not let it take.

‘Letting people think they affect you only encourages their vindictiveness. They are like vultures pecking at a corpse if you show weakness.’

‘I do not understand this world.’

‘Who does? Not I, nor them. The biggest mockery of it is that behind closed doors many of them behave without restraint. The Devonshires, the Oxfords, Melbourne, they all have illegitimacy in their lines. It is an open secret everyone ignores.’ His expression hardened as he looked about the room.

‘John,’ she whispered, pleading his silence. ‘You scare me when you are like this.’

His gaze came back to hers. ‘I am trying to scare them.’

‘Well, I wish you would not. I wish you would simply be yourself.’

His gaze narrowed. ‘As I said, Katherine, let them know you are vulnerable and they will be picking over your bones in seconds.’

‘So, what does that matter? You said you do not care for their good opinion.’

‘I do not care for it but there are occasions on which I need it. But what I care for least is for them to know me at all. So no, I will not be myself, as you put it. Let them think what they like but they will not challenge me nor denounce you because I will not give them ground.’

‘Are we arguing, John? I feel as though I am dancing on a battleground with hostilities from all sides.’

The tension ebbed from him instantly. ‘You know how to make me do as you wish, do you not? Perhaps it is you I should fear. Very well, if you do not wish me glaring at them, we will have to take another tack and make friends.’

He performed one last spin as the music drew to a close, then it abruptly ended. He rested her fingers on his arm, and led her to a group standing at the edge of the floor.

She faced another facet of John then, as he moved about the room, charming and ingratiating his way into conversations and then constantly passing them to her, insisting she be included. It was cleverly done. He was a formidable force.

‘What is your opinion on this, Katherine?’ ‘Have you heard of…?’ ‘Did you see…?’ ‘Would you…?’ He refused to let anyone ignore her.

She never wished to be on the wrong side of John.

His family clearly recognised his ability too, because none of them attempted to come to his aid, though she saw them occasionally looking John’s way.

After an hour of this artistic assault, John led her back to the family group. All his aunts and uncles and cousins were gathered in one corner of the room.

Depositing Katherine into the care of his Aunt Jane, John whispered to her, ‘I have had my fill for now. We will start again after supper. Would you like a glass of punch?’

‘Yes, please.’

John walked away with his Uncle Robert.

‘How are you baring up, Katherine?’ his aunt asked.

‘Well enough, considering I am in the hands of a demon. How does he control people so easily?’

His aunt laughed. ‘I believe he learned that skill from the cradle, but I have only known John since he was about fourteen. Yet, he had a serious side even then.’

‘He can sulk like the devil too,’ Katherine stated, smiling at his aunt.

‘Yes, well, his black looks are a bit of an art. Still, he is equally charming, and let us not forget powerful and wealthy, so who cares?’

Katherine laughed. She could hear the affection in his aunt’s voice.

‘He can be domineering,’ his aunt added.

‘I know, but you have mellowed him a little already, Katherine. He is much less affected with you and he seems easier in himself. Robert says people have commented on the change in him in the Gentlemen’s club, White’s.

I know it is early days but we all have great hopes for you both. ’

Jane touched Katherine’s arm. ‘I know this is all new to you, but you will grow accustomed to John’s life, and his ways, I dare say. Things will settle. John is John. No matter his mood, underneath he has a heart of gold.’

‘I know,’ Katherine whispered. ‘I just wish he were not so cold in public.’

‘Defence,’ Jane answered. ‘I have done it. It is easier to pretend you do not care for anything or anyone. When you have high standing, there are people who wish to cut you down. He is very conscious of his responsibility. He wishes to prove himself capable, and if he shows any weakness he thinks he will not.’

Katherine met his aunt’s extraordinary emerald gaze.

‘Give him time to adjust – give yourself time,’ Jane concluded as John and his uncle returned. Then she briskly changed the conversation. ‘My friend Violet is holding a charity event tomorrow. She’s raising funds for an orphanage in White Chapel. Would you like to come with us?’

Katherine accepted a glass of punch from John and met his gaze, instinctively looking for him to approve her joining his aunt. ‘You need not ask me, Katherine. You may do as you will,’ he answered her question before she asked it.

Stupidly, his answer upset her. She heard it as a lack of interest in what she did.

He never asked what she had done in the day.

But nor did he speak of what he did. For the past week the nights had been theirs, but the days…

Well, in the days, she understood now, he was the Duke of Pembroke and he wished her to be the duchess.

She did not want her evenings becoming the same, if all she had of John Harding was a single hour or so when they went to bed, she would rather they had been rejected tonight.

He had given her the impression he had let her into his life. He had not. He had only put her into a niche in it.

He must have sensed her discomfort; he was watching her as he talked to his aunt and uncle. Proof, if she needed it, of how easily this duplicity came to him.

The notes of a second waltz carried on the air.

‘Shall we?’ John said, holding out his hand to take her glass.

As they walked into the open space to dance, she asked, ‘How do you spend your days, John?’

His eyes told her he thought the question absurd. ‘Reviewing estate or business aspects with Mr Harvey, in the Houses of Parliament, or visiting my club to discuss parliamentary affairs with my peers. Why?’

His father spent most days at home, but of course he did not have a seat in the House of Lords, and yet John’s uncles did, and even they occasionally called with their wives in the afternoons.

‘Does your business take all day, every day?’

‘Where is this leading?’

‘What did you do today?’

His eyebrows lifted slightly. ‘I spoke to Mr Harvey about who sent that letter to the newspaper and how to respond.’

‘How will you respond?’ she asked because she wished to know how much he would tell her.

‘I am sure you do not really want to know that.’

‘Clearly not,’ she responded coldly.

She had struck the boundary already then. He was definitely drawing lines. She was not even his duchess really, she was just the mistress he had married.