Page 61 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke (The Marlow Family Secrets #6)

When Katherine woke, for the first time in days she found herself in an empty bed.

She missed him. She had become used to him silently setting the chamber pot next to her and then bidding the maid enter.

A knock struck the door.

Katherine called the maid in, sitting up.

The maid set down the tray she carried and turned to leave.

‘His Grace?’ Katherine asked tentatively.

‘Is out riding, Your Grace. The duke left an hour ago.’

As luncheon loomed he had still not returned, and Katherine fretted. Yet neither his mother nor Mary seemed to think it odd.

When his Aunt Jane arrived to accompany them to her friends’ fundraising luncheon, Katherine was in turmoil, terrified she had pushed him too far. But he had told her to go, and perhaps the social event would distract her thoughts, and he would be home when she returned.

After the charity luncheon, they were shown about the orphanage, to view the children at their desks, practicsng their letters on slates. They were well fed, clothed and cared for, but they lacked a mother’s love. Something she and John both knew could affect a young helpless soul.

In a room full of children at their lessons Katherine stopped to sit with a girl. John’s aunt and mother continued the tour, following the group of women, as Katherine lingered, listening and learning about the children’s days.

When they came back for her later, Katherine knew she was in love with all of the children, and the charity which kept them.

She had found the thing to fill the void in her marriage.

But just handing over sums of money would not suffice for her.

She would come here and help during the day, when John shut her out.

When the other ladies bid each other farewell, returning to their carriages, Katherine turned to Jane and Ellen. ‘Would you mind if I stayed a little longer? I wish to speak with the matron about helping more significantly. But I do not want to delay you.’

Looking at her in earnest, Ellen hesitated. ‘I’m not sure, Katherine. I do not like leaving you. Why not come back tomorrow? I can come with you then.’

‘We are committed tomorrow; we are visiting the Duchess of Arundel,’ Katherine said. ‘I can stay alone. You may send the carriage back or I can hire a hackney. One of the grooms can wait with me.’

Ellen smiled. ‘Who is teaching who how to go on, Katherine?’

‘You are teaching me, and I am very grateful. But I can hire a carriage and get home without support.’

John’s Aunt Jane smiled too.

Ellen touched Katherine’s forearm. ‘You do please me, Katherine. I know John can be a trial, but you are very good for him.’

Katherine’s smile fell. ‘I wish him to be happy.’

Ellen’s fingers tightened on Katherine’s forearm. ‘He is stubborn. I hope he can make you happy too.’

Oh dear , his parents knew how things stood. Katherine felt a blush rise, but there was nothing else to be said. She knew she was the only person who could reach him.

Once the others had gone, Katherine and the matron spent a good hour discussing the things she could do to help. It was nearly four when she finally stepped out onto the pavement with John’s groom.

Two children barrelled about the corner and collided with her.

She caught the arm of the younger boy. ‘Stop. What’s this?’ She saw fear in his eyes as he looked up.

‘Miss, let me go, I gotta get elp for me ma. She’s aving a baby, an it ain’t goin right, miss. She said come an beg ere f’r the midwife. She needs elp, miss.’

There was no time for thought. Katherine thrust her reticule at the groom, ordering him to go immediately with the eldest boy and get a doctor.

The youngest she bid to hurry into the orphanage to find the matron, certain the staff would help until the doctor came.

Katherine could find a carriage by herself.

She was hardly a cosseted female, and Finch would settle the amount when she reached home.

Katherine turned around, only to find herself looking up into a familiar face. ‘Mr Wareham?’

He lifted his hat and bowed slightly. ‘Miss Spencer, what a fortuitous surprise. What brings you to town?’

Swallowing her shock, Katherine did not correct his use of her maiden name, he obviously had not heard about her marriage. ‘I am visiting my brother. I was just looking for a hackney.’

‘Well, it’s very remiss of him to leave you unescorted. Town is not Ashford, nor Maidstone, Miss Spencer. Allow me.’ He lifted his arm.

Katherine looked at it uncertainly. She did not really know Mr Wareham beyond a very slight acquaintance, and yet he was a gentleman, who had been in the employ of the old duke for years, so surely she could trust him. ‘Thank you.’

She laid her fingers on his arm.

He started walking. ‘If I recall, you promised to join me for tea that day in Maidstone…’

A vacant hackney passed them at a brisk trot. Mr Wareham made no attempt to hail it. But his head was turned towards her.

‘Where is your brother’s office?’

She told him, watching another hackney pass.

Her heart began beating harder, but it was silly fretting, there was nothing odd in his behaviour. It was just because she knew John had treated him badly and she felt guilty.

‘There is something I have long wanted a chance to discuss with you, Miss Spencer. Now would be a good time for that cup of tea, and then I could explain. I will accompany you home afterwards.’

‘I need to be home by five…’ When she met his gaze she realised his eyes were very similar to John’s. It would do no harm, she supposed. Perhaps she could help Mr Wareham understand John’s dismissal was not personal, just John dealing with his grandfather’s ghost. ‘But I shall have enough time.’

He led her along several streets, turning and turning again until she was thoroughly lost and had no clue which direction the orphanage or home were. He spoke about Ashford society as they walked and then his move to the city. Apparently his mother lived in London.

His arm dropped from under her hand when they reached a tea shop and then he braced her elbow.

A few other people were seated at tables.

Seating her first, he called for tea before sitting opposite and regarding her through narrowed eyes.

‘I knew your mother, Katherine,’ he said. Katherine only just stopped her mouth from falling open, but her heartbeat thumped harder.

The tea was set down before them.

He filled his cup and then he poured hers. She added milk and sugar, not knowing what to say. He watched her but said nothing. The hard look in his eyes reminded her of John again.

She sipped her tea. As soon as she had drunk it, she would go.

She took another sip while Mr Wareham stayed silent.

The buzz of conversation rose in the room, becoming almost deafening.

‘I know…’ Mr Wareham began, but she could not hear properly, and leaned forward to listen. ‘…this will be a shock to you, Katherine, I am your father…’

The room shifted on its axis, then swayed like water.

She had never known who had sired her. This man…?

He had lived within a mile of her.

She had seen him every Sunday in church, and passed him numerous times in the street, and he had never said a word.

She could not speak. Inside her, there was a gaping hole where there ought to be joy.

He drank his tea as though he had just said that it looked like it might rain.

She sipped her tea. Her arm and the cup felt heavy. She took another sip, wishing to simply leave. She longed for John. But how could she leave hurriedly now, when Mr Wareham had just made such a declaration? She could hardly just say thank you and goodbye.

What do I say? The question spun in her mind.

She took another sip of tea.

Mr Wareham watched her, as though awaiting her response.

The room was shifting again and swaying a little.

Her eyes turned to the broad bay window of the shop and the street outside. She did not feel well.

A chair scraped the floor, and she turned to see Mr Wareham rising, though he was blurred.

He caught her arm and helped her stand.

She was dizzy and confused. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came. He whispered reassurance in her ear and his voice echoed in her head. Then she was being steered from the tea shop and they were out on the street.

She could not make her mouth move to say she wished to go home. Her lips were numb and her feet heavy. This was not right. Mr Wareham’s hand had wrapped about her upper arm and it hurt.

Mr Wareham stopped by a door only a short distance from the shop they had left, and withdrew a key from his pocket.

When the door opened, she collapsed, falling onto wooden boards.

A moment later, she felt him lift her. She could no longer see him, her vision was entirely black, yet she could feel herself being carried upstairs.