The Scandalous Love of a Duke. Jane Lark
eyes for Phillip, their mother nodded. “I shall look forward to seeing you then.”
“We spoke to John,” Katherine stated, feeling uncomfortable.
Ignoring Katherine, their mother said to Phillip, “Is he in good health?”
“Well enough. Eleanor and Margaret were pleased to see Kate. They have asked her to call.” Phillip was trying to push their mother’s attention to Katherine; it was pointless.
“Well, one can understand why they would be polite.”
Katherine threw Phillip a look to say, see, she agrees. He smiled. Katherine poked out her tongue, without her mother seeing, and then turned to take her bonnet and gloves upstairs.
“I will see you next Sunday, Mama,” Phillip began to take his leave.
“Kate. Phillip.”
Her father.
Her hand on the newel post, Katherine looked back and smiled.
He was standing in the doorway of his study, smiling too, his affection genuine.
“And how does John fare?” he asked of Katherine.
“Like he was born to it,” Katherine quipped, smiling more openly. Her father’s eyes glowed, catching a hold of her humour.
“He’s as rich as Croesus.” Phillip added, “I hardly think we need worry about John.”
Their father nodded, but his posture had stiffened. There was always tension between herself and her mother, and the same between Phillip and their father. They had never been a happy family.
“Phillip!” Jennifer erupted from the drawing room. “You must tell me all about it, you cannot go yet…”
Phillip looked back. “Kate will tell you.” That was the height of insult to Jenny, to be reliant on Katherine for anything. She was spoilt and selfish. But Katherine did not blame her sister. Jenny had been brought up by their mother to exclude Katherine.
Jennifer’s nose tipped up. “I can live without knowing, if you are going to be so mean. Mama, may we go into Maidstone tomorrow…?”
Phillip sighed.
Katherine turned and began climbing the stairs, but Phillip caught her hand and held her back. “Say goodbye before you go up.”
He’d always been protective. It was why she’d had the chance to grow so close to John, because Phillip had taken pity on her in the holidays when he was home, and given her opportunity to escape from their mother and Jenny.
She turned back and hugged him, standing on the first step so that she was taller and her arms more easily reached about his neck.
He hugged her too, as their mother and Jenny looked on with jealousy in their eyes.
He would say goodbye to them also. It was just that they wanted Katherine to have no love. Yet Phillip loved her, and her father did too.
She wondered sometimes if jealousy caused her mother’s hatred, because her father was kinder to Katherine than his wife. But Katherine had never really understood. Why had her mother adopted her, if she didn’t want her?
“If I hear that Eleanor or Margaret have written and you have refused an invitation, be prepared for a scold,” Phillip whispered.
“Scold all you like,” Katherine whispered back, “I’ll still say, no.”
He laughed as he let her go. “I’ll see you soon.”
As she climbed the stairs, he said his other goodbyes, and then, when she reached the landing, she heard the door close. He was gone.
“Katherine, fetch my shawl would you, and my embroidery, they are on the chair in my chamber, oh and fetch Jennifer’s shawl also?” It immediately began – the behaviour which set Katherine back in her place. She was little higher than a servant when Phillip was not at home and her father did nothing to prevent it. He hid away and avoided the arguments and bitterness. It was only different when Phillip called because their mother doted on Phillip and did not wish to upset him.
“Yes, Mother,” Katherine called back downstairs.
“And once you have done that Kate, you may help with the tea. You know I prefer it when you make it.”
“Yes, Mother,” she called again.
“And do not get any silly notions in your head about visiting the Pembrokes. You would only shame yourself in that company.”
“Yes, Mother.” I know my place, even if Phillip does not.
Kent, Ashford, July
John leant back in his seat and flicked the reins, stirring his matching pair of chestnut-coloured horses into a gallop and letting the animals run.
The air rushed past him. It was hot. One of England’s rare truly summer days. It felt good, and he liked the sound of thundering hoof beats, tack and creaking springs, and the jolting of the carriage as it raced along the track.
Robbie had spent the last two months bragging about the day they’d bought this matching pair and curricle.
Thinking of Robbie made John remember the money he’d settled on his brothers. He’d told Edward it was to ensure his brothers would live in a fashion which would not embarrass a duke. The truth was it eased John’s conscience, because he’d had little to do with any of them since the day he’d taken Robbie to Tattersalls.
He did not feel a part of his family anymore. There was too much of a gap in years, and status. So he’d traded genuine affection for cold hard coin. He’d agreed to enhance his sisters’ dowries too.
Mary had hugged him when he’d told her and John had warned her of fortune hunters.
As he thought of marriage, his mind turned to Eleanor and Nettleton. They’d made an announcement before he’d left town. Their first child was due next year. A new generation. A generation John would play patriarch to.
It only added to his sense of isolation.
Life was busy setting him on a pedestal so others might not reach him. His grandfather had warned him it would be so, now he understood.
He sighed. He’d been too busy for family or friendships the last few months anyway. He’d spent them sorting out the old man’s estate and making his name in the House of Lords, fulfilling his duty as he’d been bred to do.
Yet, since leaving London and coming out to Pembroke Place, he’d been avoiding duty.
John saw a woman walking along the road in the distance. He did not slow his horses.
He’d come here to meet the estate manager, Mr Wareham, who not only managed Pembroke Place but also oversaw the stewards at all John’s properties. None of which explained why Wareham had approached an external lawyer, as Phillip had advised at the funeral.
The carriage drew nearer the lone woman.
Wareham was supposed to refer any legal issue to Harvey, who’d sworn he knew nothing of this. John believed him.
If there was one thing the old Duke had done well, it was manage his estate, and he’d have said something to Harvey if he’d known of this loan. So Harvey should know of it, if it was legitimate. Which meant – as Harvey did not – it was not.
John had reiterated to Wareham during their first meeting, on his arrival, that all business should be done through Harvey, without giving any indication he knew of the deal with Boscombe. There had not even been a flicker in Wareham’s eyelids, but his belligerence had put John out of sorts.
Since