The Virgin in the Rake’s Bed by Ava MacAdams
Chapter Thirty-Four
Catherine had been to the home of Rebecca and Nicholas dozens of times. It had been her excuse to see Ian, and she and Rebecca had spent many an hour in the salon or taking tea on the terrace. But tonight was different, and Catherine’s heart was beating fast at the prospect of the encounter which was to come. It seemed they were the first to arrive and were admitted by the butler.
“The Duke and Duchess are receiving their guests in the drawing room,” he said, leading them across the hallway.
Catherine slipped her hands into Ian’s, nervous at the thought of encountering not only the duke, but the duchess, too. What would she say, Catherine wondered, when confronted with the truth of her husband’s infidelity?
“It will be all right,” Ian whispered, as the butler announced their arrival.
“The Baron and Baroness of Westwick,” he said, and Catherine could not help but find it odd to hear herself introduced in such a manner.
“Oh, were we expecting you?” The Duchess of Sinclair asked, sounding surprised. She had always been a formidable woman, and whilst the arrival of her grandchild had softened her demeanor somewhat, she was still more than capable of holding her own. Catherine blushed, but Ian stepped forward, bowing to the duchess and holding out his hand.
“Your husband was kind enough to invite us, Your Grace, given our association with your son and daughter-in-law,” he said, and the duchess nodded.
“And you are married?” she asked, and Ian nodded.
“It is not yet widely known. But yes, we are married,” he replied.
The duchess stared hard at Catherine who suddenly felt terribly embarrassed. “Are you not betrothed to the Earl of Westwood? Your father is coming here tonight, is he not? I presume he shares knowledge of this happy state of affairs?” she asked.
“He soon will,” Catherine replied, and the duchess’s eyes widened in surprised.
“I see,” she said.
“Your husband invited us so as to provide some conversation for Rebecca and Nicholas,” Ian interjected.
“Yes, I know Rebecca and your wife are on intimate terms,” the Duchess replied, and Catherine nodded.
The greater intimacy, of course, was that between Ian and Nicholas, half-brothers, even though one did not know it. Catherine glanced at the duke, wondering what other secrets he was hiding, a lifetime of concealment now having reared its ugly head. He looked irritable and ill at ease.
“Will Rebecca and Nicholas be joining us soon?” Catherine asked, and the Duchess nodded.
“They will, though I am still not sure what the purpose of this dinner is about,” she said, turning to her husband who grimaced.
“Business, my dear,” he replied, just as the door opened and Rebecca and Nicholas entered.
The Marquess looked surprised to find Ian and Catherine there, but Rebecca hurried over to Catherine and embraced her. “Be strong,” she whispered, kissing Catherine on the cheek.
“A strange gathering,” Nicholas said, and his mother nodded.
“My thoughts, precisely, Nicholas. Did you know the Baron is now married to your wife’s friend and confidant?” she asked, and Nicholas now looked even more surprised.
“Is that so? When did this happen?” he asked, and Ian gave a brief recollection of almost all the events which had led to that moment, omitting, of course, the true reason for their presence that evening.
“Elopement? Goodness me. I would never have been brave enough,” he said, glancing at Rebecca, who smiled.
“There was no need for an elopement,” she replied, and he laughed.
“None whatsoever. But Father, what is all this about?” he asked, and his father scowled.
“I am tired of being asked why I should wish to invite guests to dine with me in my own house,” he exclaimed, and the room fell silent.
“Sherry, anyone?” Rebecca ventured, and soon the refreshments were served.
Half an hour after Catherine and Ian had arrived, the butler announced that Catherine’s father had arrived, and he was shown in unaccompanied. To say he was surprised by the sight of Catherine would be to entirely downplay his reaction. He stared at his daughter in utter astonishment, before turning to Ian and his host with a look of anger on his face which could have turned milk sour.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, advancing toward Catherine as though he intended to drag her from the room.
But Ian stepped between them, and whilst Catherine’s father had once been a formidable figure, his age and disposition to gout now made him no match for Ian, who raised his hand in threat. “You will not lay a finger on my wife,” he said, and now Catherine’s father’s face turned purple with rage.
“Your wife!” he exclaimed.
“Surely, Rickard has sent word to you, father,” Catherine replied, and her father cursed under his breath.
“I received a letter from him, yes, speaking of Gretna and elopement. But I would not believe it until I had seen it for myself. You have disgraced yourself, Catherine, and I am ashamed of you,” he cried.
“Peace, Ferguson,” the Duke of Sinclair interrupted, “I did not bring you here to speak in such harsh terms.”
“I make no apology for it. My daughter has behaved appallingly, and this man – this man whom I know a great deal about – is responsible,” he said, pointing a finger at Ian.
“Have a glass of sherry,” the duke said, but Catherine’s father shook his head.
“I came here to discuss business, Your Grace, not to be humiliated by the sight of my daughter in the arms of a man such as this,” he exclaimed, lunging forward at Ian, and stumbling to the floor.
Nicholas stepped forward and helped Catherine’s father to his feet. He was a pitiable man, and there could be no denying he had been corrupted by power and ambition. He did not want Catherine’s happiness, of that, she was certain, but rather he wanted only to advance his own ends and that of Rickard, too. Catherine shook her head, glancing at Rebecca, who gave her a reassuring smile.
“It is all right,” she whispered as Catherine’s father asserted himself.
“Enough of this,” the Duke of Sinclair exclaimed.
“Enough? I have only just begun. I know now why he is here, Your Grace,” Catherine’s father said, turning angrily to the duke, who fixed him with a harsh glare.
“And why would that be?” he asked.
“Because he is your son,” he said, and those who were yet to be in the know gasped. The duchess steadied herself on the nearest piece of furniture, a table on which was perched a large vase which wobbled precariously. Nicholas looked astonished, and the duke faltered, evidently not having wished the revelation to be quite so blunt in its delivery.
“George…” his wife exclaimed, and the duke now drew himself up, advancing on Catherine’s father who, despite his frailty, stood his ground.
“It is true, I learned it from a landlord who regularly admitted the Duke of Sinclair to his boarding house accompanied by a woman. That woman was the Baron of Westwick’s mother, the dowager Baroness, Roberta Bennet,” he said, folding his arms with a smug look of satisfaction.
“Is this true?” the duchess asked, catching her husband’s arm, and pulling him around to face her. He nodded, looking sheepishly at her, and with a deft movement of her hand, she struck a sharp blow across his cheek.
“And when it is revealed, it will prove a most inconvenient truth for you both,” Catherine’s father said, glancing from Ian to the Duke and back.
“Are you saying my father is your father?” Nicholas exclaimed, somewhat slow to grasp the meaning of what was happening and turning to Ian, who nodded.
“It is true, and I have here letters to prove it,” he said, drawing out a bundle from his pocket and handing them to Nicholas who seemed thoroughly confused.
“You lecherous beast,” the Duchess of Sinclair exclaimed, and she struck out at her husband a second time, though now he stepped back to avoid her blow.
“I can explain everything,” he said, but his wife shook her head.
“There is nothing to explain. I have always known you had mistresses, and I tolerated them for the sake of harmony. But to discover this…” she exclaimed, pointing at Ian.
“It is not Ian’s fault,” Catherine exclaimed, angry that the duchess should see fit to blame Ian merely for the accident of his birth.
“But you are all forgetting something,” her father said, and silence fell on the room, the party turning to stare at him.
“You intend to use this against me,” Catherine said, “against your own daughter.”
She knew she was unwanted, that her father had lavished all his attentions on Rickard and seen Catherine as only a foil in his otherwise prosperous life. When he had realized there might be profit in her marriage, only then had he taken an interest in her, and now, despite everything, it seemed he was still determined to have his way.
“The man is a bastard, Catherine. You had no right to marry him without my permission. I will see the marriage annulled when the truth is known. The whole ton will erupt in scandal when it is discovered that the Baron Westwick is the illegitimate son of the Duke of Sinclair. I shall kill two birds with one stone – your marriage will be over, and my business interests will soar in light of the damage to the duke’s reputation,” he said, smiling to himself.
Catherine was surprised that neither the duke, nor Ian, threw themselves on her father in anger. But rather, they glanced at one another, the duke stepping forward, and a smile coming over his face.
“Do you threaten me, Broderick?” he asked, and Catherine’s father sniffed, his countenance unflinching.
“It is merely the revealing of a truth, one which must be known,” he said, and the duke nodded.
“I agree, of course, the truth should always be told. And if these revelations were to be known then I am sure there would be nothing to prevent myself from revealing certain truths to others,” he said, smiling at Catherine’s father, who faltered.
“What… what do you mean?” he asked, and the duke pondered for a moment.
“There is the matter of the Brooke Street investment. Your share is financed by the illegal import of French brandy. I know, because I have the papers in my study,” he said, and Catherine’s’ father looked uncomfortable.
“A trifling matter, hardly worthy of consideration,” he said, and the duke nodded.
“Oh, you are probably right. Such things pale into insignificance when one questions why there have been two dozen robberies on the road from London to Bath this past month, but by some miracle your own mail coaches have been spared such a fate. One might almost question whether those perpetuating such wicked crimes are in your pay…” he continued, the words hanging menacingly in the air.
“Nonsense, you have no proof,” Catherine’s father said, but the duke shook his head.
“Do you wish to gamble on that fact? Mine is only a reputation, yours could be… your neck,” he said, and Catherine’s father scowled.
“You would ruin my reputation?” he asked, and the duke laughed.
“Just as you would ruin mine. I assure you, Broderick, I could see your interests – and those of your son – entirely ruined within a day if you reveal what you know. I do not deny I am Ian’s father, and for that I will have to pay the price,” he said, glancing at his wife, who scowled at him.
“You will,” she whispered, shaking her head.
“But I am not without my own means, either. You have proved yourself an unworthy partner in business, one I had hoped to rid myself of, and now you yourself have given me the opportunity. Here is my ultimatum, keep this knowledge to yourself or face certain ruin at my hands,” he said, and Catherine’s father looked angrily around the room.
“You have not heard the last of this,” he exclaimed, but at that moment, the door burst open, and Rickard stormed into the drawing room, touting a pistol, which he pointed straight at Ian.
