A Hint of Seduction (17 page)

His expression turned grim. “And you think my father did this?”

She let her eyes implore him. “I don’t know. His name is listed in my mother’s diary as one of the three men she was considering marrying. There are very few readable pages. It’s been badly damaged over the years. In the last entry she mentions that she is very much in love with the man whose child she carries and that she plans to tell him that very evening. She doesn’t refer to him by name on that page.”

“So your father could be anyone?”

“No, only one of three,” she said indignantly. “I feel certain he is one of the three men she mentioned who were courting her because no other gentlemen’s names are listed.”

“This sounds preposterous to me. I don’t know that I can believe you on this.”

“The story is unbelievable to me, too, but I believe my mother. Do you think I like knowing that the man I always thought was my father isn’t? I lie awake at night and wonder who fathered me. What does he look like? Is he tall or short, heavy or thin? Is he a kind man or harsh? I feel like a piece of me is missing and I have to find it. I have to know who my real father is. And I refuse to give up until I do.”

His head shook with skepticism. “If this is another one of your ploys, I’ll see to it you are never welcomed in anyone’s home in London again.”

She believed him and it caused her to shiver. “I don’t
know what I can say to make you believe me, but I desperately need your help to find out if my mother and your father were ever together. I’ll be twenty-one soon. Was your father married twenty-two years ago?”

“No, I’m sure not. My mother died when I was two and my father never remarried.”

Catherine was glad of that. At least if he was her half brother, that meant her mother was not mistress to a married man. But she didn’t know that it made her feel any better thinking her mother had just been a foolish young girl who’d given her heart away to an undeserving man.

His expression remained serious. “Tell me when exactly this liaison between my father and your mother would have happened if—if it did.”

“The best I can figure from my birth date, it would have been late in the summer of seventeen ninety-eight.”

“All right, that gives me somewhere to start. I’ll go directly to my uncle’s house and see what he remembers from that year.”

Unaccustomed fear welled up inside her. “You won’t tell him about what I’m doing, will you?”

“No. I just want an answer. Today if possible.”

“Thank you for your help with this.”

“Which parties will you be at tonight?”

“Well, I know the first ball we are attending will be at Lady Waverly’s.”

“I’ll find you there.”

“Excuse me, Madam. The Marquis of Westerland has arrived.”

Victoria rose with a satisfied cat grin on her face and put her book aside. “Tell him he’ll have to wait a few minutes.”

“Not on my account, Mrs. Goosetree,” John said. “I
must be on my way. Would you prefer that I take the back stairs?”

“Not at all. Lizzie will show you out through the front as usual.”

He gave Catherine a grim look before he turned and walked away.

A seed of hope planted itself in Catherine’s stomach.

J
OHN WAS IN
no mood to see the pompous Marquis standing like a piece of statuary in the foyer as he descended the stairs. He was dressed in a bright red and black striped waistcoat, and he was holding a rather large and obnoxious bouquet of flowers. But John felt somewhat better when he saw the shock on Westerland’s face at seeing him.

“You get around quickly,” Westerland said as John reached the bottom of the stairs.

“I do like to get to know all the new young ladies as soon as possible.”

“I don’t know why since you never intend to marry any of them.”

“You just never know when I might change my mind.”

“I saw that you found your horse.”

“He was never missing. I knew where he was.” John lied without guilt.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not what the scandal sheets say.”

“I’m not surprised you believe what’s written in them.”

Westerland sneered at John. “What I believe is that your horse threw you and ran off. Obviously there was a maid in
the park, and she found your horse and rode away on him. I know you were searching all the stables trying to find him, so don’t try to tell me you knew where your horse was.”

“I knew where my horse was,” he said again and with more conviction in his voice. He was not going to be bested by this fop.

Westerland laughed. “Let’s just see what gets printed in the papers about it tomorrow.”

“I have no doubt they will say whatever it is you and your friends want them to say.”

“Well, they haven’t failed me so far where you are concerned. Now that you have your horse back, I assume you are ready for a rematch.”

“Any time you are ready.”

“Good. I’ll let you know the time and place. I want to see if White’s is interested in upping the stakes for a rematch.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “I believe Miss Reynolds is waiting for you.”

John opened the door and walked out.

Eleven

C
ATHERINE SAT ON
the opposite end of the floral-printed settee from the Marquis. Victoria sat opposite them on a matching piece while they all enjoyed refreshments of tea and spiced-apple preserves on scones.

Catherine didn’t know how the Marquis could sit so straight and still for so long without hurting his back. He was much too formal for her taste. She kept contrasting Lord Westerland with John and found the Marquis lacking.

She could also see where the starch and the tightness of his collar and cravat had chafed his neck. She was trying not to look at it, but the redness seemed to stand out against his pale skin, and her eyes were drawn to the irritation.

She had discovered that the Marquis of Westerland’s name was Christopher Corey, though most everyone referred to him as the Marquis. Victoria kept the conversation steady by asking about his family and recent travels
he’d made to Spain, but few words had been said between Catherine and their guest.

She felt as if she had been sitting on a cushion of pins ever since John left. She was eager for the visit to be over so she could go to her room or take a walk in the garden and be alone with her thoughts.

John had been quite shocked by her pronouncement that she might be his half sister. At first he had looked at her as if she were mad. She’d taken a big chance in telling him her plight, but thankfully, like her, he wanted to get to the bottom of this and find out if there was any possibility they could be related.

Catherine took a bite of the scone topped with spiced apples and realized it was so quiet she could hear herself chewing. She was never at a loss for words when she was in John’s presence. In fact, she never had time to say all that she wanted to. But she couldn’t think of anything to say to the Marquis.

Apparently Victoria realized Catherine had been too quiet, because she made a big production of setting her empty cup and saucer on the round table that stood between them and said, “I think I’ll sit over by the window and continue reading. That will give the two of you a few minutes alone.”

“No, don’t,” Catherine said and caught herself in time to finish by saying, “You don’t have to do that, Vickie.”

“A chaperone must always be seen, but she doesn’t always have to be heard.”

“But we enjoy chatting with you, isn’t that right, my lord?” she asked, smiling at the Marquis.

“By all means, Mrs. Goosetree, please feel free to stay in our company,” he said as stiffly as he sat.

“You are so kind, Marquis, but I have a few pages I want to finish before the afternoon is over. If you’ll excuse me.”

The Marquis stood and waited until Victoria moved her post to the far back wall before he sat down again. Why did she find John, who broke more rules than he should, immensely more appealing than the perfect gentleman before her?

“Let me replenish your cup,” she said to him.

“Thank you.”

Catherine couldn’t really see anything wrong with the Marquis. He was just as tall and almost as handsome as John, though they were different in looks. John had dark hair and eyes while Lord Westerland had thin blond hair that he pulled back in a queue and tied with a short black ribbon. Both men were self-confident to a fault.

John’s confidence showed in a seasoned inner-strength while the Marquis tended to be arrogant in a priggish sort of way.

But the main difference between the two had nothing to do with the way they looked or acted. It had to do with the difference in the way they made her feel. Just thinking about John could make her heartbeat speed up, her breath grow short, and her insides tighten. Sitting near the Marquis, she felt nothing but impatience for him to leave.

“I hope you’ve had no trouble making friends, Miss Reynolds.”

“No, not at all. The parties have been grand and everyone has been pleasant.” She handed him a dainty cup. “Lady Lynette Knightington has been especially helpful in my getting to know people,” she said and then asked, “Would you care for another scone?”

“No, thank you.” He chuckled lightly. “Lady Lynette
makes it her business to meet everyone new to the
ton
, be they a young lady like yourself or a long-lost cousin of a duke or earl. It’s to be expected. Everyone feels sorry for her, and I think that is why she is so well accepted in every circle. No one has the heart to rebuff her, the poor dear.”

The fine hairs on the back of Catherine’s neck rose. She certainly didn’t feel sorry for Lady Lynette; she genuinely liked her. Furthermore, Catherine hadn’t picked up even a hint of anyone feeling sorry for the duke’s daughter including Lady Lynette herself. Even John had seemed quite fond of her when he’d asked her to dance and Lynette had said as much about him.

“I found her to be capable, intelligent, and confident. She’s an enjoyable person. As far as I’m concerned, there is no reason to feel sorry for her.”

The Marquis gave Catherine a skeptical look and then placed his cup on the table. Somehow he managed to do it without moving any part of his body but his arms. “That’s not very benevolent of you, Miss Reynolds, considering her circumstances.”

“What circumstances would those be?”

“Surely you can see she has very little chance of making a match because she’s been marked. That’s got to be difficult for the duke.”

“That’s ridiculous. Nonsense,” she said, a little more than annoyed at the Lord Westerland’s haughtiness. “The fact that Lynette was blessed with a little more color to her cheeks than some of us have should not keep any gentleman from calling on her. She’s a lovely person.”

The Marquis cleared his throat and sniffed, all the while keeping a smile on his lips. “I don’t disagree with you on the kind of person she is, but most men would rather have a beautiful young lady like you beside them than someone
who has Lady Lynette’s disfigurement. Now tell me, have you had the opportunity to meet my sister, the Viscountess Dunhillington?”

Catherine didn’t like the way he dropped Lynette from the conversation in favor of his sister. That showed another big difference between John and the Marquis. John had no problem at all in having Lady Lynette by his side.