скачать книгу бесплатно
“John.” His name was spoken with warmth and layered with hidden emotion.
John smiled again. Edward’s hair was still a dark brown, untainted by age. He was younger than John’s mother and yet there were definitely more lines about his eyes, marking John’s absent years. “Father.”
A twinkle in his eye, Edward said, “Son,” and gripped John’s shoulders firmly. The man had always treated John as a real son, no different to Mary or Robbie or the rest. “I’m glad you are back.” Edward’s grip fell away.
Robbie then began urging his father for agreement on their outing to Tats.
~
John was woken by a sharp rap on his bedchamber door. He sat up and threw the sheet aside from where it had lain across his hips.
“My Lord,” a low voice called.
“Yes, what is it?” John was already swinging his legs from the bed and rising.
“His Grace, my Lord. The physician believes there is not much time. He sent me to fetch you.”
“I’ll be there in a moment,” John called back, instantly shifting to search for his clothes in the dark room.
It felt bizarre to be here. It had felt odd to see his grandfather ill, and now… It was like a dream, not a nightmare though. He only felt emptiness inside, not fear.
Finding his trousers, he slid them on now his eyes had adjusted to the dark.
The family had taken supper together before they’d left, sitting at the long dining table en masse in an impromptu, informal meal. It had felt like a celebration. The only quiet person was his grandmother, who’d sat at the far end of the table as John was encouraged to take his grandfather’s place.
Perhaps it was wrong to have held such a gathering while his grandfather lay on his deathbed, but John had appreciated the gesture and the jovial conversation, even though at times he kept feeling the axis within him shift as though he was poorly balanced.
He pulled his shirt over his head.
He’d said goodnight to his grandfather, as had the others before they’d left, one by one, and he’d wondered then, how long.
Hours.
He sat and pulled on his stockings.
God, this world felt strange to him – strange and a little surreal.
When John left his room, the hall was morbidly silent and the statues seemed like sombre mourners.
John gently knocked on the door of his grandfather’s chambers. “It is the Marquess of Sayle.”
The door opened and a footman bowed. “My Lord.”
His grandmother sat in the chair John had occupied earlier, her hand resting over his grandfather’s. She looked across her shoulder at John. “John.” Her voice was heavy with emotion, though he knew their marriage had never been a love match. For her it had been more like endurance.
John stood behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders.
There were three footmen in the room, his grandfather’s valet and the physician.
“His Grace’s heartbeat is very weak,” the physician said quietly. “He is unconscious.”
John nodded acceptance and then his eyes fell to the bed – to the man who’d always been a significant figure in John’s life. Even during the years he’d hidden from that influence abroad, he’d still been the Duke’s heir. He’d never been able to escape that.
The old man was barely breathing, weak and wraith-like.
John took a deep breath, stepped about his grandmother, leant forwards and rested a hand on his grandfather’s shoulder, then pressed a kiss on his cold brow.
“Goodbye. I never thought I would miss you, but I shall,” John whispered, before rising.
The Duke had probably not been able to hear it, there was no sign that he did, yet John felt better for saying those words. They were true.
The old man passed away in moments, as John stood with his grandmother, watching.
The room fell completely silent when the Duke of Pembroke took his last breath.
John’s grandmother rose and leant to kiss the Duke’s cheek, tears slipping from her eyes.
John felt only emptiness, oddness, a lacking…
When she drew back, the physician walked past them both and lifted John’s grandfather’s wrist, checking for a pulse. Then he bent and listened for breath, before finally rising and drawing the sheet up and over the old man’s face.
John’s grandmother turned sharply and John opened his arms to her.
While he held her, the men about the room bowed and his grandfather’s valet said, “Your Grace.”
John felt the ground shift sideways beneath his feet. He’d known this day would come. But God, it was strange now it was here. I am the Duke of Pembroke. This house, everything in it, and several more like it, acres and acres of land and the tenants living and working upon that land were all his to manage and care for.
Chapter Two (#ucb57aeeb-b2b1-5405-a5a6-1667894ed489)
Standing on the lea beside Westminster Abbey, Katherine watched as the procession neared.
The coffin was displayed in a black hearse pulled by six jet horses, with black dyed ostrich feathers bobbing on their heads as they trotted with high, precise, perfect steps. Their manes and tails were plaited and tied with black ribbon.
Gripping her reticule with both hands and holding it more tightly, Katherine took a deep breath. Her heart was pounding.
As the hearse drew to a halt, she lifted to her toes to see over the gathered crowd. She would swear half of London was in attendance to view the pomp and ceremony of the old Duke of Pembroke’s funeral. All she could see of John, as he climbed from his open carriage behind the hearse, was his head and shoulders.
Her heart ached.
She watched him move alongside his uncles to release and lift the coffin.
A rush of pain and longing spilled from her heart into her limbs. It was so long since she’d seen him but her reaction was the same as it had been more than half a dozen years before. The rhythm of her heart rang like a hammer against her ribs.
Her brother, Phillip, gripped her elbow, to stop her being knocked off balance by the crowd. He could have gone into the Abbey, but women were not to attend funerals and he’d promised to stay with her.
Katherine’s heart continued to thump hard as John and his uncle’s passed them.
The crowd swelled then as people moved in a crush to enter the Abbey and stand at the back.
Katherine waited outside with Phillip, her heart racing, so very aware of the chasm which stood between her and John. Yet she’d snatched at the chance to see him when Phillip had said he was going to come to the funeral. She’d read of the old Duke’s death and John’s return in the paper only days ago and she could hardly believe John had finally come back. She was still hopelessly in love with him, or rather with her dreams of him. She could hardly claim to know him now. She hadn’t seen him in years.
When his family filed back out of the Abbey, John was at the front and she could see his face as many of the crowd were still inside. He looked different. He’d matured. He’d travelled the world and seen things she would never see, experienced things she could never imagine. She was an inane, provincial nobody compared to him.
She felt as though she stood in a tragedy, and she mourned. But it was not for the loss of the former Duke, it was for the loss of any hope. Her feelings would never be reciprocated. She would never have John. It had just been a childish dream she couldn’t shake off. She had always known who he was – and what he was.
He walked past them. Though there were three or four people standing in front of her, she still had a clear view.
He looked unbearably, breathtakingly handsome, with his pitch-black hair and pale crystalline gaze, and there was strength in his sculpted features which drew the eye. Behind her, a dozen female whispers concurred with her view.
Katherine dropped her head and hid beneath the brim of her bonnet when John’s gaze passed across the crowd. Not that he would remember her, or even care that she was here.
Phillip gripped her arm.
He thought she’d come because John had been a close friend for a number of years and she wished to support him. It was why Phillip was here.
She’d come only to put flesh back on the bones of her foolish dreams.
It had been ludicrous of Phillip to think John needed their support. John was surrounded by people of his own class.
We are fools, the pair of us, harping back to a relationship that no longer exists. This was not the boy, nor the young man, who’d treated her as an equal. This man was an entirely different beast, influential, dominant and superior. Way beyond her.
She glanced at Phillip. He was watching John’s progress with a slight smile on his face as if he thought John might acknowledge them and smile too.
Katherine had no expectation.
She looked at John again. He was climbing back up into his carriage, lithe and athletic.
Oh God, I love him, I cannot help it. I just do.
She’d hoped to end her silly infatuation by coming here. She’d hoped she would feel nothing when she saw him. But she did, she still did.
When he was seated, he glanced out at the crowd once more, and she sensed a moment of vulnerability in him.
She could not justify the feeling; it was just a sixth sense she could not explain. She longed to hold him and tell him all would be well.
How absurd; he would probably push her away if she attempted it.Why would he choose plain Katherine Spencer to confide in?
Phillip’s fingers squeezed her arm.
“We will go to John’s for a little while, before I run you home.”
She looked up. “Phillip? We cannot. We will not be welcome.”
“We can and we are. We may not be aristocracy but we are gentry. Come, we’ll be mingling with half of the House of Lords. I’m not missing a chance like this. Just think about the tales you’ll be able to tell at your little Sunday school.”
“Phillip, we will be turned away.”
“We will not. John would never throw us out. He’ll remember us and we’ll be welcome, you’ll see.” Phillip smiled.
“We’ll look ridiculous if you are wrong,” she said as she let him lead her on.
Half an hour later, Katherine rose onto her toes to whisper in her brother’s ear, “This is folly.” A second later they crossed the threshold of John’s opulent townhouse.
Her gaze swept the massive hall with its black and white chequered floor and gilded marble pilasters. It was intimidating, and it all belonged to John. It only underscored how many miles he was beyond her reach.
The butler bowed slightly, plainly waiting on their names. He was the gatekeeper and this was the moment of success or failure.
The hall was crowded. Katherine could barely breathe.
“Master Phillip Spencer and Miss Katherine Spencer,” Phillip stated.
The butler’s eyes widened. “Master Spencer?” The stately butler looked hard at Phillip.
Katherine let her breath out. She’d forgotten Phillip had stayed in town at John’s grandfather’s house. This man remembered Phillip.
Oh, she wished she’d paid more attention to John’s life when she was young. She would not have fallen in love if she’d truly realised how different they were. She’d been deceived. She had played with him in the grounds of his grandfather’s estate, as though it was nothing, forgetting all the areas she was excluded from, she had never even been in the house there, only Phillip had been welcome.
“Refreshment is being served in the library, sir.”
“Where is the Duke, Finch?”
“I cannot say for sure, sir. I believe His Grace is in the state drawing room, yet I may be wrong.”
Phillip nodded his thanks, and then his grip on Katherine’s arm steered her on again.
They were absorbed in the crowd of elite society.
“I told you so,” he bent sideways to whisper.
As Phillip looked for John, Katherine felt her hands trembling and her throat dry.
The drawing room was as ostentatious as the hall. The high ceiling had plaques of painted images, scenes of the Greek gods sprawled on clouds and semi-clad. She had never seen anything so beautiful and so opulent.
John should have been easy to spot, he was so tall, but she could not see him. “Where is he?” she asked Phillip, her heart racing at the prospect of actually speaking to John.
“He’s not in here, but the girls are. We’ll wait. He’ll come back this way. You can catch up with Margaret and Eleanor.”
Her heart was pounding a deafening rhythm as Phillip led her across the room towards John’s family.
John’s eldest sister, Mary-Rose, spotted them first. She was dressed in black, as they all were, but with her colouring the black only made her look more beautiful. All John’s family were beautiful. Katherine had never compared.
She pinned a smile on her face. She felt more certain of a welcome from the girls, but she did not wish to appear gauche.
“I cannot believe it!” Mary exclaimed as they neared. “Phillip! Katherine!” Her exclamation drew the attention of the others.
Mary had been a young girl when Katherine had seen her last; she was grown up now.
“I have not seen you for an age,” Mary hugged Katherine.
