was holding for her, with as much poise as she could conjure up.
She found herself standing directly in front of the Duke, who regarded her with no sign of emotion. ‘Good day, madam. You are welcome. No doubt one of my sons will have the grace to introduce you presently.’
‘Sir, I have the honour to present to you my wife, Katherine.’ Nick addressed his father for the first time and, to her lasting admiration, managed to sound both unapologetic and perfectly polite.
‘Your Grace.’ Katherine dropped her very best curtsy and rose to meet the older man’s eyes calmly. It appeared that she had met with some approval, for he bowed slightly in acknowledgment and stepped forward to take her hand. To her amazement he kissed her cheek, a chilly touch to be sure, but still more than she had expected.
‘Then I must welcome you both to the family and to this house,’ he said gravely. ‘Am I to thank you for my son’s return?’
‘Thank you, your Grace. I understand that Nicholas was already planning to return before we met.’ She should say something about the status of their marriage, she knew it, but a cowardly reluctance dragged at her tongue.
‘Please, sit, Katherine. Have you had a long journey?’
‘Your Grace, you are most kind.’ No, she could not sit, could not be accepted by this terrifying old man under false pretences. ‘But I must tell you that you should not be welcoming me to your family.’ Beside her she heard a sharp hiss of indrawn breath from Nick and hurried on. ‘I married your son because he was gallant enough to do so to save me from very difficult circumstances. We intend to seek an annulment at the earliest opportunity.’
‘Indeed?’ The dark brows, so in contrast to the steel grey hair, rose in exquisitely controlled surprise. ‘Am I to understand that my son is unable to perform his marital duties?’
Chapter Thirteen
Katherine felt the hot blood rise in her cheeks and bit the inside of her lip. She was not going to be cowed by this terrifying old man.
‘Sir!’ At least she now knew what it took to break Nick’s control.
Her blushes under control, Katherine shot him a quelling look and sank into the chair the Duke had offered her, glad of the moment’s distraction to recover her poise. ‘I have no information on that subject, your Grace,’ she replied icily. ‘From the beginning this has been a marriage of convenience and one intended to be of short duration. Very short. You will, doubtless, wish to know with whom Nicholas has made this temporary contract; my name is Katherine Cunningham. My late father was Philip Cunningham of Ware, in Hertfordshire.’
‘I see. My son appears to have exercised a surprising degree of good judgement in his choice, however temporary. You are naturally most welcome to remain here for as long as it is convenient to you to do so, Katherine.’ He appeared as unsurprised by the news of the annulment as he was by that of the marriage. Katherine began to realise where Nick had learned his formidable self-mastery.
The Duke swung round to study his elder son. The sight did not appear to afford him any great pleasure. ‘So, Nicholas, you have decided to return after—what is it?—six years?’
‘You dismissed me. Sir.’ Released from the duke’s steely regard, Katherine relaxed enough to watch Nick. Under the circumstances he was maintaining an admirable composure. But it was news to her that he had been dismissed by his father; the impression she had received was that he had walked away after a disagreement. Her anger with him at having concealed his true identity began to wane and in its place returned the unwelcome, uncomfortable tug of love at her heartstrings. It must be so hard, so very hard, to come back to such a cold reception.
‘So I did. How amazing that for once you chose the path of obedience.’ The Duke sat in the chair opposite Katherine and studied his sons. ‘Robert, stop hovering and sit.’
Robert did as he was bid and, to Katherine’s surprise, Nick followed suit so that the four of them formed a circle. It was far from a cosy conversational group.
‘Now, let me see, why did I tell you to remove yourself?’ the Duke mused. ‘Ah, yes, the final straw, that highly unsuitable woman.’
Wide-eyed, Katherine looked at Nick. He stared back haughtily at his father and she was suddenly put in mind of two stags she had once seen in Richmond Park. The old stag, his head heavy with antlers, his muzzle white; the younger, with a less impressive spread, but all the stature and arrogance of powerful youth and the pair of them at a stand, eyeing each other for advantage.
‘You made little allowance for young love,’ Nick said eventually, his tone light, and the older man laughed shortly, a harsh note of grudging acknowledgment.
‘I did not, you have the right of it. And it seems I made little allowance for youthful pride. I expected to see you back within a month or two.’
Nick shifted in the chair, crossing his legs and making himself more comfortable and his father’s hard gaze sharpened. ‘Come here.’
‘Sir?’
‘Come here.’ Katherine froze, for she too had seen what that shift of position had revealed: the edge of the fading mark of the noose on Nick’s neck. She put up her hand to her own neck in an attempt to warn him, but he was watching his father, a frown between his eyes.
Slowly Nick uncrossed his legs and stood, then took the two steps which brought him before his father’s chair. The Duke rose and reached out long fingers to push aside the neckcloth around his son’s neck. ‘And what is this?’
‘You told me I was born to be hanged.’ Nick was rigid with some emotion that Katherine could only assume was anger at this chilly interrogation. ‘As always, sir, you were correct.’
‘And how did you escape?’ The Duke flicked back the ends of the neckcloth with fastidious fingers and resumed his chair.
Nick took his time to walk back to his own seat. ‘I was in Newgate, condemned to hang as a highwayman. Katherine saved me, at no little risk to her own life.’
‘Then we are in your debt, my dear.’ The old man twisted in his seat to look at Katherine. ‘Your timing appears to be exquisite—late enough to teach a sharp lesson, not so late that it is fatal. I am agog to hear this entire tale, it appears positively Gothick. However, I believe Heron will soon be announcing luncheon—if this event has not thrown the entire household into total disarray—and I am sure you will wish to retire to your room beforehand.’ He stretched out a hand to the bell pull and Katherine recognised the same long fingers that made Nick’s hands so graceful.
He regarded his elder son from under hooded lids. ‘No doubt Heron will be able to decide which is the most appropriate suite of rooms for Lady Seaton under the circumstances. If you will excuse me, my dear.’
The silence that was left when the door closed behind him appeared to fill the room. Katherine yearned to go and put her arms around Nick, but his very control told her that would be unwelcome. At least she now knew what her own title was. Lady Seaton, the Marchioness. This is a nightmare.
At last, when she felt on the point of screaming at the men to provoke some reaction, Robert said, ‘Hanged?’ His brother
