A Soulmate for the Heartbroken Duke

by Bridget Barton

  “He is very happy here, Philip,” Catherine said reassuringly.

  “And have you thought where you might live when you are married?” Philip went on.

  “Well, no. We really did not have time to discuss a great deal.” Catherine laughed. “And I do not think Thomas had thought of anything at all before asking me to marry him. I think his main concern was the idea of my refusal.”

  “Oh, the dear boy,” Celia said without looking up from her needlepoint. “How wonderfully romantic. Really, to have you meet him at a place that was so dear to you both so that he could propose to you.” She trailed off dreamily. “A woman dreams of such romance.”

  “I am sure I was most romantic in my own proposal to you, my dear,” Charles interjected and Celia, choosing not to answer, just laughed rather loudly.

  “Is it certain that he will be disinherited?” Philip asked cautiously.

  “I think so. Or Thomas seemed certain of it at least,” Catherine said thoughtfully as she peered over to look at Celia’s needlework. “That is lovely, Celia.”

  “Thank you.” Celia looked up and beamed. “It is for framing and hanging in Henry’s room. When it is finished, I am hoping it will resemble the tree back at Ivy Manor. The one Henry climbs, that is.”

  “Yes, I can already see that it is.” Catherine peered closer still.

  She felt a little emotional when she thought of just how loved her dear little boy was, how much everybody treasured him.

  “Oh, good.” Celia continued to work. “Perhaps there is a chance that the old Duke will see a bit of sense at last.”

  “Sense?” Catherine said.

  “Yes, for if he disinherits Thomas, then he has no direct heir. Surely he would not be so embittered as to do such a thing.”

  “I think he would, Aunt Celia.” Catherine shuddered. “And in any case, I should not want to live at Shawcross Hall. It was no happier a childhood home for Pearce and Thomas as this house was for us.” She looked over to Philip who nodded his understanding. “I would rather live somewhere very simple than live with Penrose Carlton. His poor character was as much to blame for my exile as father’s. If either one of them had been a better man … but they were not.” Catherine sighed. “Still, what’s done is done, and there is no use in looking over one’s shoulder and back into the past forever. The future must take over.”

  “Quite right, my dear,” Charles said. “And there will always be a home for you in Derbyshire. The more, the merrier, eh?” He laughed, and Catherine could have kissed him.

  Charles Topwell was a man of few words, but they were always extraordinarily well chosen. And genuine too, for she knew he would welcome Thomas Carlton into Ivy Manner without a second thought.

  “And here at Barford too,” Philip added. “Although I would not like to make Thomas feel uncomfortable.”

  “The main thing is that you shall not be homeless when you are married. If the Duke is so foolish and careless with his own flesh and blood, you will survive it.” Celia, who was holding two pieces of coloured thread between her teeth as she tied off two others on the hoop, summed the whole thing up nicely if a little incoherently.

  “Thank you, one and all.” Catherine smiled, feeling every bit as cherished as her son was.

  “So, what is to happen and when?” Philip said brightly. “I mean, there will be a wedding to organize. I daresay Aunt Celia will be more helpful to you than I, but I would be glad to hold any celebration you would wish for here.”

  “That is so very kind, Philip. I had not even thought of the wedding itself. I suppose I am not as excited about it as I ought to be. I suppose I am looking forward to marriage rather than a wedding.”

  “But why?” Philip rose to pour them all a glass of sherry, no doubt judging that Henry would be fast asleep and not around to present himself in the drawing room again as he had done earlier.

  “I suppose there is so much that is uncertain. And of course, I already have Henry.” She spoke quietly but without shame; she would never, ever feel ashamed about Henry. “And I am not such a part of society here in Hertfordshire anymore. I would not want anything grand. In truth, I would prefer a very simple wedding with just family and closest of friends. Like Agnes Price.” She turned to look at Celia.

  “Yes, Agnes would be very pleased.”

  “And what about Henry?” Philip sounded incredibly cautious. “What are you to say to him? Have you decided when you will tell him you are his mother and Thomas is his father?”

  “I have yet to tell Thomas,” she said and felt the weight of the heavy silence all around her. “As I have said before, I do not want Thomas Carlton to marry me out of a sense of duty. I would never trust his feelings for me, and it would do Henry no good either. We have managed this far, and I must put Henry’s welfare and happiness first and foremost.”

  “But Thomas has asked you to marry him, my dear. You already can be sure of his true feelings for you,” Celia said and laid down her needlepoint. This was clearly a conversation she was going to give her full and undivided attention to. “Unless you think it would in some way put him off, and you are afraid to tell him?” She moved along the couch to sit closer by Catherine’s side.

  “Goodness no, I have no fears of that nature.” Catherine laughed. “But I am cautious. I would like to have more than a simple meeting at Stromlyn Lake before I do or say anything that might affect Henry.”

  “You have some doubts about the future?” Celia was always so gentle and tactful.

  “I suppose my past has taught me to fear the future a little. I know it is likely nothing to worry about, but I would not expose Henry to anyone as Thomas’ son, nor even my own if it would have some deleterious effect on his life. I must think very carefully before I do such a thing.”

  “But the moment Thomas lays eyes on Henry, he will be left in no doubt,” Philip said with a perplexed smile. “I am bound to say that I recognized Henry as Thomas’ child immediately, and I had not seen Thomas myself for many years. Surely Thomas will know it the moment the two are in company.”

  “Philip, I do not mean to keep Henry a secret forever.” Catherine laughed again when she realized the misunderstanding. “I just mean to wait until I have some firmer plan before me.”

  “Surely you do not doubt Thomas’ intentions?” Celia said.

  “I do not doubt his intentions, but I would not swear faithfully that I think they are not subject to change.” Catherine sighed. “Thomas is a wonderful man, and I know that he loves me. I have always known it. But to throw away one’s heritage and inheritance is not a simple thing. It is comforting to know that we have so many offers of a home.” She smiled at them all in turn, wanting to impress her gratitude upon them. “But it is a difficult thing, I think, for a man to find himself unable to provide a home for his wife and family in his own right. I know Thomas is not a materialistic man, but he is still proud nonetheless, and I do not doubt this thought has crossed his mind.”

  “But Catherine …” Celia began.

  “But nothing, my dear Celia.” Charles’ interruption was most uncharacteristic of him. “Forgive me, my adorable wife, but I think there is much of great sense in what our niece is saying.”

  “You are quite right, Charles,” Celia said graciously. “And you are forgiven, in case that worries you at all.”

  “You are very kind.” Charles bowed, much to Catherine and Philip’s amusement. “Catherine, you must do as you see fit. Thomas has gone these eight years without any knowledge of his fatherhood, so a few more days or weeks will make no difference.”

  “Thank you,” Catherine said and felt her throat tighten with emotion. “I would not like to expose Henry as an illegitimate child. I know you do not recognize the word in that sense, Uncle Charles, for you are a truly wonderful man. But the rest of society does not think as you do, and I think you rightly perceive that it is that sentiment I wish to shield Henry from.”

  “And when you are married?” Philip handed round the fu
ll sherry glasses.

  “Then things will be different.” She smiled as she took the glass from him. “You know what society is, Philip. Once we are married, even if Thomas is disinherited, he will still be revered in this county as part of the Duchy. He will still be Lord Carlton, and so Henry will be accepted. I am sure there will be quiet pockets of gossip, but none who would dare say anything outright that would come to Henry’s ears, nor hurt him in any way.”

  “That is the truth.” Philip sighed with mock exasperation. “My goodness, but our class are fickle, are they not. They care so little for what is truly right. It must only have the appearance of being right, and that is all.”

  “Quite so.” Catherine sipped her sherry. “But that is the way of things, and I have spent years carefully protecting Henry. Amongst other things, it is a habit which I shall find hard to break. I could not risk Henry hearing of it all from anyone but me. It is a sensitive issue and must be approached with the utmost care. I cannot tell you the times I have nearly told him and later broken my heart when I know I cannot, for his own sake.”

  “It must have been very difficult.” Philip’s handsome face was a picture of concern.

  “At times. But I am bound to say that I have still been able to enjoy motherhood. I have had the wonderful privilege to be able to raise him myself, something I could never have done without Aunt Celia and Uncle Charles.” She looked at them each in turn. “I have been blessed in more ways than I was cursed, and that is the truth. I have so much to be thankful for, and I include my son finally knowing his Uncle Philip in all of that.”

  “Yes, I could not be more pleased.” Philip looked very touched.

  “I suppose much will come of Lord and Lady Hargrave’s ball. I imagine I shall speak to Thomas then and have some firmer plans which will give me the little bit of confidence I need myself to move forward.”

  “Is the Duke going to be there? And will Thomas not already be disinherited by then?” Philip seemed boyish in his interest and excitement. “Lord, I cannot wait to see old Shawcross’ face.” He chuckled.

  “Philip, behave,” Celia said, and Catherine and Charles laughed.

  “Well, he is as bad as our father was.” Philip was still chuckling.

  “I would think they would both be there. I mean, it would be too early for Thomas to be uninvited and very likely that the rest of the county would know nothing of all of this yet.” Catherine pondered the whole thing. “And I cannot imagine the Duke staying away from an event in favour of his son. He is far too arrogant for that.”

  “But Thomas will be there regardless?” Celia had picked up her needlepoint again.

  “Yes. He said he would speak to me there, and since both houses are invited it made sense. I cannot imagine he would not attend, even if his father turns his back on him there and then.”

  “Well, awkward or not, at least it will be done with, and you can start to live again, my dear,” Charles said in an upbeat, jolly manner.

  “Yes, Uncle Charles,” Catherine said and suddenly felt a great wave of nervousness overcome her.

  She sipped her sherry determinedly as she wondered if she was really as confident of the circumstances as she was trying to appear. She had been thrilled and overcome to be proposed to by the man she loved, but it had not taken long for all her burning questions to come to the fore.

  Catherine knew he loved her; there was no doubt in her mind. But could he really carry the whole thing through? She did not underestimate the effect that the last years would have had on him. Thomas had been moved into the position of heir years ago when his brother had died, and he had been subject to his father’s constant scrutiny and opinions ever since and in a way that he had never been used to.

  Catherine hoped, rather than believed, that the Duke of Shawcross had no hold over his son at all.

  Chapter 27

  Catherine had spent the larger part of the day of the ball preparing herself. She felt nervous suddenly as if she were still a young woman with a need to impress a potential suitor. Even though she knew that suitor to have loved her for many years, and even though he had already proposed marriage to her, still she needed to make the very best of her appearance that night.

  “Goodness, you look beautiful, Catherine,” Celia said when she quietly let herself into Catherine’s bedchamber. “Your hair alone is very well worth the effort you have gone to. It is gleaming, and such wonderful thick curls.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Celia. But Evelyn, one of my brother’s maids, did my hair for me. She really is very clever, and it is a shame that she is not a lady’s maid. She is wasted on dusting and polishing, truly.”

  “Perhaps Philip will find himself a wife soon.” Celia smiled indulgently. “For he is such a handsome young man. I cannot think he will be left in peace all night with hopeful fathers chasing him this way and that.”

  “Yes, I agree. But I think he avoids hopeful fathers wherever possible.” Catherine laughed. “Philip has a romantic heart, and he does little to hide it. I should be very surprised if Philip married for anything other than the deepest love. He would sooner marry a farmer’s daughter than a titled woman as long as he loved her.”

  “I think you have both come up in this world with the most tremendous hearts, given that it was my brother who raised you. Perhaps because you kept friends and helped to make each other such fine people.”

  “You must not be so kind that you make me cry. I am almost ready and cannot be all tear-stained at the last minute.” Catherine beamed, despite feeling the tug of emotion she always felt when she was the recipient of such warmth and kindness.

  “Well, we cannot have that.” Celia reached out to touch the tiny paper flowers that the maid had fixed into Catherine’s soft brown hair. “Just lovely,” she said under her breath.

  Catherine took a last look at her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing her finest gown in a green so pale it was almost ivory. It had short sleeves which puffed neatly at the shoulders and a modest neckline which did not dip quite as deep as was currently the fashion.

  The satin sash at the empire line beneath the bust was narrow and dainty and in a deeper green than the material of the gown.

  Catherine had worn a thick petticoat which pushed out the hem of the gown and made it dance a little around her feet. With her glossy brown hair curled beautifully and piled softly upon her head, she was most pleased with her appearance. She knew she was not absolutely up to the minute in terms of fashion, but she was classically well dressed and felt comfortable and confident.

  “I daresay it is time to make our way down to the carriage. Charles and Philip are waiting, and Henry is finally sleeping peacefully,” Celia said in an attempt to gently coax her into action.

  “Yes, of course. I cannot stand vainly looking at my reflection all night.” Catherine laughed.

  “Well, it is not a luxury you allow yourself very often, is it? And I should say on this occasion that it is long awaited and well deserved.” Celia took her arm. “Come along.”

  By the time they arrived at the sprawling mansion that was Hargrave Hall, the gravelled area in front was full of carriages and people and stable hands.

  “Let us wait a while before getting out,” Philip said as he peered out of the window. “I know we would sail to the front of the queue, but I would rather not have to work my way through all those people. I find it all a little bit unsettling for my liking.” He laughed.

  “Quite so, Philip. I for one am content to watch it all going on from here for a while,” Catherine said and did just that.

  The Earl and Countess of Hargrave were very popular figures in society. Amongst the wealthiest in the county, every event they laid on was a lavish affair and very well attended. Hargrave Hall was sprawling and always decorated in the mode of the moment. They were a fashionable young couple, and an invitation to their home was a most desirable thing.

  As was the custom of society when attending such a stylish affair, everybody present was so c
learly trying to outdo everybody else. As Catherine peered out of the window of the carriage, she felt a stab of homesickness for Derbyshire.

  Not that there were not some fine houses in that county, it was just that Ivy Manor and its inhabitants were just outside that world. Just enough outside to be respectable without having to endure the constant demands and pressures of a society such as the one she was currently witnessing.

  There were some very finely dressed young ladies being helped down from carriages only to be rearranged by their mothers the moment their dainty feet touched the ground. There was so much undisguised primping and preening that Catherine almost laughed, thinking to herself that she might as well be studying a field full of peacocks.

  “Does it not occur to them that they can be seen from the house and therefore by their hosts as they straighten and twirl and puff themselves up?” Philip said, and Catherine laughed loudly.