“Of course I do. I was there in the church, Catherine. I am not silly,” he said in an adorably offended manner.
“I know, Henry.” Catherine laughed.
“What of it?” Henry went on.
“Henry, when you were born, I was very young, and it was impossible for me to tell you at the time that I am not your Aunt Catherine really, but I am your mother. You are my child, my dear.” Catherine’s heart was beating like a drum, and she studied Henry intently.
“Yes, I know,” Henry said and screwed his face up a little and shrugged.
“What do you mean you know?” Catherine was absolutely amazed.
“I just know, Aunt Catherine.” He shrugged again. “I do not know how I knew, but I always knew. It was easy to know it, even though I cannot explain it. But I do not think there was a time when I did not know it if that helps at all.”
“Yes, Henry, it helps enormously,” Catherine said and quickly dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Why are you crying? Why are you so sad?”
“I am not sad, Henry, I am happy.” Catherine sniffed.
“Will I still have to call you Aunt Catherine, or may I call you Mama now?” Henry folded his arms across his little chest, all business, and looked at her intently.
“I should very much like you to call me Mama if you would like to.”
“Oh, yes please.” Henry grinned, and Catherine could see Celia mopping her eyes furiously.
Even Charles was struggling with his emotion; she could tell by the way he fixed his attention upon a vase in the corner of the room and blinked hard.
“There is something else we have to tell you, Henry,” Thomas began gently. “Would you be happy to hear a little more?”
“Yes please, Thomas,” Henry said and gave every impression that he was thoroughly enjoying the whole thing.
Catherine could hardly believe how much she had worried, how greatly she thought her son would be affected by all the news. And yet now he looked for all the world as if he was going to be unaffected entirely.
“I do not expect you to understand how it all works now, but when you grow up to be a young man, you will,” Thomas began. “But you must know that you have a father too, as well as a mother.”
“Yes, of course. Everybody does.”
“Well, would it surprise you to know that I am your father?”
“No, it would not,” Henry said simply and shrugged again.
“My goodness, but you are a clever boy,” Thomas said and smiled at him. “A very clever boy.”
“I could tell when I looked at you, Thomas. Your hair is just like mine, and your eyes are too. And Aunt Catherine, I mean Mama, looked so sad when we first met when Uncle Philip brought me in and you were here.” Henry paused and wrinkled his little nose in lengthy thought. “And then you cried, and I knew I was right. I felt like I already knew you. I felt like I have always felt with Aunt Ca … Mama.”
“My dear little Henry.” Thomas rose from his seat and moved to kneel in front of his son. “Do you mind very much?”
“No, I do not mind at all.” Henry was grinning at him. “I like you very much, Thomas. You let me climb trees, just like Uncle Philip does. Am I to call you Papa now?”
“Yes, if you would like to?”
“Yes, I think I would like that,” Henry said and nodded thoughtfully before turning to look at his Uncle Charles. “Well, now that is all done, might we go fishing? I am not at all upset, Uncle Charles, I promise.”
“Well, why not?” Charles said and rose to his feet as he surreptitiously dashed a little tear from the corner of one of his eyes. “We shall catch the biggest fish in the lake and have the cook serve it up to Aunt Celia for her dinner,” he said mischievously.
“We ought not to, Uncle Charles. Aunt Celia does not like fish,” Henry said and chuckled.
“Come along,” Charles said and led the boy from the room.
“Good heavens, he made that extraordinarily easy for us, did he not?” Catherine said and let out a great sigh of relief.
“He most certainly did. He truly is a wonderful boy,” Thomas said, his voice thick with emotion.
“I am just going to follow them and make sure that they both put their warm coats on,” Celia said and discreetly darted from the room.
“So, everything is finally as it should have been, is it not?” Catherine said and let her tears of happiness fall as she faced her husband and reached out for his hands.
“It took a long time to get here, my love, but we are here now. After everything that has happened, everything that has hurt us, we now have everything we ever wanted. I am determined only to be grateful and never look back.”
“And so am I. It is the only way to live; I truly believe that. We have blown out the flame of the old feud, and it is up to us to see that it is never reignited.” Catherine finally leaned against him and felt the warmth and strength of his arms as they enveloped her.
“You see, I always knew that we afterthoughts would come in useful in the end. It seems that we did have a purpose after all.” Thomas laughed, and she could feel the deep rumble of it in his chest.
“I love you more and more every day, Thomas.”
“And I will love you for the rest of my life, Catherine,” he said and kissed the top of her head.
THE END
Can't get enough of Catherine and Thomas? Then make sure to check out the Extended Epilogue to find out…
Will the old Duke of Shawcross be able to admit his mistakes and ask for forgiveness?
How will Henry, the adorable little boy, develop?
Will Catherine and Thomas ever forgive the old Duke?
Click the link or enter it into your browser
http://bridgetbarton.com/extended
THE END
(Turn the page to read “Falling for the Heartbroken Duke”, my Amazon Best-Selling novel!)
Falling for the Heartbroken Duke
Introduction
Lord Robert Weston, living the life of a Duke’s second son, is thrown in among the elite of London’s bon ton, while he chafes against the conformities and gossip of the very rich. When his childhood sweetheart, Lady Judith Barton, reappears in town after three years, she has much more to say than hello.
He is thrilled to see her again, but his hopes are soon to be destroyed. When her vanity prevails, his affectionate heart is played and love promises are broken. Not only is he heartbroken, his reputation slips down a path where it's very hard to return from. Will he be able to overcome all the struggles and take control of his own life?
Lady Phoebe Sinclair, having lost her dear mother, is back in London after two years in Paris. When tragedy strikes again, Lady Phoebe’s cousin from Scotland, comes to London to claim his inheritance. Amid glittering parties, ton gossip and mutual friends, Lord Robert and Lady Phoebe’s paths cross when Lord Robert’s father and brother both succumb to typhus.
She is instantly enchanted but she has already heard all the vile things that are being said on his account. She avoids contact with him in any possible way, but when she finally finds herself imprisoned in a marriage arrangement she never wanted, who is going to come to her rescue?
When all that is expected from society is the production of an heir, will Lord Robert be able to make the right decision and solve a seemingly unsolvable mystery? While true happiness finally seems like a dream come true, life or death challenges never cease to come up...
Chapter 1
He heard the pounding on the steps and buried his head under the soft feather pillows just before James Weston, the Marquess of Hempstead, burst into the room.
Lord Robert Weston rolled to the side of the bed towards the wall, groaning, and further shielding his head with his arms. His older brother was in a foul mood again, and there was nothing to do but listen to the imminent tirade.
Although only two years separated them, the brothers were as different as night and day. Lord James was tall, dark, and dashing, muc
h as their father had been in his youth. But Robert, though sharing his mother’s eyes with his brother, didn’t resemble either of the two men in his immediate family.
His dark hair bore a tint of chestnut which set off the deep green of his gaze. His was a larger frame of build to Lord James, and no one seemed to know from where Lord Robert’s way with horses had come. He was an exceptional horseman, and a successful lawyer. And despite being a second son, he did not lack for lucrative marriage prospects. A woman would step down a notch for a man like Lord Robert.
“How can you say you’re a man when you act no better than a common rake? A scoundrel. You make me ill.”
“No better than a rake, a scoundrel? I make you ill? Surely you, Marquess, can come up with better than that. There’s cad, scrub, and my personal favourite, the un-licked cub.” Lord Robert sneered at his older brother and waited for the words or the blow that would respond.
“This is about Lady Judith. Not the unlicked cub you fancy yourself to be. How unfeeling. How uncaring. How selfish. How utterly low. Our mother would be most upset with you. Our father is ashamed of you and me.”
“Our mother? What do you mean by that? Our mother’s been dead these last thirteen years or have you forgotten. Terence, are you about? Please, bring me my coffee. The special blend.”
The butler poked his head into the room. “As you wish, My Lord.”
Lord Robert turned his attention back to Lord James as the infinitely patient Terence pulled his head back to rejoin his body in the hallway.
“Now, James. What is this all about? You barging in here like this? I’m barely awake.” He embraced his head with both hands. “Ugh. So you were saying something, My Lord? About Lady Judith? She’s back from her travels? Finally ... it’s only been three years. Now out with it ... what about the lady? And why are you here in this angry manner? I won’t be torn from slumber for nothing. Let us hear it.”
“If you must know, and well, of course you must because it concerns you; Lady Judith is back from her travels abroad with the Countess Bennington. It’s been three years, as you remember. What you don’t know is the Countess expired somewhere along the way. Apparently, the old girl came down with, of all things ... typhus. She expired in a matter of days. Dancing at a fete one night, and then resting in a foreign grave three nights later.”
“How dreadfully unfortunate, our father will be sorry to hear it. His only sister. She was a dear old lady, always kind to me, God rest her soul. And what is this ruckus you’re making about Lady Judith? You say she’s returned, and it has something to do with me?” Lord Robert’s head was thumping.
The excesses of the previous evening had caught up to him with annoying speed but did nothing to dampen his curiosity. Or the subtle sense of longing that began to spread from his head to his four limbs and, finally, to his heart.
A light knock sounded. Terence, the butler, entered with a silver tray upon which rested an urn filled with fragrant black coffee and a small glass of whisky.
“Thank you, Terence.” Lord Robert sat up and took the whisky in one swallow. Then he poured a small cup of coffee, offering his brother none, and gulped it down. The butler bowed and left the room with the whisky glass in his pocket.
Lord James frowned. “Are you finished with this declasse behaviour? Will you listen to me now? You jest, but it is important. Very important. And quite honestly, if I didn’t know you, I wouldn’t believe it. As I said, his grace our father, is beside himself. We are both, his grace and I, humiliated beyond bounds. So, My Lord, are you quite finished with your coffee? Will you listen now?”
“Yes, yes. I’m finished. I was unaware that drinking coffee impedes the hearing, but do go on.” Lord Robert rolled his eyes. There was nothing he could do correctly as far as his father, the Duke of Atwater or his brother, the Marquess Hempstead, were concerned.
“Lady Judith. So very sweet, so lovely. How could you be so callous? The poor woman has no one, Robert. No one but us. She is part of our blood family.”
“I’m not following, James. How could I be so callous? I don’t know what it is you’re referring to. I’m barely awake.”
“You mean barely sober, I daresay. Do you honestly expect me to believe that you, of all people, do not have knowledge of the return of our dear cousin Judith? Robert! For shame. What I find even more insulting is your lack of compassion.”
“Oh, you’re insulted as well as humiliated? I must have been on a roll, whatever it is I did, to provoke such a flurry of undesirable feelings in you, My Lord.”
“Yes, I am insulted.” Hempstead’s eyes narrowed. “You look and act as if you feel no remorse for your actions, Robert. No self-reproach at all. You certainly aren’t taking responsibility for your heinous behaviour. So cold. So very, very cold. Vicious even. I’m quite beside myself with embarrassment among other things.” Hempstead removed a small snuff box from his coat pocket and dipped into it. He brought the pinch to his nostril and took a sharp inhalation without bothering to hide behind the veil of a handkerchief.
Robert observed his brother and shook his head slightly. Declasse, indeed. “Even you must be exaggerating when you call me vicious, James. Remorse? Responsibility? How have I neglected any responsibility? What do I have to feel remorse about other than allowing you to stay in my chamber?” Lord Robert nearly yelled. “I should have you thrown out of this room.” He reclined on the bed, upset with himself for his outburst. His brother was the only person he knew who had the ability to pull him out from behind the facade of Lord Robert Weston. The slightly cocky, exceedingly good looking, and supremely charming, Lord Robert Weston.
“You haven’t kept your word, Robert. Did you actually think you could get away with it? Your word. You’ll never be taken seriously by the ton, by anyone, ever again. You have no merit.”
“I have no merit? I haven’t kept my word? To whom? About what? James, what is this about? I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.” Robert poured another cup of coffee, wishing fervently that Terence would reappear with another glass of whisky. His hand moved towards the bell cord, but he thought better of it. He didn’t need to give his brother any more ammunition to use against him.
It was James’ turn to roll his eyes. “Since you insist on acting the fool, dear brother, I’ll repeat the story to you. The whole sordid story.”
“Oh, it’s sordid now? Your insults mount, My Lord. Please, enlighten me. Tell me the reason for this; this gross invasion of my privacy?”
“Lady Judith has shared with me, and a number of others I might add, that you and she had an agreement.”
“An agreement? An agreement concerning what, pray tell?” Lord Robert fell back against the bed pillows. “What did she say I agreed to? What could she have said? She left me, James. I waited for her. She’s back. That’s what I know. It’s all I know. And you stand here, before me, with some hare-brained tale that involves remorse, regret, sordidness, and any other manner of malicious content. The ton must be chomping at the proverbial bit for a juicy story is all I can reckon.”
“I have the story directly from the lady in question. Lady Judith told me, in strictest confidence until we were overheard, that three years ago, when she was seventeen, and before she and her mother went abroad.”
“You were overheard? Is that it? And then the lady had to repeat her confidence to everyone present. Where were you, by the way?”
“Almack’s, not that it makes any difference.”
“Trust me, dear brother, it makes all the difference. What time were you there? And if Lady Judith was with you, when did I behave in such vile fashion towards her? Can you answer me that?”
“The lady came to the club at somewhere around eleven o’clock. She was distraught. She’d just come from St James Street, where she’d dined with you.”
Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 55
