“Come in, Phillip,” Charles said. “Please, sit down.”
Phillip took the chair indicated. “What is it you wanted to see me about?” he asked, his voice clipped.
“Before I get to that, I wish to request your forgiveness.” Phillip could not hide his surprise. “I was terribly wrong to include you and your son in my plans to secure my daughter’s respectability. Can you forgive another father who only sought to see his child secure?”
“I can, your Grace,” Phillip said firmly. “But I will not in the future bow to such pressures.”
“I dare say, I will not be the one to make such a request,” Charles laughed lightly. He offered his guest a beverage. When a glass of Scotch whiskey rested in each man’s hand, they began to talk.
“I asked you here today because there is someone I think you should meet.”
“I have already heard of your daughter’s return and I have previously met her, your Grace.”
“It is not Sabrina I speak of and, please, call me Charles. For this conversation, we are simply two fathers.” Phillip nodded in agreement. “How much do you know about the changes in plans Sabrina made in regard to the ones I made?”
“I know she did not go to America,” Phillip replied.
Charles sighed. “I thought as much.” Standing, he went to the window overlooking the gardens. “My daughter decided she needed to cover her tracks. In order to do that, she needed to appear to be in America.” Turning to face his guest, he stated. “She sent someone else in her place.”
“Your niece, Catherine.”
“Then you knew,” the duke replied.
“Not all of it,” Phillips stated. “Perhaps you had best tell me your version.”
With all the details at hand, Charles told the tale and Phillip listened intently.
“And so, Sabrina returned here, bringing my niece with her to make amends for what she had done.”
“But what of my son?” Phillip asked.
“The last fact I have is that he was going to get this marriage to Sabrina annulled. I believe he wishes to wed my niece.” Charles smiled. “She loves him, Phillip. The mishap that separated them can be set to right, I think.”
“I still do not see why you felt it necessary to ask me here. I have no power over my son. What he does must be up to him.”
Returning to the window, Charles waved for Phillip to join him. “That is why,” he stated, pointing to the girl slowly strolling across the lawn.
“All right, so she is here even though she professes to love my son. What does that have to do with me?”
“Look closely,” Charles instructed.
Annoyed, Phillip turned to gaze at her again. She turned and her skirt was caught by the breeze, molding it to her. “Good Lord!” he gasped, clearly noticing her condition.
“Now you see why I thought you would like to meet her.”
“May I see her alone?” Phillip asked.
“By all means. Go through the parlor. It is quicker.”
Nodding dumbly, Phillip turned to make his way to the parlor. He stopped at the door. “You say she loves my son?”
“I believe so,” Charles nodded.
* * *
Even though the air was cool, Catherine did not wish to return to the house. She enjoyed watching the turning leaves as they fell. It was only the first week in October yet an early frost had already started to work the magic of changing seasons.
At quiet times like these, her thoughts could not help but wander across the ocean. Had Ransom been surprised when he discovered she was gone? Was he planning on trying to find her, or would he accept her action as final? Her hand dropped to her stomach. She sighed. There was nothing final about her love for him, especially with the part of him she carried to remind her.
“Excuse me,” a gentle voice called from behind her.
Turning, Catherine’s jaw dropped open. The sky began to spin and the ground to tilt. It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t be standing there! As the voice spoke again, the sun went out in a sparkling burst. She could feel herself floating until something captured her. He called her name, but the pull of darkness was greater.
* * *
“Catherine, please, wake up,” came an unfamiliar voice.
Catherine struggled to find the possessor of that voice. She opened her eyes slowly when she felt someone pat her hand. As her vision cleared, she realized she was inside the house. Then she gasped, her hand fluttered to her throat. The man beside her was the image of Ransom! Or was it the other way around?
“You are his . . . his father, aren’t you?” she asked needlessly.
“Yes, dear, I am,” he smiled kindly. “And I am terribly sorry I frightened you like that. I forgot how much my son resembles me.” She made an attempt to rise. “Are you sure you are all right?”
“Yes, I am fine,” she assured him. She accepted his hand to help her sit. He took the spot beside her, still holding her hand. Catherine struggled to gather her wits so she didn’t notice. Instead, she held on to it. “How . . . did you know . . . about me?” she asked, fearful Ransom was close by.
“Your uncle informed me,” he told her truthfully. “Do you mind?” he asked.
“I mind,” she replied coolly. “He has no right to interfere in my life.” Her voice dropped. “It is just that I thought you . . . might have found out from someone else.”
“No, dear. Ransom did not contact me.” At the mention of Ransom’s name, she looked away. He cupped her chin, making her look back at him. “Child, do you love my son?”
Catherine tried to free herself, but he held her firmly. She lowered her eyes. “I assure you, sir, I am no threat!”
Phillip released her and rose. “I do not see you as a threat, Catherine.” She noticed he never took his eyes from her. “I only ask because I have been told you do. I simply seek the truth.”
Catherine bit her lip. How could she tell this man the truth? She had lived in sin with his son. She carried the proof of how far it went. To cover her shame, she needed to lie. “No, sir. I do n-not love your son.”
Still not able to lie well, Catherine knew her heartache was in her voice and the tears brimming in her green eyes, but he apparently believed her.
“Very well then, when the child you are carrying is delivered, I will pay you a large sum for it. You may not love my son and his child, but I can assure you I do.”
“No!” Catherine cried and rose to back away from him. “You cannot have my child at any price!”
He moved closer to her, his tone and stance softened. “Why not, my dear?”
Catherine’s lip quivered. He did know she lied, and disarmed her into admitting the truth. Tears fell. She started to tremble and felt his arms support her, leading her back to the divan.
“You do love him, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” she sobbed. “With all my heart I love him.”
Phillip let her cry. As she calmed, he sighed. “Tell me the entire story, child.”
Catherine swallowed additional tears and wiped her eyes as she told her tale.
“I still do not understand how Ran could let you go knowing you were expecting his child,” he mused.
“He did not let me go,” she quickly stated. “I simply left after he did.”
“He doesn’t know, does he?”
Catherine shook her head slowly. “There . . . there was never time to tell him. Then, when Sabrina arrived, I could not. I was not his wife and never had been. Don’t you see, I could not bear it if he made me stay just to claim his child.”
He took her hand, clearly to keep her from darting away. “And what are your plans for you and the child?”
“I will stay here until he is born then . . . seek a position where I can raise him safely.”
“Would you consider coming to my estate to have the child?”
“No, I do not think I could—”
“My wife and I would consider it an honor.” She immediately sought arguments, but he
went on. “You are carrying our first grandchild. Please do not deny us the pleasure of helping him into the world.”
Catherine was tempted, but frantic. She would be in the devil’s domain once again. “But what if—”
“You will be our guest,” he stated firmly. “I would never let anyone insult a guest, not even if it is my son.”
“And you wouldn’t take—”
“No, child. We would never do that. I only suggested it to see how much you loved him.”
Catherine couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to get to know the people who raised Ransom and the home that molded him. Yet, there was one reason she could not accept. She turned away. “I am sorry, sir,” she murmured, “but I cannot accept your offer. I would be a disgrace to you and your wife.”
“Nonsense, child!” he declared as he walked to the front of her. “If I do not bring you back with me, I shall have to endure endless questions and, more than likely, a tongue lashing from my dear wife. Please,” he smiled warmly and lifted her hand, “spare me my wife’s displeasure.”
The first genuine laugh to come to Catherine since she left Devil’s Head erupted from her throat. “Very well, sir. I shall come for a visit.”
* * *
The ride to the Kent estate passed pleasantly in the company of the earl, especially once she got over his title. She preferred to think of him as that instead of Ransom’s father. It made it easier for her to speak to him, especially if the topic were his son.
Fortunately, Phillip Kent seemed to sense her desire not to speak of Ransom. Instead, she answered his questions about her family and what she thought of the new country she had visited. She thought she delighted him with her descriptions of America. This made the short journey pleasant—until they approached the estate. She began to fidget.
“Do not worry, my dear. Margaret will do everything in her power to see you are comfortable and well received. I have never seen her unkind to anyone, except to me on occasion,” he chuckled.
“Unjustly?” Catherine asked with a smile.
“Lord, no! I deserved every bit of it.”
Catherine tried to imagine what Ransom’s mother would be like. His father spoke of her with love, so she must be quite a lady.
She finally caught sight of the house. All brick with white trim, it sat with a stand of trees in a semi-circle about it. Autumn’s colors only enhanced the beauty of the place.
“It is lovely,” she spoke softly, never taking her eyes from the place. She spotted a well-appointed stable and paddock containing fine specimens of horseflesh. Several matching buildings on a smaller scale must be the quarters for the staff. All in all, it resembled a small town, complete in itself.
Phillip took her hand and smiled down at her. “I know you will like it here, Catherine, and I hope you will consider staying once the child arrives.”
A sadness filled her. “I do not know, m’lord.”
“I do not expect a reply now,” he reminded her. “But I want you to know you are welcome.”
“Don’t you think it might be wise to see if her ladyship feels the same? You might find yourself on the receiving end of her wrath once again.”
Phillip chuckled. “I think I am safe this time. But, for your peace of mind, I will ask again after Maggie has a go at you.”
It seemed Lady Kent would get her chance in a matter of moments if she was the lovely woman standing on the top stair at the house. Catherine felt herself tense and must have conveyed her anxiety to Phillip.
“Easy, child,” he offered and squeezed her hand. “She is really quite a wonderful lady. I think it is safe to say you and she will be great friends.”
Praying he was even partially right, Catherine nodded as the carriage drew to a halt. The Earl was quick to alight, reaching out his hands to those of his wife.
“How did it go with the duke?” she asked at once.
“Very well!” he proclaimed, grinning broadly. “In fact, he was really quite magnanimous.” She frowned and Phillip leaned to kiss her cheek. “He has sent us a guest as a token of his remorse.”
“A guest?” Margaret echoed. She moved her husband aside with the sweep of her arm. She stared into Catherine’s eyes and smiled gently. “You must be Catherine.”
“Yes, m’lady,” Catherine replied, letting the earl help her from the carriage. She made the appropriate curtsey, but was drawn upright by a hand placed gently beneath her chin.
“Welcome to our home, child,” Margaret said as she hugged her gently.
Catherine was led inside. Lady Kent ordered a room prepared for her and asked if she wished anything to eat. Not wanting to impose, Catherine declined. But soon she found herself led to a solarium where Margaret Kent was taking tea.
“Surely you can manage something,” she smiled. “I hate to eat alone.” Catherine glanced about at the beauty of the room. Margaret turned to her husband. “Why don’t you leave us alone for a time, my dear, to give us a chance to get to know one another.” He arched a brow, and Catherine felt a knot near her heart, he so reminded her of Ransom. “You had time with her, Phillip. Now leave us.”
Dismissed, Phillip came toward her. “Remember, child, she is not unkind.” Glancing back at his wife he added with a chuckle, “Except to me on occasion.”
“Good afternoon, Phillip,” Margaret stated, definitely reminding him to leave. The moment he was out of the room, she laughed lightly. “Men always pretend they hate gossip, yet they are loath to miss a word.” She took her seat and poured tea for them both.
“How did you know who I was?” Catherine finally asked, accepting a plate with small sandwiches and slices of cheese.
Margaret’s eyes softened. “Ransom told me about you,” she admitted. Catherine felt her face warm. “I knew the moment I saw your eyes you were his Catherine.”
“I . . . I am sorry to disappoint you, m’lady,” she said, lowering her head. “But I do not belong to him.” Drawing a deep breath, Catherine started the tale she hoped to relate for the last time. “Perhaps you will feel I should leave when I tell you everything.”
It took half an hour in the telling. Not once in that time did Margaret take her eyes from Catherine as she replayed it all. Catherine didn’t wish to mislead Lady Kent, nor have her sympathy when she didn’t deserve it.
“So I felt I had to leave.” Hanging her head, she twisted her napkin tightly about her finger. “You see, I could not bear the lies I had told that led to the rest, nor could I remain just because he wanted me to.”
“Is there no hope for the two of you?” Margaret asked.
“No, I do not think so,” Catherine replied. “Even if Ransom wanted to . . . see me, I could not let him.”
“Why, child? Perhaps if you two could talk this all out, you might find a way.”
Squaring her shoulders, Catherine stood. “I am carrying his child, m’lady,” she announced. “Should he see me in this condition, I would never be sure if it was me he wanted or our issue.”
“Oh, Catherine,” Margaret smiled, clearly ignoring the second half of the statement. “I am so happy for you and my son.”
Drawing back, Catherine shook her head. “I said he knows not of the child, and I must beg you not to tell him.”
“I see.” Margaret rose and paced the small room for a few moments, then stilled. “Do not worry, my dear,” she smiled. “The war will keep him away for a while, giving us time to get to know one another. We will settle the rest as needs be. Would you like to see the garden? It is a joy this time of the year.”
In the company of the Kents, Catherine could not have felt better as the child grew inside her over the next months. Nor did she feel anything but loved by the pair.
Nothing marred her happiness by day, but her nights were plagued with memories of the man she would always love. She could not help but regret ever knowing him, especially when she awoke wanting him so desperately.
* * *
“General Jackson has not arrived yet.
He still has some things to settle with his troops in Tennessee.” Holden made his way to the table in Ransom’s small cabin for a drink. “He isn’t scheduled for another month.” Downing a glass of brandy, he sighed. “But the troops here are already northeast of the city as the General ordered.”
Stretched out on his bunk with his arms crossed beneath his head, Ransom listened absently to Holden’s report. But his mind focused mostly on Catherine. He had spent so many nights dreaming of her, he sometimes swore she never left.
“Are you listening to me?” Holden asked, clearly annoyed with the short attention span of his friend.
Ransom threw his legs over the side of the bunk. “I heard you.” He ran his hands back through his hair. “There is simply nothing to add until I can see the General.”
“So you still plan to fight with him, don’t you?”
“Yes. I thought I had already explained that to you.” Ransom rose and poured his own drink.
“All you have said is we have to do all we can to get this damnable war done with,” Holden stated curtly. “I just figured we weren’t expected to do it without help.”
Ransom had to chuckle. “Have I been such a terrible task master these last few months?”
Holden shrugged. “Now that you ask—”
“I didn’t, my friend,” Ransom interrupted as he slouched into a chair.
They spent a companionable few minutes discussing the plans General Jackson had sent ahead. New Orleans was bustling with preparations for battle and a reception for the famous General.
“Has any other news gotten through?” Ransom asked, trying to gauge what he could on the longevity of the war.
“Nothing about the war, but a courier was sent from Devil’s Head with this.” He handed him a small parcel tied tightly.
Ransom hastened to open it, extracting a note along with a sealed letter. “The note’s from Alice. She says this letter came from England. She thought it might be important.”
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