“Did you know what he’d done?” Luke asked quietly.
She slowly shook her head.
Catherine clinging to his arm as though she alone had the power to stop him from doing something rash and irrevocable. Catherine, dressed in the clothing of a servant, her hair askew. Catherine who’d not stayed in the coach as he’d ordered. Catherine standing in the midst of a gaming hell.
What had he been thinking to come here first? What had she been thinking to follow him inside? Was there a chance in hell that no one would recognize her?
He felt a need to do something, to say something, to bring this moment to a deserving end. But there was nothing inside him, nothing except grief and loss. The past twenty-five years of his life had been filled with lies. And the truth offered no comfort.
It terrified Catherine how quiet Luke was in the coach. He’d walked out of Dodger’s without another word being spoken. She sat beside him, holding his hand, a hand that was so cold it was as though he’d died.
“You shouldn’t be alone tonight,” she said.
“I am who I’m supposed to be, and suddenly, inexplicably, I feel so unworthy. I have been an imposter all these years, but not in the way I thought.”
“You’ve not been an imposter.”
“I thought I was a scoundrel masquerading as a lord; instead I was a lord masquerading as a scoundrel. I thought I was one of them, I thought I was one of Feagan’s children. I thought we had the streets in common.”
Her heart was breaking for him. “You did. For a while you did.”
He looked at her with a gentleness in his eyes that she’d feared had been lost forever.
“Do you think there is any chance that any of the nobles in Dodger’s tonight did not recognize you?”
She sighed. “A small chance perhaps.”
“You shouldn’t have tried to stop me, Catherine. Your reputation is not worth the scandal that will erupt.”
“Let’s see. My father lies at death’s door, my brother is traipsing around the world. I have no husband, no children. My reputation matters only to me, and you mean a great deal more to me than it.”
He cupped her face, brushed his lips over hers. The passion between them had cooled, as it should have. When all of this was behind him, he’d once again return to Frannie’s side. She had no doubt of that.
“We need to get you home,” he said quietly. “And I need to determine what I’m to do about Avendale.” They’d left him in his cellar prison at Luke’s estate until everything could be arranged. Luke sighed deeply. “I’d have never thought that remembering would bring with it far more trouble than forgetting.”
20
Catherine was drained as she slowly made her way up the stairs toward her bedchamber.
She wanted desperately to see her father, but she didn’t want him to see her dressed like a servant, looking as though she’d spent a few days being ravished. Which she had, but still. He didn’t need to know that.
Jenny prepared the bath and Catherine sank into the steaming water. She was sore and miserable. And that was the good news. While nothing would remain of her reputation, she would deal with that problem later. Right now, her main concern was Claybourne.
She didn’t want him to be alone tonight.
But she was so exhausted that it was all she could do to continue breathing.
When she was finished with her bath, Jenny began drying her. “Shall I help you prepare for bed?”
“No, I want to visit with my father for a while, and as he’s not seen me in a few days, I think a simple dress would be appropriate.”
She felt a little more herself as she walked down the hallway to his bedchamber. His nurse rose as Catherine stepped into the room.
“How is he?” Catherine asked.
“Doing well, my lady.”
He couldn’t speak coherently, he couldn’t move about on his own. He had to be fed and bathed—how in the world could he be doing well?
