Yet, Catherine knew that being alone in a room with the duke was a dangerous thing. The events in the garden had only made hermoreafraid of being near him. If he thought that Richard was finished with her, or she with him—there would be no more protection for her. There was no telling what he might do.
“Please!” Catherine sobbed, her voice breaking. “Please leave me alone, do not harm me!”
“I am not! Child, I am not here to harm you!” The duke kept his distance and allowed her to retreat this time. Even as she grabbed a heavy candlestick from the mantle of the fireplace in her room. She brandished it with both hands, white-knuckled around the polished base. Not that she had any idea how to wield it, but she would certainly try.
“Lady Landry—I beg of you, do not fear me—I know that you have no reason to believe me, but that tea was poisoned!” the duke continued, speaking loudly and calmly over her fear.
Lady Landry. Not girl. Or child. Or any other of the insults that he liked to call her. That, and the warning of poison were enough to finally give her pause. Her heart still beat like thunder in her chest as she looked from him to the spilled tea.
“I saw Lady Harrington put something into that teapot on my way back from the gardens for the party. I saw her instruct the servant to send it to your room, stating that you were unwell. She went back out onto the lawn to play hostess. I have every reason to believe that she desires my son enough to have poisoned you,” the duke warned carefully. “I might have wished the thorn removed from my side, but I never wanted to see you dead.”
“What?” Catherine could hardly believe it. “Why would she poison me when she has what she wants?”
“Nothing happened between them in the garden. I promise you. I…I have acted abhorrently…I have been lost to myself for a very, very long time and….Richard has gotten through to me at last…the web of pain that had wrapped around my heart was something that I had wished to snare others in. He is correct about that…but I did not wish for those to leave my web…it is selfish and cruel. I know that…” The duke softened, lowering his hands.
Catherine felt as if she were looking at a whole new man. The words of the duke’s servant came to mind. A conversation that she had not believed, at the time. But if this was the truth…then perhaps she could see it.
Misguided and terrible…but she understood somewhat.
The efforts to keep those around him close by any means necessary. To find and provide a grand living for future generations—despite the unscrupulous methods that he had used to acquire that wealth. She could not, and would not, forgive him for it…the wound was far too deep for that…but perhaps, on some level, she could understand.
“Believe that I wanted you gone, I confess it…but never injured. The day on the patio…I felt terrible about that…”
He had not seemed to at the time…but she chose not to comment on it.
Catherine lowered the candlestick.
Chapter 29
Lady Harrington’s Estate
The fire under his heels did not have anywhere to go. Richard wandered aimlessly. He feared that if he were to stop moving, he might explode or implode, depending on the location where he wound up. He could not do it.
Movement, without purpose to attempt to lower the tides of frustration and fear in his chest, was pointless.
It was not helping nearly as much as he wished for it to. He encountered Lord Wentworth near the library on the third floor. He was sitting alone with a half-finished glass of brandy clutched in his hands.
His shoulders rounded forward in what appeared to be hopelessness or stress. Were it any other time, Richard would have sat beside his friend gladly and listened to whatever must have been wrong for him to look so desolate. Were it not for his own heart breaking in his chest, he would have.
Richard stopped a few feet from his friend, unable to form the words to ask for help or for his opinion. Instead, he felt stuck in place, rooted to the very spot as Anthony lifted weary eyes up to his friend. For a moment, neither one of them spoke, both having trouble with where to start the conversation.
They finally spoke at once.
“—I miss Lady Elizabeth. She is not here.”
“—I fear that the duke has ruined my marriage after all.”
Anthony’s eyes widened at the weight Richard’s words carried. “What did he do?”
It was not as if they had not had variations of that same conversation so many times over the years. Plenty of times, Anthony had supported him through another issue that the duke had caused. He was a steadfast friend in good times and bad. His companionship was what had kept him grounded many times before. Richard started to explain, the need for movement starting to make his skin crawl once more. “Walk with me?” he asked.
Anthony finished his brandy and left the glass behind on the bench, but he rose to oblige him in a walk. Richard explained everything—all of the plans that had been set in place by Lady Harrington and the true purpose of this whole event. He spoke of the argument that he had with the duke outside of his room and the things that had been said.
“I want to believe that this is the end of it, Anthony. I truly do. I want to think that this was the culmination of their plans and that they are getting what they want, but my gut says otherwise,” Richard started, with a heavy weight on his chest.
“It is still too early in the week for this to have been it. She went down without enough of a fight…something else has to be happening…I can feel it. Like an omen sitting just out of the corner of my eye, I can feel that something is coming.”
They passed a pair of maids. He would have thought nothing of the way that they were huddled down next to one another. Everyone knew the way that servants like to gossip. Growing up in the duke’s house, he was perhaps even more careful around them than most. He stopped speaking until he and Anthony had walked past them—and in doing so, heard their conversation.
