Katherine’s gaze flew to his. Her breath escaped. She opened her mouth to respond—to lie—but could not manage a single sound.
His jaw ground down. He looked away. “’Twas a foolish question, was it not?” he said to the room at large, or perhaps to himself.
And Katherine almost hated herself. Hawke was a good, noble man. He did not deserve this. He did not deserve her. He deserved someone who would love him, someone sweet and good, someone loyal. Yet she could not lie about what she had shared with Liam. She felt trapped in an impossible place—one with no escape.
The queen snapped. “A very foolish question, John. It makes no difference what Katherine felt then. What matters is that she is here, now, carrying another man’s seed—but she is your wife.”
Katherine began to shake. But she said not a word. Surely he would divorce her soon enough, now that he knew the truth.
Hawke inclined his head, then turned to Katherine, his mouth tight. “Are you well, Katherine? Considering the circumstances?”
Katherine wet her lips. “I…I am distressed.”
“A not surprising state,” Hawke said. “The child—when is it due?”
“In July.”
He nodded, staring again at her stomach. He turned his head away.
“Sir John,” Elizabeth said sharply. “What do you intend to do with Katherine?”
Hawke’s expression was sardonic. “What would you have me do, Your Majesty? Divorce her? So she can take to the streets, perhaps as a strumpet—in order to feed her babe?”
“The lesson would serve her well,” the queen said.
Katherine was frozen. “I will go to my father,” she whispered.
John turned toward her. “FitzGerald is no better than a pauper. He can hardly feed his wife and son—but you would go to him? I think not.”
“She can be sent to France, from whence she came,” Elizabeth remarked. “We do not object should you send her to a nunnery to have her child, or should you wish to keep her there for her lifetime. We will gladly find a foster home for the babe.”
Katherine cried out. She faced John, seeking his gaze, a desperate plea in her green eyes. “No.”
“She will go to Hawkehurst,” John stated, staring at her, his jaw tight. “Where she belongs.”
Katherine gasped. She could not believe what she had heard. He did not intend to cast her aside? Surely she misunderstood him!
His brow lifted. “What did you expect, Katherine? For me to divorce you and allow you to beg for—or steal—your bread? You are my wife. You may have enjoyed the damned pirate’s seduction, but you did not plan to be abducted by him—and had I not been so negligent that day, had I posted proper guards—the abduction would not have succeeded—and it would be my child you now bear.”
Katherine clasped her hands together. “You will not divorce me?” she gasped.
“The one thing I understand is duty, madam,” John said harshly. “My duty is to you—and to your child, as well.”
In spite of her shock, Katherine knew she was a lucky woman because even if Liam did not hang, she would never return to him—and she had a child to raise. A child she must feed, clothe, and rear at all costs. But, dear God, she did not feel lucky; she felt shameless and amoral, desperate and confused. She felt dismayed.
And her traitorous mind whispered,How can you live without Liam?
Katherine sucked in a sob, refusing to listen to such madness.
The queen was applauding John’s words. “Well said, Sir John. But then, you are a very noble man.”
Hawke bowed his head again. “I wish to take my wife to Hawkehurst myself, on the morrow, with Your Majesty’s permission,” he said.
“Granted,” Elizabeth replied. “But with one condition.”
Both Hawke and Katherine turned to the queen, Katherine still stunned with disbelief.
Elizabeth smiled. “She is to remain far from London, in Cornwall. I do not wish to see hide nor hair of her, Sir John. I am most displeased with her conduct, and have no wish to set a contagion amongst my other good ladies of the court. Do you understand?”
