He tried again, practicing and stopping every so often to look at his pocket watch. After all, he did not want to be late to his own dinner.
“I have no wish to add fuel to my wife’s anger,” he murmured to his reflection.
Once he was satisfied that he remembered the way his most normal-seeming smile felt, he decided to make his way to the dining room.
As he walked down a corridor, he heard whispers and smelled lavender. He stopped, trying to identify where the sounds were coming from. There was a door slightly open ahead of him. The scent of lavender grew stronger as he moved closer, and he heard Catherine’s voice.
“But what if he wakes?” Catherine was asking, though she spoke so quietly that Alaric could not hear the rest of what she said.
He risked a glance into the room. It was the antechamber leading to the Duchess’s bedroom. Catherine was sitting on a small bed which had been made up, and he saw a tuft of dark hair that must have been Oliver’s.
He squinted and realized that Catherine was holding the boy’s hand. Something stirred in Alaric’s heart, and it was with a start that he realized he had taken a step toward the two of them. He put his foot back down, not wanting to intrude.
He does look very much like me.Alaric heard a noise like a stomach gurgling and saw Catherine clap a hand to her abdomen. He did not hear what her maid said to her, but suspected the woman was encouraging her mistress to eat.
He watched as Catherine hesitated by the door.
He is not even her son, and yet it is clear she cares for him.
Alaric stepped away from the door, not wanting to be caught watching her. He slipped into a nearby room and waited until he heard her footsteps fade out of earshot.
“He cannot really be my son, can he?” Alaric murmured. “It does not make any sense.”
He was certain he was not the sort of man who had affairs. Surely he would know if he was a rake? That had to be the kind of thing one remembered.
Rake.The word echoed around his head. He could smell stale whiskey and cigars. He felt an anger rise in him that took him by surprise. It faded as quickly as it came, leaving him more confused than ever.
“He looks like me. He does, but… but I do not think he is mine. I have to believe I would remember that.” He dug his nails into his palms. “I am not that sort of man. I am not.”
Are you sure?The voice whispered inside his head, sending a cold sheen of sweat down his spine. “I suppose that might explain why she is so furious with me. Though if that were the case, she would surely have called me such. Catherine does not mince her words. Or at least, she has not so far.”
That was a reassuring thought. He was sure that someone would tell him a wife should respect a husband, but that was not whathe needed. He needed someone who would not be afraid to tell him the truth. It meant he could trust her.
“And yet she seemed so surprised by that.” Alaric frowned. “Why? She is my wife. Of course, I should trust her. And why are we living apart?”
He opened the door and made his way toward the dining room. “I have to assume it is at her request. That is the only rational reason. No man would leave a woman like that.”
He wondered what had led her to want separate lives.
“You changed.” Catherine’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts and back into the present.
Catherine was standing at the table, her traveler’s coat removed, wearing a simple navy dress. Yet, even then, she was beautiful.
“Pardon?” Alaric wished his head did not feel like it was full of molasses.
Catherine gestured to him. “You are wearing evening wear.”
“Yes.”
“You told me it did not matter if I did not change.”
“It does not.” Alaric’s brow furrowed.
“Then why did you?”
“Because I have something to change into. One is supposed to change for dinner, or so I am told. But I can hardly expect you to do so when you have nothing to change into.” He moved toward the seat at the head of the table and beckoned Catherine to sit at the place on his right-hand side.
She did, and a moment later, servants placed food upon the table. The smell made his mouth water, and he breathed in deeply. He pulled a plate of roast beef toward him and began to carve it into thick slices.
