“You should have told me.” Alaric clenched his hand into a fist, anger filling him. “That kind of thing, I will not let it stand.”
Catherine shook her head. “And what would you have done if I had told you?”
“I would have thought of something. I am your husband.” Alaric wanted to tear out of the house and make everyone pay for even thinking such a thing about Catherine.
And this is what we call society?
“It would not have changed anything. Thetonwill believe what they want, and without firm proof…” Catherine bit her lip and gave him a small, sad smile. “You know why we could not have confronted them.”
Alaric let himself be drawn into the warmth of her blue eyes, feeling his roiling anger settle into a simmer. “I will make them pay for this, Catherine.”
“Let us focus on what is important.” Catherine’s fingers twitched, and he saw her clasp her hands together. “You have asked Lord Hale here for a reason, and from his expression, I would say he needs an explanation.”
Alaric closed his eyes, his head pounding, and let out a long breath. “Very well, but this is not the end of this discussion.”
Catherine’s lips thinned, but she nodded. Alaric turned to face Frederick, whose expression was curiously neutral.
“I suppose we should start with the reason no one has seen me in months.” Alaric gestured for them all to sit and began to tell Frederick all that had happened to him: the memory loss, Catherine and Oliver turning up on his doorstep, and the slow return of his memories.
When he was finished, Frederick let out a long, low whistle. “It sounds like something out of a novel. Though I suppose that would explain the jovial nature of your greeting.”
Alaric looked from Catherine to Frederick. “Is that not how friends usually greet one another? I have a distinct memory of doing so with you at Oxford.”
“Some friends, yes, and we did. Though not for some years.”
“Oh.” Alaric frowned. “Why?”
“You really have lost your memory.” Frederick ran his hand through his hair again, leaving it sticking up at an odd angle.
“I thought I made that clear.” Alaric forced himself not to cross his arms over his chest.
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Catherine stifle a giggle behind her hand.
“I know, it is just… You remember our youth, Oxford, and the tour. But nothing… Nothing more recent?”
“Things come back to him out of sequence. It can be hard to piece them together,” Catherine explained, shifting slightly on the sofa beside him.
He could feel her heat. The fingers of his right hand twitched, and he clutched them with his left, forcing himself to look at Frederick.
“I see.” Frederick nodded.
“You have known me longer than anyone else alive. We grew up together. You would know what kind of man I was, and the kinds of things I would do.” Alaric felt his heart start to beat faster, a bead of sweat trickling down his neck.
“I would.”
“Is there a chance Oliver could be my son?” Alaric met Frederick’s gaze, his heart thundering in his chest.
“No.” Frederick shook his head emphatically. “A pig would sooner fly.”
A weight shifted from Alaric’s chest, and he let out a long, slow breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Catherine’s shoulders sink slightly as tightness left her muscles.
“Are you sure?” Catherine leaned toward Frederick, her hands clasped in her lap.
“I know Alaric. He would never have done such a thing. He may have had a dalliance or two when we were at university, but he has always been clear that he… well…” Frederick trailed off, his eyes flitting toward Catherine.
“I know he did not want to marry me.” Catherine smiled at Frederick. “I did not want to marry him either.”
“He did not want to marry anyone, Your Grace.” Frederick’s voice was serious.
