“I had his letters, threatened to send them to his enemies. To expose him publicly. And once our son was born, he paid most handsomely for my silence.” Marina smirked, and Catherine fought down an urge to be sick.
“If he paid you so well, why did you leave Oliver at St. Margaret’s? You could have taken him with you.” She could not imagine leaving him there.
“Why bother? He was housed and fed, as was I. At least, until the money stopped coming.” Marina scowled.
She does not care about him.The realization raced through Catherine. “If you are here to convince Alaric to start making those payments, I fear you have come to the wrong place.”
“I am well aware that the Duke is not with you. Nor is he in his estate in the n orth, or the castle in Scotland, or staying with his good friends. A clever trick, I will give you that.” Marina moved closer to Catherine, one hand resting on the back of the sofa.
“Thank you.” Catherine forced herself not to move.
“Not clever enough, though.” Marina giggled again, waggling her finger at Catherine.
Is she... drunk?Catherine shifted slightly, her hand drifting toward the sofa cushions and the fire poker hidden within them
Marina canted her head, gesturing for Catherine to sit down and sweeping into a mocking curtsy. “Tired already, Your Grace? Or am I boring you perhaps? Should I make things a little more interesting? Perhaps I should tell you how I killed the stable hand—would that amuse you?”
“You are lying. The boy died in the crash.” Catherine frowned but sat on the sofa as Marina flopped into the armchair across from her, her legs dangling over the armrest in a very unladylike manner.
“Why would someone who knew the carriage was broken be on it?” Marina gave Catherine a pitying look. “He thought he would survive, and the two of us would escape into the sunset. Silly fool. He did not see the knife until I stuck it between his ribs.”
“You were there!” Her eyes widened, and her heart stuttered to a halt. “Why did you spare Alaric?”
“A mistake.” Marina spat on the floor. “I thought he was dead. He was supposed to be dead. Then Oliver’s way would be clear. With Alaric gone, he could take his rightful place as heir.”
“You are mad. Oliver will never be heir; you were never married to his father. Illegitimate children cannot inherit; there is no way for him to gain Alaric’s title.”
“Only if the law thinks him a bastard.” Catherine could not help but wince at the word and, in frustration, saw that her reaction had clearly amused Marina. “Does that offend your precious sensibilities? Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! That is what he is, after all. But not for long.”
“What do you mean?” Catherine leaned back, her hand hidden from view.
Just a little more.
“I happen to be rather adept at forgery. The world already thinks he is your husband’s son. All I need to do is show them that we were already married, and then I will step into my rightful place and ensure my son uses the vast sums at his disposal for useful things.” She clapped a hand to her chest and fluttered her eyelids dramatically. “Like spoiling his loving mother.”
“You are a monster!” Catherine spat as her fingers brushed against the cool metal of the poker.
“No,Your Grace, I am simply a woman who knows what she wants and will do anything to get it. If I were a man, I would be called a leader or perhaps a politician.” Marina swung her legs off the arm of the chair and onto the floor, puffing herself up like the most pompous of windbags.
“You would be called a murderer.” Her hand clasped around it, and she tensed her muscles.
“Temper, Catherine. Watch your– ”
Marina’s words were cut off as Catherine launched herself across the room at her, poker in hand.
The iron collided with the side of Marina’s head with a crack, blood spurting from the wound. Catherine raised her hand to strike once more, but Marina was faster and stronger than she had expected.
She felt bony hands wrap around her wrist, with Marina’s sharp nails digging into her skin. She smelled the woman’s foul breath as she leaned in closer. Moments later, she felt teeth sink into her, screamed, and fell to the ground, dropping the poker from her grip.
“Now you have made me angry,” Marina snapped, kicking the poker away as Catherine tried to stop the bleeding from her shoulder. “Tell me where my son is, right now.”
“Never! You do not care about him; you only see him as a means to gain power and status. You do not love him!” Catherine spat.
Where the hell are the guards?
She should not have done this. She had done it again—underestimated the woman—and now she would pay the price. She thought she could hear a commotion.
I have to distract her.
