Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1. Louise Allen

nothing more than some tuts of disapproval. As for me, she reflected ruefully, I’ll soon be gone so they can think what they like of Miss Cunningham.

      Nick had done everything he could to seduce her into staying short of breaking his promise to her. Why? Presumably because she had made it clear she was not going to change her mind because she liked his family or he had offered her a home less overwhelming than the house. But the only thing that was going to persuade her to stay was if he told her he loved her. And surely, Katherine thought, hugging the memory of last night to her, surely if he was ever going to say it, that would have been the time.

      Even if he had, they would have had to consider long and hard whether it would be right to stay together. She could never forget Nick’s position, his inheritance and his father’s expectations.

      But although he did not love her, he had given her a night she was never going to forget, a night filled with tenderness and ecstasy and trust fulfilled. Leaving him was going to hurt his pride, if not his heart, and she had so much to thank him for. How was she ever going to repay that?

      Katherine swung her legs out of bed. One thing was certain, she had no intention of facing Nick over the breakfast table, so the sooner she went down the better. ‘What time is it?’

      ‘Half past seven, Miss Katherine. Surely you are going to have breakfast in bed?’

      ‘No, I will go down.’ She felt too restless, too unlike herself to stay in bed. Nick was not one of life’s early risers if he had any choice, so, if she was down by eight, she should be safe. ‘The dimity gown will be perfectly all right.’ Probably none of the other guests would be about either and she could escape to a corner of the Long Gallery after breakfast and try to think.

      Nick was not in the breakfast room, but to her surprise both Robert and Roderick Graham were, both of them looking somewhat the worse for wear. They got to their feet as she came in and out of respect for their heavy eyes and sallow faces she helped herself quietly from the chafing dishes arranged on the sideboard and did not attempt to make conversation once the conventional greetings had been exchanged.

      Then they were on their feet again as the Duke stalked in, looking as fresh as if he was fifty years old and had spent the previous evening reading by his fireside before retiring to bed at ten.

      ‘Good morning, Miss Cunningham. Mr Graham. Robert, where is your brother?’

      ‘Breakfasting in his room, I imagine, sir.’

      ‘Hmm.’ The old man’s inimical stare fixed on Katherine.

      ‘Possibly Lord Seaton is not a natural early riser, your Grace; some people are not,’ she ventured.

      ‘Modern affectations. I do not hold with them.’ The Duke sat down with his plate and engaged a nervous Mr Graham in meticulously polite conversation. That gentleman’s relief when the Duke finished his frugal breakfast was patent and he made his escape with Robert without a backward glance.

      Katherine watched the Duke from under her lashes. His back was upright, his shoulders set, his expression calm and haughty. But under it she thought she could glimpse an old man. A tired, sad old man. Something caught inside her and she realised it was a pang of pity and compassion. But what could she do to help the Duke?

       Chapter Twenty-Five

      Katherine was visited by a sudden, terrifying idea. If she could, in some small way, reconcile Nick and his father, surely that was the best way she could possibly repay him for everything he had done for her? It was the only way she could express her love, even if he never knew what she had done, or why.

      ‘Sir.’ She got to her feet as the Duke did. ‘May I speak with you, sir?’ As soon as she had thought it, she knew how foolish it was to be afraid. He was just a man, an old man she had grown fond of.

      ‘Of course, my dear. Would you care to come into the library?’ When they reached it he pulled forward a chair for her and she sank into it, searching for words she wished desperately she had had the opportunity to rehearse. ‘Katherine, is anything wrong?’

      ‘Sir … please forgive me if this is presumptuous, but I have to speak with you about Nicholas.’ He still seemed receptive, so she carried on in a rush. ‘Sir, he loves you so much, he is so proud of you and I believe you feel the same about him, but neither of you show it. He is hurting, although he hides it, and I know it cannot be easy for you either.’

      The old man’s mouth twisted suddenly and Katherine held her breath, convinced she had either distressed him or had simply overstepped the mark, but all he said was, ‘Go on.’

      ‘He left all those years ago because he was hurt and angry. From what he has told me, I am sure he offered you ample cause for anger. But you knew where he was in London, you knew what he was doing and you did not send for him, or go to him. He was very young, very proud, with a pride he learned from you. And that pride has hardened now to the point where it is difficult for him to take that first step, even though his conscience tells him he should.

      ‘Sir, you were so cool, so ironic when he came back. My father died ten years ago, but what I remember most of all about him was his warmth, his forgiveness, even when we had hurt or disappointed him.’

      ‘I find it hard to imagine that you were ever a disappointment to your parents, Katherine.’ It was said gently without any of the mocking edge the Duke’s voice so often held.

      ‘Of course I was,’ she said, half-laughing at the memories. ‘All children are, surely, from time to time. But if they know themselves to be loved, then they try harder next time.’ It had worked with Philip while her parents were alive, but since then it seemed her own influence was never enough.

      ‘I love both my sons, and I am proud of them both.’

      ‘I know that, but do they?’ She was growing in confidence now she knew the old man would not snub her efforts. ‘Did you know that Nicholas fought at Waterloo, that he had two horses shot out from under him?’

      ‘I knew he fought there, he let that much slip.’ The Duke hesitated, then said slowly, ‘I felt such dread that I could hardly speak, such pride I thought my heart might burst with it. I saw him standing there, so correct, so controlled, so obviously unwilling to share with me what must have been a devastating experience, and there were no words.’

      ‘He is a fine man,’ Katherine said, unaware of how her expression betrayed her. ‘And a brave one. It hurts him to speak of that battle and he will say little to me because I am a woman and he wants to protect me. He would speak to you, if you only ask. Has he told you that we were held up by highwaymen on our way here?’

      The Duke’s eyebrows rose. ‘He has not.’

      Katherine giggled, despite the tension she was under. ‘He was wonderful. He climbed out of the carriage, told them he was Black Jack Standon and showed off the marks of the noose on his neck. He thinks so fast and has such courage.’ She hesitated. ‘I saw him on the scaffold in the moments before the trap dropped. No one there knew who he was: but he did. He knew he was a Lydgate, and he knew how a Lydgate faced death. And he learned that at your knee.’

      The Duke suddenly dropped his face into his hands and Katherine, without thinking, fell to her knees beside his chair and put her arms around him. ‘Oh, sir, you are both so proud—please do not let that separate you from your son.’

      After a moment he looked up at her and she saw his eyes were wet with tears. ‘Thank you for that, my dear. I imagine I am not an easy person to approach in such a way, am I?’

      That, if ever she had heard one, was an understatement.

      ‘No, sir.’

      ‘I rather think your courage is a fitting match for my son’s. I will do as you ask, I promise. Perhaps, when he does bestir himself, you would be very kind and ask him to join me here. There is no