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Chapter 10
Felton found himself at his mother's home the next morning set on visiting Catherine, only to find that his sister was off to Bath with Rawden Hinds. His brows darted upwards after his mother gave him the news.
“She is rebounding quicker than I would have thought,” Felton remarked.
Lady Dorothea wrapped her shawl around her shoulder a bit tighter, and shrugged lightly, “It's Catherine, Felton. She tends to dramatise her emotions when in reality, she’ll be okay. She always is.”
His brows wrinkled with confusion, “What do you mean, Mother?”
“Take the Duke of Ayles, for instance,” Lady Dorothea mentioned, and Felton stiffened at the name of the dastardly man. “She admitted to loving him, but she only had affection for the man, dear. Since Lord Camden has come around, I have not heard nary a word about the Duke. Catherine tends to embellish things, and now she has found another admirer, I’m one to believe that this affair with the Duke was a passing fancy.”
Felton felt affixed to his seat as his mother's words ran through his mind. Was it possible that Catherine had not loved the Duke as she had professed? No, no. She had looked him in the eye that day on his return and told him that she loved the man. He had seen tears in her eyes, for heaven’s sake; there was no way she could have been faking those.
Reaching for his cup of coffee, Felton said, “I don’t know, Mother; she looked very distraught to me that day.”
Waving her hand, Lady Dorothea corrected him, “Catherine has a flair for the dramatic, dear. I’m sorry that you missed three years of her life, or you would know otherwise.”
Settling his cup back on the saucer, Felton rubbed the back of his neck, “I regret that too, but Father would have turned over in his grave if I had not answered the call to do what is right. Or was right back then when the idea seemed so simple…” his gaze drifted off to over his mother’s shoulder, just as his voice trailed off.
Memories of the day he had scribbled his name to the Navy’s request resurrected in his mind. Back then, the vision of serving his county had been covered with gold, but when he had experienced the reality of war, that gold covering had been stripped away like flimsy paper.
“But now that I’m on the other side of it, I wish things could be otherwise,” Felton said, and rubbed his eyes, his suddenly wearied eyes. “Can you send for me on a day when Catherine is not out with Hinds? I truly do need to speak with her.”
“I will,” Lady Dorothea said, “Felton, son, are you sleeping well?”
Yanking his hand away, Felton took a moment to reply. “As best as I can, Mother. And before you suggest it, I will not be putting laudanum in my tea or taking anything to dull my sense. I can deal with the…dreamsjust fine.”
“These dreams,” she said, “are they of the war?”
He nodded curtly, and before she could speak, added, “Don’t worry, Mother, I’ll be fine.” Standing, he nodded, “Thank you for the coffee, Mother. You’ve given me a few things to think about.”
The lady made to say something but stopped herself, and only said, “You’re welcome, dear. And one of these days, I would love to meet the lady you’re courting.”
Instead of grimacing, Felton laughed hollowly, “We’ll see about that, Mother. Tell Catherine I called.”
Taking the staircase, he got to the ground floor and donned his coat and hat. The news about Catherine and the Duke had hit him harder than a cannonball blasting through the hull of a ship. Realizations that he might have acted more rashly than what was needed.
But what Her Grace said about Catherine is too cruel to ignore. What is going on here?Rubbing his face in agitation, Felton felt himself begin to waver—again. Whatever happened, he knew that he needed to speak to Catherine and let her tell him how she truly felt about Ayles.
And find out why the hell Ayles thinks that Catherine is a liar and deceiver.
All through the drive, he racked his brain for any connection between the two and could not find any link. Perhaps Catherine had been entertaining another gentleman during her time with Ayles? Felton shook; that was ridiculous. After gaining the attention of one of the most powerful men in England, why would Catherine dare to undermine herself by flirting with another when marriage to aDukewas on the line?
He arrived at the apartment with an intense headache thrumming at his temples and his soul twisted in knots. Disrobing, he sank to a chair and massaged his forehead.
Esther…
How could a few words spin his mind into such a tumble? Not only ten hours ago, he had been assured of repaying the Harewood family double for the pain their son had caused his sister, but now…
Taking his hand away from his face, Felton’s eyes dipped to the letters on his desk and rifled through them. A card from the Harewood house had him grimacing, but he opened it; it was an invitation to a Christmas Ball. Dropping it, he let out a long exhale, stood and went to get his bottle of wine and glass from a shelf, and poured a generous helping.
He retook his seat and sipped the sweet wine while wondering how he was going to respond. His mother had undoubtedly given him a lot of things to mull over, but while he was leaning into favouring his mother’s words but had to hear it from Catherine’s mouth.
Have I rushed into this? Does Esther still deserve this horrible act? How am I going to fix this?CanI fix this?
A war was inside him just like days ago, only this time, his mind and conscience lobbied swords. Felton was exhausted and by the time supper came around, he had little urge to eat. Instead, he called his carriage around and broke one of his rules, and he went to White’s.
The gentleman club on St. James Street had not changed a whit since he left for war. It was still dimly lit, still reeked of sickly-sweet cigar smoke and drunken men who gambled away their fortunes with a hand of whist.
