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“She mentioned that your time with the Duke was a passing fancy, but when I arrived, I know that I saw pure distress in your eyes; you were crying, Catherine, but I need to know, did he break your heart? Or are you just ashamed that he broke the courtship?”
Her face reddened, “Why do you want to know?”
Because I have one chance to ruin him by ruining his sister, if not, I’ll find a way to confess it all to Esther.
“You are my sister,” Felton said. “If I have grounds to call the man out for a dawn appointment, I will.”
Catherine’s slim shoulders sagged, and she lifted her head. “You needn’t do that, Felton. Mother is right, and I was more ashamed than devastated, and shamefaced than shattered. His Grace’s attention made me shine. I felt, I suppose, valuable to him.”
Felton’s jaw clenched tightly while the ramifications of what he had done, this scheme to get back to the Duke was a mistake as he had feared, began to settle inside his chest. He knew that as soon as he left the house, the guilt he could feel that had started to build for days now, would come crashing down on his heart.
“You do not need a Lord, any Lord to feel valuable, Catherine,” Felton said. “You are a treasure in yourself, and I do not want you to think you need the attention from a man to feel special.”
She reached out to touch him, “I know, and since Lord Camden and I have been speaking, I realize that I do not need a lord to validate me. He makes me feel like the woman I know I am, without the glamour and titillation of being the envy of the ton.”
“You like Rawden, then,” Felton nodded.
Catherine nodded a little, and her cheeks flushed with pink, “Very much.”
“He’d be the most fortunate man in London to have you,” Felton said as he stood. “Now that I know how you truly feel about him, my soul is at ease.”
Liar. I am in more tumult than I have ever been.
The rustle of his mother’s skirts and her soft exclamation had him facing her. Lady Dorothea folded her hands on her dresses, “Pardon me, Felton, but it seems to me that your rush over here was disproportionate to the answer you sought. You could have taken my word for it.”
Holding his composure intact, Felton inclined his head, “It may seem so, Mother, but I truly was worried. Now at that I know Hinds is erasing the lingering pain from Ayles, I am much more comforted.”
“But would you have gone to Bath to get that response?” Lady Dorothea asked. “That is what I meant. You would travel hours just to get an answer that was essentially the same one I told you. Why was it so important to hear it from Catherine?”
While itching and desperate to leave, Felton kept his act in place, “Wasn’t defending my sister's honour enough?”
“It is, but you would have done that weeks ago when you first heard,” Lady Dorothea said calmly. “I dare say you would have called him out for the duel the next day. Were you stewing over this for almost a month?”
Pressing his lips tight, Felton decided that enough was enough—he had to leave. “I don’t understand why you think there could be another reason.”
Crossing her leg, Lady Dorothea rearranged her shawl, “Because I know you, son. You do not tend to mull over things for hours, much less days or weeks. You rush into things head-first, then find yourself up upended.”
Right in one—I am over my head in this situation with Esther.
“That may be,” he said, “But caring for Catherine is, and was, the truth of my concern. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” he headed to the door. “… and Catherine, I will be speaking to Hinds one day.”
He made it to the doorway before Lady Dorothea called at his back. “What are you not telling us, Felton?”
Resting his hands on the doorjamb, Felton looked over his shoulder, “Nothing.”
Felton could feel two sets of eyes on his back but could not turn back to meet the question that both held. He had to get back to his home and figure out what to do with Esther, before the Duke managed to unearth who he indeed was. There was going to be a ball at her home in two days, and he was invited.
Perhaps I will confess it all then, and she will hate me for it. Can I live with that
The carriage had not moved as he had planned to make the visit short, get the address in Bath and then go there, but now that he did not need that trip, he told the driver to go back home before boarding it.
Inside, he pressed his hands to his eyes. God, he had genuinely rushed into this and landed upside-down. From a fake persona that he had used to gain the lady’s attention, he had gone off to make a life that was slowly eclipsing his actual existence.
Sitting up, he rubbed his face; it was plain now, he had to confess all to Esther—but when? The Christmastide ball at her home? Vauxhall? When the Duke exposed him? When?
