Chapter 26
“Is he here?” Cathy demanded. “You know that you can stop looking like a stone gargoyle with me, Henderson. I need to know where my husband is.”
Cathy had rushed home to Baxter Hall after a sleepless night at Marlow’s when thoughts she never thought would plague her came descended upon her.
She did not mean for her voice to sound quite so sharp, but she was desperate to find some answers. Her gloved hands gripped her reticule tightly so that she could feel her fingernails through the fabric digging into her palm.
I was so unfair to him.
The night before, she was kept awake by the realization that she had been cold and unforgiving.
That she had pushed away the man she loved just to protect herself like she always did.
Once she saw the threat, she expected the worst. That was what she did with Tristan.
She had trusted Anne more than she did him and pushed him away.
If he turned out to be guilty of the supposed crime, then at least she needed to hear the story from his very lips, instead of taking Miss Longrove’s account as the absolute truth.
“His Grace is not home, Your Grace,” Henderson replied, remaining unflappable. “He has just departed not long ago.”
“Where to?” she demanded, thinking back to whether she had seen his carriage along the way. Her mind had been too preoccupied to notice anything else, though. “Is he tending to business so early in the morning?”
Cathy was rightfully irritated. She was sleepless and tired, and the thorn scratches on her arms still stung. She was afraid to inspect them, as they still showed angry red and purple welts.
“Your Grace, I believe that His Grace may have gone to Lord Farstone’s estate. He had a... determined look on his face, if I may add,” the butler finally revealed.
“Thank you, Henderson. I need the carriage once more.”
The butler gave her a bow, and soon, the carriage she used was once more ready to bring her to her next destination. She had never been to the Viscount of Farstone’s estate, but the driver knew of the location. The ride was a blur as she battled her pain and exhaustion.
What could be so important that Tristan would head for Lord Farstone’s place looking determined?
Other thoughts continued to disturb her.
I believed a scorned woman who did not hesitate to shove me into rose thorns over the man who traveled north to find my father. The man who, despite everything, accepted me as I am, thorns and all.
The irony was not lost on her. She had been a fool many times over, and she was afraid that this was yet another of her follies. She had chosen distance and the cold certainty of numbers on her ledgers over trusting her heart.
But she needed to know for certain. Who was the father of this child?
When the carriage reached the Farstone estate, Cathy was out of the carriage as soon as it lurched to a halt. She flew out the door and up the steps, her mind in a whirl. Many possibilities were screaming inside her head, and she wondered if she had made a mistake.
“Good day,” she greeted Lord Farstone’s butler as soon as the door opened. “Is the Duke of Baxter here? I am his wife, and I need to speak to my husband at once.”
Cathy knew she risked being seen as a possessive wife, but she needed to talk to Tristan as soon as possible.
“His Grace is... here, Your Grace. Please wait in the foyer,” the butler replied, his eyes widening when he saw her.
Cathy immediately brushed past him, her anxiety unable to keep her still. She intended to follow the proper decorum and wait to be admitted to other parts of the house, but she heard the sounds of an argument, or at least something that sounded like it.
“You cannot mean that you will not do anything about this, Brandon!” a familiar female voice cried. “You cannot!”
Cathy froze as it was clear who was having a heated conversation. It was not Tristan and Brandon, nor was it Tristan and Anne. She had been wrong about whatever combinations she might have expected.
The door where the two were arguing was slightly ajar, which made it easy for Cathy to hear what they were talking—or screaming—about. She held her breath, not wanting to reveal her presence.
“Lower your voice, Anne!” Brandon hissed. Yes, it was Lord Farstone, after all. Tristan’s closest friend. “You do not want the servants to hear you.”
“I do not care. Let them hear!” Anne screamed.
Cathy could feel the desperation and total loss of control in her voice.
Nobody in their right mind would simply scream about their secrets, knowing they could lead to their ruin.
“I have shed my dignity and done things that I could be prosecuted for, even shoving Miss Priggish into the rose bushes. You need to take responsibility for your child. It is not fair that I alone should suffer from a mistake that we share.”
Cathy stifled a gasp by covering her mouth with her hand. She felt her scalp tighten as the blood drained from her face.
What is she talking about?
Her heart pounded in her chest as she pressed her other hand to the wall in her attempt to regain balance.
“I told you that I cannot do that, Anne,” Brandon said, almost apologetically. “What we had was a tryst. This was never meant to happen. I mean... I was always careful. How can you be certain that it is mine?”
That cad!
“I am expected to marry someone who has not been publicly associated with someone else,” he continued, and Cathy could almost see him shuffling on his feet.
“How dare you! How can you be concerned about that when you were the one who seduced me? You were the one who sought me out, even though you knew I was engaged to Tristan! We did it together behind his back. Now, you leave me with no other choice. I will have to tell everyone my child is Tristan’s and hope that he.
.. what? That he will push his wife away and take responsibility?
He already had a reputation for being a rake.
People will believe it. His wife did when I told her, but he will deny it. ”
“That is true, but I... Anne, you are carrying my blood!”
Cathy seethed in quiet fury where she was standing. Tristan was betrayed by his closest friend and his betrothed while he prepared for a wedding he believed would be imprisoning him.
“I am carrying your blood, yes, but you have no claim on me now that you have shown you have no interest in taking responsibility,” Anne challenged, and in that moment, Cathy agreed with her.
Still, she felt wave after wave of nausea as she realized that Tristan was never the villain here. It was clear that she was wrong about him. Instead, he was the one wronged, placed as a shield for a friend who had displayed such cowardice for a passion that was forbidden in the first place.
I cannot stay here.
Cathy pulled at her collar, which suddenly felt too tight. Wearing anything other than her Miss Priggish clothes was only for Tristan’s eyes, after all. Now, she was suffocating in her dress. She had to leave the nightmare she had heard before she was discovered eavesdropping.
But where is Tristan? The butler told me that he was here.
Cathy walked as fast as she could, making sure no one could hear her.
Then, she collided with something solid and warm, a wall of familiar muscle.
Strong hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her.
It was only then that she realized that she was trembling and was about to faint.
Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of Tristan, his eyes flinty and furious, cold and hot at the same time.
Relief and shame crashed all over Cathy at the sight of him right there by the Farstone doorway.
“Cathy? What are you doing here?” he rasped. It was not that long since she had talked to him, but she realized just how much she missed that voice.
“I came looking for you,” she sobbed, her hands clutching at his lapels. It was instinct, one that she had no way of stopping. His heat was so close. So close. “I am so sorry.”
Tristan gave her a look that was part agony, part relief.
He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the door to the drawing room flung violently open.
Anne stormed out, her face flushed red and damp with tears.
Her bonnet hung at the back of her neck, swaying by its ribbons.
She screeched to a halt when she saw Cathy and Tristan.
Brandon immediately followed her, half-stumbling out.
His cravat was undone, and his face was deathly pale.
“Your Grace,” he gasped, his eyes wide with fear and shock.
“What is the meaning of this, Brandon?” Tristan demanded. The trembling, quiet fury was more terrifying than if he had yelled the words.
For a moment, nobody spoke. Anne’s chest was heaving as her eyes darted from one person in the same space to the next. Brandon did not look like he wanted to meet anyone’s eyes.
“I need the father of my child to take responsibility,” Anne said defiantly. “We—”
“I have never touched you in my life, Anne,” Tristan retorted, recoiling from his former betrothed.
“Not once. Not even when we were to be wed. We were never a match. Your interests and mine never met anywhere, and it is particularly loathsome that you would use my name to give your child a father and hide the reality of your tryst with my own close friend. Don’t you think it is a whole level of depravity? ”
“Tristan,” Brandon interrupted, stepping forward. His brows were furrowed, and he kept on looking back and forth between Anne and Tristan. “She is in a delicate state. You cannot see it yet, but…”
His voice trailed off, and Cathy felt an absolute rage at hearing how shameless both Anne and Brandon were being. She stepped away from Tristan and faced the two with her chin held high. Miss Priggish seemed to be present, but she was no longer defensive. She was ready to defend the man she loved.
“A delicate state?” Cathy echoed, her voice high and pitchy.
“You speak of being delicate when you two are the ones who brought yourselves into this situation. Lord Farstone, you are despicable for not taking responsibility for your actions. You seduced your good friend’s betrothed before their wedding, and you had the audacity to judge him for doing right by me.
You are a coward who would gladly ruin other people’s lives so that you can keep your own hedonistic and rakish lifestyle. ”
“And you,” she continued, turning to Anne.
Her eyes flashed. Anger burned in her chest. “You are not the victim you want us to believe you are. You knew what could happen when you let your passions take over. Not only that, but you were willing to marry Tristan even when you knew you were already compromised by someone else. Then, you did not even stop there. You were planning on using my husband for blackmail. Is it not what this is all about?”
Anne looked startled, her eyes turning to Tristan as if she expected him to defend her. But she found nothing but a cold wall.
“Tristan, I was going to eventually...”
Tristan stepped closer to the friend he had just lost. He did not use any physical force, but he had Brandon staggering backward until his back met a wall.
“There is nothing to explain,” Tristan said, the hurt in his voice palpable.
“I would have given you anything you wanted, Brandon. I would have helped you out of your situation. The best way would have been to marry Miss Longrove and settle with her and your child. There would have been no need for the scandal to spread. I would have protected you in every way I know I can. But this... You were together at the wedding party, were you not? While I was drowning in guilt for not wanting to marry her, you were together having your fun. You had the gall to even try to convince me to marry your own paramour.”
His lips curled into a sneer. Cathy shivered at the sight of his hatred.
“You are dead to me,” he continued, his words heavy with finality. “If I see you again, you will never be anything more than a stranger. I will not let you speak about my wife in any capacity again.”
Cathy watched her husband with her heart breaking. It must have hurt to have someone close to you betray you in such a way. She could still remember the shock of finding out that her father had left them penniless.
Betrayal by someone you loved and trusted was the worst. Rage hummed through Tristan. When he turned to her, his face softened.
“I suppose our ledger has now been balanced,” he declared, but with no satisfaction. “Let us go home, Cathy. There is nothing left for us here.”
“No, Tristan. Not before I tell you what I have come here to say.”