Chapter 18 #2
“It is no problem. I would have been here sooner if I had been at my country estate, but I had been in London enjoying the remainder of the Season.” Frederick fixed Alaric with a frank look, his eyes flashing in the light streaming in from the window.
“Now, why not tell me just what is going on? The sorts of rumors flying around about you... For a while, people thought you were dead, that you had been murdered.”
Alaric felt his explanation die on his lips, his mind trained on Frederick’s last words as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. “They thought I had been murdered? By whom?”
Frederick’s cheeks reddened, his eyes flicking to Catherine. Alaric frowned, the memory of Catherine’s entry into the castle flooding into his mind. Understanding dawned on him, and he turned to face her, his voice soft. “Why did you not tell me that the ton thought you had killed me?”
“We had other things to deal with. Besides, you are not dead, and soon enough the ton will see the proof of that.” Catherine flicked out her fingers as though brushing a piece of fluff from a dress. “It is a rumor; it cannot hurt me.”
“You should have told me.” Alaric clenched his hand into a fist, anger filling him. “That kind of thing, I will not let it stand.”
Catherine shook her head. “And what would you have done if I had told you?”
“I would have thought of something. I am your husband.” Alaric wanted to tear out of the house and make everyone pay for even thinking such a thing about Catherine.
And this is what we call society?
“It would not have changed anything. The ton will believe what they want, and without firm proof…” Catherine bit her lip and gave him a small, sad smile. “You know why we could not have confronted them.”
Alaric let himself be drawn into the warmth of her blue eyes, feeling his roiling anger settle into a simmer. “I will make them pay for this, Catherine.”
“Let us focus on what is important.” Catherine’s fingers twitched, and he saw her clasp her hands together. “You have asked Lord Hale here for a reason, and from his expression, I would say he needs an explanation.”
Alaric closed his eyes, his head pounding, and let out a long breath. “Very well, but this is not the end of this discussion.”
Catherine’s lips thinned, but she nodded. Alaric turned to face Frederick, whose expression was curiously neutral.
“I suppose we should start with the reason no one has seen me in months.” Alaric gestured for them all to sit and began to tell Frederick all that had happened to him: the memory loss, Catherine and Oliver turning up on his doorstep, and the slow return of his memories.
When he was finished, Frederick let out a long, low whistle. “It sounds like something out of a novel. Though I suppose that would explain the jovial nature of your greeting.”
Alaric looked from Catherine to Frederick. “Is that not how friends usually greet one another? I have a distinct memory of doing so with you at Oxford.”
“Some friends, yes, and we did. Though not for some years.”
“Oh.” Alaric frowned. “Why?”
“You really have lost your memory.” Frederick ran his hand through his hair again, leaving it sticking up at an odd angle.
“I thought I made that clear.” Alaric forced himself not to cross his arms over his chest.
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Catherine stifle a giggle behind her hand.
“I know, it is just… You remember our youth, Oxford, and the tour. But nothing… Nothing more recent?”
“Things come back to him out of sequence. It can be hard to piece them together,” Catherine explained, shifting slightly on the sofa beside him.
He could feel her heat. The fingers of his right hand twitched, and he clutched them with his left, forcing himself to look at Frederick.
“I see.” Frederick nodded.
“You have known me longer than anyone else alive. We grew up together. You would know what kind of man I was, and the kinds of things I would do.” Alaric felt his heart start to beat faster, a bead of sweat trickling down his neck.
“I would.”
“Is there a chance Oliver could be my son?” Alaric met Frederick’s gaze, his heart thundering in his chest.
“No.” Frederick shook his head emphatically. “A pig would sooner fly.”
A weight shifted from Alaric’s chest, and he let out a long, slow breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Catherine’s shoulders sink slightly as tightness left her muscles.
“Are you sure?” Catherine leaned toward Frederick, her hands clasped in her lap.
“I know Alaric. He would never have done such a thing. He may have had a dalliance or two when we were at university, but he has always been clear that he… well…” Frederick trailed off, his eyes flitting toward Catherine.
“I know he did not want to marry me.” Catherine smiled at Frederick. “I did not want to marry him either.”
“He did not want to marry anyone, Your Grace.” Frederick’s voice was serious.
Why? Alaric felt something stir in the back of his mind. He could hear his father’s laughter. Pain seared across his head, and he groaned.
A warm hand pressed against his forehead. “Alaric?”
He opened his eyes and, for a moment, wondered why he was looking into a crystalline lake. “What happened?”
Alaric swallowed the bile rising in his throat, focusing on the sound of Catherine’s voice. “A memory or... I do not know.”
“I will fetch something for the pain.” He felt Catherine move from his side.
“I am fine.” The room came swimming back into focus. “Honestly.”
“You look like hell, Deverell.” Frederick’s voice sounded a long way away.
“Your opinion is not needed, Hale,” Alaric snapped.
“It is good to know that you are just as stubborn with Lord Hale as you are with me.” He could hear the mingled amusement and frustration in her voice.
“Stubborn as an ox,” Frederick added.
“I can hear you both.” He glared at them.
“Good.” Catherine’s hand was resting on Alaric’s shoulders, the warmth of her fingers spreading through him. “Lord Hale, will you stay with him while I get something from Cook?”
“Of course.” Frederick stood up and bowed solemnly.
Alaric resisted an urge to throw a pillow at him. “I do not need anything.”
Catherine squeezed his shoulder but continued speaking as though he had not said anything.
“I will go check on how Mrs. Langley is getting on. And I may have some peppermint tea prepared for you as well, that should settle your stomach. I know that with these headaches you are often nauseous. And that you will not take anything to help with the pain.”
“I need my wits about me.” Alaric met Catherine’s gaze. “And you do not have to go to the kitchens yourself.Mrs. Langley is perfectly capable, I am sure.”
“I am sure she is, but I am not sure what is in her tonic and I suspect if I task the maids with bringing you peppermint tea as well, you will send them away.” Catherine arched an eyebrow at him.
He heard her mutter several distinctly unladylike things under her breath as she swept from the room. His eyes followed her as she left.
“I like her,” Frederick proclaimed, downing the last of his whiskey. “She has considerably more spark than I gave her credit for. She is quite something.”
“She is.” Alaric turned to face Frederick; he could still feel her fingertips against the scar on his forehead. “It will be an adjustment once she has left.”
“What do you mean?” Frederick’s head snapped toward him so quickly that Alaric heard it crack.
Alaric felt a vice grip around his chest. “Once all of this Oliver business is settled, she will go back to London. I will stay in Bath. We will lead separate lives once more.”
“Why?” Frederick’s frown deepened.
“It is what she wants.”
“Are you sure?” Frederick asked.
“She has made it abundantly clear. It is why she hired the governess. To prepare Oliver for her departure.” Alaric felt his voice catch and cleared his throat.
“She has always said that once she knows his father is looking after him, she will leave.” Alaric ran his hands through his hair and glanced toward the door.
“Before Catherine returns, tell me truly, Hale, how bad are the rumors?”
Frederick’s face fell. “Bad. Not quite ‘murdered you’ bad, but… they are not good.”
Alaric growled. “I will hunt them down and remind them what comes from spreading such slander about my family.”
“Which will only make it worse.” Frederick pointed out. “They will likely say she has driven you mad or some nonsense.”
“The more I learn of the fickleness of the ton, the more I understand why I kept myself apart from that nest of vipers.” Alaric gritted his teeth. “This needs subtlety.”
“You could always attend Lady Haverward’s ball. She’s a nosy baggage and will have every gossip for seven miles in attendance. And her estate is not far from here.”
“If Catherine and I went, the ton would see that I am alive and well.” Alaric stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Though it may still be a risk with my memories as they are.”
“That is true, though I suspect your wife would steer you right. And if you let the ton see how much you care for each other, that will put to bed some of the rumors about her killing you.”
Frederick added.
“We are friends, Hale, nothing more.” Alaric felt his heart stutter.
“If you looked at me the way you look at her, Deverell, we would both be arrested.” Frederick laughed.
“There is no fear of that, you are not nearly as pretty,” Alaric shot back without thinking, realizing he had stepped into Frederick’s trap when he saw the grin on Frederick’s face broaden. “As anyone with eyes would be able to see. I t does not mean anything.”
“Your whole face lights up whenever you say her name. And the two of you clearly have a rapport. Why deny it?” Frederick gestured at him.
“I am supposed to be the one with a head injury, not you.” Alaric ran his thumb across his knuckles.
“It does not matter what you think is there; it will not change anything. This whole arrangement is only temporary. Catherine might agree to wait a little longer while you investigate, but once it is done…”
“Then perhaps I should take my time.” Frederick winked.
“No.” Alaric’s voice was harder than he had meant, and he saw Frederick wince in surprise. “I will not trick her into remaining. I will not do that to her.”
“It was a jest, man.” Frederick made a placating gesture.
“I do not care.” Alaric met his gaze, knowing there was steel in his eyes. “Swear to me that you will do everything in your power to investigate this swiftly. My man, Mr. Wilkins did not manage to turn up much, just enough that we know Oliver’s mother is alive.”
“Deverell—” Frederick began, but Alaric cut him off.
“—swear it.”
“I swear on my name and eternal soul, I will leave no stone unturned and waste no time in doing so.” He put his hand on his chest.
“Good.” Alaric leaned back in his chair.
“I still think that you are being ridiculous. You keep claiming that this is what she wants, but what about what you want? I have not seen you so warm in years. Do you really want to go back to how things were?” Frederick blurted. “Why not ask her to stay?”
“If she wanted to, she would. She knows that she can, and she is choosing not to. Who am I to stop her?” Alaric shrugged.
He knew that his answer to Frederick was only a part of the truth. The decision had to be hers, and if he asked her to stay, it would not be fair. How could he ask her to do that when she had already lost so much? She deserved her freedom. He could give her that.
I cannot ask her to stay.
But he wished he could.