Page 50 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

Jemima went to her father’s side with a happy laugh and took his arm, while Catherine offered only a cool smile and a slight nod of her head.

“Father, I was just telling Catherine and Hugh the good news. Or would you like to do it yourself, now that you’re here?”

Hugh was surprised that Captain Wadsworth seemed content to remain in the background, letting his wife-to-be and her father do all the talking. The man hung back with his mother, wearing an expression of benevolent disinterest, as though everything sounded lovely but had nothing to do with him. It was strange for an officer to be so passive.

“Of course, of course. You may or may not be surprised to hear that I am to marry Lady Harvey before the month is out. It’s a shock to many, I know, with Lord Harvey having died so recently. But he had been ill for many years, and it had long been his dearest wish that his wife should marry again and be happy after his death.”

While Hugh was indeed astonished by this news, Catherine looked quite ill, her face turning an alarming shade of gray.

“Excuse me, I am feeling unwell,” she said curtly, before she ran away from them down the path and into some bushes.

“Congratulations, Lord Sedgehall!” Hugh managed to say. “But I must attend to Catherine.”

He found his wife on the other side of the bushes, bent double and vomiting. Instinctively, he put an arm around her shoulders and brushed back the few stray strands of hair that had fallen across her damp, feverish face.

“God!” she gasped as she attempted to straighten up but then retched again. “Unbelievable…”

For a few minutes, Hugh stood quietly, rubbing her shoulders and offering her his handkerchief when she was finally able to stand and catch her breath. Catherine remained silent on the subject of her father’s unexpected news.

“I feel quite unwell and must go home, Hugh,” she said, at last.

“I know it’s very soon, but do you think you might be with child?” Hugh asked her tentatively.

“I’m not just your broodmare, Your Grace!” Catherine snapped, her hands on her hips and her green eyes flashing with anger. “Can you think of nothing but mounting me and getting me with child?”

“You’re my wife, and I have a duty to take care of you,” Hugh argued, stunned by her outburst. “Especially if you’re carrying my child.”

Turning her back to him, Catherine marched towards the mansion. Hugh began to follow her but then spotted Sir Martin Wick waving to him from near the refreshments tent.

Deciding that it might be best to let Catherine cool off in the ladies’ retiring room—where he presumed she was headed—Hugh raised his hand to Sir Martin in acknowledgment.

“Yes, certain things have always been said about Lord Edwin,” Sir Martin said thoughtfully as they strolled together in the small park at the bottom of the landscaped gardens. “I would not invite him to a Society event like this, although he is welcome at my City banquets with others from his industry. Still, nothing has ever been proven against your uncle.”

“Do you yourself believe the things that are said about him, Sir Martin? I’m interested in your judgment as a former businessman and investor. You know the world my uncle moves in better than I do. You have known many of the people involved in these cases.”

“Your aunt was correct in what she said about the world of business, Your Grace,” Sir Martin answered carefully. “There is a certain ruthlessness that goes with success, and all of us who achieve success must possess that quality. Lord Edwin is far from being the only ruthless player in the City of London.”

“I understand that. But would you ever have entered into risky ventures at the expense of your business partner, committed fraud to take out a bank loan in his name, and then left him destitute and sufficiently out of his own mind to commit suicide?”

“No, I would not,” Sir Martin said firmly. “My good name and my reputation for probity were assets beyond value in my profession. I might be ruthless in my own way, but I do notgamble with the deeper foundations of my success. Nor do I gamble with souls—my own or those of others.”

“Could you believe such a thing of my uncle?”

“Speaking privately to you here, Your Grace, man to man, yes, I could. But never publicly or in a court of law.”

“I would never ask that,” Hugh said quickly. “I am the Duke of Redbridge, and if there is wrongdoing in my family, then it is up to me to resolve it. I would not seek to involve my friends in such unpleasantness.”

“If I were you,” Sir Martin said, inhaling and staring off thoughtfully into the distance. “If I suspected illegal activity in my circle, I might spend less time interviewing those wronged, and more time talking to the record keepers and those who might have aided and abetted the wrongdoer, willingly or not.”

“The record keepers,” Hugh mused. “Bankers, lawyers, agents of other varieties.”

“That is where you would most likely find the evidence or the tools you need to put a stop to it,” Sir Martin continued. “Under the right pressure, the testimony of such people also carries more weight than the partial accounts of victims, inside or outside the courts…”

“I shall take your advice.” Hugh nodded.

“If you do intend to pursue this, I have one other recommendation that I cannot exhort too highly,” Sir Martin added, stopping and turning to face Hugh with a serious expression.

“What is that, Sir Martin?”

---