Page 63 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

Edwin forced a smile at the mention of his older brother, who had indeed given Hugh his dark-haired, blue-eyed features. “I leave the assessment of faces and forms to the ladies,” he replied smoothly. “But the present Duke of Redbridge must make his own sartorial decisions, regardless of his aunt, his grandmother, or his wife.”

Hugh only laughed at his comment, feeling more carefree than he could remember when out in company. Maybe it was the lack of the mask, or maybe it was Catherine at his side. Most likely, it was both. His wife was proving herself an asset as well as an intelligent ally and a desirable bed partner. He had been right to marry her…

Lady Georgina looked at her husband with annoyance at his ambivalent contribution, refusing to take the arm he offered her in contrition and stepping slightly away from him. “Be careful with my new dress, Edwin dearest. I won’t have things ruined by clumsiness.”

Edwin scowled slightly and looked away, giving Hugh a distinct feeling that all was not entirely well between them.

While he had worried for his aunt at the opera, it came to Hugh now that he did not really understand the dynamics of their relationship. Regardless, at this moment, he was keen to occupy them with other guests and make his own escape.

“Uncle Edwin, Aunt Georgina, let me introduce you to Sir Oswald and Lady Moore over there. Their son will be attending the same prep school as Andrew, I believe.”

At this news, his aunt seemed to swallow both her concern for him and her annoyance at his uncle, allowing her nephew to make the relevant introductions and leave them to talk about the prep school with the Moores.

“Odd,” Rebecca muttered, taking Hugh’s arm and steering him into a private corner a moment later. “I don’t want you accepting any food or drink from them, Hugh. I’ve already declined their invitation to dine this Tuesday, and you must do the same. Don’t you find their behavior a little odd tonight? Too much and slightly strained?”

“Uncle Edwin and Lady Georgina? They’ve always been a little peculiar, from my perspective,” Hugh answered. “If they seem any odder now, it’s likely only because you and I have had our eyes opened to certain things recently.”

“Your eyes may be open, but what have you seen since we last spoke?” Rebecca questioned. “Tell me the summary now before too many others arrive.”

Briefly and soberly, Hugh summarized the discoveries from his conversations with Alfred Lucas and Viscount Mairforth, as well as the insights he had gained from Sir Martin Wick and Reginald Bennett. As for the results of the investigations into historical files and records, he would advise her privately later that week.

“You believe the worst, don’t you?” she asked, steely-eyed and unemotional, despite the fact that the man they both suspected of such terrible deeds was her son.

“I do,” Hugh admitted. “As does Catherine. Uncle Edwin openly accused her of spreading rumors was about him being a poisoner, incidentally. We almost had a public row at the opera, but Aunt Georgina tried to smooth things over.”

“There should have been no rumors to cause such a row.” Rebecca frowned. “Neither you, nor I, nor Catherine would have told Edwin or anyone else of our suspicions.”

“I suppose servants do talk to one another,” Hugh offered, thinking of his brief discussion with Lady Brightling at the garden party. “The staff at Redbridge Hall obviously saw whathappened to the cat and knew that we believed it to be cyanide poisoning. Any one of them might have family or friends serving in Uncle Edmin’s household, for example.”

“Your maids, footmen, and the rest knew of the incident, yes, but presumably not that Catherine or anyone else particularly suspected Edwin. How did he know that? My mind is uneasy about something here, Hugh.”

“As is mine.” He sighed. “I decided to add another provision for Catherine in my will. If by any misfortune—natural or unnatural—I die and Uncle Edwin becomes the Duke of Redbridge, he would make her life wretched. She must have a home of her own, away from Redbridge.”

“Produce an heir as soon as you can. That is still my best advice, Hugh,” Rebecca said tartly. “As mother to the next Duke of Redbridge, Catherine would be in a far more secure position, would she not?”

“Indeed, she would,” Hugh conceded. Then, he proceeded to sip his champagne, effectively ending their discussion, given Catherine’s slight sensitivity to this particular topic.

The room around them was filling up with guests now, and he began to notice some of the familiar stares and whispers, although they did not irritate him as much as they had once. He cared even less tonight than he had the day of Sir Martin’s garden party.

Part of his mind kept going back to the conversation he had with Mr. Reginald Bennett, as well as Jasper’s unnerving statements.

Trust is the bedrock of our firm… It’s your signature, Mr. Fitzroy… I won’t have things ruined by sloppiness… Your name is on every document, Mr. Fitzroy… I trusted Edwin Vaughan…

The words jostled and bumped together in his head like wooden boats tethered together on choppy waters. Across the room, he could see Edwin drinking champagne and talking animatedly to Sir Oswald about something or other, likely some investment opportunity. Hugh felt a surge of anger at his uncle, who had taken them all for fools for so long, making money through dishonorable behavior and trampling the family’s name in his endeavors for self-enrichment.

“Not yet, Hugh,” Catherine murmured beside him, placing a flute of champagne in his hand. “Not here, and not yet. Look at me, if you cannot look at your uncle without such anger.”

Hugh turned to his wife and exhaled his frustration, before raising her white-gloved hand to his lips. She smelled faintly of rose and gardenia—fresh, sweet, and alluring. Without any effort at all, he could feel his expression transforming as he looked at her.

Tonight, she wore a dress of pale ivory silk with a light green sash and pearls at her neck and ears. Her dark blonde hair was pulled up in a high Grecian knot and pinned with silk roses, framing a face that seemed to glow with health and contentment.

Catherine laughed, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks turning appealingly pink. “I’m not sure that expression is any more suitable for a public gathering, Hugh, although it is very pleasing to me as your wife. You have no idea how you’re looking at me, do you?”

“You’re right, Catherine. I’m so accustomed to the mask that I don’t always realize what other people can see on my face without it,” Hugh admitted with a smile.

“Well, I can tell you that you’re looking at me like a satyr who wishes to snatch me up and carry me off to his woodland grove.”

“It wouldn’t be too far off the mark.” Hugh grinned at her. “Sedgehall Manor is, after all, the very first place where I felt precisely that urge, after seeing you with your hair down and no shoes on your feet. I am already looking forward to when the party ends and I can have you all to myself in our carriage…”

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