Page 54 of A Spinster to Reform the Duke
“My uncle has just said something I do not understand.” Timothy stared at his mother, knowing he couldn’t let the matter lie. “He said father had the same wandering with women, the same reputation. Did he mean, the same as my own?”
Catherine’s lips parted a little, her hand reaching out to the banister beside her.
“Mother, you are not denying it.” Timothy’s words caused a cascade of movement. Catherine hurried forward up the steps and sat beside him, reaching for his arm and taking it between both of her hands.
“It is not what you think.”
“Not what I think? Mother, was my father unfaithful to you?”
“No! Never,” Catherine was insistent, shaking her head. “It is merely that before he and I knew each other, he was a little…wayward.”
“Wayward? You have never described my behavior in so light terms.” Timothy scoffed, turning on the stairs to face his mother. “My mind is running mad at this moment. Please, explain it to me. What did my uncle mean when he said I reminded him of my father?”
Catherine sighed, looking down at the clasp she had on his arm.
“I always told you that I was the only lady in your father’s life.” She spoke slowly. “That is not entirely true.”
Timothy stiffened, finding a resentment building in his chest. He hardly had anything to reproach his father with, especially after his own reputation was quite sullied, but the idea of his father not being devoted to his mother rankled more than he could put words to.
“Do not think ill of him.”
“Ill? But I do!” Timothy said heartily. Catherine pulled harder at his arm, apparently unwilling to let him go on.
“Be quiet a minute, my dear, and I will tell you the whole story.”
“The whole story? Tell me this only, Mother. Was my father like me? Was he what others call a rake? A rogue?”
“Not in so many words.”
“What words would you choose!?” Timothy asked, feeling his anger grow by the second.
“Shh!” she pleaded with him, changing her hold on his arm to something that was softer. “Before I knew him, yes, perhaps you could describe him in that way.”
“By god’s blood –”
“Let me explain, Timothy.” Catherine sat forward, her urgency making her manner agitated. “I have not told you how we met, have I?”
Timothy blinked, rather confused by the statement.
“I thought the two of you met at an assembly.”
“It was,” Catherine said slowly, smiling a little. “Yet we were introduced by my brother.”
“By my uncle? George?” Timothy said in surprise.
“He and your father were the best of friends. I suppose there is no wonder when they were so alike.” Catherine laughed a little, though it faded quickly on her lips. “We used to talk of them both, the two friends that could never settle, their eyes wandering between ladies like a customer peruses cakes at a bakery.”
“I’m struggling to understand how you can laugh, Mother.” Timothy’s words made Catherine calm a little more.
“George was always insistent on keeping your father away from me. I was the lady he protected.” Catherine revealed a smile, a doting one for her brother’s attentions. “Yet the introduction could not be avoided forever. Henry and I were introduced at an assembly. From that moment, things were different.”
“Different? How do you mean?” Timothy asked, feeling his confusion only growing greater.
“He was always there,” Catherine said with a small laugh. “Following me around like a lapdog would, enough that even George poked fun at him for it. Yet from that day, he never pursued another lady. Not one.”
“Truly?” Timothy sat back on the stairs, turning to the blank space on the wall ahead of him again. He longed to be at his own home, so he could be staring at that portrait of his father, trying to understand the man that he could barely remember.
He died too young, long before he could tell me this story himself.
