Chapter 37

"There you are." Patrick smiled faintly as he took a step closer to her. "I was worried about you when you ran away like that."

Catherine stood up, sighing heavily, staring at him. She fought the instant irritation that was overwhelming her at the sight of him. Clearly, she wanted to be alone, and yet he had followed her into the maze.

Stop it. He is being protective. He has always been protective. He is just trying to be a good friend.

"I am fine," she gritted out. "It is sweet of you to worry about me, Patrick, but I just want to be alone to think about a few things. That is all."

"I just want to help and comfort you, Cathy," he said, taking another step closer to her, his expression ardent. "I cannot bear it when you are upset or unhappy."

She felt another flash of irritation. "And yet you are the one who has upset me, Patrick!"

His eyes flickered. "I am sorry," he said in a curt voice. "I did not mean to upset you, only for you to see the truth." He paused, staring at her intently. "I only want the best for you, Cathy. It is all that I think about. You are all I think about."

"What?" Catherine took a step back, gazing at him, mystified. "What do you mean?"

His face contorted. "I love you, Cathy. I have always loved you." He reached out a hand towards her. "Please, leave that rake of a husband of yours and run away with me. Start afresh with me. We can go wherever you want. All I want is you by my side."

Catherine's jaw dropped. She was so stunned that for a moment, she thought she had misheard him.

"We can both get divorced," he continued in an excited voice, his eyes gleaming almost manically. "Or, if that is not possible, we can simply run away together. Society be damned."

He took another step closer to her as he spoke. Catherine felt a wild urge to push him away from her, to stop him, before he went any further. She restrained herself with difficulty.

"This is ridiculous, Patrick," she scoffed, her heart racing, feeling sick. "What you are suggesting is scandalous."

"Who cares?" He stared at her. "What does any of it matter if we can be together at long last?"

Catherine let out a bark of incredulous laughter. "I do not want to be with you, Patrick! I do not love you in that way. The idea of it is simply ludicrous." She shook her head, unable to believe that she was actually listening to this, that he was actually confessing this to her. "You have always been my friend, but that is all! And we are both married, anyway…"

"We belong together, Cathy," he interjected, as if she hadn't even spoken, tripping over his words in his haste to speak. "We have always belonged together. But my mother insisted that I marry Edith instead of you. I was going to ask for your hand, but my mother forced me not to do it." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I was young, and I regret it now. The next thing I knew, she had arranged the match with Edith, and I had no choice but to marry her."

Catherine took another step back. "Lady Afferton is lovely and charming," she pointed out, glaring at him, her heart thumping hard in her chest. "You should be honored to have her as your wife."

"She does not hold a candle to you, Cathy," he declared in a fervent voice. "She cannot compare to your beauty and spirit and intelligence. Why, it is like comparing a single flame to a full-blown fire."

"Stop it, Patrick," she hissed, her eyes narrowing. "Just stop it."

"Edith knows I can never love her," he said, his eyes shining. "She knows that you are the only woman I can ever love."

Catherine gasped, feeling sick. Her head was spinning. No wonder Edith always avoided her and was noticeably cold towards her. Everyone had always denied it, but she had known. What an awful thing to know that your husband was in love with another woman. Why had Patrick even told her, or had Edith suspected it from the start?

Catherine was just about to tell Patrick that it was a disgrace, that he needed to leave her alone, when he suddenly lunged at her, grabbing her tightly and kissing her on the lips.

Desperately, she tried to push him away, putting her hands on his chest and pressing with all her strength, trying to turn her face away from his. But she was locked in a tight embrace that she simply couldn't seem to shake.

She shuddered as his hands roamed over her body. A flash of pure disgust and rage shot through her. She managed to turn her face away from his, gasping for breath.

"Stop it!" she cried, trying to get his hands off her. "Stop it now!"

But he didn't. His eyes looked glazed, almost dazed. It was as if he couldn't hear a single thing she was saying.

"I mean it," she cried. "I will scream! Everyone will come running!"

He still ignored her, groping her, trying to kiss her again. It was so intensely disgusting and shocking that she felt quite faint. But she knew that if she was going to get out of this awful situation, she needed to fight fire with fire.

Desperate, she managed to free one arm and delivered a stinging slap across his face. He reeled back a little, but he didn't loosen his grip on her. To her horror, he started laughing, gazing into her face.

"You will have to do much better than that. A little slap will not deter me—in fact, it's what I love about you. The fire inside you," he gasped, his eyes manic. "You are mine, Cathy. You have always been mine."

He tightened her grip on her, lunging at her again, pressing his lips to her neck. Catherine felt a cold fear shoot through her.

How was she going to escape him?

Thomas stood beside Kenneth and Philip, sipping on another glass of brandy, trying to tune into the conversation around him. But he couldn't concentrate. All he could think about was Catherine and the devastation on her face when she thought he was having an affair.

Mercifully, Lady Isabella and her friend had left by the time he returned to his friends, so he didn't have to deal with her. He didn't know if he could look the lady in the face after what had just happened with Catherine.

A wave of guilt assailed him. He had suspected that Lady Isabella was infatuated with him. She always flirted with him. And Catherine was right—the lady did seem to suddenly appear out of the blue. He should have known when he had first encountered her on Bond Street that day.

I should never have engaged with her. I should have politely dismissed her, making it very obvious that I wasn't interested.

He frowned, gripping his brandy glass tightly. But even though he had talked with Lady Isabella, that didn't mean that he was having an affair with her. His frown deepened. Lord Afferton had apparently told Catherine that he was having an affair with her—that it was an open secret.

Were the ton really gossiping about his relationship with Lady Isabella behind his back… or had Lord Afferton completely invented the rumor for another reason?

"You look very pensive, Newden," Kenneth noted, gazing at him quizzically. "What is going on? Is Catherine truly well?"

Thomas sighed. He had made an excuse to his friends for Catherine's sudden flight, saying she was feeling ill and just wanted some time alone to gather her strength before returning to the party. His friends had immediately started ribbing him, making insinuations that she was with child. He had borne their jibes so that they wouldn't press any further.

"She is resting," he replied in a halting voice. He hesitated. "Neither of you have heard any rumors about me having an affair with Lady Isabella Lyndon, have you?"

Kenneth and Philip looked surprised. They both shook their heads.

"I have not heard a word of such a rumor," Kenneth replied, frowning. "And I hear most of them. My aunt, God bless her, is quite addicted to the scandal sheets. She likes to keep me abreast of all the current rumors—the more scandalous, the better." He rolled his eyes.

"I have not heard a whisper of such a thing either," Philip added, arching his eyebrows. "But then I have not been back in the country for so very long. Perhaps I am just out of the loop."

"Why do you ask?" Kenneth gazed at Thomas. "Have you heard such a thing being whispered?"

Thomas gritted his teeth. "I have not heard a thing… until today." He hesitated. "Apparently, Lord Afferton informed my wife of this supposed rumor. She is not very happy with me as you could imagine."

Kenneth gazed at him steadily. "Is that the reason she ran off like that?"

Thomas flushed. "Yes," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "The Earl upset her. I told her it was all nonsense, but she said that she needed some time alone to think."

"I would watch that gentleman," Philip said suddenly, frowning. "I remember something strange about him… but it was years ago…"

"What was it, man?" Thomas's voice was sharper than he had intended. "Spit it out!"

Philip shrugged, looking vague. "I am sorry, Newden, I cannot remember. I just know that I have always thought him rather odd. Is he a good friend of your wife?"

Thomas nodded grimly. "Yes. They are family friends. He is the brother of her best friend, Lady Beatrice Wickes."

"Do you think he deliberately misled her?" Kenneth asked, looking at him sharply. "Do you think he invented this rumor to make her doubt you and turn away from you?"

Thomas shifted uneasily on his feet. "That thought has crossed my mind." He hesitated. "I have never liked the way he looks at her. He touches her in an inappropriate way as well." He looked embarrassed. "But I convinced myself that perhaps I had just been bitten by the green-eyed monster, and it was all in my mind."

Kenneth looked towards the marquee. He frowned.

"I cannot see Lord Afferton anywhere now," he remarked, his frown deepening. "I do hope the gentleman has not taken it into his head to console your wife and whisper poison in her ear again, Newden."

Thomas turned around. Kenneth was right. Lord Afferton was nowhere to be seen. He had disappeared.

A cold chill ran down his spine. Where was the Earl?

"Oh, I just remembered," Philip piped up, his eyes alight. "There was a nasty rumor about the Earl and a scullery maid. Apparently, he was rather forceful with the girl, but his mother managed to hush it up quickly…"

Thomas swore aloud. His friends looked startled. The bad feeling was growing. It was invading his senses like a rotten smell.

He turned, not saying another word to his friends, and sprinted towards the maze. His heart was in his throat. He could barely breathe.

All he knew was that he must get to Catherine as soon as possible. He had told her that he would leave her alone, to walk in peace, but the bad feeling was intensifying. He had to know she was safe.

He reached the maze and ran through it, calling her name. A part of him remembered when he had done the exact same thing at Newden Estate, drawn to her like a mouth to a flame, chasing her through the hedges.

But it was different this time. He felt danger closing in on her. He must get to her.

He heard a muffled cry, followed by the sound of a sharp slap. His heart almost stopped beating.

"Catherine!" he yelled, forging ahead, not knowing what path to take, desperate to find her. "Catherine!"