Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

R ichard had always thought he knew his sister best, and that delusion might have had something to do with the fact that he had watched her grow and carried her in his arms when she was just a tiny infant.

The events of the previous night proved that idea to be wrong because he never believed that his sister would ever conceive the idea of meeting their estranged mother all alone in a dark clearing.

When Catherine had finished dancing with Lord Livingston, Richard had been unable to tear his away from her. His eyes had followed her across the room unbidden until Simon had to tap him on the shoulder to draw his attention to another gentleman who had stopped beside them to exchange pleasantries.

Richard had greeted the gentleman absent-mindedly before unconsciously seeking Catherine once again. When he turned back, she was no longer in the ballroom, and with that knowledge, his chest ached with a curious feeling of loss.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of the royal blue color of her dress at the edges of one of the ferns that their hostess had placed along the wall to complete the conversion of the ballroom into a woodland.

But then those ferns rustled, and he saw Emmy leading her out of the ballroom and into the hallway. He furrowed his brow in confusion. What were two women doing, wandering in a house that was not theirs?

He quickly rationalized it, assuring himself that they might have just gone to the powder room to freshen up. Women tended to do that a lot, and for some reason, they preferred to visit the powder room in groups. That reason eluded him, but then it was a generally accepted fact in the world of men that women were very mysterious creatures that could never be fully understood.

When time passed and they had not returned, he grew concerned and considered stepping out of the ballroom to find them. But he could hardly burst into the powder room, claiming he was looking for his sister. He would just be labeled a pervert, and he would rather save himself the embarrassment.

When he eventually became too distracted, he excused himself, heading to the balcony in the hope that the cool night breeze might ease some of his apprehension.

Imagine his shock when he sighted the figures of two women that he could guess were his sister and Catherine creeping along the hedges in the garden. He watched as they met a third lady when they got to the clearing.

Something about the newcomer raised his hackles, and he raced down the steps leading into the garden. His fears were confirmed when he found his sister embracing a slightly older version of his estranged mother.

He had thought he had grown numb to his mother's infidelity and abandonment, but the ugly, twisting feeling of betrayal that had reared its head upon witnessing that embrace belied that belief.

He had been overcome with so much anger, and in some distant part of his mind, he knew he was reacting a little too harshly, but that was the only way he could suppress the overwhelming pain and betrayal that were constricting his chest.

The fact that Emmy and Catherine, the two most important women in his life, had somehow connived to bring back that faithless woman in some amateur attempt at reconciliation made it even more painful.

The creaking of the door to the study made him look up, only to see Emmy standing there, staring at him.

"We need to talk, Richie," she said.

"Not now, Emmy," he replied shortly, repositioning himself on the sofa.

Ignoring his warnings, Emmy walked into the room, making sure to close the door behind her. She took a seat on the sofa opposite him and fixed him with a defiant stare until he gave up and heaved himself into a sitting position.

It seemed his sister was determined to have the conversation now, whether he wished it or not.

With a heavy sigh, he asked, "What is this about?"

"We need to speak about what happened last night at the ball."

"I don't think there is anything to discuss. You'll never meet that woman again. There. I think that concludes the matter," he pronounced, leaning back on the sofa, signaling that their discussion was over.

But Emmy seemed to ignore all that.

"It cannot be concluded, since you have failed to hear my opinion on the matter. I just wanted to meet my mother. I have not seen her for as long as I have been alive. Don't you think I deserve to meet her at least once? Don't you think you can set aside your deep hatred for her so we could have her back?"

"What you deserve is safety, peace, and unconditional love. That woman," he hissed, jabbing a finger in the air with barely leashed anger, "she is not family. We might be bound by blood, but she is not family. She cannot be, because no person with a conscience would abandon their family the way she did—with nary a gaze backward."

"But forgiveness is divine, Brother," Emmy reasoned.

"I am not divine, Emmeline. I have protected you all your life and tried as much as possible to be a father to you. I cannot believe you would dismiss that on the off chance that you could reconcile with a woman who had betrayed us. That was really rash of you, and I must confess I am greatly disappointed in you."

"I just wanted my mother back. What could she have done that was so unforgivable?"

"She abandoned you. She gave birth to a perfect, beautiful baby girl, only to abandon her and flee with her lover with no thought to the consequences. I hated her so much for that. She abandoned Father, and he became a shell of himself—a recluse that was hardly any use to anybody, least of all himself. She did not just render you motherless with her selfish decision, but she also made you an orphan because Father was hardly able to care for himself, least of all his children." He let out a shuddering sigh.

"What about me?" he continued, his voice dropping with anguish. "I had to live without the love of a mother, even though I had a living one. Why do I have to live with the constant reminder of her indiscretion? I have tried to protect you as much as I can, but my title does not completely protect me from the disdain of so many members of the ton.

"She grew up among them, so she must have been aware of the consequences of her actions. But she did not care enough to spare us the shame. She is not a mother, and she cannot be my mother, since she lacks motherly instincts."

When he paused, he realized he was panting and trembling. He also became aware that Emmy was staring at him with a bewildered expression that was gradually turning into pity.

Richard had never been so angry that he ranted this way, and he had never meant to tell his sister about their sordid family history the way he had, but he guessed the subject of his mother was still a sensitive one.

He definitely did not want her pity. He was her older brother, and for the past decade, he had been a father figure to her. He was not supposed to appear this vulnerable in her presence, but he had inadvertently done that.

He opened his mouth to salvage the situation but was interrupted by her.

"I now understand why you want me to stay away from the Dowager Duchess and why you felt the need to banish her forever from our lives. However, I never said I had forgiven her. We have lived in bitterness for too long, and while you might deny it, I can see how that childhood experience has tainted every one of your relationships over the years.

"I just wanted to understand what happened so we could heal . Not for her, but for you and I. I want both of us to heal, because I love you, and I want to see you free from the pain and tears you have carried from your childhood. I am just pleading with you to give me a chance to unravel this chain that has kept us trapped for years on end. I promise to give up if it is hopeless," she reasoned, placing her hand on her chest solemnly.

Richard took her hands in his after a prolonged pause.

"I have always hated the Dowager Duchess, and a part of me would always be skeptical about the reason for her return, but I would hate to be the stumbling block that prevents you from having a chance of experiencing motherly care. It pains me to allow this, but you can listen to her version of events from a distance.

"While I still think she is a terrible liar with no hope for redemption, I am willing to push my feelings aside for the greater good, but you must take a footman with you whenever you have a meeting with her because I am not above hiring Runners to bundle and banish her back to the Continent should I catch a whiff of any nefarious plans on her part," he said solemnly.

Emmy squeezed his hands and then gave him a bright smile. "Thank you, Brother."

She received a non-committal grunt in response.

"However," she continued, "I don't understand why you felt the need to banish Cat from our lives, too. She is my best friend. She followed me because I asked her to help me. She did nothing wrong."

"The simple fact that she went along with your hare-brained schemes without trying to stop you cements my opinion that she is a bad influence on you. Since you started having your classes with her, your impetuous tendencies seem to have grown instead of dwindling. For both our sakes, I suggest you stop talking about Catherine. She is henceforth forbidden from ever setting foot in this house, and that is final," he declared, leaning his head back and closing his eyes to indicate that their conversation was over.

"But she is my best friend, and that is what friends do—they help you when you badly need their help. I fail to see how that makes her a terrible person. Besides, you thought she was a good person when you asked her to teach me etiquette. I still need those lessons to do well in the marriage mart. I might have improved, but I am still a long way away from being a perfect young lady," Emmy argued, hoping to change his stance on the matter.

The deafening silence that followed and the fact that he did not move from his relaxed position made her believe he was ignoring her.

"You know, Richard, I don't think you want Catherine to stay away simply because you think she is a bad influence on me. I think you're pretending to be angry with her to run away from the feelings you have for her. I would be the first to tell you that you are fooling no one. Everyone with eyes can see the way you look at her. I have never thought you a coward, but in this matter, it seems you are."

That statement caused him to jerk up into a sitting position.

"There is no relationship between Catherine and I. She is just an acquaintance to me. Nothing more," Richard stated heatedly.

"Are you sure about that, Brother? because I don't think you look at your other female acquaintances the way you look at her. You certainly don't follow them everywhere with your eyes, looking like you would love to devour them. You are in love with her, admit it."

"I am in love with no one," he said, but his words lacked heat.

He stood up, hoping to escape the awkward conversation, but the sound of Emmeline's laughter followed him as he hurried out of the room.

Damn and blast, he should have known that with how distracted he had been, it would become obvious to anyone who cared to look that he harbored a terrible infatuation for Catherine Burlow, the daughter of the Viscount Mowbray.

On the surface, she might be best described as ordinary-looking with her brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes, but it just might be the little things that fed his obsession with her.

The twitch in her lips and the twinkle in her brown eyes when she was amused or excited about something, her graceful movements on the dance floor, or the feel of her warm, sweet lips beneath his.

The lady had become a fever in his blood that he had been unable to get rid of. So, of course, why wouldn't anyone notice when he followed her every movement with greedy eyes, when his hands clenched in barely leashed jealousy whenever Lord Livingston or any of the countless gentlemen who paid court to her made the mistake of holding her waist for too long or holding her a little closer than necessary when they danced.

Whenever she finished a dance, he always released a sigh of relief, realizing only then that his body had been tense throughout the dance. That totally begged the question as to why he would decide to attend these balls, when it was pure torture to watch Catherine dance with those gentlemen while he slowly stewed in jealousy.

He concluded that he must love to torture himself. When he had seen her there with his sister at their ill-fated meeting with his estranged mother, he had seen an outlet for the confusing cocktail of emotions that resided in his chest permanently, growing from the first day of their meeting. So he had lashed out at her. Even though a part of him had been aware that he had been overreacting, he had been helpless to stop himself. With every day that followed, he developed a healthy fear of how easily the petite woman could push him to extreme emotions without making an effort.

It seemed the more he resisted this attraction between them, the worse it became. It had grown to an extent that his innocent little sister had noticed it.

Emmy was right, he was a coward. He was afraid, afraid of how easily Catherine could change everything he knew about himself simply by being present.