Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

The plan was simple. He was expected to move into their home as if he were their real father. Not just Hector's.

All of them.

"And then we will see if we can be a family together. Or not." Lena met his eyes and looked away quickly. He watched in fascination as a fine sheen of pink blush spread across her cheeks like a rose in full bloom.

Theo nodded. "That is our condition."

All five pairs of eyes were on him.

Now it was his turn to blush, and the telltale heat crept up his neck. Confound it. He hadn't blushed since he was a schoolboy at Eton. "You expect me to play the role of your f-father?" Dash it if he had to stumble over the word.

The children all shook their heads at the same time. "No. We just want to find out if you could be our father," Theo explained. "There's a difference."

He had no idea how to be a father, not even in a hypothetical sense. He didn't think it would come naturally to him. He'd never had a real father figure in his own life, because his own father had been cold, distant, and absent. It had only been seventy-two hours since he'd realised that he might actually be a father, and the notion had confounded his reason and addled his senses. Judging by the way he was behaving now he evidently still hadn't completely recovered them yet. In his defence, most fathers had a considerably longer time to get used to the idea of fatherhood than he had. Now they wanted him to live with them to see if he could , potentially, be their father.

"As a sort of test, so to speak," he said aloud.

Everyone nodded.

"To see if I measure up to it."

Once more, they nodded.

It was absurd.

The Duke broke out into a sweat.

"And if I don't?" He crossed his arms over his chest to support himself.

Theo shrugged. "Then it won't work. It might be best for all of us to discover that now rather than later."

It was completely ridiculous, of course. Had anyone ever heard of such a thing?

"What if I have no interest in participating in this experiment?"

A chair scraped on the floor as Lena stood up, a stubborn tilt to her chin. "If you choose not to do this, Your Grace, then I am afraid we must break off contact immediately. Regardless of whether I really am your wife or not, whether Hector truly is your child or not. My loyalty is to my family and I must do what is best for them. We have discussed this and agreed that this is the best course of action. If you are disinclined to participate, then you may leave."

Julius stared at her, fascinated. He'd never seen his Catherine stand up for herself or others and fight with such stubborn determination. She lifted her chin and there was a stern glint of what might be called contentiousness—which was ludicrous. Catherine wasn't quarrelsome.

Never had he encountered such hard-headed negotiators. Yet, before signing a contract, one had to be informed of all the details.

"What exactly would this entail?" His voice was clipped as it was during his diplomatic negotiations.

"It would mean that you would live here, with us, of course," Catherine said, her blush deepening.

"And live our kind of life," Harmonia added.

"The life of the middle-class," Theo said.

"Not the life of a rich, privileged Duke," Achilles said.

"And what, pray, does that involve, in greater detail, if you please?"

"It means no servants, no fancy food, no fancy clothes," Theo said.

"And then we can decide whether you suit us or not." That was Hector.

"For how long?"

Hector and Achilles exchanged glances. "The longer, the better. Two years?" Achilles suggested.

"Out of the question. "

The boy scowled. "Fine. Two months?"

Julius shook his head. "You seem to forget that I am here in Vienna on a mission. There is a Congress where my presence is required. I can't just disappear. I have duties to perform."

Catherine pulled at her lower lip thoughtfully. His breath caught. She had a tendency to do that whenever she was thinking, back then, as she did now. "That is a valid point," she said. "What time period do you suggest would be realistic? It would have to be long enough for us to get to know each other better, but also compatible with your schedule."

"The official start of the Congress involving the full participation of all states has been postponed until November. It will be difficult enough for me to negotiate time away from these matters until then. However, that is the best I can do."

"A month, then," Theo said, rubbing his upper lip.

"Yes."

"Mama? Is a month enough?"

Catherine nodded. "I suppose it will have to do."

Everyone else agreed.

"Very well. The idea has merit, for as you rightly point out, we are, after all, strangers who have been thrown together by a most peculiar quirk of fate. Though I know Catherine, I am a stranger to you, and if this is the means by which you can get used to the idea that we are married, then I will agree to it."

"And one more thing," she said. "I must insist that you do not call me Catherine. The name is strange to me. My name is Helena. To my family and friends, Lena. "

Lena was a completely different person from Catherine. "Lena." He tested the name on his lips. "Very well. However, I too have a caveat."

"What would that be?"

"At the end of October, if there is no evidence to the contrary that you are not my wife and son, I will turn the tables on you, and you will come to live with me and take your role at my side. As my duchess." He gave her a challenging look. "That includes all of you as well." His gaze remained on Hector.

"Do you mean we all are to live with you in your palais?" Achilles's eyes grew round like saucers. "As children of a duke?"

"Provided you—what is the word you used earlier? Ah, yes. Measure up, I believe it was." He smiled coldly.

They were to begin the experiment immediately.

"Where do we put him?" Theo inquired. "He can hardly sleep in the drawing room."

"In Papa's bedroom, of course," Lena said.

"Never in Papa's room!" Hector cried. "He can stay in Marie's closet. Or sleep on the kitchen bench."

"Hector!" Mona exclaimed. "Behave. If he is to take on the role of the father, then he naturally has to stay in Papa's room."

Hecki grumbled.

Papa's room it was.

It was a small room filled with dark mahogany furniture and a small window covered with thick curtains. There was a narrow bed in it, a simple chest of drawers, a wardrobe, and a chair. There was a shelf with books on it, but they were mainly medical texts.

This had been Simon Arenheim's room, into whose shoes he was stepping. He must have been a man who lived a very simple kind of life. He'd been a surgeon, they said. Julius wondered what kind of man he'd been.

Just what kind of situation was he in now?

For an entire month, he would be without his valet, his butler, and his secretary.

The Duke sent the carriage back to fetch a trunk of his things, which Theo helped him to carry up to his room. He quickly wrote a letter and stepped out of the house to talk to the coachman. "Deliver this directly to Mortimer, and don't let anyone intercept the letter." He couldn't entirely trust the coachman, either. Who was to say he wouldn't open the letter and read it himself in the meantime? So far, he'd had no indication that the coachman wasn't loyal to him. It remained to be hoped that he was right.

When he returned to the room, he found Lena in it with a rag, furiously wiping the top of the dressing table.

"I merely remembered that the room hasn't been dusted in a while since Marie left, and I wanted to, you know, clean it." She cleared her throat again. "I thought I could do it while you were outside. Marie is our servant, but she isn't here because she's with her father. He's very ill. We don't have any other servants, I'm afraid. We can't afford them. Simon never had a valet. He could do things for himself. You know, shave, dress himself." She blushed once more.

She certainly talked a lot. That was another thing that was different from her former incarnation. She fiddled with the string of her apron. "I hope you'll be comfortable here without servants. You must have many servants."

"I do." He thought of his valet, butler, two footmen, two chambermaids, a cook, a coachman, and his secretary. That was a total of nine people who saw to his daily comfort. "But never fear, I shall survive on my own. I am entirely capable of looking after myself." He paused. "Although I may need help with my boots, as they are rather difficult to take off."

Lena's face brightened. "I'm sure Theo will be able to help. All you need to do is call. We have no bells or anything here. If you want to talk to one of us, just call us."

He had some difficulty imagining himself opening the door and hollering into the hallway for one of them.

"It is a simple room," she apologised. "The dresser is here, and the wardrobe is there." She pointed to each piece of furniture as if it were not entirely obvious that they were there. "And well, that is all there is to it." She opened a drawer to the dresser and found some clothes inside. "Oh! I'll have it cleared out right away."

"Leave it," he said. "It doesn't matter."

She stood in front of him, not meeting his eyes. "Simon never spent much time here as he was out with his patients all day. Here is the study." She opened an adjoining door and stepped inside.

The study was as masculine an abode as could be. There was a desk by the window and another bookshelf. The fireplace was cold since it hadn't been lit in a long time. There was a slight smell of tobacco. It would do.

"What kind of man was Simon Arenheim?" he found himself asking.

Lena thought for a moment. "He was first and foremost a doctor." Lena went to the window and looked out. "He was a very talented surgeon. A good father. He loved music, travel, and learning new languages. He played the violin. He always said that if he hadn't become a surgeon, he would have been a musician. The children adored him. Theo wants to follow in his footsteps and become a physician because of him."

"I see," Julius replied, wholeheartedly wishing this Simon Arenheim to Jericho. "When did he pass away?"

"Simon was not young, you see. He should have retired long ago, but he refused. He worked all night in the hospital, and he must have overexerted himself. I wasn't there, but they said he just collapsed." She swallowed. "His heart stopped."

"I am truly sorry," he said, and as the words came out of his mouth, he realised how absurd they were, that he was offering condolences to his wife's employer? Friend? Lover?

The situation was, indeed, absurd.

Lena gave him a tremulous smile. "We all have to go sometime, and it was Simon's time to go. We are glad that it was quick and without much suffering. It was what he would have wanted." She hesitated before continuing. "But you have to understand, for the younger boys, especially Hector, this has been very difficult. This is no doubt the reason why he is acting the way he is towards you."

"I understand."

This would be harder than he thought. He wondered what he had got himself into and whether he had made a mistake coming here.

"Your Grace," she suddenly, hesitantly.

"Julius," he said. "That is my name. I think if we are alone together like this, we can dispense with the formalities." As he said these words, he remembered that Catherine had never called him Julius. He had no memory of her doing so. He had always been Your Grace and Aldingbourne.

"Julius," she said, looking up at him shyly.

Something painfully tightened in his chest. It was as if an iron fist was clenching his heart and squeezing it dry. What the deuce was that? Sadness? Longing? Regret?

He clenched his hands at his sides to prevent himself from reaching out and crushing her to him.

"Yes?" It came out rather hoarsely.

"I wanted to ask you something."

He cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. "Go ahead."

She took a deep breath, as if bracing herself. "Were we…" She bit her lip. Then she drew in a big breath and tried anew. "Were we…very much in love?"

An awkward silence hung between them, heavy and uncertain.

Finally, he spoke, his words weighed down with emotion. "Before I answer that," he said slowly, "tell me—did you love him ?"