A Stranger at Castonbury(21)

‘You are here now—that’s all that matters, James.’ The duke took a trembling sip of his own drink. ‘Harry says you had important work in Spain.’

Jamie told him as briefly as possible what had happened in Spain, or at least the part of the tale he could tell. Catalina was his alone, and she always would be. His secret. His wife.

The duke shook his head as Jamie finished his story. ‘And while you were there you did not marry that woman. That is what Harry said. The child—the child is not yours. Ours.’

For an instant, Jamie thought his father meant Catalina. Then he remembered—Alicia Walters. He had turned over his few memories of her on his voyage home and tried to decide what to do. It was such a strange tale, and one that looked to get even stranger before it was ended. Even when the prodigal came home trouble followed.

But Harry had said their father had grown fond of the child, which meant Jamie had to go carefully. ‘No, Father,’ he answered gently. ‘I did not marry her or father any child with her.’

‘That harlot!’ his father roared with a flare of his old temper. He pounded his fist on the arm of the chair. ‘I knew it could not be, that you would not marry like that. She has made bloody fools of us all. She should hang for what she did! Bringing that child here...’

‘Father,’ Jamie said, in the quiet but firm voice that had worked to calm down so many people in Spain when it had been a matter of life and death. He had learned that desperate people did desperate things—and what Alicia had done reeked of desperation. He had to learn what had driven her to this, which would be hard enough without his family shouting for blood.

‘Father,’ he went on quietly. ‘We don’t want to see a woman hanged for this when it’s better to be discreet. Think of the scandal. Have the Montagues not already given our neighbours enough to talk about?’

His father gave a loud, derisive snort, but Jamie saw that he did settle back into his chair and some of the red faded from his sunken cheeks. ‘We have been embroiled in our share of scandal lately, I admit. Your brothers and sisters have chosen such odd matches.’

‘Then let me take care of this. Surely I have the right to find out why someone would use my name this way.’

‘Of course you do, James.’

Jamie sat back in his chair and drank down the last of his brandy as he looked into the fire. The flames had died down to mere sparking flickers amid the ash, reminding him of the smouldering ruins of the camp in Spain. The sapphire ring on the chain around his neck weighed heavily against his chest, and he thought again of the fleeting joys of life, the unknowability of other people.

He would never trust like that again.

‘I learned a great deal in Spain, Father,’ he said. ‘And one thing I learned is that it’s always better to find out all one can about one’s enemies and then eliminate them quietly, with no fuss or mess. Leave as little as possible to clean up after.’

He felt his father watching him, and Jamie glanced up to find something he had never seen before flicker over the duke’s face—uncertainty.

‘What did you do in Spain, James?’ he asked quietly.

Jamie shook his head. ‘Spain is in the past, Father.’ And it had to stay there, buried with Catalina. ‘You have borne the burden of my absence for much too long. Let me take care of things now. I will deal with Alicia and any allies she might have, and I will also go to London as soon as possible and see about the money. You needn’t worry any longer.’

His father nodded wearily, and in that one gesture Jamie could see how much things had truly changed at Castonbury. In years past, his father would never have relinquished the reins of the estate and the family to anyone, especially not one of his children.

‘It is good to have you back, James,’ the duke said.

Jamie rose to his feet and set aside his empty glass. After a moment’s hesitation, he laid his hand on his father’s shoulder. ‘It is good to be back. It’s a new day here at Castonbury, Father, I promise. Giles is marrying now, and we should all be happy.’ If only he could believe those words himself. If he could only be happy, as he had been for that one moment in the Spanish chapel.

But that was gone. Castonbury was all there was now.

His father nodded. ‘He is not the only one who needs to be married, you know.’

‘Father...’

‘You know I am right, James,’ the duke said with a trace of his old obstinacy. ‘You have come back to take charge, and that is all well and good. But the first duty of a duke is to provide an heir. Since it is not little Crispin...’