The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(48)

Now her father was in a secret relationship with the woman?

The duke finally asked, “Will you speak to your father about her?”

“Most definitely.”

“I wish you luck, then. Men can be cagey when matters of the heart are involved.”

“Including you?”

“I’ve heard it said I have no heart.”

“Nonsense. Perhaps you haven’t found it yet.”

“You are a hopeless romantic, Miss Delafield.” He tipped his hat at a carriage rolling past them. “I hope some man doesn’t take advantage of your good nature.”

Too late, she wanted to say, thinking about the last year. But no one would take advantage of her ever again. She’d make certain of it.

And she was going to demand answers from her father as soon as possible.



Hours later, when her father walked into the dining room, Katherine studied him from under her lashes. He looked . . . happy. The lines on his face weren’t as severe. Had he just finished up with his rendezvous?

Stomach roiling, she reached for her wineglass. “Evening, Daddy. You look well.”

“Hello, ladies,” he said to Katherine and his sister, Dahlia, as he took his usual seat. “I apologize for running late.”

“Yes, Lloyd,” Aunt Dahlia said with suspicion in her voice. “What’s got you smiling today?”

“Am I not allowed to smile every now and again?”

I would merely like a day or two when I walk by here and don’t experience an awful knot in my stomach.

Had he meant those words? Or was he taking down the paintings because of his new relationship? God, had Mrs. Whittier visited his bed upstairs, the one he’d shared with Katherine’s mother?

Katherine closed her eyes, her head throbbing from all the unanswered questions swirling around in it.

Her father served himself from the platters on the table. “And how was your day, Katherine? I hear you went out for a spell. Working on the exhibition again?”

She spoke slowly, carefully observing his reaction. “I went for a drive in the park.”

Abruptly, he dropped the serving fork and it clattered to the porcelain. As if nothing happened, he picked it up and selected another slice of beef. “You did? With whom?”

“The Duke of Lockwood.”

He still didn’t look at her, his gaze focused on his plate. “That’s excellent news. Perhaps Lockwood is serious about courting you after all.”

I saw you. I saw you with her. How could you not tell me?

“Indeed, it is good news,” Aunt Dahlia said. “The duke is a fine match.”

“The duke is not serious about me,” Katherine announced. “We’re merely friends. You remember what that’s like, Daddy. To have friends?”

He glanced at her then, his brows coming together in confusion. “Yes, I do.”

“Are you saying you don’t wish to marry the duke?” Aunt Dahlia sounded aghast at the idea of it. “He’s the catch of the season.”

“Who’s been thrown over twice,” Daddy said.

Katherine felt the need to rise to Lockwood’s defense. “Those weren’t his fault.”

“Lloyd, I thought you’d be pleased,” her aunt said. “A duchess in the family would be quite prestigious.”

“I don’t care about prestige. I care about my daughter’s happiness.”

“Do you?” Katherine couldn’t help but ask. “Do you, really?”

He put his knife and fork on his plate and sat back. “Is there something you wish to say to me?”

Katherine stared at him, her mind churning. She didn’t like secrets. They rotted and festered, ruining relationships and memories. She much preferred to have everything out in the open.

Exhaling slowly, she put an elbow on the table and leaned toward him. “I saw you with her.”

He didn’t move, his body perfectly still, as they looked at one another. After a long minute, he broke off and cleared the room of staff until the three of them were alone. “In the park, I suppose.”

Well, at least he wasn’t going to deny it. “How long?”

“Wait,” Aunt Dahlia said, shaking her head slightly. “What are we discussing?”

Daddy pressed his lips together and smoothed his silk vest. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

“Not just someone,” Katherine said. “Her best friend.”

Aunt Dahlia appeared confused. “Lloyd? Is this true?”

“Yes. Mrs. Whittier and I found solace in one another.”

Bitterness clogged Katherine’s throat as she asked again, “How long?”

“That is none of your concern,” he said sternly.

Still, she pushed on. “I need to know. Was this—” She swallowed. “Was this going on while Mama was still alive?”

He winced. “No. For God’s sake, Katherine. Rebecca and I have been seeing one another for a year and a half now.”

The words tore at Katherine, jagged cuts to her heart. A year and a half! Before his mourning period ended, then. Why hadn’t he told her? Why hide it and sneak around?

I’m not trying to hurt you or your mother’s memory, but this will help both of us move forward.