He cupped her face, brushed his lips over hers. The passion between them had cooled, as it should have. When all of this was behind him, he’d once again return to Frannie’s side. She had no doubt of that.
“We need to get you home,” he said quietly. “And I need to determine what I’m to do about Avendale.” They’d left him in his cellar prison at Luke’s estate until everything could be arranged. Luke sighed deeply. “I’d have never thought that remembering would bring with it far more trouble than forgetting.”
Chapter 20
Catherine was drained as she slowly made her way up the stairs toward her bedchamber. She wanted desperately to see her father, but she didn’t want him to see her dressed like a servant, looking as though she’d spent a few days being ravished. Which she had, but still. He didn’t need to know that.
Jenny prepared the bath and Catherine sank into the steaming water. She was sore and miserable. And that was the good news. While nothing would remain of her reputation, she would deal with that problem later. Right now, her main concern was Claybourne. She didn’t want him to be alone tonight.
But she was so exhausted that it was all she could do to continue breathing.
When she was finished with her bath, Jenny began drying her. “Shall I help you prepare for bed?”
“No, I want to visit with my father for a while, and as he’s not seen me in a few days, I think a simple dress would be appropriate.”
She felt a little more herself as she walked down the hallway to his bedchamber. His nurse rose as Catherine stepped into the room.
“How is he?” Catherine asked.
“Doing well, my lady.”
He couldn’t speak coherently, he couldn’t move about on his own. He had to be fed and bathed—how in the world could he be doing well?
But he lifted his withering, shaking hand, and Catherine could have sworn that a welcoming light appeared in his fading blue eyes. Sitting in the chair beside the bed, she took his hand and pressed a kiss to his fingers. Then she combed her fingers through his thinning silver hair.
“Did you miss me?”
He gave her the barest of nods.
“Tomorrow, if the sun favors us, we’re going to go out to the garden. I have it on good authority that it won’t harm your health at all. As a matter of fact, it might improve it.” She felt the tears sting her eyes. “Oh, Papa, I’ve done something terribly silly. I’ve fallen in love with someone, and he loves another. The strange thing is, as much as it hurts, I only want him to be happy. And if she’ll make him happy, I want him to have her.”
He squeezed her hand. She moved up and laid her head on his chest, felt his hand come to rest on her hair. “I think you’d like him.”
She heard a low rumble in his chest. “I know you don’t think he’s good enough for me, but then you don’t think any man is good enough for me.”
She sat up. “Avendale has been beating Winnie, Papa. Some friends and I hid her away, so he couldn’t find her. But I want to go see her tonight. I don’t want you to worry. I think I have an inspector from Scotland Yard watching over me. So I’ll be fine. And tomorrow we’ll go into the garden, and I shan’t stop reading to you until we’ve finished Oliver’s story.”
Leaning up, she kissed her father’s forehead and whispered words she’d never be able to say to Claybourne, “I love you, with all my heart.”
The portrait of his father hadn’t changed, but it seemed that it had. Or perhaps it was only he who had changed. Or maybe it was because he looked at it through a drunken stupor, his first bottle of whiskey drained, the second dangling between his fingers. He’d have to find a new supplier.
Strange how different everything looked. Things that had once seemed foreign, no longer did. After he’d returned home, he’d walked through every room, looking at things through different eyes, through the eyes of the Earl of Claybourne. He remembered how the lion’s head on the fireplace poker had frightened him as a child. He remembered riding the wooden rocking horse in the nursery.
Usually when he looked at the portrait for too long, cataloging the features, his head would begin to hurt. But not tonight. Tonight there was nothing except the calming liquor swirling through his blood. Even that was unusual. Normally, he sought oblivion. Tonight he just wanted peace.
His hand ached from striking Jack. His heart ached from Frannie’s defending Jack. Why had Luke thought she’d unquestionably side with him? Frannie’s reaction was natural, though. Luke had come in like a madman, and unlike Catherine, Frannie didn’t know everything that Luke had remembered. She hadn’t witnessed the pain his memory had brought.