Her father turned pale and dropped to the bed. "Good Lord, Catherine."
Bravely she announced what she felt she must. "I love Captain Lucifer, Papa. I love him with all my heart."
He stared at her for what seemed like eternity and she wondered if this would be the first time in her life he would turn away from her and not offer her comfort or help.
"Catherine," he said, standing and opening his arms to her.
She went to him and released her tears as she had done when she had been a small child.
He hugged her to him and stroked her hair. "I had no idea. I am so sorry. You must hurt terribly. We will go home at the end of the week. I don't wish to see you suffer any more grief and pain."
"Thank you," she sobbed, having thought she couldn't hurt any more than she had the day she left the island. But knowing she carried Lucian's child and that she would never share the joy of raising their son or daughter with him broke her heart.
"Don't worry, Catherine," her father comforted. "I will take care of everything. No one will ever hurt you again.
"You'll be safe in Yorkshire and together we will face this crisis. You'll see, everything will be fine just fine."
o0o
Everything wasn't fine and would never be again, Catherine thought, looking at the dozen or more calling cards on the entrance hall table.
Men had been stopping by the Abelard town house all morning, leaving their cards, requesting a visit and sending flowers with suggestive notes.
Dunwith had handled each one appropriately, accepting their card and closing the door in their startled faces. After the first vase of flowers had been delivered and Catherine turned pale reading the note, she had seen him disposing of the flowers that followed and sparing her the hurt.
"My lady," Dunwith said, entering the entrance hall. "Dulcie has tea prepared for you in the drawing room."
She smiled, holding back a tear. At least now she understood the reason for her teary state. Her pregnancy had heightened her emotions, causing her to cry all too frequently. "Thank you, Dunwith. I don't know what I would do without your support."
Dunwith nodded in his usual expressionless manner and waited to escort her to the drawing room. She hurried off with him, afraid that another caller would knock and request to see her.
Dulcie waited for her in the blue drawing room. The heavy drapes and dark furnishings seemed so drab compared to the bright, fresh colors of Lucian's island home.
"Sit m’lady, the tea is hot and cook prepared fresh scones with cream for you," Dulcie instructed having fussed like a mother hen over her since her return.
Catherine obliged her, sitting in the comfortable wing chair near the empty hearth.
"If you're cold I could have a small fire started. The late spring rain has brought a chill with it," Dulcie said, moving the tapestry stool in front of Catherine and lifting her feet up on it.
"That isn't necessary. I'm comfortable," she said, though she now found the clothing she once wore restrictive. She had omitted several undergarments when dressing, particularly her boned corset, since her clothes had begun to fit snugly due to her expanding waistline. She missed the sarong she had often worn and thought how comfortable it would be as her pregnancy advanced.
Dulcie prepared her tea, handing her the china cup. Catherine glanced up as she took the cup and caught a sorrowful look in the young woman's eyes. "You know, don't you, Dulcie?"
Dulcie dropped her stare to the carpet. "I'm sorry, m’lady. I promised your father I wouldn't let on, but —"
"It's all right, Dulcie. I'm glad you know I'm going to have Captain Lucifer's baby. I'll need all the help and support I can get. I fear I have no knowledge of the birth process."
"Don't you worry, m’ lady," Dulcie ordered. "I know all there is to know and I'll be by you every step of the way. I'll take care of you. No one will hurt you. No-good, wretched pirate."
Catherine smiled. "He wasn't that wretched."
Dulcie looked at her with surprise. "Truly, m’ lady?"
Truly, Dulcie, and one rainy day in Yorkshire we'll share tea and I'll tell you a few pirate tales I've learned."
Dunwith entered the drawing room as Dulcie bobbed her head in excitement.
"My lady, a visitor to see you and he is most insistent."
Catherine sighed. "Who is it?"
"The Earl of Brynwood —"
The cup fell from Catherine's trembling hand before Dunwith could finish.
Dulcie blotted her mistress's hand and her rose-colored day dress where the tea had spilled and stained her skirt.
"I shall tell Lord Brynwood that you are indisposed."
Catherine released her held breath. "No, Dunwith, send Charles in. I wish to see him."