Blame It on Bath Page 0,33

. I’ve heard of you: the Durham Dilemma.”

Gerard cursed inside his head but kept the careful smile fixed on his face. He flicked one hand. “I see you read the gossip rags. Very amusing, isn’t it, what people come up with?”

“Everyone’s speaking of it.” Howe came slowly nearer, studying Gerard with shrewd eyes. “So that’s why you married her,” he murmured. “Very clever, de Lacey.”

“You’ve no idea why I married her, nor would you understand if I told you,” Gerard replied. He found himself wanting to punch Howe, right in his perfectly shaped nose. He propped a fist on his hip. “But I do assure you, it’s done. What God hath joined together, and all that.”

“You’re just as badly in want of money as I am.” Howe smirked, but it was bitter and vicious. “Everyone knows you’ll be declared a bastard by the end of the Season.”

Gerard bared his teeth smiling back. “Care to make a wager to that effect?”

Howe just looked superior—smug. Infuriatingly so.

“That does remind me,” Gerard went on. He hadn’t planned to twist the knife in Howe, but he had no qualm about doing it. “Naturally I’m reviewing my wife’s property, and her solicitor mentioned there is a promissory note against your estate. I gather you’ve not read the terms of that note?” The viscount’s glare turned murderous. “No? Well, there’s plenty of time. Tyrell implied no payments had been made thus far, which I’m sure you’ll rectify at once. I believe the security is a fair piece of your property, which will become mine in default.” He smiled again. “I should hate to wreck such an old and respectable estate.”

“This is intolerable,” Howe seethed, his face as dark as a thundercloud. “You know very well what you’ve done to me!”

There were times Gerard particularly enjoyed being taller than average. He folded his arms and looked down at the other man. “Of all the people you might blame for your situation, I should be low on the list, and Katherine even lower. One hates to speak ill of the dead, but your uncle really did you no favors.”

“Katherine had a duty,” spat out Howe, “one she has clearly chosen to ignore.”

“What duty did she have to you?” Gerard lost his smile. “Now her duty is to me, and mine to her. I trust everyone will keep that in mind.”

Whatever Howe would have said was lost. Katherine opened the door and came in, followed closely by a very beautiful woman. Even with Lady Eccleston’s advance warning, Gerard was taken aback by the delicacy of her features. He barely restrained himself from looking at her daughter, his wife, in disbelief. They looked absolutely nothing alike—and yet were mother and daughter.

“Mama, may I present to you my husband, Captain Lord Gerard de Lacey,” Katherine murmured. “Sir, this is my mother, Mrs. Hollenbrook.”

Gerard bowed deeply to his mother-in-law. Up close one could see the lines at Mrs. Hollenbrook’s mouth and the corners of her eyes, but that was the only sign she was old enough to have a grown daughter. Her hair was pure gold, arranged in glossy ringlets after the latest fashion. Her skin was as unblemished and pale as new porcelain. Her eyes were crystal-clear blue, thickly lashed; it was perhaps the only feature her daughter shared, Gerard thought, although Kate’s eyes were darker. Mrs. Hollenbrook’s figure was superb, and she had all the grasp of flattering fashion her daughter lacked.

Mrs. Hollenbrook’s eyes widened even more as she took him in. “Oh, my,” she said in a light, silvery voice. “What a surprise—and a pleasure—to make your acquaintance, sir.”

“And I yours, madam.”

“It would have been proper to have this introduction sooner,” she said with a reproving glance at her daughter. “I understand you are already married.”

“Happily so, Mrs. Hollenbrook, despite our lack of propriety.” He flashed a warm look at Katherine, who regarded him steadily without a trace of smile. She looked so somber and grave, one would think she wasn’t happy with the marriage even though she had initiated it and pursued it. “Come, Kate, don’t be so severe on me,” he added, trying for a penitent expression when he really wanted to throw up his hands in exasperation. Couldn’t she at least pretend? “I’ve taken all the blame for the importunate speed of our union. Can you not forgive me, dearest?”

Her mother turned to her in surprise. “Good heavens, Katherine. He wanted to marry you?”

“Of course he did,” said Howe coldly. “He’s one of the Durham sons,