manipulate her and her money. Before they left London, Gerard drew a hundred pounds from her funds, just to prove he could, and to establish his control of them. No formal claim had been filed against his and his brothers’ legitimacy, so Edward still controlled the Durham accounts, and none of them lacked money, but Gerard wasn’t taking any chances. He thought he’d spend the hundred pounds on new clothes for Kate in Bath because he didn’t want to see that brown dress ever again.
He hoped she would be able to amuse herself in Bath. He’d been in the town a few years ago when on liberty from the army and thought it a fine place. There was plenty of shopping, which ought to make any woman happy, and generally good society. Kate had proven herself resilient and accommodating up till now. He wouldn’t be able to squire her around much and trusted she would accept that as she accepted all his other decisions because he would not be persuaded out of it.
The last blackmail letter had been postmarked in Bath. It reached Durham’s hand when the duke was dying, and Gerard could only imagine the alarm it must have caused his father. All of them could only imagine, because Durham, arrogant fool that he was, said nothing of the letters even to Edward, who lived under the same roof and managed all the estate affairs. The only explanation they had was a summary from their father, delivered after his death by the apologetic solicitor, along with the duke’s materials related to the disaster: four short, devastating letters from the blackmailer, and reams of reports from the investigators hired to track him down.
Despite the failure of his father’s agents in finding the blackmailer, Gerard was sure he could do it. First, he had a driving personal interest in the affair that went beyond any dedication or loyalty to an employer. His name and his place in life hung in the balance—although thanks to Kate, his fortune no longer did. Secondly, it was his mother who would suffer the insult of being named a bigamous wife, and Gerard, who had lost everything else of her, was determined not to let that happen to her memory. And lastly, he had a few advantages his father’s hired men had not had; everyone already knew of the scandal, probably even in Bath, so there was no need to operate in perfect stealth. As one of the sons caught in the so-called Durham Dilemma, everyone would be keen to talk to him about it and share his thoughts and opinions on the matter. And, without flattering himself too much, he knew he had a knack for getting people to talk to him. Everyone but his wife, anyway.
Gerard ate quickly and went out to see that the carriage was ready, with a new impatience to be off. Once he solved the mystery of the blackmail, he could get on to unlocking the mystery of his bride.
Birdie was sure Katherine was lying when she said she was fine. She fussed and worried until Katherine finally said the captain hadn’t made love to her, nor been anything but polite and decent.
“No?” Birdie’s face sagged in relief. “Thank God. I know he’s your husband, madam, and that you chose this, but—goodness, he’s such a big fellow! And you a widow these many months!”
“None of that is your concern,” Katherine said as she splashed water on her face. Perhaps she had been wrong to confide in Birdie that she expected this to be a marriage of convenience. Perhaps she had been wrong to think it would be. The captain was certainly ready and able to consummate it that morning.
“I can’t help but worry.” Birdie shook out her traveling dress and held it up as Katherine dried off. “Soldiers, madam, are often rough sorts, and he’s a young man, apt to be driven by his baser passions. He might overwhelm you, and no one could stop him.”
He did overwhelm her, but not quite as Birdie thought. Katherine half wished he would be overwhelmed by passion for her; but the prospect was so foreign, so unnerving, she was generally glad he wasn’t. Passions faded, after all. It would be much better to build a mutual respect between them and have a relationship based on that instead of some wild, ungovernable lust—as if she could inspire wild, ungovernable lust in the first place. And the longer she could delay any lovemaking between them,