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they
approached.
    When the coach stopped in front of the
doors to the manor, he paid the driver and gave him a healthy tip
before he retrieved his valise and knocked upon the
door.
    A man so old it was a wonder he was
still breathing answered the door. Nicholas glared as he repeated
his name twice. He found himself shouting down at the
butler.
    Winthrop glared up at him. “Ye don’t
have to be so bleedin’ loud. I’m not deaf, ye know.”
    Nicholas was showed into the house. He
wasn’t prepared for the richness of the place, feeling out of sorts
at the sight, despite growing up within the Van Ryker’s
residence.
    The history of the place dated back
five centuries. The main house was torn down and rebuilt over the
years but still retained a touch of the past everywhere he looked.
Every portrait of the former Earl’s of Dunleavy lined the main
hall, staring down at him disapprovingly. The newest was
Catherine’s father. He would have known him anywhere. Those
penetrating green eyes stared down at him and he fought a feeling
of unworthiness.
    He was greeted by a housekeeper named
Mrs.Treadmore. She was tugging on her mobcap as she joined him in
the hall. “Lady Catherine is still abed, sir. What is the nature of
your business?” she asked with a disgruntled look that disappeared
when he told her who he was.
    Her merry brown eyes lit up. Before he
knew it, he was led up the curving mahogany staircase to his wife’s
room. “Just go on in, Mr. Van Ryker. She’d be pleased to know ye be
here.”
    “ Thank you,” he replied as
the housekeeper left him.
    Nicholas opened the door quietly,
careful not to wake her. The room was large and cozy, decorated in
muted pastels. He saw old treasures from her childhood adorning
shelves and bureaus. A choked feeling in his chest assailed him as
he put his valise down and looked to the bed.
    Catherine slept on her side, a slight
frown marring her brow. He drew near and reached down and pushed a
raven curl from her face. She sighed and her green eyes opened,
staring up at him in happiness first, then anger. She sat up with
effort. He was relieved to see she’d not had their child
yet.
    “ What brings you here,
Nicholas? Tired of running the streets of London? Or is it only me
complaining of it that makes it so appealing to you?” she asked in
a biting tone. She enjoyed the flush upon his face at her waspish
words.
    “ You told me to come when I
felt like playing husband,” he reminded her, his blue eyes
darkening in anger. “The time is now. Get dressed. We must
talk.”
    He left her to dress as he waited
below. She arrived in minutes, looking adorable as she waddled down
the stairs in her bedclothes. She looked harassed and hadn’t
bothered to comb her hair in her haste to join him.
    He chuckled at her disheveled
appearance and earned a scowl from his wife. Winthrop opened the
doors for them and they went outside. They kept walking. At first
Nicholas said nothing. They stopped on a hill overlooking the
pasture. He sat in the grass, drawing her down beside
him.
    ~ ~ ~
    Nicholas looked somber. She bit her
lip, fearing what he would say, but longing to hear what had him so
distraught the last six months. He plucked at blades of grass and
then he began to speak, looking away as he told her. She gasped at
his words. He refused to look at her.
    He continued telling her of the horrors
of his childhood until he broke off and looked down, his hands
shaking at her continued silence. Catherine couldn’t see as tears
blurred her vision. Sobs caught in her throat at what was done to
her husband, of his being too scared to share such degrading
circumstances with her.
    Catherine realized his fear she’d be
repulsed by him. She felt rage at what his own mother did to him
and longed to make the shaking in his hands stop. She saw him bury
his face in them now, a low moan escaping his tightly clenched
lips.
    She hugged him to her fiercely like one
of their children, her hot tears falling in a