Page 130 of Kathryn

She opened her mouth but then closed it.

“What is it?” he asked, even though he suspected he should not.

“I am curious as to why you dislike the dowager so much.”

Gerrit’s eyebrows shot up. That was direct indeed.

She sighed. “I apologize. You needn’t answer that.”

He really did not wish to, but he had asked her to be direct, hadn’t he?

“It is not a story I enjoy telling, but I daresay you will hear about it eventually. It has to do with my mother’s lover.” Her cheeks flared to life, and his own warmed, as well. “I apologize for raising such an indelicate—”

“I asked the question, Dulverton. Like you, I would have plain speaking.”

“Her lover was one of my father’s servants.”

Her eyes widened. “I see.”

Gerrit wondered if she was recalling her footman lover but quickly banished the unhappy thought and went on. “The man came to England with her.” He cleared his throat, which had constricted at sharing the next part. “His name is Helmut Berg and he is the illegitimate offspring of my paternal grandfather. My father’s half-brother, in other words.”

“Ah,” was all she said. But then what else could a person say to such a sordid tale?

He grimaced. “I am ashamed to admit that my grandfather fathered numerous children outside of wedlock. In any case, he sent this woman back to Utrecht to have her child. When Berg was old enough, he found a position in my mother’s family’s household. My father did not know of the man’s existence until he arrived as part of my mother’s bridal retinue.”

Gerrit rubbed the back of his neck, squeezing the tendons until they hurt to distract himself from this next part of the story. “My father and Berg bore a striking resemblance to one another. I did not know the nature of their relationship until I was much older, but I daresay every adult in the area was aware they were related.” The rife speculation he saw in everyone’s gaze was one of the reasons Gerrit loathed going to Spenwood.

“My father rarely spent time at Spenwood, and until I was eight years of age I only visited him here at Briarly once a year. That meant it fell to somebody else to see to my instruction in riding, hunting, and so forth.” He moved his jaw back and forth to loosen it. “I spent a great deal of time with Berg and he taught me all those things a father would normally teach his son. He was the stablemaster at Spenwood by the time I was born. As such, he had his own cottage on the estate, and I grew up treating it as a second home.” Gerrit swallowed. “Until the day I inadvertently came upon Berg and my mother in bed together.”

Gerrit looked up. Her face was a fiery red, but he saw the sympathy beneath her embarrassment. He shrugged away the unpleasant memory, which was still vivid even after all these years. “I ran away and came to Briarly. My father allowed me to spend my school holidays here and I did not see my mother for some years afterward. Berg still lives at Spenwood and it is he my mother went to see when she left here so hastily. Evidently, he suddenly took ill. I was very fond of Berg when I was a lad, but naturally after that day—” He stopped, vaguely nauseated at having to recount the sordid tale after all these years.

He shook away the past and looked at his wife. “So that is part of why I do not enjoy her company. And then there is her interference in household matters that do not concern her.” She nodded at him, but Gerrit could see a glint of something in her gaze. “You do not think those two reasons are sufficient?” he could not resist asking.

She gave a humorless laugh. “I am not one to point fingers when it comes to filial relations. My own mother is currently barred from visiting any of my sisters’ homes and I have no intention of allowing her to darken my door, either. I am not sure if my brother has forbidden her to visit Wych House. But if he is wise, he will do so. I know that sounds cruel,” she said, although Gerrit had not made a sound. “But my mother is… Well, she is not a kind or pleasant person. To be honest, I think she is far more content living away from us. All of her children are, in various ways, disappointments to her.”

Gerrit frowned. “I know our betrothal began in scandal, but surely she cannot be displeased by our marriage?”

“You do not know my mother,” she said, her gaze grim and distant.

“You mentioned your brother was on the Continent,” he said, wanting to keep her talking about her family, but perhaps not her parents.

“He went to see my father, who fled to Naples last year. I am sure you have heard of the earl’s… affliction.” She snorted. “Indeed, who has not?”

“I know he has an unfortunate weakness for cards, which is not unusual among our class.”

“It is more than unfortunate; it is catastrophic. By the time I was ten-and-five he’d gambled away everything—including his children’s futures.”

Gerrit had not known it was so bad. “You say your father fled to Naples. Is he evading his creditors?”

“Yes. All my sisters’ husbands have been franking his habits for years. Two Christmases ago the six of us discussed the matter and decided it was time to put an end to his allowance. It may seem like a ruthless decision, but he ran through all the money my brothers-in-law gave him within weeks of receiving his quarterly allowance. They paid for his lodgings and necessary expenses themselves. He even had a generous clothing allowance. Having no money did not deter him and he lived on his expectations for a year. Only when it became known that Needham, Crewe, Chatham, and Shaftsbury would no longer pay his debts did his situation become desperate.”

This was the first Gerrit had heard of this, but then he was not fond of gossip. “Are the debts still outstanding?”

“Yes. I would ask that you do not pay them. Because if you do, he will return and—”

“And run up new ones. Even so, it seems rather unjust to his creditors.” It went against all Gerrit’s principles to leave unpaid debts.

“Perhaps at Christmas you can speak to my, er, our brothers-in-law and discuss if there is anything to be done.”