The knock at the front door disturbed Cate from her shallow doze, but she was too weary to answer it, so she only lay in bed with her eyes shut, listening for the sound of Miss Skinner's footsteps going to answer it. Silence. Miss Skinner was no doubt too proud to answer the door herself, and the manservant had taken the maid-of-all-work to the village to buy the weekly groceries. Well, let the visitor go away then, whoever they were. The vicar, perhaps, on his weekly ministerial visit, or a travelling salesman with some knick-knack she did not want and could not afford anyway.

As Cate was drifting back to sleep, the knock came again. Miss Skinner's footsteps sounded at last from downstairs, sharp with irritation. The low vibration of a man's voice came distantly to Cate. She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. Miss Skinner would get rid of him. Miss Skinner was very good at getting rid of people.

Instead, however, there were more sounds from below: doors opening and closing, the creak of the stairs, footsteps. Then Cate's bedroom door swung open.

"There is a visitor for you," Miss Skinner said, in the same tone as she used to say, 'There is cod liver oil after supper'.

"Make him wait. Come back later," Cate murmured sleepily.

"It is Captain Demery."

Drowsiness blunted the terror of the name but did not kill it entirely. Cate opened her eyes, the faded counterpane and peeling wallpaper coming blurrily into view. Slowly, she sat up, rubbing her face. She was dizzy and heavy with sleep. Demery. Captain David Demery. Her heart raced unpleasantly.

"Why is he here?"

"He did not tell me." Miss Skinner ran her squinty gaze over Cate. "You will need to arrange yourself before you meet him."

Cate ran her hand through her hair, wincing as she caught at a snarl. "Right. Can you offer him tea?"

"I do not make tea, Miss Balley," Miss Skinner said coldly. "I am not a maidservant."

"I'm sorry. Never mind. Can you tell him to wait?"

Perhaps he would not wait. Perhaps he would go away without seeing her. Somehow, Cate doubted it.

Miss Skinner left the room without a word or a gesture. Cate crawled out of bed and went to her dressing table. She avoided looking at her reflection these days and had the mirror turned to the wall. With a flinch, she turned it around. The ghost of her own face stared back at her, surrounded by a halo of knotted fair hair. She pulled it roughly back with one hand and scrabbled for a pin. It would be easier to hide it under a cap than brush the knots out. Besides, now that she had a baby, she had the right to dress like an old woman, if not a married one.

When she came downstairs twenty minutes later, she was at least tidy, though she still felt unprepared to meet Captain Demery. She had always felt unprepared for him, but she felt so now even more, in the drab, six-roomed Shropshire cottage which represented her exile from society. He should not be here. No one had visited her but her father and her mother. Her sisters and brothers had been forbidden from coming, and her friends had abandoned her when the scandal broke.

She paused outside the half-open parlour door and peered through the crack. Demery was standing by the window, looking out at the incessant October rain that had broken the mild, dry September. Tall, dark, severe, and, as always, dressed in a faded black coat of a cut ten years out of date. A ripple of scorn came over Cate, quelled almost immediately by fear. Why had he come to see her?

She opened the door with trembling fingers and stepped into the room. "Captain Demery."

He turned and gave her a shallow bow. "Miss Balley."

Silence. Cate wondered if she should ask his opinion on the weather or inquire about his health. It was the sort of thing he used to talk about, for quite fifteen minutes on end. Now he was not talking at all. His dark eyes were drifting uncertainly over and around her, but never quite meeting her own.

A hot draught of air on Cate's neck startled her, and she twisted to see Miss Skinner hovering over her shoulder.

"It's alright, Miss Skinner," Cate said. "I think you can leave me alone with Captain Demery."

"An unmarried woman should not be alone with a man," Miss Skinner said. "You well know that, Miss Balley."

"The damage has already been done," Cate said. "Please. Let me speak with Captain Demery in private."

Miss Skinner's ever-squinting pale eyes bulged with suspicion, but she swivelled on her heel and went into the room across the narrow passage. Cate had no doubt she was going to eavesdrop on them, but there was no point having it out now, so she only closed the door behind her and shut herself and Demery in the room.

"My old governess," Cate said by way of explanation. "She keeps me company here."

"Do you have no servants?" Demery's voice was the same as ever: low, soft, heatless.

"A woman and a man — they are down at the village currently. Um. Would you like tea, Captain Demery?"

Demery shook his head. "No, thank you." The silence threatened for several heartbeats. "May I inquire as to your health, Miss Balley?"

Ah. There it was. And no doubt soon he would remark upon the rain. "I am very well thank you."

She was not, in fact. Luke had kept her up all night with his teething. She was dizzy with exhaustion. She wanted nothing more than for Demery to leave so she could return to bed and sleep — at least until Luke woke her again.

"And the, uh, the child. Is the child well?"

The question startled her into a hot blush of guilt. She nodded. "Yes. He is."

"I am glad to hear."

Was he really? His thin lips were tight at the corners. No. He could have no concern for Luke. He could have nothing but reasons to hate him. Despite her fear, Cate was angry at the thought of anyone hating Luke, and anger gave her spirit.

"Perhaps you will tell me why you are here, Captain Demery," she said. "I am not accustomed to visitors these days."

"Your father told me where to find you. He has given his permission for this visit."

Father. Catherine's heart skipped a beat. If there was anyone she was more afraid of than Captain Demery, it was her father. Not that he was violent to her. No. Sir William had never laid a hand upon his daughters. He did not need to. His words struck to the bone.

"What do you want?" she asked in barely a whisper.

Demery turned to the window and spoke with his back to her. "Last time we met, Miss Balley, I asked you a question. I have discovered that the answer you gave me then was a lie. Will you tell me the truth now?"

Cate's lips trembled. "What question was that, Captain Demery?"

"Who is the father of the child?"

"I told you."

"That was a lie." Demery turned back to her, his mouth set, his eyebrows drawn. "A lie, and slander of an innocent man."

Cate backed away until the doorknob hit her below the shoulder blade.

"Do you know that your father took you at your word? That he hired men to beat the man you named to within an inch of his life? Do you know I challenged him to a duel? That if he hadn't the sense to refuse, one of us would be dead now?"

Cate had not known that. She had not thought, when she named James Redwood as the father of her child, that it would have consequences. Her father and Demery had demanded a name, and the real name she could not give them. In the end, it had been easier to lie and blame a man she had never met. A man whose reputation made the lie believable.

"Who is the father of your child, Miss Balley?"

She shook her head.

"You will not tell me?"

"No. You should not ask."

Demery kept her gaze for a long time and then looked away. "I have asked myself why you would lie," he said, very softly. "I came to an answer I fear to be true. But if it is true, I can blame you for nothing. Miss Balley, did the father of your child take you against your will?"

She was too startled to answer immediately. "I— No. No, it was not like that. It was nothing like that."

Demery let out a long breath. "Good."

Good. Cate could not believe it to be good, not even by comparison to the darkest alternative.

"Perhaps," Demery continued softly, "if you will not tell me his name, you will at least tell me if there is still a... relationship with the man."

"What business is this of yours, sir? Why do you ask?"

He met her eyes again. "Miss Balley. Are you suggesting that I have not the right to personal feelings about this matter?" There was an edge to his voice now. "I was engaged to you for four months, during which time you conceived another man's child. If my heart has not the right to be hurt, you must concede, at the very least, that my pride does."

It could only be his pride. A man who ran as cold as Demery did not have a heart to hurt. But he was not wrong. Cate flushed.

"No," she said. "There is no relationship."

"Will there be a relationship, in future, with the man?"

"No."

"Not with you — or your son?"

Tears pricked Cate's eyes. "No."

"Very well." Demery let out another short breath. "I have been thinking a great deal over the past few months, Miss Balley. When I left the army and returned to England, it was my object to marry. The debacle of our engagement has not prejudiced my intentions. If I am not to marry you, I will marry another."

If she had loved him at all, Cate might have been jealous. Instead, she felt only irritated that Demery had thought it necessary to tell her. No doubt he wanted to make her regret all she had lost in losing him. As though she were not already conscious of her disgrace and humiliation every hour of every day.

"Your future marriage can have nothing to do with me now."

"I am afraid it does." Demery cleared his throat. "We never ended our engagement, Miss Balley. The day your father informed me of your condition, I... I left in a temper, before anything could be resolved. That is why I am here today."

Cate laughed in disbelief. "Do you think I need to be told that we are no longer engaged, Captain Demery?"

"You mistake my purpose. I came here to remind you that we are."

The laughter died in her throat. "What."

"Our engagement was never ended, Miss Balley."

"Don't tease me." Cate sank wearily down into the lumpy, threadbare sofa. "Do what you will. Marry who you wish. But don't do this. I've had enough of shame."

"I do not mean to shame you." Demery came closer. "A gentleman does not break an engagement. Only the lady has that privilege. Unless—and until—you release me, I consider myself engaged to marry you."

She opened her mouth to tell him he was released, but a faint cry came from upstairs. She jumped to her feet and ran up the stairs. Luke, in his crib in the bedroom next to hers, had woken. She picked him up and rocked him against her chest, but his cries only grew louder. Not a hungry cry, but a pained cry. His teeth again. She shushed him, tears coming to her eyes in response to his cries. A shadow appeared behind her, and she turned to see that Demery had followed her up and was standing in the doorway, stooping a little under the low ceiling.

"Can I be of assistance?" he said.

"No, no. There is nothing to do." Rocking Luke, Cate settled down into her nursing chair. "He's teething."

"That time, is it? My mother used to give us a cucumber to chew on."

Cate looked up in surprise.

Demery shrugged. "I have four younger siblings."

"I'll try it. I'll try anything." She managed to get Luke down to a grumbling snuffle. "About our engagement. Of course I don't expect you to uphold your promise. Not after I... did what I did."

"But I will uphold my promise." Demery's eyes hardened. "I will not pretend that I am not hurt by your actions, Miss Balley. But I consider myself bound by our arrangement, regardless of the baby."

Marriage. It was the only thing that could halfway raise Cate from the depth she had fallen.

But to Demery. If it were any other man. And how could he bear it, the reminder of betrayal in his bed every night? She bit her lip. "I won't leave Luke."

"I am not asking you to. I would provide a home for both of you."

Instinctively, Cate tightened her hold on Luke, who squirmed and grizzled in her arms. It was impossible to believe that Demery could be kind to him — no, Demery must hate him. She shook her head.

"I won't have Luke hurt."

"And I will never hurt him. None of this is his fault."

He spoke as though she had already given her consent. Cate wished she dared tell him no, that she could not stand him, that she would rather die alone.

But she had Luke to think of. A bastard child could not be protected by a ruined mother. Not once he grew past the age where his only problems were teething. But how could she even trust Demery to keep his word? What man would be kind to his wife's bastard?

Perhaps Demery sensed her doubt. "Your father has given his blessing," he said. "You need not worry that marrying me will cause any further friction between you and your family."

Sir William knew. Cate's throat went dry. Then she had no choice. Her father's 'blessing' was as good as an order. She pressed Luke to her chest and kissed his tuft of dark hair, tears burning in her eyes.

"I cannot release you, sir."

When he had first proposed, Demery had kissed her hand. Now, he only bowed. "Then we must fulfil our promise, and marry."

__

2022-09-3: I was going to post this tomorrow, but I was too excited to wait. Those of you who read An Indecent Gambit will be a bit familiar with Demery. Now you get to meet the very scandalous Cate, who has made a lot of mistakes in her life, and is probably going to make some more before I'm through with her.