The dinner party was over. That much was clear even before David said it. Cate looked around at the table, at her guests. Miss Maddox looked scared. The vicar and Baxter looked embarrassed. There was nothing polite or proper to say at this moment, because it was not a polite or proper situation, but she tried anyway, because there seemed to be nothing else she could do.

"I'm sorry. It seems my husband isn't feeling well. I will have your coaches called, Mr Maddox, Reverend. And perhaps we should all return to the drawing room while we wait. Does anyone want coffee?"

There was a prolonged silence.

"I would like a coffee," Baxter said. "Thank you."

That set the wheels in motion, somehow. The chairs scraped back, the people stood, and everyone shuffled along to the drawing room. On the way, Cate told a servant to have the coaches prepared. She moved as though in a dream, feeling nothing, not fear, not anger, not sadness, only a sense of urgency about practical matters: ordering the coffee, pouring the coffee, making sure everyone had a cup though the only person who drank it was Baxter. Laurie had brought a glass of wine from the dining room with her and was sipping it while looking interestedly at everyone around her.

"The coaches will be ready soon," Cate said.

"And did you order mine?" Mrs Demery asked. "I wish to leave. I am tired, and it has been an unpleasant night."

"I didn't." Cate looked wistfully at Laurie. She was the closest person to a friend Cate had in the room right now. Cate did not want to be left alone with her parents and Sarah. "I will do it now."

She stood again and went to the bell and arranged for it. At the very least, it ate up several moments of silence. Her parents were saying nothing now. They stood apart from the others. Sir William's mouth was downturned. Lady Balley's eyes were bright with anger. It seemed that David's leaving had reminded them of the publicness of their squabble. No doubt when all the guests were gone, they would start up again. Cate shivered inside. When would David be back? Where had he even gone?

Miss Maddox, hovering at the edge of a settee, looked like a startled deer. She could not meet anyone's eyes, and kept looking desperately to the door. Cate hoped her coach would arrive soon. Her brother sat near her, looking more confused than anything else.

"I don't understand what we're supposed to do now," he said. "Demery is gone. Our host is gone."

"We are to go home," the vicar said. "It seems Captain Demery is, uh, under the weather."

Judging by how fast the front door had slammed, quite literally, Cate thought. Every now and then the wind crackled against the windows, but it was not raining. Nevertheless, he was wearing only thin-soled evening shoes and had no coat. He would be cold.

"He will be back," Laurie said, looking directly at Sarah. "I would rather be here when he returns. But perhaps I would be overstaying my welcome?"

"You're welcome to stay," Cate said, trying not to sound too eager.

"It has been a horrid evening and I wish to go," Mrs Demery said. "As soon as our coach is ready, we are leaving."

Laurie sighed heavily. "As you wish, Mother. Though I don't think it was entirely a horrid evening. Sort of stormy with silver linings, I would say."

"It is not storming," the vicar said helpfully. "Just a sharp breeze now and then."

Laurie looked pityingly at him. "You are quite correct."

Paul sat on another couch with Annabelle, looking rather green. "I cannot share your enjoyment in scandal, Laurie," he said. "I am very sorry, Catherine, that your first real dinner should end in such... such..."

"Confusion," Baxter suggested helpfully.

"Confusion!" Paul agreed.

It was a very polite euphemism for a catastrophe of an evening. Cate looked at Sarah, sitting in an armchair a little way from the others. She was not smiling, but there was something furtively pleased about her expression. How much had Paul known about what she was going to say? Something, judging by his apology, but not everything, judging by his pallor.

"You're very kind, Paul," Cate said without meaning it, because it was polite and politeness seemed to be the only refuge she had left. "Mr Baxter, would you like more coffee?"

"Thank you."

Even as she was pouring his coffee, a maid appeared at the door to announce that the vicar's coach was ready. He was driving Baxter home, so Baxter left his filled coffee cup on the table. Cate followed them to the front hall to see them off. It gave her a moment's reprieve from both Sarah and her parents. She did not know how much longer she could look at Sarah's smug face without slapping it.

"Thank you both for coming tonight," she said. "I'm sorry it ended so abruptly. I'm sorry for any embarrassment occasioned. I didn't mean to expose you to a family quarrel. It just happened. It does, somehow."

"No apology is needed," Baxter said. "I thank you for your hospitality, Mrs Demery."

His graciousness made Cate feel worse about herself. She shook his hand, then the vicar's, and watched them duck out into the snapping wind to their coach. As it went down the drive, Mr Maddox's came up behind it.

"I'll tell the Maddoxes and Paul that the coach is ready," Cate said to the maid. "You can wait here."

It gave her another excuse not to linger in the same room as Sarah and her parents. She went slowly back to the drawing room and announced the coach, then followed Mr and Miss Maddox and Paul and Annabelle to the door.

"It was not the night I planned," she said, "and I'm sorry that I exposed you to the vulgarity of a family quarrel."

"We are family now," Paul said generously.

"I wouldn't say close family though," Mr Maddox said.

"Close enough to forget and forgive a little quarrel," Paul said. He seemed to be trying to make up for something. Cate thought it would take her a little longer to forgive his involvement in tonight — if she ever truly got to the bottom of it. Perhaps forgetting would be the best she could hope for.

"Good night, all of you," she said, not stepping for a kiss or to shake anyone's hand. "Safe journey."

When she got back to the drawing room, she found Mrs Demery and her parents and Sarah all sitting in opposite corners of the room regarding each other suspiciously. Only Laurie moved around the room, carrying a bottle of wine and her glass. She must have returned to the dining room for the wine bottle, but if she was inebriated she was holding it well.

"Your parents are not what I thought, Cate," she said when Cate entered. "It sort of makes everything make sense. I feel as though I understand you now."

"Did you not before?"

"I probably don't now. One never does know a person as well as they think. And if they do, there's no guarantee that person won't change for the worse." Laurie looked at Sarah. "There is always lower to sink, with some."

"You have drunk too much," Mrs Demery said. "You will embarrass yourself."

"I am the only one in this room who is not embarrassed."

"The only one who has shamed herself tonight is Catherine," Lady Balley said.

"No, no, no." Laurie shook her head. "You are shortsighted, Lady Balley. You abused your own daughter in public. Heaven forbid! Don't you know that sort of behaviour must be done behind closed doors?"

Lady Balley's cheeks were pink. "I will thank you not to speak to me so."

"I don't ask for thanks," Laurie said.

"Please, Laurie," Cate said. "Will you be quiet?"

Laurie looked at her, took a thoughtful glug of wine, then nodded. The room fell into silence. A clock ticked loudly on the mantelpiece. When the maid appeared at the door, Mrs Demery stood up immediately.

"It's time to go."

Cate followed them out too. Mrs Demery did not wait for her to wish them goodnight but marched straight out to her coach without even ducking her head against the breeze, which was starting to carry rain with it. Laurie stopped at the front door.

"You know Sarah planned this?"

"I know."

"What are you going to do about her?"

Cate shrugged.

"Well. Telling the truth about your past lie was... very brave. Stupid, but brave. And I think it's best that it came out, even if it hurt. Just don't say anything more, for Luke's sake. Don't let them know who the father really is."

"It will come out eventually. I realized that tonight."

"But not before its time. Not before Luke is old enough to be told the truth and decide what he wants to do with it."

"Maybe." Cate had little hope of that. Miss Skinner knew, and she had no reason to keep it secret. Oliver might change his mind about it at any moment. Cate's brothers and sisters would beg her to tell them once they learned it wasn't Redwood.

"Definitely." Laurie gave her a swift, unexpected hug. "Cheer up, Cate. This is only one long night of the thirty thousand odd that make up a lifetime."

Mrs Demery called to her from the carriage, and she jumped down the steps and left. Cate watched their coach leave then stood there waiting a little longer, hoping to see David coming back. There was no shadow moving on the dark lawn, so she gave up and went back to the drawing room. She looked at Sarah, then at her parents. Her mother opened her mouth to speak.

"No," Cate said. "There is nothing more to say. We've said it all, and I don't want to shout. I suggest you go to bed, Mother."

"It's only ten o'clock."

"Then I suggest you go to your room and amuse yourself, for I am done talking."

Cate had thought she would want to fight, to argue it out, now that they were alone, but she knew there was no point. They would say the same hurtful things, time and time again, and nothing would change. And she would cry, and her parents would shout, and Sarah would watch from her corner looking smug.

"I suggest you all go to your rooms." Cate took a candle from the mantelpiece. "Shall I take you?"

Sir William got up slowly from his armchair. "Let us go to bed."

"I'm not tired," Lady Balley said.

"Then read a book." Sir William sounded grim. "She is right. There is no more to be accomplished through conversation tonight."

Lady Balley did not dare directly oppose her husband. She stood and went to the door. Cate looked at Sarah.

"What about you?"

Sarah shrugged and gave an exaggerated yawn. "I do have a long journey tomorrow."

She was hiding from David, Cate thought. She did not wish to see him, for she knew she had wronged Cate, and she thought Cate would do nothing about it. Cate bit the tip of her tongue. She would do something about it, but not in front of her parents. She would give Sarah no more ammunition.

They went upstairs. Cate's parents' bedroom was closer, so she opened the door and left them with only a word of goodnight. She and Sarah continued onwards down the gallery to Sarah's room. At the door, Cate paused.

"I know what you did tonight," she said.

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked. "It was not my fault."

"You set a trap. I walked into it."

"Oh, hardly. I did not mean to speak carelessly. I was simply under the impression—"

"Spare your breath. You wanted to humiliate me by casting doubt as to the parentage of my child. Well. You succeeded. But I don't care. I'm done with being afraid of people's bad opinion. There is no point being afraid of something I will never escape for the rest of my life. So there's no need to look so smug, Sarah."

"I'm not smug!"

"You are." Cate turned away. "You're so very smug. So very conceited. So very proud of yourself. Yet tomorrow you leave this house alone and no one will miss you at all. What do you have to be smug about?"

It was a low blow, but Cate wanted to hurt Sarah, just a little bit. She did not think she succeeded. Sarah only laughed and said goodnight and went into her room.

Cate went the other way. David's bedroom was dark and cold and empty. She blew out her candle and sat down in front of his door and waited. After an hour, she was cold and numb. After two, she began to think it would be better just to go to bed and speak to him in the morning. After three, she began to wonder if he had come to some hurt outside in the dark.

Then there was a sound downstairs in the darkness. Footsteps. Someone tramping up the stairs. No candle to light their way, just a dark shadow moving through the gallery.

"David?"

"Cate?" His voice was weary. "Where are you?"

"Here." She stumbled to her feet on legs that had long since lost all feeling. "Oof."

He caught her with one arm, raindrops melting into her waist. "Cate. Tell me. Did you mean it? What you said tonight?"

"What did I say?"

"You said that... I was the only man you ever loved."

"Oh." She patted his damp coat. "You're all wet, David. You'll catch a cold."

"Cate. Did you mean it?"

"Why did you run away?" she asked. "Why did you run away when I said it?"

"I had to think. Was it true, Cate?"

She was very tired. Too tired to lie, even if she was still a liar, which she was beginning to think she was not.

"Yes." She pushed his rainy dampness gently away. "I love you. I love you, David. And... and now I know you're safe, and come home, I'm going to bed."

"Oh. Goodnight."

That was a painful response to hear. She stared through the dark at the shadow of his body, wishing she could see the expression on his face. "Does it make a difference to you?" she asked. "That I love you?"

"Yes." His shadowy bulk moved closer. "Actually, Cate..." His breath pricked the silence of the room. "Cate... Come... Come..."

"David?"

"Come to my bed." The words were barely even a whisper. "Come here. Cate. Come here."

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2023-06-25: I was going to end this chapter with a kiss but... things changed.