While I sat dumbfounded in the armchair, Cate and Tom returned to the settee to gather his missing garments. They spoke softly as he pulled on his white stockings and slipped each foot into a black leather shoe. The waistcoat went next, which Cate buttoned.
Tom bent to kiss her cheek. “You may tell Master Filmore that he built a fine piece of furniture.”
Cate laughed. “Don’t forget your hat and coat. It’s raining to soak a man through.”
I stared at my hands, feeling even more the unwanted visitor. I should have been the one to leave, not Tom.
The sudden pad of footsteps caught my attention. Turning my gaze to the wall, I watched in surprise as the wooden panel flew open, and a woman stepped into the room, bundled in a blue woolen cloak.
“Good afternoon, Mother,” Justine Rose said, throwing back the hood and looking straight at Cate. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Her eyes flicked to Tom. “And you, too, Father, for I’ve news of that young wretch you’ve been on about.”
Chapter Sixteen
All in the Family
I gripped the arms of the chair as the world wavered before my eyes. In an attempt to dispel the terrible vision, I blinked several times, hoping the woman would either change into someone else, or disappear altogether. The thick copper hair and finely sculpted face remained unaltered, and I was left with the unpalatable truth that Justine Rose had indeed stepped from between the walls into Cate’s private chamber.
No one spoke. Cate stared motionless at the impertinent slut who had just referred to her as mother. Tom stood beside her with an expression of pure consternation, and no wonder, being called father by a young lady near his own age. Looking between the three of them, I felt transported back to the theater where I was the sole spectator on a makeshift stage. The silence persisted, and the scene took on a farcical element as they each awaited the next line. My skin itched with awkward embarrassment—for myself, for Miss Rose, for Cate and Mr. Fabre.
The actress removed her cloak, oblivious to my presence as she tossed it on a nearby table. “Well, this is a fine welcome,” she said, sounding rather put out. “If I’d known you’d be so disinterested, I would have saved myself the trouble. As I’m already here, you could at least send for a tea tray. I’m chilled through for my efforts and need to warm up before I return to the theater.”
Still as a statue, I waited for Cate’s reply. Several long seconds passed before she gave a resigned sigh and gestured toward me.
“Justine, I don’t believe you’ve been formally introduced to my houseguest, Miss Selah Kilbrid.”
I wanted no part of the farce, but propriety demanded otherwise. So I stood and forced a pained smile. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Rose.”
The actress turned her eyes upon me. “Dear me!” she laughed, clasping her hands together. “Why didn’t you tell me we were having a family reunion? Shall I fetch Sophie? You know how she hates to miss the fun.”
Tom let out an exasperated breath. “You’re not making this any easier, Justine. The poor girl has just learned we’re married. Let’s not shake the tree any harder than need be.”
Justine smirked at me. “Still a babe in the woods, eh? At least they’ve let you out of the pudding cap.”
The insult would have stung if not for the sheer absurdity of the conversation. “You must be practicing for a new role, Miss Rose. Pray tell, in which play does a young woman escape from the mad house.”
The smirk tightened to hard lines around her mouth. She spoke to Cate, without taking her eyes from me. “You must let me tell her, Mother. It will make my day to see the shock on her sweet little face.”
“That will suffice, Justine,” Cate said, her voice laced with warning. “It’s not your place to decide what Selah knows.”
“How long do you intend to keep her on the leading strings? I say if the girl is old enough to seduce Lord Fitzalan, she’s old enough to know the truth.”
“Hold your tongue,” Tom snapped. “There’s no need for rudeness.”
“Well, how else do you think she stole him from me?” Justine waved a hand in my direction. “Just look at her. No doubt she bedded him quicker than a halfpenny whore.”
Heat stung my cheeks. Whore, indeed! And a halfpenny one at that. “Believe what you will, Miss Rose, if it makes you feel better.”
Justine pursed her mouth as though tasting something unpleasant. “She’s a saucy thing, isn’t she, Mother. I’ve a mind to—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” I said. “Will you please stop calling her that? Cate Dinley is not your mother.”
For a moment, tense silence filled the room. Then Justine broke into a fit of laughter. “This is too much,” she said, looking at Cate. “Go ahead. Tell her I’m not your daughter.” Her gaze flicked to Tom. “You, too, father. Disown me if you can. And while you’re at it why don’t you explain how her grandmother Elizabeth was not really my sister.”