Married to the Marquess

by Rebecca Connolly

  “I beg your pardon?” she protested.

  “…and I were not so stubborn…”

  “That’s better.”

  “…then yes, I think it’s possible that we could,” he said with a nod, and much to his surprise, he actually meant it. This Kate before him, the lonely, innocent Kate who was not constantly aggravating him, who did not control every aspect of his life without consulting him, who did not make him want to tear his hair out or climb walls or spit fire like a dragon, she would be someone he could gladly associate with. If this was who he married, he could see things growing much brighter in the future. If it was the other, then he was doomed.

  “I would like to try,” she said simply, sitting up a little taller.

  “Very well, then, we shall try.” He stood from his chair and bowed, then stuck his hand out towards her. “Hello, my name is Derek, Lord Whitlock.”

  She gave him a confused, slightly amused look and took his hand. “Hello, my name is Katherine, Lady Whitlock.”

  He gasped in mock surprise. “We share a title? How extraordinary!”

  She quirked a brow and shook her head. “Are you always this droll, my lord?”

  He shrugged. “Rarely. I’m usually quite a bore.” He paused at her surprised giggle, and fought a smile. “I wonder, Kate, if I may ask you to join me for breakfast tomorrow morning. I should like to make sure that my new friend has pleasant table manners, as I find bad table manners a sign of deplorable willpower and I could never be friends with somebody who uses the wrong fork.”

  “No, I should say not. What a travesty,” Kate said seriously, surprising him with her quick reply, but then, he knew she was witty. Sharp, but witty. “I would be happy to join you for breakfast. What time?”

  He pretended to consider it for a moment, then tilted his head. “Would eight o’clock be too early?”

  “No, indeed, for I happen to be an early riser.”

  “As am I,” Derek said, a little curious now.

  “Eight o’clock at breakfast, then.” Kate smiled, giving him a nod.

  Derek snapped out of his thoughts and bowed once more. “Very good. I shall see you then, Kate.” He smiled at her, then left the room and shut the door quietly behind him.

  His curiosity was certainly piqued as he made his way to his own chambers.

  What else could he have in common with his wife?

  Chapter Seven

  At eight o’clock sharp, Katherine hesitated outside her own breakfast room, feeling absolutely ridiculous in doing so, but she could not be certain which husband of hers she would be greeting this morning. If it was the man she had arranged this meeting with last night, it would be amusing. If it was the husband she was used to, it could be a disaster.

  Still, she was willing to attempt cordiality and friendship, if he was. She had meant what she had said the night before; she did want to try. Moira’s words to her had penetrated some long-forgotten piece of her, and she realized that she had been lonely for a rather long time. She had been so focused and driven on doing her duty that she had shut the entire world out.

  Now she wanted something else, something that once seemed far out of reach.

  The door to the breakfast room opened, and there stood Derek, who was very properly dressed for breakfast, she was pleased to note. He bowed to her, the barest hint of a smile on his face, even as his green eyes danced.

  “Good morning, Kate,” he said, offering her his arm in such a proper fashion that it almost seemed mocking.

  She fought a smile and took the proffered arm. “Good morning.”

  “I trust you slept well?”

  She nodded. “Very well, thank you. You?”

  “Like the dead.” He winced as he pulled the chair out for her. “I’m sorry, that was…”

  “Just a phrase,” Katherine said with a wave of her hand. “You need not think everything regarding death or funerals is insensitive. I’ll not take offense.”

  “Really?” he asked in surprise, dropping his overly proper act.

  “A duchess never takes offense where no offense is meant,” she quoted with a smile.

  He quirked a half smile and looked at her in slight confusion as he moved to the opposite end of the table. “What’s that from?”

  “Mother’s rules for proper duchess etiquette,” she responded, feeling a little embarrassed. She had never told anybody about the rules that had been governing her entire life, nor where they had come from. It hardly seemed appropriate to do so.

  Derek’s brows snapped together and, for a moment, he looked a trifle upset. “Did she have many of these rules?”

  “Hundreds,” Katherine replied softly, wishing he would pick a new topic.

  “Hmm,” he murmured softly, but said nothing further, still looking unhappy. But then the food was brought in and his expression cleared.

  “So,” Katherine asked as she started on her meal, “what have you done with yourself of late?” She almost winced at the awkwardness of that statement. She had never been very good at small talk. She was far better at fighting with her husband than she was at trivial conversation with him.

  He quirked a brow in amusement. “Of late? Or since our wedding?”

  Relief washed over her. “Both, I suppose.” She offered him a tiny, apologetic smile. “I am afraid that I really do not know you all that well, even after all this time.”

  He nodded, still amused. “Sad, isn’t it? But I suppose now is as good a time as any to start.”

  And so they began to talk of themselves, very simply, without detail or embellishment. Katherine learned that her husband might not have been quite so lazy as she had previously thought, as he had spent the last few months helping Beverton with his estate. When asked he about her, she was embarrassed at not having much to tell him. Since their marriage, she had been here, working and managing and dictating the affairs of their estates. That was all she ever did.

  He looked ready to comment on that when Harville came in with a letter and handed it to him. He took it with confusion, looked at the seal, and then frowned.

  “Urgent, did you say?” he asked, not looking up at Harville.

  “Yes, sir. That is what I was told.”

  He muttered something under his breath, but nodded. He looked up at Katherine with regret in his eyes. “I apologize, Kate, but I have to read this. Will you excuse me?”

  “Of course,” she said with some surprise. She had not expected him to be polite; she assumed he would simply leave. The fact that he bothered to ask made her question if perhaps he was not quite the imbecilic animal she had thought she had spent the last five years married to.

  Perhaps.

  He stood back from the table and walked past her, then stopped and took a few steps back so that he was in front of her again. “This was nice. I think we should eat together more often. What do you think?”

  She knew she looked as surprised as she felt, but she managed to say, “I think that is a very good idea.”

  He smiled. “No need to sound so surprised, I do have them occasionally, Kate.”

  He walked out, but not before she called, “It’s Katherine.”

  “Chamber pots,” he responded in kind, and for once, it made her smile.

  But only a little.

  Derek groaned and sat back in his chair, rubbing his forehead, hating his father at the moment.

  The note he had received from the duke during breakfast was even more upsetting than Derek had imagined it would be, and he had a very vivid and accurate imagination where his father was concerned.

  Of course, it had to do with David.

  And, of course, the duke was counting on Derek to fix things.

  It was getting to be ridiculous. David was no more reckless or irresponsible than any other gentleman of his age and station, and he was a good deal more sensible. In fact, David was one of the most intelligent people that Derek had ever met, but intelligence and normalcy was not something that mattered to their father. He only
wanted them to appear far superior to everyone else.

  He sat forward again and picked up the note, trying to decipher just what his father wanted him to do, in between the parts about fearing for the future and the rather dramatic imagery of washing his hands of the waste of space his son was becoming.

  Even then, it was not very clear.

  Against wisdom and habit, he dropped his head to his desk and banged it a few times, hoping it would either give him a new idea to relieve the situation, or kill him instantly so that he would not have to do anything about it at all.

  A soft knocking at his study door brought his head up. In all of his haste to have done with whatever his father wanted him to do, he had neglected to close his door entirely. Confused as to who would be seeking entrance, he sat up taller, his head starting to throb from impact most painfully. “Come in.”

  As if the multitude of surprises of late could have gotten any more shocking, Kate entered, looking oddly timid. “May I?”

  Gathering himself and hopefully hiding his shock much better than he thought he was, he nodded and stood. “Of course, Kate.”

  “I do not mean to intrude upon your privacy,” she said slowly as she took a seat.

  “I wish you would,” he replied as he sat back down. “My privacy is rather annoying me at the moment.”

  She looked at the note on his desk rather pointedly. “Not good news?”

  He glanced at it as well. “Not at all. It’s from my father, and…” He trailed off, hesitating. One day of attempted friendship with his wife was not enough to entitle her to know the details of their private lives. He could not even be sure that he liked this woman, let alone if he trusted her.

  “I do not want to pry,” she said, guessing his thoughts rather adeptly. “I just… I heard you banging on the desk, and I wondered if I might be able to help.”

  “With the injuring?” he snapped, more as a reflex than anything else. “I manage to do quite well on my own, Kate.”

  She frowned and her mouth opened to retort, but she quickly closed it, then shook her head and stood. She moved towards the door, and Derek sighed in frustration.

  “No, don’t go,” he said, getting to his feet again.

  She stopped and looked at him, rather superiorly. He prayed this was not the return of Kate the Tyrant. The last twelve hours had been unusually temperate for being at home, and he would rather they stay so mild. It was far less stressful.

  “I apologize,” he told her, spreading his hands out just a bit, wondering just how often he was going to feel the need to apologize. “Again. Old habits. Please.” He gestured back to the chair she had just vacated, knowing that she would probably snap at him, and he would be lucky to escape with that hand still attached to him.

  Kate nodded and returned to her seat, again with the surprises.

  Reeling from the sudden change, as the old Kate would never have done something so forgiving or decent, he slowly sank back into his chair, careful to not stare at his wife and wonder when she was going to burst into flames.

  “Did it help?” Kate asked after a moment.

  He looked at her oddly. “Did what help?”

  Something that could almost be called a smile flicked across her face, and he suddenly remembered that his wife was a beautiful woman. It was easy to forget, as she was so often looking severe and disapproving, and always kept that dark hair of hers so tightly pulled back. But he recalled a day, right around five years ago, when he had married her, when for the first time in his life, he had been grateful to marry her. She had been stunning even though he hated her. That, of course, had faded and even now it was a blurry memory, but he remembered her smile, small and slight and hidden, and how it had caught him right in the chest.

  Rather like it did now.

  “Banging your head against the desk,” Kate said, tilting her head just a touch.

  “Who said anything about it being my head?” he asked with a grin.

  “One, you have a red mark on your face, and two, it has been something I have considered doing a time or two.”

  “You wanted to bang your head against the desk?” he laughed. “When?”

  “Whenever I get letters from the estate in Derbyshire,” she said, still wearing that almost-smile.

  “Oh, yes,” Derek groaned, nodding. “Mr. Frazier and his blood… erm, blasted reports,” he amended quickly, feeling that he should probably curb his harsh language around her.

  She nodded, her eyes looking almost amused. “If I never read another report of his about every detail of every farm, I will consider myself fortunate.”

  Derek sat forward and smiled. “Did you ever get his notices of his…”

  “…mother’s gout?” they finished together.

  “Yes,” Kate said, tucking an invisible strand of hair behind her ear. “It was awful.”

  “I know,” Derek said with a chuckle. He sighed and gave her an appraising look. “Nathan and Moira want us to come to a party at their home this evening. Would you like to go?”

  She thought for a moment. “I would, but I am still in mourning.”

  He shrugged. “So don’t dance, if it should occur. It is only a small party, not a formal audience. It hardly counts. Besides, I think Moira would like to have you there.”

  “Really?” she asked in a voice that was almost too sincere for him to believe it came from her.

  “I think so,” he said with a nod, enjoying this side of her. “She doesn’t show it, but Moira does not have many friends. She is still new to Society, and things are difficult.”

  “Then yes, I think we should go,” Kate said firmly. “It is important to support her.” Then she gave him a serious look. “But I still would like to know if I can help with whatever is troubling you.”

  Derek considered thanking her, but refusing the offer. But as he looked at her and saw an honest willingness to help, he gave in. What was a wife for, after all? And so he opened up to her for the first time in his life, and found her to be discerning and receptive and really rather wise in family matters, and the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon was spent trying to determine the best course of action for keeping David out of trouble and keeping his father satisfied.

  And by the time they broke to change for the party, Derek thought that perhaps this friendship idea would not be so difficult after all.

  They caused a small stir as they entered the ballroom of Nathan and Moira’s house, where a good many chairs had been set up and already people were milling about, but all had frozen as the Marquess and Marchioness of Whitlock had been announced together. Then the titters and whispers started, and Derek sighed.

  “Well, that should give them something to gossip about for a while,” he muttered.

  “How very shocking we are,” Kate muttered right back. “To think, we, a married couple, appeared at something together. How dare we. And I in my mourning gown? Appalling manners, all around.”

  Derek bit his lip, wanting to snicker, but knowing he shouldn’t. Then he caught sight of a truly horrible thing. “Oh dear,” he murmured to his wife as they moved into the room. “I believe Baroness Rudin intends to sing again.”

  Kate’s head snapped up and she looked where he indicated. “Blast!” she hissed. “Perhaps I will suddenly find myself violently ill. Catch me if I faint away, won’t you?”

  “Kate!”

  “What?” she asked, looking up at him. “You cannot possibly expect me to listen to her caterwauling like a drunken sailor and applaud the performance. I have heard better vocals from dying cats.”

  Derek choked on more laughter. “Kate, stop. I will never maintain composure during her attempt to perform now that is in my head.” He tilted his head as he considered her in a new light. “I had no idea you were funny.”

  She gave him a look that was so coy, he had no idea she could do so. “There are many things you do not know about me, Whitlock.” She looked around, and then sighed. “Now if you will excuse me, I must find
Moira and then spend the rest of the evening avoiding Lord Pembrook and his noxious fish breath.”

  Derek allowed her to move away from him, and turned to put a fist to his mouth, hoping to stem the fits of laughter that were threatening to burst out of him. But really, he was truly flabbergasted. Kate was funny? That was a twist of irony he had never expected. What else was she hiding underneath that buttoned up demeanor of hers?

  “What’s the fuss, Derek?” Colin asked as he, Duncan, and Geoff approached him.

  Derek took a calming breath and turned. “My wife,” he announced, “is funny.”

  The stunned expressions on each of their faces nearly set him off again, but he had felt that same shock only moments before.

  “Oh, come off it, Derek!” Colin said after a moment, starting to smile at what he thought was a joke. “Katherine doesn’t have a sense of humor!”

  “No, no, she does, I swear,” he said with a very serious shake of his head. “It’s the strangest thing.” He proceeded to tell them all exactly what she had said as proof, and he knew they were convinced when even the mostly stoic Duncan had to put a hand to his lips.

  “Well,” Geoff said, when he had recovered, and started to move away, “I think I might stand by Katherine during the musical portion of the evening. It might be extremely entertaining.”

  “Watch out for her claws,” Colin told him, demonstrating with his hands, and earning himself a smack on the back of the head from Duncan, which was akin to getting punched by most men.

  “Leave off Katherine,” Duncan said firmly as he and Derek followed Geoff. “She’s funnier than you are.”

  Across the ballroom, having no success in locating Moira, Katherine decided to look for her out in the hallways. Hosting one’s first event could be very trying, and though she had not much experience, she had been an unofficial hostess a time or two, and those were demanding enough.

  She entered the darkened hallways and let her eyes adjust to the change from the brightly lit ballroom, then slowly made her way along, hoping she would not get lost. That would certainly be something for comment if it ever got out, how the Marchioness of Whitlock wanders around other people’s houses, even when in mourning.