Married to the Marquess

by Rebecca Connolly

  “I don’t know,” she whispered, shaking her head. “What if I make a mistake?”

  “Then you make a mistake, Kate.” His eyes were rich and green and earnest as they held hers captive. “Put the old bat out of your head, think about what you want, and then do it! Mistakes or no mistakes, folly or not, just do it.”

  She shook her head insistently. “A duchess does not act without…”

  “Oh, hang what a duchess does or does not do, Kate!” he cried, throwing his arms up. “I couldn’t care less. I want to know what Kate does, what Kate would do. Not the future duchess. Just Kate.”

  Katherine was more than a little taken aback by his words, and she was well aware that she showed it. But when he looked at her so earnestly, when his entire being and attention was fixed on her so intently, it was hard for her to make sense of anything. He was just too attractive, and it unnerved her. And his words... Could she forget that she was a future duchess and just be Kate? It seemed so impossible. Her entire identity, the very way she viewed herself, was wholly based on her position as the Marchioness of Whitlock. That was who she was.

  “I…” she tried, not knowing what she was even going to say. Her mind had still not conjured up a response to Derek’s extraordinary outburst. “I… I don’t know.”

  He sighed softly and gave her a sad smile. “I understand. It will take some time, but you need to understand this, Kate; you are not just a marchioness, or a future duchess. You are a woman, a wife, a future mother, if we are so fortunate. You can’t let just one part of you dictate the rest. You are more than that.”

  His words had stolen the breath out of her lungs, and she found that she had to believe him. Something about his determination, his fierceness for something so unimportant as how she viewed herself, was rather invigorating, and suddenly she wanted to do exactly as he said. There was no way for her to know even how to begin, but she wanted to try.

  It was the least she could do.

  Maintaining the eye contact between them, she nodded slowly, which brought a relieved smile to his face. “Now that we have that out of the way,” he said wryly, “let’s move on to something more fun. What is the most ridiculous rule you ever had to obey?”

  Katherine grinned and found herself turning towards him. “Now that one is easy. A duchess always washes her face three times in the morning, once at midday, and two times at night.”

  Derek’s mouth popped open, and Katherine laughed at his expression. “You cannot be serious,” he said, a smile starting to form.

  “Oh, but I am,” she assured him. “There was a nightly inspection and the maid would have to verify that I had washed the requisite number of times.”

  “How could your mother possibly know how often a duchess washed her face?”

  Katherine shrugged and shook her head. “I haven’t the faintest idea. I never questioned it, though I thought it was the most absurd thing I had ever heard.”

  “You can stop washing so often now. I grant you leave to wash only as you wish to.” He smiled broadly, no doubt thinking himself a very amusing fellow.

  It really was too bad that he was.

  “I already have, thank you,” she said with a dismissive sniff. “It was the first rule I broke after we were married.” She did not mention that it was one of only a few that she had broken on purpose. Somehow, she was fairly certain that he would know anyway.

  “Bravo, Kate,” Derek said, applauding her with an amused smile.

  “What was your most ridiculous rule?” she asked in turn, hoping he could match her absurdity in upbringing as well.

  “Rule Twenty-six,” he replied immediately.

  “Which states?”

  “Never be partnered in whist with someone who always loses at whist.”

  A burst of laughter escaped Katherine, and she quickly covered her mouth, which did nothing to stifle the sound. “I’m sorry,” she tried, between giggles. “I am sorry, I…”

  “Don’t be,” he said, waving off her apology. “I’m fairly certain all three of us had the same reaction when that rule was set up. Turns out my father hates to lose and thinks it is somehow beneath our dignity to do so, even at whist. Oddly enough, I seem to obey that rule without any trouble.”

  “You don’t play whist.” She was surprised with herself for revealing that little bit of information she knew. She had known it for some time, but had never thought of it, as far as she could remember.

  Derek smiled in his surprise. “Exactly. One can never be paired with one who always loses at whist if one never plays whist. It is the perfect solution. But tell me, Kate,” he said, leaning forward once more, elbows on his knees again, “is there any time that you don’t hear your mother’s rules in your head?”

  She nodded without thinking, and replied, “When I play.”

  He looked inordinately pleased by her answer, and his smile grew so much that his eyes crinkled at the corners, their green depths no less stirring for their diminished state. “Truly? There wasn’t a rule for that?”

  “Only that I do so quietly and without bothering anyone,” she answered with a shake of her head. “As I said, she did not care for it, but as it was an accomplishment highly favored in a young woman, she could hardly forbid me from doing so. She merely restricted when and where and how I could.” Katherine leaned forward and matched his pose, which she could tell amused him, which amused her in turn. “Sometimes I would play just so I could shut her up.”

  “A very noble endeavor,” he whispered conspiratorially. “And I think you should continue to do so until you no longer hear her.” He leaned back and slapped his knee, then rose, holding a hand out to her. “In fact, I think you should do so now, and every night, if you feel so inclined. And I will sit in there for as long as you play and listen to every single note.”

  She smiled up at him in amusement, confusion, and even with a bit of pleasure. “It may be a rather lot of notes,” she told him, looking from his hand to his face a couple of times for effect.

  “All the better.” He held his hand out a bit further, his eyes teasing her. “My ears have quite remarkable endurance for excellent music.”

  Shaking her head, she took his hand and allowed him to lead her into the music room, sit her at the pianoforte, and select music for her. Though he was being more than a little overbearing about the whole affair, she found that she didn’t mind at all. She would play for him as long as he would listen, and if he could listen forever, than she could play forever.

  And if this were any indication of how their marriage would continue, she would have nothing to find any displeasure in at all.

  Much later that night, Katherine crept as quietly as she could from her room, praying that the door would not squeak as she very carefully brought it to a close, but not enough for it to latch. When she was satisfied enough, she tucked a long strand of her dark hair behind her ear and tiptoed down the hall, past the great stairs that led down to the second floor, and the open entryway that had always been a little grand for her taste. She stopped when she had reached the narrow door at the very end of the hall, and opened that as silently as anybody might be able to, then slid inside and shut the door behind her, allowing the darkness to envelop her.

  Once her eyes adjusted, she swiftly made her way down the confined, rather pokey stairs and just when she thought her heart was going to pound right out of her chest, she came to an abrupt halt as another door met her. She turned the latch and pushed the door open, and sighed to herself as the soft light from the kitchen fire brought the return of her sight.

  With a grin, she scampered over to the shelves and began the hunt for what had brought her here in the first place; the strawberry tarts that had been prepared for her this afternoon.

  She wandered along the shelves and searched all of the cupboards, her bare feet growing a little cold on the stone floor beneath them as they stretched on tiptoe as she searched. Though it was a darkened room, the fire added some light, as did the slivers of moon
light that filtered through the trees and into the one window of the room.

  “Blast,” she whispered as she failed yet again. She pulled her head out from the shelves, and accidentally bumped it on the one above, sending a quick jolt of pain through her. She hissed with the pain, and gingerly brought her head fully out, rubbing the top softly.

  Well, she was not going to bed without having one, so she might just have to turn the whole kitchen over from top to bottom until they were found.

  “Try the middle shelf about three feet to your left, behind the sugar.”

  With a shriek of surprise, Katherine whirled around one hand on her mouth, and one at her chest, clutching at her night wrap.

  Leaning against the far wall, dressed in only his night shirt and dressing gown, hair slightly tousled, grinning unabashedly, was her husband.

  “Well, well,” he drawled, his eyes raking over her in amusement, “if it isn’t my little wife coming to pilfer the kitchens.”

  “I… I…” she stammered, her heart still racing frantically in her chest. He quirked a brow at her inability to formulate any words, and she clamped her lips together, focused her thoughts, then managed, “What are you doing down here, Derek?”

  “Same as you. I wanted another one of those tarts.” His grin seemed to deepen even further, and with it came the disgruntling effect of warmth spreading through her. “Imagine my surprise to find you down here this late at night. And barefoot, at that. Why, Kate, you astonish me.”

  She turned back to the shelves, even as she swallowed hastily, desperate to preserve some of her dignity. “Middle shelf, you said?” she asked, as if he had not just scared the life out of her.

  “Behind the sugar, yes,” came his amused voice, a bit closer.

  Sure enough, once she moved the sugar out of the way, there were the remaining tarts. She allowed herself a small “Ah ha!” of victory, and turned back around to find Derek standing across the table, hands placed firmly upon it. “Would you partake with me, my lord?” she asked with a quirky grin of her own. “I dare not eat alone.”

  His eyes twinkled and he inclined his head. “But of course, my lady. It would be ungentlemanly of me to let you consume these poor tarts unaccompanied.”

  “Well, we would not want that, would we?”

  He shook his head rather somberly. “No, not at all.”

  Like two naughty children, they devoured at least two of the delicious tarts a piece, giggling and shushing each other as if some stern, sallow faced nanny were about to descend upon them. Derek, she soon discovered, was deplorable at hiding his laughter, and he discovered that she had a difficult time maintaining her composure if others could not. It made for several moments of uninhibited snickering that had both in tears.

  When at last she was stuffed, and had licked the last of the strawberry from her fingers, Katherine sighed. “What is going to happen when the staff comes back tomorrow and sees that half of this plate is gone?”

  Derek shrugged lightly as he carefully placed the plate back on the shelf and replaced the sugar in front of it. “Oh, no doubt they’ll come to me with concerns, and I will simply wave it off and say it must have been some hungry vagrant, and they should just make a few more.”

  Katherine grinned up at him. “This hungry vagrant would enjoy that, I think.”

  He chuckled and helped her from her seat, then followed her as she ascended the servants’ stairs again. “The servants’ stairs, too, Kate?” he commented behind her as the darkness fell upon them. “I am surprised at you.”

  “It’s the most direct route to the kitchens,” she defended without shame. “And I am more than capable of navigating these stairs without difficulty in the dark, thank you very much.”

  “So it seems,” his voice returned, sounding thoroughly amused. “I can’t see a blasted thing and have stubbed at least three of my toes already, while you succeed without any effort. You’re not part feline, are you?”

  She snorted in a not very ladylike manner. “Hardly. Just practiced.”

  “Ah, so you venture down to the kitchens by night often, do you?”

  She bit back a groan. She hadn’t meant to let that little detail slip out. However, now that it was, she saw no reason to deny it. “On occasion, yes. I have done so after our marriage frequently, and I believe I did so as a child, but the intervening years, I rarely did.”

  “Why is that?” he asked with real curiosity as they finally reached the door, which he opened for her.

  She nodded her thanks, then slowed her pace to walk beside him down the hall towards their rooms. “It’s quite simple. I had a wedding dress to fit into.”

  “Even so young?” She peered over at him and he was watching her, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

  “You forget who my mother was,” she sighed. “I began hearing about my wedding the day I turned thirteen. Preparations started then, and my figure was the chief subject for criticism. I simply had to fit my dress perfectly. Therefore, the desserts were entirely removed from the house. Not that it helped much anyway, as the dress she forced me into was too small regardless.” She smiled with a touch of humor. “I don’t know if you could tell, but I thought I was going to faint clear away before the service had ever begun. Mother kept telling me beforehand how frightfully pale I was and pinched my cheeks repeatedly to get some color back in them. I shudder to think what I really looked like.”

  They stopped as they reached her bedchamber, and Derek turned to face her outside of the door. “I thought you were a beautiful bride,” he told her, his eyes fixed on her face.

  “You did?” she asked in surprise, her heart catching somewhere in the vicinity of her throat as those eyes held her captive and unable to breathe.

  He nodded slowly, and for the first time, she realized just how close he was to her, how close he had been to her. The air was suddenly too thin, and she could not feel her toes. “It made me so mad,” he murmured.

  “What did?” She almost couldn’t bear to ask, her words nearly stuck in her chest.

  “The way you affected me.” His words were low and rasping as he took all of her in, and everywhere his eyes touched she felt warm until she seemed nothing but an ember herself.

  She swallowed with some difficulty. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Don’t be,” he breathed, reaching out to touch a long strand of hair that had fallen over her shoulder. He played with it, twirled it around his finger, and with each touch, Katherine felt herself slipping further and further on the precarious slope she had found herself on. “You have lovely hair, Kate,” he mused, almost to himself. “You should wear it down more often. It becomes you.”

  “K-Katherine,” she managed, her voice weak and quivering.

  “Oh, no,” Derek said with a slow shake of his head as he continued to toy with her hair, his eyes now back on hers, and something pulled her closer, lured her in to the warmth she saw in them. “No, you’re not Katherine. You haven’t been for some time. I don’t even know Katherine. All I see is Kate. Try her on for size.”

  His words danced across her face as they drew nearer, slowly, maddeningly hesitant and tentative, but closer indeed, and she could not find thought, let alone voice to do as he wished. Her eyes had been on his lips as they had moved, and now she somehow dragged them away back to his eyes.

  Her confusion must have been obvious, for he only gave her the slowest, briefest hint of a nod. “Say it,” he whispered as his fingers in her hair brushed against her ear slightly, sending a chill through her. “Say your name, Kate.”

  She shuddered involuntarily, and from somewhere deep within, she felt more than heard herself whisper, “Kate.”

  The flash of pleasure in his eyes was so potent that she almost swayed into him. “That’s my girl,” he said in a voice so soft she could barely hear him. He was so close, so close she could feel the breath of his words on her cheeks. “That’s perfect. You might even like her, you know, Kate.”

  His nose grazed her
s then, the briefest, barest hint of a touch, but it made her eyelids flutter and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears, and some small, stubborn part of her reared its terrified head and from her lips came the breathless words, “Do you?”

  Time froze as the mood immediately shifted, and Derek, so near to his goal he could taste it, stilled. Her words, so soft and uncertain, and seemingly called up from her very soul, held him back.

  Did he?

  He scrambled for an answer, but too late. She pulled back and he heard the slight gasping that escaped from her as she became aware of their position, of how close they had almost been. “I’m sorry,” she stammered, stepping away and holding her wrap around her more closely. “I will go to bed now, good night.”

  She turned to enter her room, as if determined not to look back. He couldn’t blame her. He was hardly capable of movement, let alone thought. But as her hair slipped from his fingers, he knew he couldn’t let it end this way. He stepped forward and braced the door open just as it was about to close. “Kate,” he said in a low voice, his heart still pounding.

  She peeked around the door, and again his breath caught. Her wide dark eyes were so entrancing, so luminous in the dark night that he almost forgot what he wanted to tell her. The slightly tumbling state of her rich, dark hair was so alluring that he was more than half tempted to sweep her into his arms. And that skin of hers, the very skin she had scrubbed so often to be a duchess, looked so like porcelain that he wanted to touch it. His wife was a transfixing beauty; he was the world’s greatest fool to have ever forgotten.

  He cleared his throat, seeing the uncertainty that was almost fear in her eyes. “The next time you go off to the kitchens in the middle of the night, come and get me. I would like to do this again. Very much.”

  For a long moment, she only stared at him, her eyes searching his, as if seeking the joke in his words. When she found none, the secret smile he so adored appeared on her lips, and she nodded once. “Good night,” she murmured, closing the door softly.