by Marie Force
Catherine let out a most unladylike squeal. “Don’t touch me with that thing!”
Even though his heart ached at the rancor he heard in her voice, he chuckled. “Where do you expect me to put it? There’s not exactly a lot of extra room up here.”
“Put it anywhere but against me!”
He pressed his lips to her ear. “That’s not what you said when you had it in your mouth.”
A shudder overtook her body. “Don’t be vulgar.”
Brushing his tongue over her earlobe, he said, “It’s hardly vulgar to speak of lovemaking with one’s own wife.”
Catherine shifted her head away from him.
“I understand you are angry with me—and with good reason. We will have ample time to discuss that after we’ve seen to your sister’s safety. When we arrive at Westwood Hall, I would appreciate it if you made an effort to hide your feelings of enmity toward me from the servants unless you wish for our marital strife to be the talk of the village by morning.”
“You’re already speaking differently,” she said so softly he had to strain to hear her.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You sound nothing at all like my Jack.”
“Whom do I sound like?” Derek asked, genuinely baffled.
“The aristocrat you are.”
“How is that so different from whom I’ve been?”
“It’s as different as night and day.”
“And you so preferred the penniless estate manager to the wealthy duke?”
She nodded. “I understood him and his world.”
“Maybe if you give the duke a chance, you’ll come to understand him and his world as well.”
“I know enough about his world to last me a lifetime, and none of it appeals to me.”
“You do a disservice to us both by judging me based on your experiences with your uncle, your father and Lord Lindsey. Not all aristocrats are created equal.”
Apparently, Catherine had nothing to say to that.
They rode the rest of the way to the manor in silence, but Derek was acutely aware of her body pressed against his, the fragrance of her hair, the softness of her belly under his hand. He wanted to move his hand up to cup her breast and toy with her nipple but knew such an advance would be unwelcome. The knowledge made his heart ache from the loss of her love.
On the short ride home, it became abundantly clear to Derek that he was going to have to start all over to win her heart. And this time would be far more difficult than the first time had been. His every word would be treated with suspicion and contempt until he was able to prove himself to her all over again. The enormity of the task he had before him was unlike any challenge he’d ever faced, and the stakes had never been higher.
When they entered the yard, Derek directed Hercules to the front portico. As Rutledge rushed out to meet them, Derek experienced a sense of desperation. What if she never again felt for him the way she had only an hour ago? After having experienced that kind of love, how would he go on without it?
“Catherine.” He tightened his arm around her and pressed his lips to her neck.
She drew in a sharp, deep breath as every muscle in her body tensed.
“I did a terrible thing by deceiving you, but I’m still the same man you fell in love with. The heart that belongs only to you still beats in my chest. I will do everything in my power to make you happy. You need only let me.”
Catherine twisted free of his tight embrace and allowed Rutledge to help her down from the horse.
The butler glanced up at Derek. “Mr. Bancroft.”
“It’s all right, Rutledge. Her Grace is aware of my title.”
“Ah,” the butler said, obviously pleased by the news. “Very good, Your Grace.”
Derek had no doubt the deception had been difficult for his servants, who showed him the utmost respect and decorum at all times. “Welcome to Westwood Hall, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Mr.—” Catherine murmured.
“Rutledge, my lady.”
“Mr. Rutledge.”
Derek was relieved that her breeding and manners took precedence over her anger.
“Your Grace,” Rutledge said to Derek. “If I may, we received word from your cousin that he is bringing Her Grace’s sister, Lady Madeleine, to Westwood Hall. It seems they are betrothed, and she is in some sort of danger.”
If Rutledge had told Derek that the world was coming to an end at the stroke of midnight, he would not have been more shocked than he was to hear that Simon was betrothed to anyone, let alone Catherine’s sister.
“Oh!” Catherine exclaimed, tears sparkling in her eyes. “Then she is safe.” She grasped the startled butler’s arm. “My sister is safe?”
“I assure you,” Derek said to his wife, “if Simon has her under his protection, she is quite safe.” He couldn’t wait to hear how his rakehell of a cousin had ended up betrothed to the belle of the Season. Recalling his one brief encounter with Catherine’s stunning sister, Derek had an inkling of how it might’ve come to pass, but he would need to see with his own eyes to believe it. “This news saves us a trip to London.”
Mrs. Langingham came rushing down the stairs wearing a heavy robe over her nightclothes and a cap on her hair. “Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft. Welcome.”
“Her Grace has been told,” Rutledge said.
Mrs. Langingham dropped into a deep curtsy before Catherine. “Your Grace, it is my honor to welcome you home.”
“Mrs. Langingham,” Derek said. “Please show Her Grace to the bedchamber next to mine.”
“Of course, sir. This way, Your Grace.” After barking at the maids to draw Her Grace a bath, Mrs. Langingham gestured for Catherine to follow her up the stairs.
At the landing halfway up the grand staircase, Catherine turned briefly to look at him. In the instant before she schooled her expression to one of indifference, he saw fear and anxiety and heartbreak on her beautiful face. Before he could reassure her that none of the most important things between them had changed, she turned and let Mrs. Langingham lead her away.
Chapter Seventeen
As Catherine followed the diminutive housekeeper down long corridors, she wished she had bread crumbs to drop so she could find her way out again. The deeper she traveled into the palatial home, the more anxious she became.
Remembering Mrs. Langingham’s kindness during her illness, Catherine made an effort to keep up with the older woman’s nervous chatter.
Mrs. Langingham bustled into a warm bedchamber done in rose silks and burgundy velvets. This room was much larger than the one Catherine had been given the first time she stayed here.
The housekeeper yanked open the heavy drapes and threw open the window to let in the cool evening breeze. “We’ve sent one of the footmen to the village to see if Your Grace’s new gowns are finished. Of course, His Grace will want to take you to London to be properly outf itted.”
“That won’t be necessary—”
“I just had the staff up here day before yesterday to freshen the linens and dust,” she said. “Isn’t that a stroke of good fortune? Now, let me check on your bath.” She went into the attached bathing room, leaving Catherine alone with her thoughts. Her mind raced as she struggled to process her sudden change in station. Married to a duke, of all things. Thinking back to the first night, when she’d been so terribly ill, she realized the deception had begun then. Perhaps if she’d been in her right mind, she would’ve known to question how an estate manager had such authority in the home of a duke.
She thought of the luxurious coach that had conveyed her to Scotland and of their wedding night at the inn when the staff had fallen over themselves to tend to the newlyweds. They’d known who he really was and had given him the respect afforded a duke.
All the signs had been there, but she’d missed them. He’d succeeded in so completely dazzling her with his charm, wit and lovemaking that it had never occurred to her to question anything he told her.
Now she
would question every word he uttered. She would always wonder if he was telling her the truth or some version of it. Surely there were laws on the books that would give her a way out of a marriage she’d been coerced into. Images of the blissful days and nights she’d spent in his arms at the cottage flashed through her mind, torturing her with reminders of what could’ve been.
When her legs would no longer support her, she sank into an armchair. Her hands trembled, and her stomach ached. It would’ve been better if she’d never known the bliss of his love. Then she wouldn’t have to suffer through this agony.
“Off we go,” Mrs. Langingham said when she returned.
Weary and overwhelmed, Catherine allowed Mrs. Langingham to take charge. Catherine was led into the bathing room, undressed and shepherded into the tub full of steaming water, which went a long way toward taking away the chill that had settled deep into her bones despite the heat of the evening. While her hair was washed, Catherine focused on a painting on the wall that reminded her of home. Comforted by thoughts of her village, she ached for the children, the books, the stables. She understood that world. This world, the world occupied by her new husband, was entirely foreign to her.
Mrs. Langingham handed her a cake of soap, which Catherine dragged over her skin out of necessity more than anything. Maybe if she scrubbed hard enough, she could clean off the stain his deception had left on her. She was helped out of the tub by strong, competent hands. Her hair was dried and brushed. A night rail was produced.
“Over your head now,” Mrs. Langingham said in the cheerful singsong voice she’d used to guide Catherine through her bath. “We’ll be needing to find you a lady’s maid who can attend to you properly.”
“I don’t need a maid.”
“Of course you do, Your Grace.”
When she was dressed, Catherine sat on the edge of the bed, and Mrs. Langingham continued to bustle around the room, cleaning up.
“Can I fix you something to eat, Your Grace?”
“I’d prefer that you call me Catherine.”
Mrs. Langingham stopped what she was doing and stared at her. “But I can’t, Your Grace. It wouldn’t be proper!”
“When we are alone, there should be nothing preventing you from using my given name. I’m no different from you or anyone else who works here.”
“But, my lady, that’s not true. You’re our mistress now. We are at your service.”
“It’s not what I want.”
“It is not my place to speak freely.”
Catherine looked up at her. “Please speak your mind.”
“Your Grace, the duke is the finest man I’ve ever known. Anything he did was only with your well-being in mind.”
Catherine doubted his motives had been that pure.
“I understand that you have suffered a shock today, but I ask of you, I implore you to give him a chance. To let him show you—”
“Thank you, Mrs. Langingham,” Jack—or rather Derek—said from the passageway that joined their two rooms. He wore a dark blue robe, and his damp hair indicated he’d recently had a bath of his own. “I can take it from here.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Mrs. Langingham seemed embarrassed to have been caught extolling her employer’s virtues. “Good night to you both.” The door clicked shut behind her, leaving them alone.
An awkward silence hung over the room, reminding Catherine once again of what had been lost.
“Do you have everything you need?”
Catherine fisted the counterpane, worried that if she let go she’d slide into a boneless puddle on the floor. “Yes.”
As he walked over to the bed and sat next to her, Catherine’s heart began to pound, and her mouth went dry. She wasn’t sure what she wanted more—to lean away from him or into him.
He reached for her hand, pried it free of the grip she had on the counterpane and enveloped it in his much larger, much warmer hand. His touch and his alluring scent reminded her of what they’d shared in the cottage, and her heart broke all over again.
“I have something I wish to give you,” he said, sliding a gold band that glittered with diamonds and rubies onto her finger before bringing her hand to his lips for a soft kiss. “Like this room that’s now yours, the ring was my mother’s. I’ve saved it all these years, planning to give it to my wife someday. It pained me on our wedding day to not be able to give you a ring, but there wasn’t time to retrieve it from the safe. After Lindsey came here looking for you that first time, all I could think about was getting to you before he did.”
Catherine wanted to reject the overture. She wanted to tell him it didn’t matter if she had a ring or not, but knowing how painful the loss of his parents had been, she didn’t have the heart to take the ring off and give it back to him. Thinking of his parents and the story he’d told her about their horses being spooked made her wonder. “Was what you told me about how your parents died true?”
“Yes. I was six. I went to bed a little boy and woke up a duke. I’ve been a duke ever since. The only break I’ve ever gotten from my duties since I reached my majority was the seven days I spent at the cottage with you.”
Something in the way he said that told her his position hadn’t been without its burdens. “And were you really a twin?”
Nodding, he said, “I swear to you, everything I told you was true—except my name.”
Unable to remain seated next to him any longer, she got up and walked over to the fireplace that was cold and empty on this warm evening.
He followed her. “I will do everything in my power to make you happy, Catherine,” he said, taking her hands and bringing them to his lips. “If you would only give me a chance to show you how our life could be. It doesn’t have to be so different from what we shared at the cottage.”
Though she’d intended to remain silent, a snort of disbelief escaped from her lips.
“I understand you find that hard to believe,” he continued, undeterred. “I want you to know that I respect your feelings about the aristocracy. In fact, I share many of them. I have no need for society or a life spent flitting from one ballroom to another. I am perfectly content to have a quiet life right here with you and whatever children we may be blessed to have. What you must believe is that I truly love you.”
Catherine’s mind raced with a hundred thoughts and questions. She wanted—no, needed—so badly to believe his love was true, even if nothing else he’d told her was. “I feel the fool,” she said softly. “There were so many clues. Why didn’t you tell me after we were married?”
“I tried to tell you on our wedding night. I told you there was something I needed to tell you, but you said there’d be plenty of time for that later. You said then you’d never leave me because you couldn’t possibly live without me. Do you remember?”
“I remember a lot of things,” she said stiffly, “such as the seven days that followed our wedding during which you had ample time to inform me that I had not, in fact, married an estate manager as I’d been led to believe. Rather, I was married to the duke himself, the duke I’d been told was abroad for the summer.”
His face was a study in blatant pain, and why that hurt her, as well, would be something she’d ponder later when his large presence wasn’t requiring her full attention.
“I have no reason to hope that you will believe me, but I had planned to tell you the truth tomorrow.”
Again, she snorted in disbelief. “Then you’ll pardon me if I don’t believe you.”
“I wanted us to have one week together before I changed everything. I wanted to celebrate the best birthday I’ve had since I was a very little boy in peace. I was going to tell you in the morning.”
“I have no way to know if that is true.”
“It is, Catherine. I swear to you—”
She held up a hand to stop him, and the diamonds on the band he’d placed on her finger glittered in the candlelight. “Please. I simply can’t listen to any more of your assurances.”
Judgin
g from the stormy expression on his face, the duke was unused to anyone shutting him down, least of all a woman.
“Let’s get some rest,” he said, sounding suddenly less sure of himself. “Perhaps things will seem less dire in the morning.”
Startled, she looked over at him. “Surely you don’t expect . . .”
“We are still married, my love, and I most certainly intend to share your bed.”
* * *
As her expressive eyes flashed with indignation, Derek told himself he was a heartless bastard. A true gentleman would’ve given her the night to herself, so she could come to terms with what had happened. A desperate man in love, however, feared if he gave her too much time to think about the many ways he’d done her wrong, he’d have no chance of earning her love a second time. He couldn’t let that happen.
“I don’t wish to share a bed with you, Your Grace.”
The utter disdain in her tone wounded him. Didn’t she know he’d relinquish his title and everything he owned to see her look at him again with the love she’d given so freely only a few hours ago? Derek would have given up his title and holdings in a heartbeat, if only they wouldn’t have gone to Anthony.
“I’m afraid I must insist.”
The look she gave him was so full of hatred that something inside him shriveled up and died, a feeling not unlike what he’d experienced when he lost his parents.
“I’d like to wait up for Madeleine.” Her voice wavered with emotion. “I haven’t seen her in such a long time.”
“They’re not due to arrive until close to dawn. There’s no need for you to sit up all night waiting for her. You’ll have plenty of time with your sister tomorrow.” He stood and tugged on the tie to his robe.
She shrank back from him, as if he were going to attack her or something equally unsavory.
Reaching out, he ran a hand over her face, making her flinch.
“I’m not a monster, Catherine,” he said softly. “Everything I did was done with your best interests at heart.”
“Everything?”
“The only thing I ever lied to you about was my name.”
Her eyes widened with incredulity. “You honestly believe that, don’t you? You honestly think that was your only lie!” Pushing past him, she paced the length of the room before turning to face him. In the candlelight, she was magnificent. Her hair shone like spun gold, her blue eyes were hot with fire and her breasts swayed under the thin lawn of her night rail. “Everything was a lie! Every word, every kiss, every gesture, every moment of laughter and love. It was all a lie!”
