by Marie Force
Good, he thought. If he could continue to surprise her, maybe he stood a chance of winning her back.
* * *
He had thoroughly surprised her. The duke himself had brought her breakfast. He who had a houseful of servants had poured the tea and spread the marmalade. Himself. He’d thought to provide the clothing she needed to continue her search for her grandmother’s key.
As Catherine washed and dressed, she thought of the wall she’d built around her heart and was filled with foolish hope. Who was this man to whom she was married? Was he really so different from the boorish aristocrats she’d had the misfortune to know in the past? Was that possible?
She brushed her long hair until it shone and then twisted it up into a knot that she secured with several well-placed pins.
His soft knock on the door announced his return. Entering the room, he was every bit the dashing duke in the fine gray coat. Though he’d seen her in breeches before, standing before him now in men’s clothing, Catherine felt inadequate and less than feminine for the first time.
However, the heated sweep of his eyes over her body disabused her of any doubt that he found her feminine.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Come with me then.”
Even though she’d planned to keep her distance from him today, she couldn’t resist curiosity about what he was so eager to show her. She followed him through a confounding maze of hallways and passageways. “I’ll never be able to find my way back to my bedchamber.”
“It will be familiar to you in no time at all.”
“I wish I were so confident.”
His smile was warm and loving. “Trust me.”
She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to somehow get back what had been lost, but the deception loomed large between them, reminding her to guard and protect herself from further hurt.
He led her down the grand staircase, past an open door. “That is my study. I spend most of my time there. You should feel free to enter that room whenever you have need of me.”
She wanted to be immune to him and had planned to let him do the talking today, but she discovered she didn’t possess the will to be intentionally rude to him. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your work.”
“I will always want you to interrupt my work.”
The wall she had built around her heart might just as well have been made of sand for the ease with which it crumbled when he unleashed that private, intimate smile on her.
They reached a small set of stairs, and he guided her up to the next landing with a hand to her elbow that heated the flesh beneath her thin linen shirt.
“This way,” he said gruffly. “You’ll want to pay attention to this route as I think you will wish to traverse it rather frequently.”
“Is that so?”
“That is so,” he said with an arrogant confidence that was so far removed from the demeanor of her Jack Bancroft that Catherine nearly didn’t recognize him as the same man.
She was about to say so when he told her to close her eyes. Exasperated, she did as he requested and let him lead her a short distance with the hand he kept on her elbow.
“Okay,” he said, sounding excited and animated as he released his hold on her arm. “You can look now.”
Catherine opened her eyes and blinked several times to focus in the sunlight that streamed into the enormous room. She sucked in a sharp, deep breath when she realized they were in his library where the shelves were so high she had to tip her head to see all the way to the top. There had to be thousands of volumes! With her hand on her chest to contain her galloping heart, Catherine turned to take it all in.
“What do you think?” he asked, smiling at her stunned reaction.
“I’ve never seen so many books in one place! Even the library in Father’s London home can’t compare.”
“I’ve spent many years cultivating our collection.”
“Have you read them all?”
“Some but not even close to six hundred.” He took a step closer but stopped short of touching her, which seemed to cost him. “I’m wondering how long it would take you to read them all.”
“Decades,” she said, continuing to marvel at the sheer magnitude.
“That would be fine with me,” he said with an endearingly hopeful smile. “Come, look at this.” He led her to a table where a huge leather-bound book lay open. “A few years back, I hired a man to catalog our collection. It took him two years to sort and organize everything, but it’s all now listed here by title and author and location on the shelves.”
Catherine took in the neat, precise penmanship, realizing she could spend months just flipping through the catalog to see what was available.
“You’ll be interested in this,” he said, taking her hand to tug her along. “All the travel volumes are shelved here.”
Catherine gasped at the row after row of books about the places she most wished to visit—Paris, Rome, New York, Cairo, New Delhi. Seeing a book about the pyramids, she ventured a shy glance up at him and found him watching her with great interest. “May I?”
“My darling wife, my library is your library.”
Warmed throughout by the love and affection she saw in his eyes, Catherine forced her gaze off him and withdrew the volume from the shelf to flip through a series of intricate drawings of ancient Egypt.
“I thought you might wish to take on the role of overseeing the expansion of our collection,” he said casually, as if he weren’t offering her the stars, the moon and the sun in one statement.
She again looked up at him to gauge his intent. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? You certainly know more about books than I ever will, having already read so many.”
“You’ve probably read more than I have,” she said, for the first time feeling that her extensive reading was inadequate next to someone else’s.
“Doubtful.” Something about the way he said that single word made her think he might be downplaying his own accomplishment so as not to take away from hers. “At any rate, it’s something I think you’d enjoy, so why wouldn’t I turn that role over to you?”
Stunned and amazed, Catherine glanced up at him again. The raw yearning she saw on his face quite simply stole her breath.
“I aim to show you, my love,” he said, running a finger over her cheek as if he couldn’t wait any longer to touch her, “that as my duchess you will want for nothing.”
His use of the word “duchess” shattered their fragile accord, reminding her once again of his deception.
Apparently, he realized his error because he winced. “Catherine, darling, please.” Taking the book from her, he placed it on a table and drew her into his embrace. “Please don’t hate me. I couldn’t bear it.”
“I don’t hate you,” she said softly. For how could she? If nothing else, he’d saved her from the cruel fate of a forced marriage with Lord Lindsey, and for that she would be eternally grateful.
“You are angry, and you have every right to be.”
“I am numb,” she said, finding it hard to breathe when pressed against his muscular chest.
“Perhaps once the shock wears off and you have time to consider everything, you might come to see that I acted out of love.” His lips were soft against her forehead, and Catherine had to resist the yearning to tilt her head back to offer him her mouth. “Perhaps you will see that despite everything that’s happened, none of the things that truly matter have changed between us.”
“I very much wish to believe that.”
“You can believe that.” With both hands on her face, he compelled her to look up at him. “For the rest of my life, I’ll never forget the moment your cap fell off and your glorious golden hair came streaming down your back.” To emphasize his point, he tugged on the pins holding her hair up, and it cascaded free.
“Your Grace!” What had taken a quarter hour to secure, he’d undone in a heartbeat. He combed his fingers through the strands revere
ntly and touched his lips to her face, leaving a damp trail of soft kisses in his wake. “Derek,” he whispered. “My name is Derek. Say it, Catherine. Say my name. I’ve so longed to hear my real name uttered from your sweet lips.”
Somehow Catherine knew that if she gave him that, she’d be granting her approval of what he’d done when she most assuredly did not approve. Though it cost her something dear, she stepped back from him and held out her hand for the pins he’d removed from her hair.
His mouth set in an expression of displeasure she hadn’t seen before as he dropped the pins into her hand.
Her hands trembled as she attempted to restore order to her hair without a mirror. All sorts of emotions jumbled around inside her, competing for attention: sadness, desire, hope, fear, love, despair. He seemed genuinely devoted to fixing the damage his lies had done to their fledgling marriage, and while Catherine was as confused as she’d ever been, she found she could not be deliberately unkind to him.
“Thank you for showing me your library.”
“Our library,” he said testily. “It’s ours. Everything I have is yours. While you may not wish to be married to an unsavory aristocrat, you are, in fact, married to a duke.”
“Thank you for the reminder,” she said in an equally testy tone. “I might’ve forgotten otherwise.”
Clearly unused to being challenged by anyone, he stared at her, agog. The charged silence extended a full minute as neither of them blinked. He was the first to look away, and once again his pain was palpable. His pain, she discovered in that moment, was her pain, too.
Catherine wanted to go to him, to the man who’d shared the agony of his early losses with her, who’d talked of the parents taken from him in an instant and the twin he’d missed his entire life. She wanted to put her arms around him and assure him that somehow they’d get through this and find their way back to each other. But how could she make such assurances when she was no more certain of their future than he was? So she stayed still and waited to see what he would do.
“We have a few hours before your sister marries my cousin,” he said. “If you’re amenable, we can look for the key until it’s time to clean up for the wedding.”
Catherine weighed spending more time alone with her husband against the overwhelming desire to see her sister. Since they were apparently joined for life, she decided she’d have plenty of time with him. Right now, seeing her sister took precedence over everything else, if for no other reason than she needed to tell someone she trusted about everything that had happened since she left home.
“I very much appreciate your accommodation of my efforts to find my grandmother’s key. The clothes, the tools, your assistance. But at the moment, my need to see my sister is my top priority.”
“Very well. I will take you to her at once.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Derek,” he said once again. “My name is Derek.”
As he ushered her out of the library, the name was on the tip of her tongue, where it remained stuck for the time being.
Chapter Nineteen
The duke led her to the west wing of the vast house. On the way, he drew her attention to a portrait of his parents. Catherine took a fleeting glance at the handsome couple and made a note of its location, so she could return for a deeper study at a later date.
Outside the bedchamber assigned to Madeleine, her devoted maid Evangeline hovered. When she saw Catherine coming toward her, she let out a most unladylike squeal and rushed toward her. The young woman had been a dear friend of the McCabe sisters back in their village, and they’d brought her with them when their father became the earl.
Catherine embraced the maid, who seemed embarrassed when she pulled back. “My apologies, Your Grace,” she said, curtsying before the duke. “I am just so very happy to see Her Grace.”
“No apologies needed,” he said. “Her Grace would like to see her sister. Is Lady Madeleine awake?”
“Not yet, but I know she’d want you to wake her, Your Grace,” Evangeline said to Catherine. “She has missed you so terribly. We all have.”
“Thank you, Evangeline. I’ve missed you, too.” Turning to the duke, Catherine looked up at him. “Thank you for your assistance.”
Nodding, he said, “I will fetch you for the wedding.”
As he walked away, Catherine noticed the way his tailored clothing hugged his muscular frame.
“You found yourself a handsome one, Your Grace,” Evangeline whispered with a giggle.
Catherine couldn’t deny that her husband was indeed a handsome man. “Yes.”
“Is he a good man? A kind man?”
“He’s . . .”
“I’m sorry,” the maid said. “It’s certainly none of my business.”
Catherine couldn’t leave her old friend with the wrong impression, for other than some rather significant untruths, he had been both good and kind to her. “He is a good and kind man.”
“I am happy for you then. You certainly deserve nothing less after the way you lost Ian.”
“Thank you. I’m going in to see Madeleine now.”
“I’ll wait out here to give you some privacy. If you need me, just call.”
“We will.” Leaving Evangeline with another quick hug, Catherine eased the door open and snuck inside, closing the door behind her. She opened the drapes to let in some light and went to her sister’s bed. With a hand to Madeleine’s shoulder, Catherine nudged her awake. “Maddie,” she whispered.
Madeleine let out an unholy shriek when she saw her sister and launched into Catherine’s arms. In tears, they hugged for a long time.
“Oh, thank God,” Madeleine said. “I was so very worried about you, Katie. We all were. Even if Father and Mother never said so, they were, too.”
Catherine was saddened to hear that her parents had never expressed concern about her absence, at least not to her sister anyway. “I’m sorry I worried you, but I couldn’t stay there and be forced into a marriage with that boor.”
“I knew exactly why you ran off, but how in the world did you end up married to a duke? Aren’t you the one who always said you’d rather be trampled by horses than be married to an aristocrat—and one who every single miss in London aspired to marry, no less? And what in heaven’s name are you wearing?”
Catherine winced at the reminder of her disdain for the ton, of which she was now apparently a high-ranking member. She experienced an odd feeling of jealousy at realizing her husband had been the toast of the Season. Naturally, all the marriage-minded young women had wanted to marry the handsome, fabulously wealthy duke who was now her husband. “You won’t believe how it happened. I still don’t believe how it happened.”
Madeleine held out her hand to encourage her sister to sit next to her on the bed. “I want to hear all about it.”
“I want to hear all about how you ended up engaged to his cousin.”
“And I shall tell you. After you tell me your story first.”
Snuggled up to her sister, Catherine told her everything that had happened since the day she ran away from home and how she’d come to be wearing men’s clothing.
“So he led you to believe he was the estate manager when he was actually the duke?” Madeleine asked, incredulous.
“Yes, and I fell for his story because I was so besotted I would’ve believed him if he told me the sky was yellow.”
“How did you find out he’d lied?”
“Lord Lindsey showed up and referred to him as Westwood, and he had no choice but to tell me. He swears he was going to tell me today, but I no longer know what to believe. I’m all jumbled up inside. He tells me the same heart that loved me as Jack Bancroft still loves me as the Duke of Westwood.”
“Do you believe that? Do you believe he loves you?”
“Yes,” Catherine said softly. “I believe he does.”
“And do you love him?”
“I loved the man with whom I spent ten of the loveliest days of my life, living a dream
that was shattered when I found out that he’d lied to me from the very beginning. I loved that man more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”
“Even Ian?”
“Yes,” Catherine said, pained to admit the truth. “Even Ian.”
“That is saying something after the way you mourned him.” Seeming lost in thought, Madeleine rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. “Is it possible that you could come to love him just as much as the duke?”
“I don’t know,” Catherine said, expressing her deepest fear. “I have no idea who he really is.” Although he’d worn down her defenses by showing her his library, how was she to know whether he was merely trying to win her over by using the things she’d told him to his advantage? What if she gave him her heart a second time and he lied to her again? “I have to relearn him as if I’ve just met him. I have to find a way to trust a man who has lied to me every day of our acquaintance.”
“It seems to me, from what you’ve said, that he went to extraordinary lengths to protect you from a fate worse than death. Can you deny that?”
“No, I can’t.”
“He is very well regarded in town, known as much for his intellect and financial prowess as he is for his handsomeness and title. I would think you at least owe him the chance to show you who he really is before you decide anything for certain.”
“You are right. Of course, that is what I must do, but I’m so very angry to have been tricked. I’m having a hard time getting past that.”
“I can understand why you’re angry. You’ve always been the smart one in our family, so naturally it would gall you to be deceived this way.”
“Yes,” Catherine said, “I am truly galled.”
“You are also truly married to the man, so you may have to put aside your gall to promote harmony in your life and your home.”
Catherine’s deep, pained sigh answered for her.
“If he is anything at all like his cousin, you should consider yourself a lucky woman.” Madeleine turned on her side and propped her head on her hand. “Is he handsome?”
