by Marie Force
“Extremely.”
“Is he charming?”
“Very much so.”
“Is he kind?”
“Yes,” Catherine said, thinking of the tender way he’d cared for her when she was ill, the reverence with which he’d loved her and the indulgence he’d shown for her need to find her grandmother’s missing key. “He is kind.”
“And the rest.” Madeleine’s face burned with a heated blush. “Is it bearable?”
“It is far, far more than bearable. It is pleasure unlike anything I ever could’ve imagined possible between a man and a woman. Even last night, when I was as angry with him as I’ve ever been with anyone, it was still miraculous.”
“Oh, Catherine, you do love him! How could you not love a man like the one you’ve just described?”
Catherine moaned. “I am so humiliated by the ease with which he deceived me that I don’t want to love him anymore.”
“In light of his deception, I do believe it is fair for you to be angry and to perhaps make him suffer for a while, so he knows you won’t abide such behavior in the future. But if you truly love him, don’t take it too far and let your anger drive him away.”
Catherine thought about what her sister had said. “You are quite right. I shouldn’t let him off too easily, but I don’t wish to completely ruin what we shared before his lies came to light. There was something positively magical about those days and nights.”
Madeleine reached for Catherine’s hand and squeezed. “You may be able to recapture that magic. In time.”
“That would be nice.” She turned to her sister. “Now, tell me how you came to be affianced to Mr. Eagan.”
Madeleine blushed fiercely again. “He is, without a doubt, the most utterly charming and handsome man I’ve ever met, even if he is a rakehell of the highest order.”
“Father must’ve had an apoplexy when you took an interest in him.”
“You don’t know the half! I had a ferocious row with Father and Mother that Mr. Eagan overheard.” Madeleine shuddered with distaste. “It was so unsavory.”
“I take it as a good sign that he overheard but didn’t run away.”
“Quite to the contrary,” Madeleine said with a satisfied smirk. “He declared his intentions to court me and promised Father he would be respectful at all times.”
“And has he been?”
“Yes,” Madeleine said with exasperation. “He has yet to even kiss me! I fear if I had to wait any longer than today for his kiss I might go absolutely mad.”
Catherine laughed at her sister’s dismay. “You love him then?”
“Terribly. The very sight of him makes my heart pound and my mouth go dry. I get all fluttery and achy.” Her face flushed from chin to forehead. “Down there.”
“I know that feeling.”
“Catherine, you must tell me what to expect on my wedding night. I honestly have no idea what I should do or say or anything.”
“Oh, my darling, you mustn’t be afraid. If Simon truly loves you, and I suspect he does if he has reformed his rakish ways to be the man you need him to be, then he will take all due care to ensure your pleasure.”
“How will he do that? You have to tell me.”
Catherine thought about what she should say and how she should say it. “He will remove your clothing and his.”
“All of it?”
“Yes, all of it,” Catherine said, laughing. “It is really quite exquisite.” Catherine thought of the first time she’d lain with Jack—or rather Derek. It was nearly impossible to think of him as anyone other than her Jack. “The feel of his skin against yours is a most thrilling sensation. I promise you will enjoy it. He will touch you and kiss you—all over.”
“Everywhere?” Madeleine asked, her voice a startled squeak.
“Everywhere,” Catherine said, tingling at the memories of such intimacies with her own husband.
“Oh, my Lord.” Madeleine put her hands over her ears. “I am utterly unprepared to hear such things.”
Catherine pulled on her sister’s arms to remove her hands from her ears. “That’s not even the best of it.”
“There’s more?”
“Oh, yes, much more.”
“I may expire on the spot from hearing about this. How will I ever endure doing it?”
“You will more than endure it, my dear. You will come to crave it.”
“I can’t imagine that.” Madeleine set her jaw in the mulish expression Catherine knew so well. “You may as well tell me the rest.”
Smiling indulgently at her sister, Catherine said, “Are you aware of what a man has . . . down there.”
“It’s a phallus,” Madeleine said proudly.
Catherine bit back a laugh at Madeleine’s use of such a scientific word. “Yes. When a man is aroused, his phallus becomes hard. It throbs and pulses.”
Madeleine shuddered. “It sounds dreadful.”
“I assure you,” Catherine said, laughing now, “it is not dreadful.” She smiled thinking of the first time she saw Jack’s—Derek’s—phallus and how she’d feared it wouldn’t fit inside her. “When you first see it, you may worry it won’t fit.”
“Fit? Fit where?”
“He will put it inside of you, love.”
Madeleine’s mouth fell open in utter shock. “Inside of me.”
“Your body will ease his entry by producing moisture. After the first time, which does hurt a small bit, it will be highly pleasurable.”
“It sounds like complete torture. Maybe I have been hasty in agreeing to this marriage—”
Catherine stopped her sister by placing two fingers on her lips. “With whom would you rather experience this ‘torture’? Your lovely Mr. Eagan or Lord Lindsey?”
At the reminder of the vile lord, Madeleine seemed to rally. “You will stand up for me, won’t you?”
“Of course, I will.”
* * *
With the help of one of the housemaids, Catherine found her way back to her bedchamber where another maid loaded gowns of every imaginable color into the wardrobe.
“Ah, excuse me,” Catherine said.
Startled, the young maid spun around, her eyes widening. “Oh, Your Grace, it is true what they said!”
“What who said?”
“The other maids. They said Her Grace is as lovely as a fairy princess, and it’s true. You are!”
Embarrassed by the girl’s effusiveness, Catherine said, “That is very kind of you to say. What is your name?”
“I’m so sorry, Your Grace!” She dropped into a curtsy. “I am Julia, your lady’s maid. His Grace instructed me to take good care of his lady wife.”
“It is very nice to meet you, Julia, but I do not require a lady’s maid. I am quite capable of dressing myself.”
“His Grace mentioned you might say that very thing, and he asked me to remind you it is nearly impossible for a lady to tie her own corset.”
“His Grace knows I rarely wear a corset,” Catherine said, and then realized she’d embarrassed the young woman with her candor.
Julia cleared her throat. “All your lovely new gowns require a corset if they are to fit properly.” She took a careful and close look at Catherine’s figure. “At least you won’t need the bust cream that is all the fashion in town.”
“Bust cream?” Catherine asked in disbelief.
“Oh, yes, Your Grace,” Julia said, her expression deadly serious. “Lady’s maids are using the cream to enhance the assets that you were fortunate to come by naturally.”
Catherine had never heard anything more ridiculous and was thankful for her natural assets.
“His Grace said that I am to dress you for your sister’s wedding.” As she spoke, Julia moved about the room, laying a chemise made of finest linen, drawers, silk stockings and garters on the bed. “It’s so exciting, is it not? Two weddings in one week! What a happy place Westwood Hall has become all of a sudden.”
“Yes,” Catherine said. How was she to s
end this dear, sweet girl away without hurting her feelings? Of course, His Grace had known she never would. “A happy place indeed.”
“Might I suggest this for an afternoon wedding?” Julia withdrew a satin gown in the palest shade of blue. “It will look so lovely with your eyes.”
“That would be fine. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Your Grace. It is my pleasure to serve you.”
“I do have to thank you. I will always thank you. And you must call me Catherine when we are alone.”
Scandalized, Julia struck a hand to her heart. “I could never!” The young girl swallowed convulsively. “Your Grace.”
Resigned to never again hearing her given name from people who were of the same station she’d been before her father ascended to the earldom, Catherine turned herself over to the eager maid. Julia worked with single-minded determination over the next hour to transform her into a duchess. Hot tongs were applied to her hair, rouge to her cheeks and paint to her lips. Silk stockings were affixed to garters, and her corset tied so tightly she could barely breathe.
Throughout the entire ordeal, Catherine avoided looking at the mirror and allowed her mind to drift. This would be her life from now on. Constant fawning, dressing, primping—all useless fripperies to a woman more concerned with and accustomed to the more practical aspects of life.
He’d said she could be any kind of duchess she wished to be. Did that extend to teaching the village children how to read? Tending to the tenant families when they were struck by illness? Continuing the search for her grandmother’s key until it was found and not until the duke ran out of patience with her folly? On this first day, he’d been trying to impress her and earn back her favor by providing the clothing she needed to work at the dig site. While she’d been pleased by the gesture, she would reserve judgment to see how long he kept up the pretense of allowing his duchess to dig in the dirt.
It wouldn’t take long to determine if he’d meant what he said. As a plan to test his fortitude took root in her mind, a smile tugged at her lips. She would test him at every turn and decide for herself if his intentions were truly honorable.
“Your Grace,” Julia said. “You can look now.” The hint of humor in her maid’s tone wasn’t lost on Catherine.
For some reason Catherine was exceptionally nervous as she raised her eyes to study her reflection. A gasp escaped from her lips. She had been completely transformed. A once provincial woman was now a regal duchess from head to toe. Rising from her vanity, she went to stand in front of the full-length mirror, gaping at the sight before her.
“Are you not pleased, Your Grace?” Julia asked timidly.
Catherine cleared her throat and tried to get her brain working again. “I am very pleased,” she said, though she barely recognized the woman staring back at her. “Thank you.”
A knock on the door had Julia scurrying to answer it. In the mirror, Catherine watched Julia curtsy to the duke.
“Her Grace is all ready, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Julia. That’ll be all.” As he dismissed the maid with three little words, he was every bit the imperial duke and nothing at all like the man she’d spent ten glorious days loving with her whole heart. In the mirror she could see he was also every bit the duke in his attire—black velvet coat, striped trousers, creamy white shirt with the new fashionable collar and tie, and black shoes polished to a brilliant shine.
Because she could no longer delay the inevitable, she turned to him and watched his eyes heat with desire and satisfaction. Naturally, he was satisfied. He’d gotten his way. He now had a duchess who looked every bit the part. She was certain he was quite satisfied indeed.
“You are divinely beautiful,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
Though the word “divine” made for a better-than-average compliment, she said, “Anyone can be divinely beautiful with the proper resources.” The moment the words were out of her mouth she felt like an ungrateful, catty shrew.
“All the resources on God’s green earth could not create that which is naturally yours alone.”
That, she thought, was a much better-than-average compliment. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said because anything else would’ve been rude.
“Derek,” he said tightly. “My name is Derek.”
Catherine met his gaze but refused to budge. If he expected her to give him what he seemed to most want, he would have to earn it.
The battle of wills lasted until he finally blinked, looked away and extended his arm to her. “Shall we?”
Catherine closed the distance between them and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm to let him lead her downstairs to her sister’s wedding.
Chapter Twenty
Derek stood by his cousin’s side and Catherine next to her sister as the vicar performed the marriage ceremony for Madeleine and Simon in the parlor. Outside the door, Mrs. Langingham dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief while the rest of the household staff gathered around her to watch the ceremony. Derek and his cousin had probably shocked the staff by marrying within days of each other, but they had each married for love, something he certainly wouldn’t have expected for either of them as recently as two weeks ago.
As the vicar droned on about the sacred covenant of marriage, Derek took covert glances at his achingly beautiful duchess, still trying to believe she was real. Listening to Simon and Madeleine speak their vows and hearing the obvious joy in both their voices made Derek sad for what he’d denied himself and Catherine with his deception. Would they ever again know the kind of joy they’d experienced during the blissful week at his grandmother’s home? Would she ever again laugh as freely as she had then or love him with the abandon that had changed his life forever? What if she couldn’t get past what he had done? Were they destined to live in this state of purgatory, knowing what was possible between them but never again achieving that level of utter perfection?
Tortured by his thoughts, Derek forced a smile for his beloved cousin and Simon’s new bride, saying and doing all the right things, going through the motions even though he felt dead inside because his own wife never once looked his way during the ceremony or the celebratory luncheon that followed. Derek forced himself to swallow the delicious food Amelia and her staff had made, but he might as well have been eating dirt, so consumed was he by despair and desperation. The last time he’d experienced such despair had been the day he’d awoken to learn of his parents’ deaths. Needless to say, that wasn’t something he cared to remember or relive, but his unrest over Catherine and the state of their marriage took him right back to that awful day.
“Derek?”
Simon’s voice interrupted his painful musings. “I’m sorry. What did you say?” The four of them sat at a round table in the cozy breakfast room, which had been transformed for the celebratory luncheon.
“Madeleine and I think the four of us ought to take a wedding trip together, somewhere none of us has ever been.”
“That would be nice.” Derek wiped his mouth with a white cloth napkin. “Catherine desires the opportunity to travel. I promised to show her the world, so wherever she wishes to go would be fine with me.”
“Where shall we go, Catherine?” Madeleine asked, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “You’ve always wanted to see the pyramids. Shall we go to Egypt?”
Derek watched her, hoping for some spark of excitement or interest or anything. But his wife merely shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to her in the least when he knew otherwise.
“Wherever you wish to go,” she said to her sister.
“But I thought—”
A loud crash from the front of the house had Derek and Simon rushing toward the front door. “Stay here,” Derek called back to the women as he and Simon ran for the door to find two footmen fending off a livid Lord Lindsey, accompanied by Lord Brisbane. They must’ve left before first light to have gotten there so quickly.
The skirmish had resulted in one of the large stone planters bein
g knocked over. It lay shattered in the driveway, dirt and flowers scattered about.
Derek reached for the pistol he’d tucked into the back of his dress pants in anticipation of this very moment and fired a shot into the air, which startled everyone involved, as he’d intended.
“State your business,” he said to Lindsey.
“You have something that belongs to me, and I want it back,” Lindsey said, his face red from the exertion of fending off the footmen, who were no less than fifteen years younger than him. He straightened his rumpled coat and used his fingers to return the greasy strands of his hair to the top of his otherwise-bald pate.
The thought of such a swine getting his hands on either Catherine or Madeleine made Derek thankful he hadn’t eaten much. “We have nothing that belongs to you here, so be on your way.”
“I was promised betrothal to the earl’s daughter. I am here to collect her.”
“I’m afraid you’re too late, my lord,” Derek said, his tone dripping with condescension. “Both the earl’s daughters are legally wed to other men, which means you have no business here.”
The viscount’s face turned a startling shade of purple as he turned to the earl, who visibly cowered. “I will see you hanged.”
Derek rolled his eyes. “Save the melodramatics.”
“This man owes me a king’s ransom,” Lindsey said, “and I will collect it, or I will see him hanged.”
“How much does he owe you?” Derek asked while Simon stood by his side, prepared to act if need be.
“Five thousand pounds.”
Shocked to his core, Derek shifted his gaze to the man who was his father-in-law. “Is this true? Do you owe this man five thousand pounds and did you promise him one of your daughters in marriage to pay off this outrageous debt?”
“It is true, Your Grace,” Brisbane said, casting his eyes down in shame.
It was all Derek could do to remain still when he wanted to pummel the man to within an inch of his miserable existence.
A gasp from behind him had Derek spinning in time to see Catherine and Madeleine’s stricken expressions.
“Papa,” Catherine said tearfully. “How could you?”
