Chapter 14

"Did you have a good time in the village today?" Catherine's voice was frosty as she stabbed a piece of venison on her dinner plate, gazing at her husband. "Did you meet anybody by chance?"

Thomas was just about to take a bite of his own venison. He was ravenous. He and Kenneth had spent rather a longer time than he had intended in the Crompton tavern that day, downing ales and chatting with the locals. Towards the end of the afternoon, they had played some dice in a back room and then clutched their winnings to their chests as they stumbled a tad unsteadily into the carriage, heading back home.

Thomas glanced at his friend, who had stayed for dinner, even though Kenneth was slightly worse for wear from the day's drinking. He told himself it was because he wanted to spend more time with his friend, but he knew it was also to circumvent another evening of being alone with Catherine. The tension between them was so thick now that he could carve it with his spearing knife.

Kenneth smiled at him, a bit bleary-eyed, picking up his wine glass. Lady Beatrice was dining with them this evening as well. Perhaps his new wife had the same idea he had regarding safety in company.

"No one in particular," he replied, turning back to Catherine. "We chatted to some locals in the tavern. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Catherine replied in an offhand manner, toying with the meat on her plate. "You are certain you did not speak to anyone of note?"

Thomas frowned slightly. "Quite certain. Actually, there was a rather interesting fellow: a wandering minstrel, who played us a tune on his fiddle for a coin after regaling us about his recent trip to Spain…"

"How fascinating," Catherine said, raising her eyebrows. "I am sure you were riveted."

Thomas's frown deepened. His wife was in a strange mood tonight. He had noticed her shooting him questioning looks ever since they had sat down for dinner.

His eyes roamed over her. She was looking as beautiful as ever this evening but slightly different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it until he realized that she had removed the white lace on the bodice of her rose-colored evening gown, creating a rather more daring, plunging décolletage, and thus exposing the swell of her creamy, full breasts.

Hastily, he averted his gaze from her bosom. Her hair was styled differently this evening, as well. It was swept up in a dramatic way, with tiny brown tendrils framing her face. The look suited her, exposing the whole line of her long, swanlike neck.

"That minstrel was an interesting fellow," Kenneth piped up, grinning at everyone. "But he had one funny eye. I swear it was glass. It never moved an inch in his head. The eye just glared at us the whole time. It was rather disconcerting."

Thomas let out a bark of laughter. His friend really was getting a little worse for wear with drink. He would make sure that the footman didn't refill his wine glass and that they had only one after-dinner brandy together this evening. Kenneth would surely thank him tomorrow.

"And how did you like the village?" Thomas asked, turning back to his wife. "Did you stay there long?"

"Not very long," Catherine replied, an icy look in her green eyes. "You were right. There is nothing of particular interest in that village. Even the local ton seems rather… ordinary."

He raised his eyebrows. "You met with some members of the local ton? Who? I might be acquainted with them."

"I never spoke with them," she said airily. "I just saw two ladies strolling down the main street in a haughty way, as if they were royalty. They looked rather provincial to me." She picked up her wine glass and took a long drink.

"Oh," Kenneth piped up, smiling at her. "Do you mean Miss Baker and Lady Isabella Lyndon? They were the only ladies about today." He frowned slightly. "But they are both rather lovely. I do not think them provincial at all."

Thomas smiled archly, suddenly recalling their brief encounter with the two ladies on the main street when they had first arrived in the village. Kenneth had made a beeline for them straight away, of course.

His friend had never been able to resist a pretty face, never mind two. Thomas had stood back and watched as Kenneth flirted with them before dragging him away after ten minutes of idle, quite boring, chitchat. The conversation had centered around who had attended a local ball. Thomas had almost fallen asleep standing up like a horse.

"Do you think them lovely?" Catherine asked, turning to Kenneth. "Really?"

"Why, yes," he replied, looking surprised. "They are both as pretty as a picture."

"What about you?" Catherine swung her head to look at Thomas. "Did you think them lovely?"

Thomas shrugged. "They are both rather pretty ladies though hardly raving beauties." He frowned, gazing at her. "Why are you splitting hairs about it?"

"No reason," Catherine said airily, picking up her wine glass again. "I was only making conversation. I am sure I am quite wrong about them. First impressions are almost never accurate after all."

Beatrice, who had been following the conversation with a frown, turned to Thomas. "Oh, I saw those ladies!" she exclaimed suddenly. "We saw you chatting to them on the street, just as we were leaving…" she trailed off, looking startled as she noticed Catherine glaring at her.

"I do not recall that, Beatrice," Catherine said in a tight voice. "I saw the two ladies before we entered the teashop. I never saw them afterward although you may have done so." She smiled dazzlingly. "Perhaps I was just feeling too ill."

Thomas smiled slightly, gazing at Beatrice. "I see," he drawled. "You should have dragged my wife across the street, Lady Beatrice, to say hello. I would have been happy to introduce you both to the ladies." He gazed back at Catherine. "It is always beneficial to make local acquaintances in the district."

Beatrice bit her lip. "Oh, Cathy was feeling ill as she said. We think it was the clotted cream…"

"I am certain you have made many acquaintances in the district," Catherine stiffly interjected, raising her chin and gazing at him with a challenging glint in her eyes. "I am certain you are very well known in the district, husband."

He chuckled, sitting back in his chair and gazing at her. How beautiful she looked, with her green eyes shooting sparks, her delectable bosom rising and falling, glaring at him. Now he realized why she was pursuing this subject so doggedly.

His new wife was jealous that he had been speaking with those ladies on the street. He was sure of it.

"I make myself known," he said, waving a hand in the air. "It pays to keep abreast of the activities in the area." He paused. "One never knows when it might prove useful after all."

"I see," Catherine gritted out. "And did your conversation with the two ladies in the village today prove useful, then?"

Thomas tapped his fingers on his chin, pretending to ponder the question. Catherine kept glaring at him, her nostrils flaring slightly. She really did look particularly gorgeous when she was in high dudgeon. What a spirited woman she was.

"It may," he replied, flashing a smile at her and picking up his wine glass. "At any rate, you will be the first to know if something comes of the acquaintance with the ladies. I do assure you."

There was an uncomfortable silence as they gazed at each other across the table, neither of them batting an eyelid. Kenneth looked puzzled, his head swinging between them. Beatrice was gazing down at her plate, picking at her food, her cheeks pink. She looked embarrassed.

The rest of the meal was finished in silence. As they stood up to leave the room—the ladies to retire to the drawing room, the gentlemen to the study as custom dictated, even if it was a small party—Thomas couldn't resist brushing past his wife, standing just a little too close.

She jumped, glaring at him. He gave her a dazzling smile before moving away, taking Kenneth by the arm.

Thomas smiled to himself. It didn't hurt to stoke the flames of her jealousy just a little. Perhaps it would finally launch her into his arms. Catherine thought herself immune from the agonies of attraction, but she wasn't. She had just proved it to him.

As he and Kenneth walked up the stairs to the study, he wondered why he was pursuing this so relentlessly. Why he couldn't just accept that their marriage was one of convenience, as they had agreed, and be done with it? It was the safer path to take, just as she insisted. He didn't disagree with her. He wanted it to be a marriage of convenience as much as she did.

Just one time. If I can have her just once, I will slake this overwhelming thirst for her and be done with it.

"He is impossible," Catherine huffed, shaking her head. "He is utterly shameless!"

"How so?" Beatrice looked at her quizzically. "What are you talking about, Cathy?"

Catherine sighed heavily, shaking her head again. She couldn't express her feelings. She didn't even know why she was feeling so outraged. He had only been talking to some ladies on the street after all. She had hardly caught him kissing one of them…

A pang of pure pain shot through her heart at the thought. It shocked her. Where had that come from?

I am only feeling this way because of what happened with my father. It is because I have seen the result of adultery firsthand and how much it hurt my mother. That is all. I am simply recalling the feeling.

She took a quick sip of her wine. Yes, that was what it must be. After all, she knew that her new husband would surely take a mistress or two, especially if they never shared a bedchamber. She didn't begrudge him doing it. It meant that he left her alone, didn't it?

"It is nothing, dearest," she replied before taking a deep breath and turning to Beatrice. "Nothing at all. I am simply tired, that is all."

"Are you sure?" Beatrice was looking at her closely. "You seem overwrought, Cathy. I noticed it at the dinner table as well. Are you still feeling a little ill?"

"That must be it," Catherine said quickly, flashing her a small smile. "I shall probably retire early this evening if you do not mind." Then her smile widened. "I am so happy you called and then let me persuade you to stay the night. You are a jewel, Bea."

Beatrice leaned over, patting her hand. "I was happy to do it. Miss Vickers needed a little persuasion, but she agreed in the end." She glanced at her companion, who was sewing in a corner of the drawing room, then back at Catherine. "When are you returning to London?"

"In four days," Catherine replied, rubbing her neck. She felt as tense as a high wire at a circus. "The Dowager Duchess, my husband's grandmother, is coming here tomorrow to stay a few days…" she trailed off.

The gentlemen had returned. Catherine tried not to look at them as they walked into the room, chatting together, but then she couldn't resist. It was as if her eyes had a mind of their own.

She started. Her husband was staring at her, a quizzical look on his face. Hastily, she turned away, her heart thumping hard in her chest.

He could talk to any lady he liked. It had nothing to do with her. An agreement had been made. So what on earth was wrong with her?