Chapter 16

"Grandmother." The Duke looked embarrassed, his cheeks reddening slightly. Quickly, he glanced at Catherine then back to the Dowager Duchess. "That question is not seemly."

Catherine felt her own cheeks turn pink with mortification. The Dowager Duchess, however, didn't look shamefaced at her bold question. On the contrary, the old lady rolled her eyes, glaring at them both.

"Oh, honestly, Thomas," she snapped, shaking her head. "We are all adults here. We understand how babies come into the world."

The Duke sighed heavily. "Grandmother, of course, we all know how babies come into the world," he said, grimacing slightly. "But I cannot ever recall that I must speak with my grandmother about such… intimate things."

The Dowager Duchess gazed at him, her eyes widening, as if she were talking to a simpleton. "Intimacy has nothing to do with it, my boy," she said in a tart voice. "This is business. The duchy has always been a business, and so it remains. It runs on the continuation of the line. As the Dowager Duchess, I have every right to enquire about it." She paused. "Now, is there a reason for hope yet?"

The Duke looked appalled. "No, Grandmother," he hissed. "We have only been wed a few days. You must realize it takes rather longer than that to hope for such a thing."

The Dowager Duchess looked pained. "I knew I was expecting your father within a few weeks of my marriage," she stated. "Your grandfather and I did not shirk our duty." She sighed. "But yes, I see your point. It is far too early to tell. However, can I have your assurance that you are trying as much as possible?"

Catherine almost spat out her tea. The Duke shook his head incredulously.

"That really is none of your business, Grandmother," he said, squirming in his chair. "The duchy might be a business, but I draw the line at reporting on that. I am not a stud horse, you know."

Catherine turned her head away, biting her lip, desperately trying not to burst into laughter. The whole conversation was so bizarre that she couldn't help it. But she couldn't stop a small yelp from escaping her lips. Both the Dowager Duchess and her husband turned to her.

"And what do you find so amusing exactly?" the Dowager Duchess barked, fixing her with a cool stare. "Do you believe producing an heir for the duchy to be a jest, Duchess?"

"Please, call me Catherine," Catherine replied, suppressing another giggle. "And to answer your question, yes, it is all rather amusing. I must say, I never expected such a subject to be discussed over morning tea. I rather thought we would talk about the weather or some such thing."

The Duke smiled at her, his eyes filled with amusement. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly, as if to suggest he knew his grandmother was a bit impossible but to humor her all the same.

"I do not beat around the bush," the Dowager Duchess declared almost proudly, her lips twitching into a half-smile. "Some people find my directness abrasive, but I do like to get straight to the point." She gazed at Catherine steadily. "You are trying, are you not? You are eager for children?"

Catherine reddened again. She couldn't tell this formidable lady the truth—that they weren't trying at all and had actually agreed that they didn't want children. The Dowager Duchess might have apoplexy if she discovered that the new Duchess of Newden was still a maiden, and there was no possibility of an heir now, in a few weeks, or a few months—or ever.

Catherine took a deep breath. "Only God can know if we will ever be blessed," she replied in a solemn, almost prim voice. "And I leave it in the Almighty's hands, Duchess."

The Duke smothered a smile with one hand.

The Dowager Duchess raised her eyebrows. "I think you will find the Almighty has little to do with it," she returned crisply. "At least, not at the start. I repeat, you are eager to start a family?"

"Of course," Catherine lied with a sweet smile. "I long for nothing else in this world."

The Dowager Duchess harrumphed loudly, looking at her sharply. Catherine held her breath but didn't lower her eyes, gazing back at her.

"I noticed one of your dogs is looking a little rounded, Grandmother," the Duke remarked quickly, looking a bit desperate. "Will you be hearing the pitter-patter of little paws soon?"

The Dowager sighed dramatically. "Alas, yes. The steward's dog had its wicked way with poor Mimi, despite my clear direction to keep her away from the speckled beast while she was in heat." She shuddered, looking affronted. "Heaven knows what the pups will look like. I rather imagine they will be little monstrosities. Like that terrible creature in Mrs. Shelley's book… what was its name again?"

"Frankenstein," the Duke supplied, his eyes shining with amusement.

Catherine sipped her tea as the Dowager Duchess kept talking about how hideous she believed Mimi's pups would be. The distraction had been successful. She gazed at her husband, feeling grateful which was surprising, considering how icy things were between them at the moment. It was as if they had been conspiring together to keep the truth of their marriage from his grandmother.

She had realized that the Dowager Duchess was formidable but hadn't realized quite how tenacious the old lady actually was. She was going to have to keep on her toes during her stay.

Catherine sipped her tea pensively. The interrogation had been amusing, of course but also alarming, given the fact that Catherine was determined that she and her new husband never share chambers. And she had a feeling it wasn't the last time the Dowager Duchess would raise the issue.

She had best be ready for when that time came.

"You do not fool me for an instant, you know," the Dowager Duchess said, her eyes resting on her grandson as he escorted her to her chambers. "There is something amiss in your marriage. I can tell."

Thomas gazed at her carefully. "Whatever do you mean, Grandmother?"

Abruptly, she stopped walking, leaning heavily on her walking stick. She looked him up and down.

"I cannot quite put my finger on it yet," she replied slowly. "But do not worry, I will find out." She paused. "This marriage must be a success, my boy. A resounding success."

Thomas rubbed a hand over his face. "It is already a success, Grandmother. I have snared a catch. Catherine has pedigree, beauty, wit and charm. She is the entire package." He paused, looking at her. "She will be a splendid duchess."

"I am not talking about her manifest qualities," the Dowager Duchess countered, tapping her walking stick on the ground impatiently. "And you do not need to sell her to me, Thomas. I have made my assessment and found her to be superior to all the other flibbertigibbets on the circuit at the moment. You chose well. I could not have picked a better wife for you."

"Well, what then?" Thomas's voice was edged with impatience. "I have done what you wanted. I am married now. What more do you want?"

She gazed at him carefully. "Do you love her? Have you fallen in love with her?"

Thomas made a face, turning away. "It is not like you to be so sentimental, Grandmother. The duchy is a business, remember? You just made the point in the parlor." He rolled his eyes. "I do not need to love her for the marriage to be successful."

"But you do need to bed her," his grandmother insisted sharply. "There must be an heir, Thomas. If you are not in love with her, or at least on fire for her, tell me that you at least have done that."

He stiffened. "Of course, I have," he lied, not meeting her eyes. "What do you take me for?"

The Dowager Duchess leaned heavily on her stick, her eyes narrowing. "I am not sure that I believe you," she said eventually. "I observed you both together in the parlor. You are avoiding each other. You do not have the air of a couple who have known each other in that way."

"Grandmother, it really is none of your business," he retorted, his cheeks flushing. As much as he loved and respected her, she was pushing too much today. "What happens between a married couple is private. It is not like the old days when they hung the bed sheets out after the wedding night."

"More is the pity." The Dowager Duchess snorted. "At least in those days, it was obvious whether the duty had been done or not."

"This conversation is over," Thomas declared in a firm voice. "You must stop. Leave it alone."

They kept walking until they reached her chamber door. He kissed her on the cheek.

"Have a rest," he said softly, opening the door for her. "You have had a long journey and are a little overwrought."

"I will get to the bottom of it," she promised as she walked into the room. "I always do."

Thomas closed the door with a sigh of relief before heading back down the hallway towards the staircase. He could feel the slight dull throb of a headache coming on. It was probably a combination of too much ale at the tavern the day before and his grandmother's pestering. Really, she was like a dog mauling at a bone when she set her sights on something.

He stopped abruptly. Catherine was ascending the staircase, her brow furrowed, looking as if she were miles away. When she saw him, she stopped as well. They gazed at each other.

He cleared his throat. "I do apologize," he said in a monotone voice. "She means well, but she can get a bit carried away."

Catherine smiled slightly. "There is no need to apologize. She is just doing her duty as she sees fit." She hesitated. "I like her enormously. She has such pluck. And I can see that you love and respect her."

"Of course I do," he replied in an abrupt voice. "She is like a mother to me."

"She stepped in to fill the gap, then?" She gazed at him, her eyes wide. "When your mother died?"

Thomas shifted on his feet, turning and staring out the window. "I do not talk about that."

She kept walking up the staircase until she was standing in front of him, gazing up at him. "Why? Perhaps you should…"

"And perhaps you should mind your own business," he retorted, his anger flaring like a torch. "You are the one who keeps insisting that we keep our distance from one another. This is a marriage of convenience. Remember?"

She flinched. "There is no need to be so abrupt. I was only asking a question…"

"And I choose not to answer it," he said shortly. "There. Are we done?"

"We are," she snapped, anger flaring in her eyes. She jutted her chin. "I will see you at luncheon."

"Perhaps," he shot back. "Or perhaps not. Perhaps I will take another trip into Crompton to pass the time."

She gave him a dirty look before hiking up the skirt of her gown, tossing back her head, and striding down the hallway towards her chambers. He heard the resounding thud of the door closing behind her.

Thomas slumped, gazing out the window again. His grandmother was right—there was something amiss in his marriage. But the wonder of it was why he cared at all, or why he still hungered so badly for his wife. He would be glad when they headed back to London and could begin their separate lives.

Because being with her here was an utter torment.