Chapter 20

"Iam hosting a ball next week in London," the Dowager Duchess declared as she carefully sliced the top of her boiled egg. She glanced up, looking at her grandson and then Catherine. "I am holding it in your honor."

Catherine put down her knife and fork, gazing at the venerable lady, whose eyes were back on her breakfast. She then glanced at her husband, who looked slightly irritated.

"A ball?" he repeated, scratching his chin. "Why the deuce do you want to host a ball, Grandmother? Is not a washed-out garden party enough social events for one week?"

The Dowager Duchess pursed her lips. "The garden party took an unfortunate turn," she sighed, picking up her cup of tea. "Such chaos as everyone scattered in all directions when the rain started falling…"

"Not to mention poor Lord Bertram breaking his ankle when he tripped over a potted plant in his haste to escape the rain," the Duke supplied in a droll voice. "I have never heard such a caterwauling in my life. That was a very unfortunate turn, indeed."

Catherine's lips twitched. She picked up her teacup to hide her smile. Lord Bertram's broken ankle wasn't funny. Or at least, it shouldn't be.

"That man has always been a clumsy oaf," the Dowager Duchess declared a bit huffily. "He always manages to break or strain or injure something or other. But he does exaggerate, too. I once saw him get a paper cut and act as if he was about to bleed to death."

Catherine almost spat out her tea.

"Anyway," the Dowager Duchess continued, waving a dismissive hand in the air. "The garden party was rained out. But a ball will last the distance!"

"Why are you so intent on throwing social events?" the Duke asked, eyeing her as he buttered a piece of toast. "You never entertain this much, Grandmother."

The Dowager Duchess snorted. "Yes, it may be true that I have become rather more socially reticent with my advancing age, but I still know how to do it, my boy." She stared at him. "The answer is obvious, Thomas. I want to show the two of you off to the ton. The garden party, now that I think about it, was never going to achieve my aim as there were too many obscure country folk. It was just as well it was washed out. I was about to die from boredom."

Catherine sighed heavily.

The Dowager Duchess fixed her with a steely glare. "Well, Catherine? What is it? Spit it out, girl!"

Catherine suppressed a smile. "But why a ball, Duchess? Why do we have to be paraded and put on show like prime heifers at an auction?"

The Duke burst into laughter, gazing at her with warm eyes.

Catherine ducked her head, concentrating on her tea. She was feeling a little flushed, and it wasn't just because of the growing heat of the day.

You let him touch you in an intimate way in the gazebo yesterday. You let yourself be swept away. You need to not let that happen again.

"Because you are the Duke and Duchess of Newden!" The Dowager Duchess rolled her eyes, as if the answer was evident. "You married very quickly, and now, it is time to put any gossip or whispers aside and display yourselves in all your glory to Society."

The Duke groaned.

The Dowager Duchess's steely glare fell on him now. "You have complaints, Thomas?"

"I agree with Catherine," he said, gazing quickly at his wife. "You do not have to hold a ball for us, Grandmother. Who cares what the ton think?"

"I care," the Dowager Duchess growled, putting down her spoon with a clatter. "I do not want the ton whispering behind your backs, Thomas, saying that you compromised your wife, and that is the reason you rushed her to the altar. Because I have heard whispers along those lines."

"Let them say what they like…"

"Thomas." Her voice held ice in it now. "I am holding a ball in your honor, and it is your duty to graciously accept." She paused, glaring at him.

Catherine looked down at her plate, trying not to laugh.

"I am a grown man, and I am fully aware of my duties, Grandmother," the Duke asserted. Then, he glanced at Catherine. "I guess we are going to a ball, Duchess."

Catherine shrugged. "I guess we are."

The Dowager Duchess raised her eyebrows, gazing from one to the other. "Do not think I have not noticed the coldness between you both," she warned. "In fact, it seems to blow hot then cold and back again. You both need to sort this out, once and for all. The duchy requires an heir!"

There was an awkward silence. Catherine looked down at her plate again, feeling her face grow hot. She had been avoiding her husband like the plague since their encounter in the gazebo yesterday, turning and almost running down the hallway when she saw him approach once.

She knew it was juvenile and quite silly, to behave in such a way, but she just couldn't help it. As soon as she saw him or felt his eyes turn towards her, the desire to run away overwhelmed her.

The Dowager Duchess was leaving Newden Estate today. And tomorrow, they would be heading back to London as well. The country idyll was over at long last, and Catherine was fervently looking forward to returning to the city and picking up the threads of her old life again, as if her marriage had never happened. She was looking forward to getting away from her husband and starting their separate lives at last.

She sighed heavily. And now, the Dowager Duchess was arranging a ball in their honor which meant they must attend together.

She gritted her teeth. Was this torture ever going to end?

"Catherine." The Duke's voice was commanding. "Might we have a word in my study, please?"

Catherine gritted her teeth. They had just farewelled his grandmother, who had exited Newden Estate with the same pomp she had arrived with, accompanied by a cacophony of barking and chatter.

"I shall see you both at the ball," the Dowager Duchess declared, leaning out of her carriage window, her eyes bright. She gazed at Catherine. "And you need to get a new gown for it, my dear. Spare no expense."

Catherine frowned. "But?—"

"No buts." The Dowager Duchess shook her head adamantly. "It is your first important social event as the Duchess of Newden, and you must make an impression. Make sure that their eyes will pop out of their heads, my dear. I always did so."

Catherine had been forced to agree. Then the carriage had set off, whisking the lady away at long last. They had headed back into the house in awkward silence. Catherine had really thought she might escape her husband until he had summoned her.

"Now?" she asked in a cold voice. "Can it not wait?"

"No," he said in a short tone. "It cannot."

She sighed, following him down the hallway to his study. She gazed around. It was the first time she had been in this room. It was lined with bookshelves. A large mahogany desk sat against one wall with a cabinet holding numerous bottles of liquor next to it.

"Take a seat," he instructed, sitting at his chair behind the desk.

Catherine sighed irritably, doing as he bid. They stared at one another across the desk. Her heart was pounding now. She glanced longingly at the door, dying to escape.

"Why are you trying to avoid me?" he asked in a crisp voice.

Catherine let out a short bark of laughter. "Is it not obvious? You keep trying to seduce me." She shook her head. "We have spoken about this, and yet you keep trying. And I know that you are a rake. It is nothing special. You would do it with any lady you happen to be married to."

"Would I?" He kept staring at her. "I agree, I do have a past, but why are you not taking advantage of that?"

Catherine gaped at him. "What are you talking about?"

He leaned across the desk towards her, studying her intently. Her heart started to pound frantically.

"I know exactly how to please a woman, Catherine," he stated in a quiet, intense voice. "I know that you have needs just the same as I do. I can feel them whenever we are close. Why do you not let me satisfy those needs?"

"I do not have any needs," she countered quickly, standing up, her stomach lurching. "I do not know what you are even talking about!"

He stood up, approaching her. "Do you not?"

He was standing so close to her that she could smell his cologne. It was an intensely masculine smell. She gazed up at him, noticing the dark stubble on his chin and jaw. She felt like reaching out and caressing it, running her hand along it, just to see what it felt like.

"No, I do not," she whispered, feeling like she was about to swoon. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

He reached out, slowly pulling her into his arms. She resisted at first, pressing her hands against his chest, trying to push him away, but he held her firmly, putting his lips against her ear.

"You are the sweetest thing," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "You are sweeter than honey." He paused. "And your lips taste better than wine."

Catherine didn't know how it happened, but his mouth had suddenly slipped to her neck, kissing and biting it. She shuddered, her head tilting back as sparks of fire started shooting through her body. She heard herself groan.

The sound seemed to electrify him. The next moment, his lips sought hers, tilting her back further, hungrily devouring her. She couldn't breathe. Her heart was racing so hard that it felt like it was going to jump out of her chest.

Her lips parted beneath his as she felt his tongue plunge into her mouth, exploring. Another stab of desire snaked down her spine. She thought she remembered what this was like, but there was so much she had forgotten. The taste of him. The feel of him. The thrill of him.

How could she have ever believed she could live without this?

As soon as the thought entered her head, she pushed him away, panting hard. He stood there, gaping at her, his eyes bright with desire, clearly confused.

"Why?" he whispered, reaching for her again. "Let me…"

"No," she said in a cold voice, even though it killed her to resist him. "This marriage was a means to an end for both of us. I only married you to pay off my brother's debts. You only married me because you needed a wife quickly to pacify your grandmother. This cannot happen."

A flash of pain crossed his face, but then he quickly masked it. He took a step back, gazing at her steadily. Catherine could barely stand it.

"I do apologize," he said in a stiff, formal tone. "I am being disrespectful. And you are right, of course. We agreed to marry as a means to an end for both of us with no personal involvement." He paused, gazing at her steadily. "This was a mistake. And you have my word that as soon as this ball is over, we can finally lead separate lives as we agreed."

"Good," Catherine uttered in a wavering voice. "That is good."

They stared at each other for a moment. The air was so thick that she felt like she could cut through it with a knife.

"Well, I should go," she murmured, biting her lip. "I should start packing."

"Yes," he said in a strained voice. "I might take my dinner here tonight."

Catherine nodded before turning quickly and leaving the room. She had gotten what she wanted. So why did she feel so hollow?