Chapter 33

"Do not rush," Catherine whispered, trying to keep pace with her husband as they walked towards the theatre. "Where is the fire we must put out?"

Thomas laughed. He slowed his pace, turning to her and taking her hand in his own. His eyes roamed over her. She looked breathtaking this evening in a dusky pink silk gown with a net overlay. But then she always took his breath away, whatever she was wearing. Or not wearing, as it turned out.

"We do not want to be late for the first gong," he said softly, reaching and flicking a tiny eyelash off her cheek. "You do not want to miss the start of the opera. You were the one haranguing me to make sure we got tickets for it, remember?"

Catherine let out a dramatic sigh. "You want to see it as much as I do," she countered in a tart voice. "You were the one who could not stop talking about this opera at breakfast, luncheon, and dinner."

He laughed again. "True. The Devil to Pay has had such good reviews. It is the talk of the town."

She kept staring at him, batting her eyelashes in a flirtatious way. "You only want an excuse to fondle me in the darkness of the theatre. Am I right?"

Thomas grinned, pulling her to him, bending his head to her ear.

"I need no excuse to fondle you, Duchess," he whispered before blowing into her ear. "Whether it is dark or not."

Catherine let out a breathless laugh, gazing up at him.

They grinned at each other, and Thomas felt his heart swell.

He still couldn't quite believe how wonderful the last week had been since they had returned from his grandmother's ball. They had given themselves to each other in every possible way. And now, he couldn't quite remember why he had been so intent on resisting her—or, at least, resisting any emotional connection with her.

You know the reason why. It still remains. You do not want to get too close to her. She might turn around one day and leave you. Or betray you. Remember your promise to your father.

He tried to ignore the small, insistent voice in his head. It was an old voice that had been his constant companion for a very long time. But he knew the voice no longer served him. It was stopping him from living the life that he wanted to live. And that was a life with Catherine.

He kissed the top of her head, trying to ignore the guilt as well. He had made a promise to his father which he had now broken. And even though the sensible part of him told him that a forced promise made by an eight-year-old to a devastated parent could not be expected to last forever, the part of him that was still that small boy, looking at his father's distressed face on that terrible night, couldn't quite see it that way.

It felt like betrayal. It felt as if his father might be looking down at him now, shaking his head sorrowfully, wondering where he had gone wrong with his only son.

"Newden!"

Thomas jumped, turning around. His eyes widened.

"Oakdale?" His voice was incredulous. "Is that really you?"

"The very same." The gentleman laughed. They shook hands. "I have just returned from India." He gazed at the sky, which was rumbling, threatening rain. "I still cannot quite get used to the contrast. It was very hot in India before I left for home."

Thomas grinned. Philip Ellington, the Duke of Oakdale, was an old friend who had been gone for years, traveling to far-flung places around the world. As well as India, he had spent time in the Far East and the Americas. Thomas had heard a rumor that his friend had spent time living with a sheik in Arabia as well, but he wasn't sure how accurate that was.

Philip stared at Catherine, smiling. "Are you going to introduce me?"

Thomas laughed before making the introductions.

It turned out that his old friend was heading to the opera as well, so they all walked together into the Covent Garden theatre, taking off their coats and handing them to the footman at the door.

There was a large crowd mingling in the foyer, talking loudly, creating such a din that Thomas steered Catherine and Philip to a quieter corner where they could talk without having to shout until the gong sounded for the first part of the opera.

"I still cannot believe you are married." Philip shook his head wryly. "Old Newden, who always vowed that he would never put his head into the hangman's noose!"

Thomas shrugged, feeling embarrassed. "It happens to the best of us, my friend," he said, grinning at him. "It will happen to you one day as well. I would wager coin on it."

"Me?" Philip looked horrified and quite affronted. "Most definitely not, old chap! I am far too much of a vagabond to ever settle down with a lady." He grinned, his eyes sliding to Catherine, a look of appreciation on his face. "Although, if I had gotten to you first, Duchess, I might have been forced to change my mind."

Catherine laughed easily. "What a charmer you are, Duke!"

Thomas instantly bristled, watching his friend staring at his wife, not bothering to disguise his admiration for her. Philip had always had an eye for beautiful women. Catherine was smiling at him, clearly not offended. Thomas felt his heart start to pound in his chest.

Instantly, he was ashamed of himself. Philip was one of his oldest friends, and even though he hadn't seen him in a few years, he was sure he would never make a move on another man's wife. And Catherine was just being polite. He was sure she would never act on another man's blatant admiration for her.

How do you know? Do you think your father knew when he met and fell in love with your mother that she wasn't as loyal as he hoped she would be?

Thomas stiffened, desperately trying to ignore that voice. Still, it lingered, following him, making him narrow his eyes when Philip lightly touched Catherine's elbow, politely steering her towards the staircase when the gong sounded for the start of the opera.

They separated at the top of the staircase. Philip headed to his box which was further down the corridor. Thomas and Catherine entered their box, one of the finest, held by the Newden duchy for at least a generation.

"Your friend seems nice," Catherine noted as they sat down, smiling brightly at him. "How long have you known each other?"

Thomas bristled, gazing at the stage. For some reason, he couldn't look at her.

"We were at school together," he replied in a blunt voice. "I have not seen him in years. Lord knows what kind of libertine he has become since then."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. It was an unkind thing to say about his old friend.

He stole a glance at her. She looked puzzled, a furrow appearing between her eyebrows. She looked as if she were about to say something, but at that moment, the lights darkened, and the curtains parted.

They both turned their attention to the stage. Thomas felt a bit ill. The very thought of Catherine with another man made him want to punch a wall. The thought that she might one day betray him—and leave him—made a cold sweat break out over his body.

She had sworn that she was loyal and would never do such a thing. But had his mother promised the same thing to his father, once upon a time, during the first flush of love? How was he going to live with this constant fear, thinking that Catherine was going to betray him every time she spoke to an attractive man?

Catherine walked down the staircase, adjusting her gloves. It was intermission during the opera, and she had just visited the powder room to refresh herself. Various members of the ton were mingling in the foyer again, waiting for the gong to sound for the second act.

She frowned. She had been so looking forward to this night. The thought of sitting beside Thomas, holding hands in the opera box while listening to divine music, had made her heart soar. It was their first outing to the theater as a married couple, and she was so excited.

But Thomas's mood had inexplicably darkened. He had barely looked at her since they had entered their box. Every time she tried to talk to him about something in the opera, he just grunted. Clearly, he was grumpy about something, but she was mystified what that was. He had seemed so happy and loving when they had spoken before the show.

Abruptly, she stopped, resting a hand on the balustrade. Thomas was standing with his friend, the Duke of Oakdale, in the foyer… and he had been joined by Lady Isabella Lyndon, who was looking very beautiful in a dark jade silk gown with a matching green headband wrapped around her golden hair.

Her heart almost stopped. How many times was he going to just coincidentally bump into the lady? Why was she even still in London, given that she had insisted her father despised the city? Apparently, her family had come here for the ball at the insistence of the Dowager Duchess, but that was over a week ago now. And yet, here was Lady Isabella, again.

Stop it, Catherine. He promised you that he would never do to you what your father did to your mother. He will never betray you.

Her eyes flickered over them. Was her husband standing just a little too close to Lady Isabella? And why did Lady Isabella keep looking up at him in that way, batting her eyelashes and laughing just a little too hard at every single thing that he said?

Catherine clenched her hands into fists, fighting her feelings. She was being ridiculous. He had told her there was nothing between him and the lady. Just because Lady Isabella was clearly infatuated with him didn't mean that he reciprocated her feelings. He was just being polite.

She took a deep breath and kept walking, pushing through the crowd until she reached them. The Duke of Oakdale was the first to notice her, smiling cheerfully. It took her husband and Lady Isabella a moment more to see her standing there.

"Your Grace." Lady Isabella sunk into a deep curtsey before straightening. "Are you enjoying the opera?"

"Very much," Catherine replied in an overly bright voice. "And you, My Lady?"

"It is wonderful," Lady Isabella enthused. "I was just saying how much I am enjoying it to His Grace. The costumes, the stage scenery… why, all of it is magnificent!"

"Indeed," Catherine said in a sour voice.

Deliberately, she turned away from Lady Isabella, focusing on the Duke of Oakdale instead. Her heart was racing. She knew she was being snobbish and quite rude, but she just couldn't help it.

She felt Thomas's eyes on her, but she didn't turn to look at him. He wasn't the only one who could be grumpy. Her mood plummeted. All she wanted to do was go home now. The night hadn't turned out how she had expected at all.