Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Catherine’s heart leapt into her throat as Edward strode into the library. His face was a thundercloud of fury, his brow furrowed, and his lips pursed. Before she could do so much as move, he was upon her, snatching the journal from her trembling hands.

“How dare you!” he snarled, his eyes dangerously dark. “This is private!”

Catherine stepped back, her face burning with shame. “My Lord,” she started, her voice small. “My Lord, I…”

“Silence!” Edward’s voice cracked like a whip. His grip was strong around her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh. “How much did you read? Tell me!”

Catherine breathed deeply, trying to suppress the fear building in her. “Perhaps, My Lord,” she managed to get out, her voice far steadier than she felt. “You should keep a closer eye on your personal effects.”

For a moment, she was certain that he might strike her. Blatant rage radiated from his entire being. Then, abruptly, he released her arm and stepped back. Still, the air between them crackled with tension, thick enough to cut with a dagger. Though she could not find it in her to look at him, Catherine was far too aware of his presence: the heat radiating from his body, the way his chest heaved with every angry breath.

“Get out,” he growled, his voice low. “Get out of my sight. Now!”

Catherine could feel the tears threatening to spill over. She nodded quickly before brushing past him, fleeing the library. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Only once she reached the safety of her bedchamber did she allow herself to halt, leaning against the door—her entire body trembling.

What on earth had she done?

She knew it was wrong to read the journal and yet she had.

Catherine took a deep breath, then lifted her chin. There was no hiding from it at all. It was nearly time for Emily’s next lesson, and she skulked to the schoolroom quietly, fearful of being seen at all.

Her hands trembled as she arranged the books on the schoolroom table, and she let out a shuddering breath. Her mind kept replaying what had happened in the library. Edward’s fury was etched into her memory. She jumped when the door swung open, spinning to face it, and breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of Emily.

“Oh… Lady Emily,” she whispered in relief. Emily grinned brightly.

“Good morning, Miss Winslow,” she chirped, her sunny disposition a far cry from Catherine’s own demeanor.

“Good morning, My Lady,” she said softly. “I hope you are ready for today’s lesson.”

Emily grinned brightly. “I certainly am. These lessons are the highlight of my every day,” she said with a laugh before settling into her seat. Without wanting to, Catherine’s gaze drifted toward the window nervously. In truth, she half-expected to see Edward storming across the grounds; coming to dismiss her on the spot. To her relief, the gardens remained empty, and she shook her head, trying to return her attention to Emily once more.

“Miss Winslow?” Emily’s voice broke through her reverie. “I am sorry, but… are you alright? You seem… distracted.”

Catherine’s face flushed and she nodded slowly. “I am fine, Lady Emily,” she said softly. “I just… I suppose I am just tired. Now… shall we begin with your French translation?”

“Oui,” Emily announced cheekily, and Catherine laughed softly. Despite her laughter, however, her mind wandered when Emily bent over her work once more.

What had she been thinking, reading that journal? The secrets it contained, the pain Edward must have endured… She bit her lips, fighting back tears of regret. She liked her new position, and she had risked it all for no more than morbid curiosity.

“Miss Winslow?” Emily’s voice startled her, and she jumped. “I’ve finished the translation.”

Catherine blinked in surprise. How long had she been staring blankly at the wall?

“Oh, yes,” she muttered, forcing herself to smile. “Yes, of course. Let’s take a look, shall we?”

She moved toward the girl quickly, leaning over the work. To her surprise, the French words swam before her eyes incomprehensibly and a thin frown appeared between her brows. A floorboard creaked and her shoulders tense as she turned her gaze to the door.

Was Edward going to burst through it and chase her away?

When the door remained closed, she returned her attention to Emily. “It looks… good, Emily,” she muttered, though she was not quite certain what it was she had read. “Why don’t we move on to history?”

At Emily’s nod, she turned to the small stack of books she kept in the schoolroom. She lifted the book on top. Shakespeare’s sonnets. Her heart twinged when she looked at the cursive writing on the front page and she sighed deeply when she remembered her and Edward’s conversation about Shakespeare, and literature. Had she ruined it all?

“Miss Winslow,” Emily said again, her voice soft. “Are you sure you are alright? You look quite pale.”

Catherine put the sonnets back and picked the history book up, forcing herself to smile as she looked at Emily.

“I am quite alright,” she said, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. “I was just… thinking about the lesson. Now… shall we discuss the Tudor dynasty?”

To her relief, Emily nodded, allowing her to launch into a lecture about Henry VIII and his many wives. Soon, Catherine found herself relaxing a little. This, at least, was familiar territory. She could lose herself in the facts and figures of history, pushing aside all emotions for a moment. Especially her guilt, and anxiety.

Still, despite the interesting lesson and Emily’s interested questions, Catherine once again found her mind drifting. What had happened to Emily and Edward’s parents?

She shook her head again, banishing the thoughts. It was none of her business, she reminded herself firmly. Her job was to teach Emily… nothing more.

Only when she noticed Emily stifling a yawn, did she realize that the lesson had gone on far too long. Catherine felt her cheeks flush and she shook her head. “I am sorry, Lady Emily,” she said softly. “It seems that I launched into such a long tirade that I forgot you were due a break minutes ago.”

Emily smiled. “I can go on,” she offered, and Catherine shook her head gently. “No,” she explained, her voice soft. “I too need a bit of a break, if that is alright?”

Emily nodded quickly. “I could play some piano?”

Catherine managed a true smile at this, and she nodded. “That sounds lovely,” she agreed, and Emily gracefully moved to the piano. As the first notes of a Chopin nocturne filled the air, Catherine moved to the window and pressed her forehead against the cool glass.

What was wrong with her?

Never before had she been so unfocused during a lesson. Then again, never before had she invaded her employer’s privacy so egregiously. The guilt was eating her alive, gnawing at her.

As the sweet notes of the piano washed over her, Catherine found her thoughts drifting to Edward once again. This time, she did not think about the fury in his eyes, instead, she thought about the vulnerability she’d seen before that.

She closed her eyes as a flash of desire coursed through her. Oh, how she longed to kiss away the deep frown lines between his brows and… Catherine pressed a shocked hand to her mouth.

Where did that thought come from?

The final notes of the nocturne faded away and Catherine turned back to her pupil. The young girl looked at her expectantly and she smiled. “That was lovely, Lady Emily,” she said softly. “Now… are you ready for more history?”

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of half-formed thoughts and stilted conversation. Despite her attempt to focus on Emily’s lessons, her mind kept wandering. By the time the clock struck noon, signaling the end of their study session, she felt utterly drained.

“Do… do you think your brother will join us for lunch?” she asked as she walked alongside Emily to the dining room. Emily sighed and shook her head.

“I doubt it, Miss Winslow,” she said with a sigh. “I saw him this morning and he is in a mood today. He’s locked himself in his study and warned me not to bother him.”

Catherine’s heart sank at this. Of course Edward was avoiding everyone, all to avoid her. “I see,” she said softly, then pressed a hand to her stomach.

“Actually, Lady Emily, I am not hungry either. I will see you at dinner.”

Emily nodded sympathetically, and Catherine rushed to her bedchamber. The afternoon dragged on slowly and painfully. As much as Catherine tried to distract herself with lesson plans for Emily’s studies, her mind kept circling back to Edward, and the journal. She feared she’d never be able to regain his trust and to her utter surprise, this thought was particularly disappointing.

When dinner time approached, Catherine could no longer ignore her pangs of hunger, and she made her way to the dining hall slowly. She paused in the doorway when she noticed only Emily and Mr. Harper at the table.

“Good evening, Miss Winslow,” Mr. Harper said, his tone clipped. “We can eat. His lordship will not be dining with us tonight.”

“Does he usually eat with you? Or… did he?”

The question was out before she could help it, and Mr. Harper pursed his lips. It was Emily who answered.

“He does,” she said quickly. “He says it is unorthodox, but because we are so few…”

She trailed off when she noticed Mr. Harper’s expression and returned her attention to her food.

Catherine merely nodded, her face flushing. Did Mr. Harper know what she had done? He did not show anything.

Despite the relief coursing through her, Catherine’s heart twinged. She was not quite ready to face Edward yet, but his continued absence told her exactly how much damage she had done.

As she took her seat too, an uncomfortable silence fell over the table.

“How were your lessons today, Lady Emily?” Mr. Harper asked, pointedly ignoring Catherine.

Emily immediately launched into an enthusiastic recounting of her history lesson, while Catherine pushed her food around on the plate. Her gaze drifted to the empty chair at the head of the table.

Edward should have been sitting there.

She put her fork down loudly, drawing surprised looks from both Emily and Mr. Harper.

“If you will excuse me,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “I have quite a bit of a headache. I think I will retire early this evening. Goodnight, Emily. Goodnight, Mr. Harper.”

She fled the dining room to concerned platitudes, rushing up the grand staircase. For a split second she considered going to Edward’s study.

Should she go to him? Should she try to apologize?

No, she decided almost instantly. He clearly wanted nothing more than to be left alone. And truthfully, she was not quite sure she was ready to face him yet.

Perhaps she would be the next day, she decided. After a good night’s sleep, she would have the courage to face him. She would apologize and plead with him to give her another chance.

She would talk to him, and all would be well once again, she thought as she crawled into her bed and closed her eyes.

It had to be.