Chapter Three
Catherine’s stomach was a flurry of nervous apprehension as she made her way downstairs later that morning.
She thought she might be sick, although the queasiness from her morning sickness had long passed.
This was something different entirely. All she knew about the man to whom she was about to pledge herself was his title and a small bit of his past. That was it.
She didn’t know his age or what he looked like.
The only thing that made her feel better at all was knowing that he likely didn’t know anything about her, other than her current predicament.
As she had inspected her reflection in the mirror, dressed in a robin’s-egg blue gown with lace adornments about the bodice and hem and seed pearls woven throughout, she felt her attire was presentable for the occasion.
Her maid had pulled her dark hair up into an elegant chignon, but it was the slightly pale expression on her face and the wide-eyed panic in her blue eyes that ruined the elegant, outward appearance.
She’d glanced at the window in her room more than once, thinking that it wouldn’t be so difficult to sail out the second story and meet her demise on the hard ground below. But the thought of being maimed rather than succumbing to her injuries was enough to keep her plastered to her chair.
Satin, elbow-length white gloves covered her hands, while inside the material, her palms were perspiring and her fingers were shaking almost uncontrollably.
There was a point when Catherine wasn’t sure she would be able to go through with the affair upright, but her pride would not allow her the horror of fainting the moment she spied her betrothed.
Nor could she allow her parents the benefit of knowing she was so disturbed.
With her chin held high and her shoulders back, she gave the appearance of being calm and collected as she took her place at the front of the parlor, where a tall, broad-shouldered man stood with his back to her.
She could see nothing but the back of his dark head and refused to look directly at him as she stood in front of the vicar while he began to speak.
Her parents were standing in as witnesses and Catherine was able to block out most of the vows until the point when it was expected of her to say, “I will.”
She was proud her voice didn’t waver, and she noticed that the baron’s didn’t, either, as he spoke the same words with an even tone, void of any sort of emotion.
Her heart immediately dropped to her stomach, but she reminded herself that this was not a marriage born of love or a lengthy courtship.
It was a hasty nuptial brought about of her own making.
She had done her best to prove a point to her parents, but in the end, she had still paid the ultimate price by giving up her freedom to choose her own husband.
Instead, Mrs. Dove-Lyon had chosen for her.
Anger bubbled up from within her at the thought of the Black Widow.
Catherine would never forget the smug expression that the lady wore.
She wouldn’t be quite so confident if word began to circulate that a match had gone terribly awry.
It might go so far as to ruin her reputation and her precious Lyon’s Den that she had created into the vast empire it was.
Catherine would love to see it all crumble to the ground.
If she couldn’t bring her parents to her knees, at least she could make the woman who had sided with their demands pay.
By the time Catherine had finally turned to face her husband, she had regained control of most of her facilities. It was funny how revenge found a way to cure any upset.
When her gaze lit upon Baron Fontaine, she discovered that he was not terribly unbecoming.
In truth, he was rather… pleasant in features.
He had a trim waistline, if perhaps a bit too much, and a strong stature.
His face was appealing, but not in a devilishly handsome way, rather a more cynical and domineering sense.
His dark eyes certainly carried a hint of censure, but also a hint of appreciation as he looked at her.
She felt as though she were under an inspection, some sort of raw scrutiny that made her lips tighten. His gaze flashed, as if sensing her annoyance, and his lips curled.
She had no doubt the beginning of their marriage would prove challenging.
Perhaps the entirety of it.
Determined not to dwell on what was done, she signed her name on the marriage document next to that of the baron and then forced a smile as she said brightly, “Shall we go, my lord?”
Without waiting for a reply, she strode down the midst of the room, eager to escape the memory of her parents’ betrayal, praying that she hadn’t just entered into something far worse.
She had nearly reached her bedchamber to gather her reticule and gather the last of her dignity when her arm was grasped from behind. She turned to face the baron. “It’s not polite to leave your new husband standing by himself.”
Catherine wasn’t sure how to interpret his tone, whether she should be wary or… intrigued by it. “Forgive me. I was just eager to depart.”
He released her and she put some distance between them. Thankfully, he remained by the doorway. Crossing his arms over his chest, he flicked a glance about the room. “This isn’t what I was expecting.”
“Oh?” She looked around the room she had barely considered for most of her youth. “Were you expecting pink bows and flowers?”
He gave a snort. “Something like that, I guess.” His gaze narrowed and she had to glance away from the intensity of it.
Although she was already with child and didn’t have to worry about maidenly nerves when it came to the wedding night, neither was she eager to lie with a man she’d just met. Even if there was something about him that appealed to her base nature.
“I get the impression you aren’t close with the duke and duchess.”
She wanted to laugh. “You might say that. It is the reason you are here today, after all. Their insistence I marry for the sake of the family reputation did not strengthen our familial bond.” She waited for the censure that was sure to fill his tone as she gathered up the last of her things and shoved them into her reticule.
“I despised my father, so I understand the sensation of animosity all too well.”
Catherine paused and looked at the baron. “I’m sorry to hear it.”
“I’m not.” He gave a one-sided shrug. “I was glad the old codger finally met his end. It may sound harsh to say so, but he was a cruel and evil bastard. I always believed that I would turn out to be just like him and I nearly did, except that tragedy made me stop and consider my actions for the future.” He paused.
“I am hoping to gain a second chance at life and give it some sort of meaning.”
She tilted her head to the side. “And you thought marrying a complete stranger would give you that personal redemption?”
“No. I was hoping the funds your father provided might help me to repair a dilapidated estate that I have finally decided to oversee, and the child you will bear will remind me that sacrifice is not always a bad thing. I will raise him or her as my own because it’s the right thing to do.”
Setting her hands on her hips, Catherine shook her head.
“My. What a martyr you are. So selfless to offer your hand to someone who had considered throwing herself out of the window just to find another solution to the one I now find myself in.” She forcibly shoved the last of the items in her reticule and tied the strings with a decided jerk.
“But since the deed is already done, I might as well see this hovel that we shall soon be sharing.”
Benjamin wouldn’t necessarily call his wife disagreeable, but she was rather cynical and filled with such a mocking derision that he considered how he might soften her character.
He also wondered if he had ever been that nasty and then recalled his sour treatment of his stepsister and he knew that he had, indeed, been a despicable cad.
It was unfortunate that she had yet to wear a smile.
She was quite comely with her dark hair and blue eyes and smooth complexion, and he would have been remiss if he hadn’t noticed the shapely curves of her body concealed beneath her gown, including the slight rounding of her midsection.
There was something about Daria he’d found rather fascinating when she’d been with child.
Although her melancholy spirits had always been at war with her beauty.
When he’d first beheld Catherine, he had been temporarily struck mute, a novel experience for him toward any woman.
Sadly, he hadn’t loved Daria, but he had not wanted to see her perish in such an unfortunate manner.
He wasn’t sure he could withstand another torment like those final hours with his first wife.
However, something told him his current bride was of a stronger constitution and should she relent her pinched expression for a time, she would be quite radiant.
“How long until we reach your estate?”
He lifted a brow at her almost demanding tone. Then again, she was a duke’s daughter and likely used to having her word obeyed at the slightest command. “A couple hours at most. It is not that far from the city.”
She gave a light sigh and settled herself a bit further into the cushions of the duke’s coach.
Without a carriage of his own, her father had lent them the use of his vehicle to transport them home.
Following that, Benjamin would have to provide alternate means, which translated to the purchase of at least a small curricle.
“I suppose that gives me time for a brief rest before I’m up all night listening to the wind howling through the timbers in my chamber.”
“What gives you the impression that we won’t be sharing a room?”