Chapter 15
“But I was a fool to leave you.” Alaric’s green eyes bored into Catherine’s.
Her heart thundered in her chest. She did not know what to say. Did he mean it? Did it matter if he did? Did she want him to mean it?
She pushed herself away from the table, wincing as the chair scraped along the floor. “I should take my leave of you.”
She moved toward the door of the dining room, but as she did, she heard Alaric’s chair scrape, and a moment later, she felt his fingers close around her wrist. “Wait.”
His touch sent a jolt through her, and though it was firm, she knew that it was one that would allow her to slip from his grasp should she choose.
“No touching, Alaric.” She was grateful that her voice sounded steady, even while her breath seemed to vanish from her body. “That was my rule.”
He released her hand immediately, as though burned. “My apologies. I should not have done that.”
The smell of amber and cedar filled her nose as heat continued to spread through her. The invisible rope between them rooted her to the spot. Catherine felt her heart thrill in her chest, beating so hard she was sure it would burst from her body.
“No, you should not.” Catherine ran her fingers over her wrist as she met Alaric’s gaze.
If the silence between them had not been so complete, she was sure he would have heard her heart. She shifted her weight, wanting to move away but feeling as though there was a band pulling her back toward Alaric. Catherine’s eyes traced the familiar lines of his face, but she found nothing.
“Did you want to say something to me?” Catherine’s voice sounded distant to her own ears, breaking the heavy silence between them.
Alaric shook his head. “It does not matter. Good night, Catherine.”
The band snapped, and Catherine stepped backward. “Good night.”
She felt air returning to her lungs as she left the room, her right hand on her chest while her left clutched her wrist. Her heart pounded and fluttered in her chest.
She walked to her room, listening for the sound of footsteps following her, but all she could hear were her own, punctuated by the steady thrill of her heart.
“What is the matter with me?” Catherine shook her head, letting her hand fall. “All he did was touch my wrist, and I have fallen to pieces.”
“What did he want to tell me?” s he murmured.
Why are you even thinking about it? What does it matter? It does not change anything.
She exhaled slowly. Her heart rate decreased slightly. Catherine tried to push it from her mind. “I will find a governess, and if nothing new has come up, I will leave in a fortnight. Return to my life and friends, and life will go back to the way it should be.”
She strode along the corridor and found herself passing the nursery. A part of her wanted to check on Oliver, to make sure he was all right. She half twisted toward the doorway, taking in the sight of a maid dozing near the bed that had been made up.
Oliver was in it, his hand dangling into the pen that had been set up for Daisy. Catherine suspected that the puppy would be resting against Oliver’s tiny hand. Her heart ached, but she forced herself to keep walking to her own chambers.
As she entered her room, Annabelle was waiting for her. “Where is Master Oliver?”
“He is in the nursery, with his puppy.” Catherine’s voice shook, but she forced herself to smile. “I think she will be good for him.”
Annabelle began to help Catherine change for bed. “I suppose it will make it easier when we return to London.”
“Yes.” Catherine nodded. Her heart felt leaden in her chest as she climbed into her bed. “And as we are hiring a governess, you will be able to relinquish the additional duties you have taken on to care for him.”
“I have not minded, Your Grace. He is a sweet boy.” Annabelle chewed on her lip, eyes flicking between Catherine and the floor. “In truth, I am rather fond of him.”
“I am too,” Catherine admitted. “But that cannot change things. What example would I set for him if I allowed his own family to shirk their responsibilities? What kind of man would he grow into? His father must raise him. It is the right thing to do.”
If Annabelle noticed the slight quaver in Catherine’s voice, she gave no sign of it. “Of course, Your Grace. Will that be all?”
“Yes. Wake me earlier than usual tomorrow. I wish to have breakfast with Oliver. I suspect if he is not supervised, he will feed everything to Daisy.” Catherine could not help but smile as she remembered him sneakily trying to slip the puppy food from his plate at dinner.
“Yes, Ma’am.” Annabelle curtsied and left the room.
Catherine stared up at the canopy of her four-poster bed, drawing her covers around her tightly. Without the sound of Oliver’s gentle breathing outside her room, the ticking of the clock sounded painfully loud.
Every creak her bed made as Catherine tried to get comfortable made her wince. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on her breathing.
“I like being alone. I enjoy having my own space,” Catherine said softly, turning onto her other side. “I want to have my own life.”
‘That is what you want?’ Alaric’s words echoed in the silence of Catherine’s rooms. His green eyes filled her mind.
She curled her fingers into her bed covers. “It has to be this way.”
She whispered the words over and over again. As sleep claimed her, she dreamed of an ancient, vibrant evergreen forest, birdsong punctuated by a boy’s laughter, and she felt as if she had come home.
* * *
“You have a visitor, Your Grace.” Mrs. Danvers knocked on the door of Catherine’s study.
It had been three days since the advertisement for a governess was posted. Catherine spent many of those days immersed in references and applications from women eager to become Oliver’s governess.
Catherine had not expected quite so much interest in the position, but Mrs. Danvers assured her it was to be expected. They had whittled the list down to three women and planned to interview them over the next few days.
“I am not expecting anyone. Tell me it is not another over-eager girl wanting the position of governess?” Catherine shook her head.
“No, Your Grace.” Mrs. Danvers swallowed. “It is the Marchioness of Danford.”
Catherine was on her feet at once, her heart thundering wildly. “My mother? What on Earth is she doing here?”
“She said that she wished to pay her daughter a visit, to see how married life suited her.” Mrs. Danvers tilted her head toward Catherine. “Do you wish for me to tell her you are unavailable, Your Grace?”
For a moment, Catherine considered it, but then she shook her head.
“She will just come again another day, I suspect she has taken a room in the village given the length of the journey.. My mother does not generally take ‘no’ for an answer. I suppose at least Oliver and Alaric are out; that removes one complication.”
Catherine’s fingers went to the wedding band on her finger, absentmindedly playing with it as she moved around the desk. “Given the time of year, she would have been in London. I doubt she has come all the way to Bath for something as simple as a chat.”
My mother had months to call on me and see how married life was suiting me when I was in London, but she never did.
The hairs on the back of Catherine’s neck prickled. “Whatever the reason for the visit, I mean to get to the bottom of it, preferably before Oliver and Alaric get home.”
She had no wish to hear her mother say unkind things about Oliver, and as Alaric’s memory had not yet fully returned, she did not want to risk her mother finding out.
Am I a monster for being suspicious of my mother?
Catherine pushed the thought away as she swept out of the study. “Where is she?”
“In the e astern Drawing Room, y our Grace.” Mrs. Danvers fell into step beside Catherine.
“Good. Have the cook prepare tea, though nothing to eat. If we do not at least make an attempt at hospitality, that will arouse suspicion.” Catherine forced herself to walk, even as every muscle in her screamed at her to run.
“If it has been longer than half an hour, interrupt us with an urgent matter.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Mrs. Danvers curtsied and peeled off toward the kitchens.
Catherine approached the large oak doors of the e astern drawing room, her heart thundering in her chest. She rolled her shoulders back, took in a deep breath, and nodded for the footman to open the doors for her.
Lady Danford stood in the center of the drawing room, her arms clasped in front of her, her blue eyes surveying the room around her. Catherine forced a smile onto her face.
“Mother.” Catherine took a step toward her mother, her familiar perfume washing over her as she dutifully kissed her on each cheek.
“Really, Catherine, how many times have I told you that chrysanthemums are far too common to be on display like that? You are a duchess now; you should have something more befitting of the station.” Her mother gestured to the flowers.
“They are my favorite flowers, and as I am a duchess, I think that makes them perfectly appropriate for my household.” Catherine kept her voice level, resisting the urge to stroke the flowers’ petals.
“Must you be so argumentative? I am only trying to help you, and I have had a rather long journey to get here, you know, and you have not even offered me any refreshments. Though I suppose that is more to do with your staff, I suppose.” Her mother sniffed.
“The tea will be here shortly.” Catherine felt her shoulders begin to tense and forced them to relax. “Now, tell me, why are you here?”
“Can a mother not simply yearn to check on her only daughter?” Her mother sat on the chaise longue, gesturing for Catherine to sit as well.
This is my house.
She felt a stab of irritation flit through her, but kept it from her face. She knew that refusing to sit would seem petulant and childish.