Chapter 18
“You are being ridiculous.” Catherine stood in front of Alaric, one hand on her hip and another pointing to a vile-smelling concoction on the table.
Alaric folded his hands over his chest and arched an eyebrow at her. It had been three days since she had told him that she had hired a governess. Three days since she had lifted her no-touching rule and suggested that they be friends.
Friends. His heart thrilled beneath his fingers as Catherine’s voice echoed around his head, and his stomach dropped. He frowned at Catherine.
“I am not. It is disgusting.” Alaric nodded toward the concoction and wrinkled his nose. “And I do not need it. I am perfectly fine with... achoo.”
Damn it. Three more sneezes followed his first, and Alaric scowled. Catherine’s face was a mix of amusement and exasperation.
“You have been sneezing like that for two days, and do not think I did not hear you coughing earlier.” Catherine shook her head.
“It is nothing. I assure you, I am fit as a fiddle.” Alaric felt another sneeze coming on and just managed to suppress it.
“For now. If you do not tend to it, it will get worse.” Catherine met his gaze, her blue eyes soft. “You need to look after yourself, Alaric. It is lucky you are not sicker. I told you and Oliver not to go swimming when it was so cold!”
His heart tumbled in his chest, and he smiled at her, his voice light and teasing. “Careful, Catherine, you almost sounded like a wife.”
“I am your wife.” He noticed faint spots of color on her cheeks as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “And if you are not going to look after yourself, then it is my duty to make you do it. Both as a wife and as a friend.”
“If I had known this was the price of your friendship, I am not sure I would have agreed.” Alaric leaned back, his nose wrinkling as he looked at the tincture.
“Well, it is too late now.” Catherine picked up the bottle and handed it to him.
Her fingers brushed against his as she did so, and he heard her breath catch. His heart beat so loudly he was sure she would hear it, and every muscle in his body tensed, coursing with a fizzing energy. She met his gaze, and his stomach tumbled over and over.
“It is barely a swallow.” Beneath the firmness of her voice, he thought he heard a slight breathlessness.
I am imagining it. He scowled, downed the liquid, and made a face. “That is disgusting.”
He coughed, and Catherine rolled her eyes. Before either of them could say anything, there was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Langley appeared.
She dropped into a curtsy. “Your Graces.”
“Mrs. Langley. Is there something you need?” Alaric noticed the way Catherine’s back stiffened as the other woman entered the room and saw that the smile on her face was not her usual one.
His head began to ache, and the room faded. The sound of chatter filled his head, and an image of Catherine floated to the forefront of his mind.
That smile, I have seen it before.
“Alaric?” Catherine’s voice snapped him back to the present, the memory vanishing.
Alaric waved her away, forcing himself to smile even as the nausea threatened to overwhelm him. “I am fine. Really. It is probably just the vile medicine disagreeing with me.”
Catherine’s lips pursed, but before she could say anything, Mrs. Langley interjected. “If Your Grace wishes, I could prepare a tea for you. I have some skill with herbs and such.”
“A kind offer, Mrs. Langley, but not necessary. The tincture is foul enough; I do not think I could stand a teapot’s worth of the stuff.” Alaric suppressed a shudder at the thought of it.
To his surprise, Mrs. Langley’s smile broadened. “The taste of the tea would be inoffensive, Your Grace. It is an old family recipe; we give it to children and often sweeten it with honey. I find it easier to give things to them that are pleasing to the palate.”
“I see no harm in at least trying it, though, as I told the Duchess, I feel perfectly fine.” He shrugged.
Catherine muttered something too quietly for Alaric to hear, but he was fairly sure he caught the words “stubborn” and “oaf.” It was difficult for Alaric to hide the amused smile forming on his face.
Mrs. Langley gave no indication that she had heard Catherine; her smile remained unchanged, her eyes remained fixed on him.
“I shall prepare it at once, Your Grace.” Mrs. Langley clapped her hands together. “Cook should have everything I need.”
“Will you have time for such a thing?” Catherine interrupted. “I would not wish to distract you from your duties, Mrs. Langley. And the kitchens will be preparing for dinner, after all, we are expecting company this evening.”
“It is no trouble, Your Grace. Oliver is taking a nap, and this tea will not take long to prepare. I assure you, I have no intention of angering Cook. I will stay entirely out of her way, and I believe if I explain that it is for His Grace, all will be forgiven.” Alaric’s head began to ache again, but he forced himself not to show it.
“I do not want you to overstretch yourself, Mrs. Langley, that is all.” Catherine’s voice sounded friendly, but Alaric could hear an edge to it.
“Your Grace is far too kind. I assure you, it would be my utmost pleasure to prepare a tea for His Grace. And then I will return to Master Oliver,” Mrs. Langley replied, and nothing in her tone indicated that she had heard the edge in Catherine’s voice.
Though the exchange was pleasant enough, or at least that was how it sounded, Alaric felt like he was watching two people preparing for a duel, each sizing the other up.
Or at the very least, Catherine is measuring Mrs. Langley.
The air seemed to thicken between them, but Mrs. Langley gave no indication that it bothered her. Alaric glanced from Catherine to Mrs. Langley.
He cleared his throat, and both women’s eyes snapped to him; every hair on his body stood on end. “Mrs. Langley, check that the kitchens can accommodate you, and if so, make the tea and return to Oliver. If they cannot, it can wait until after dinner.”
“Very good, Your Grace.” Mrs. Langley’s reply was barely audible over the beating of his own heart. “May I be dismissed?”
“Yes,” Catherine replied, her eyes leaving Alaric’s.
Mrs. Langley curtsied and exited the room. Alaric risked a glance at Catherine. The smile had disappeared from her face, and her brow was furrowed as she watched the governess leave.
“I take it you still have your reservations about the woman.” Alaric rubbed his neck.
“She is here to tend to Oliver; he has to come first.”
“She was trying to be helpful, Catherine. She is working in a great house with a duke and duchess; doubtless, she is eager to leave a good impression. She seems perfectly competent to me.”
“And this has nothing to do with her offering to make you a medicinal tea that does not taste like medicine, right?”
“If she can, that will only demonstrate her competence.” Alaric shrugged. “Besides, if it works, we know that the next time Oliver is unwell, we will have something to help him.”
“It was easier to convince him to drink the tincture than you.” Catherine gave him a sidelong look. “All I had to do was promise him cake.”
“Perhaps you would have me be a more malleable subject if you had offered me the same.” Alaric gave her an overly innocent look as he spread his hands wide. “Though I am rather more partial to biscuits or whiskey than I am to cake.”
“I am not going to bribe a grown man into looking after himself.” Though Catherine’s voice was stern, Alaric could see the smile she was trying to hide.
“It is not bribery, it is an incentive.” He chuckled. “When the cure is worse than the poison, one needs all the help one can get. If you were ill, I would not make you drink it.”
“You would not have to.” Catherine countered, taking a step toward him. “I would just do it.”
Alaric arched an eyebrow at her, answering her step with his own. “Easy enough to say when there is no way of putting it to the test.”
“Are you saying I am not a woman of my word?” Catherine tilted her head toward him. “I thought you trusted me.”
“I do.” Alaric closed the distance between them, her blue eyes drawing him to her like magnets. “But no man alive would choose to drink that.”
“Then it is lucky for you I am no man.” Catherine’s eyes danced.
Alaric’s heart thumped, his muscles tense even as a low chuckle escaped his throat. “I am well aware of that, Duchess. I still do not think you would drink it.”
Catherine’s lips parted, and all the moisture vanished from Alaric’s mouth.
“I suppose we shall just have to wait and see.” Catherine’s voice was breathless as she stepped away from him, her hands smoothing her dress.
Alaric felt as if an unfamiliar hand had suddenly released the pressure on his chest. The scent of lavender filled the space between them, and he inhaled it deeply before he even realized what he was doing.
What is wrong with me?
A knock at the door pulled his attention back to the moment, and he turned to find himself facing Mr. Wilkins who had returned the week before and the familiar face of Frederick Hale.
“Hale!” Alaric closed the distance between them before the footman could announce Frederick and clasped his friend’s hand in his own, pulling him into an embrace. “It is good to see you.”
For a moment, he felt Frederick stiffen, and then he returned the embrace. “And you, Deverell. Though I am not sure I have ever received such a cryptic summons from you before.”
“Unfortunately, it could not be helped, but now that you are here, we can explain everything.” Alaric gestured for Frederick to come into the room and then dismissed the footman. “Can I get you a drink?”
“I will not say no to some whiskey.” Frederick’s eyes moved from Alaric to Catherine. “A pleasure to see you, Your Grace.”
“And you, Lord Hale.” Catherine moved to stand beside Alaric, and for a moment, he thought she would rest her hand on his arm, but she did not. “Thank you for coming to see us so quickly.”