Chapter Ten
Gerrit glanced at the clock and gritted his teeth. It was now four minutes past eight.
He looked from the clock face to the two footmen who waited along with him. “Avery, will you please go and inform Her Grace that—”
The door opened and his wife breezed into the room. “I am sorry I’m late,” she announced, not sounding sorry in the least.
Willow came in behind her, and Gerrit knew his butler had probably been hovering outside the room wringing his hands. The old man’s gaze flickered anxiously from Gerrit to the duchess.
“You may serve now,” Gerrit said.
“Very good, Your Grace,” Willow said, soundlessly closing the door behind him.
Avery hastened to pull out Kathryn’s chair at the foot of the table. Rather than be seated, however, she stood staring from her seat to Gerrit’s. “What is your name?” she asked the hovering footman.
“Avery, Your Grace.”
“Avery, would you please move my place setting closer to His Grace?”
Avery darted a look at Gerrit.
So did Kathryn.
Gerrit gnashed his teeth. If he did not assert himself now, she would run roughshod over him. He had trained countless dogs and more than a few horses over the years. Surely, he could train one small woman.
“Leave the place setting where it is,” he said, and then turned to Thomas, who was watching the proceedings with wide-eyed awe. “Help Avery remove all the table leaves.”
The servants jolted into action, and Gerrit seethed at the food for gossip they were currently providing. He knew he should allow her to sit at his right or left hand, but he’d be damned before he’d endure an entire meal feeling nauseatingly off-center.
Kathryn’s eyes drilled into him, a twisted smile on her lovely face. Gerrit was no fool; she viewed his countermanding of her request as shots fired across her bow. Her openly antagonistic expression told him she was more than willing to engage in a pitched battle.
So was Gerrit.
The difference between them was that he would win.
***
After the leaves had been removed and the food served, Katie’s plan had been to completely ignore her husband and eat in silence.
But a few surreptitious glances across the table—now shortened to a laughably small four-person size in the massive dining room—told her that heh-REET was delighted to dine in silence and was enjoying the peace and quiet.
Well, she could not have that, could she?
“What time are we leaving in the morning, Your Grace?” she asked, even though Becky had already told her they would be off at first light.
He looked up from his poached sole. “At first light.”
“Ah.”
He turned back to his plate.
“How long will it take to get to our destination?”
He looked up again, locking eyes with her as he set down his fork, finished chewing his mouthful of food, wiped his stern mouth with his napkin, and said, “The trip takes fourteen hours.”
Katie frowned. “That is longer than I thought. Where will we break our journey?”
“The moon is full so we will travel straight through.”
“Lord! That sounds like misery. What is the hurry, Dulverton?”
Knots rippled up and down his jaw as he glowered across at her. “Leave us,” he barked, never taking his gaze from her.
The footmen scuttled from the room.
Once the door had shut behind them, Dulverton said, “This will not serve, Kathryn.”
A flutter of excitement erupted in her belly at the sound of her name on his tongue.
It had been years since anyone had called her by anything other than her nickname.
Only her parents had ever used Kathryn and then, usually, it had been when she’d misbehaved and was going to be punished.
Her father—when nagged by her mother—had employed the time-honored bend over the desk and endure a series of swats method of correction.
Katie and her sisters had laughed uproariously at the earl’s ineffectual smacks with a switch.
Their mother, on the other hand, delivered a constant series of pinches and slaps that left bruises all over one’s arms. But worse than that, were her punitive silences that dragged on for days.
It had been at least five years since Katie had endured chastisements from either of her parents, but the unpleasant feeling of not measuring up had not changed.
She wondered what sort of punishments Dulverton favored.
The realization that yet another person possessed the authority to control and discipline her was like the jab of a red-hot poker to her already tender sensibilities and her temper—already hanging by a thread--snapped.
“What will not serve, Your Grace?” she retorted with a sneer.
“Me having the audacity to ask questions?”
“Your combativeness will not serve.”
She opened her mouth, but he lifted a hand. To her shock, the words froze on her tongue.
“I can see that it is in your nature to challenge authority.” He sat back in his chair and regarded her coldly. “But that will not serve, either.”
“I suppose you are the authority.”
“Correct.”
Katie’s vision blurred, not with tears, but with outraged frustration. “So, now we come to the crux of the matter. You are domineering, controlling, and overbearing and I will have no choice in—in anything having to do with my own life.”
“If by domineering, controlling, and overbearing you mean there is only one master in this marriage and I am he, then yes, you are correct. You can either accept the way it will be, or you can futilely rail against my authority. Rest assured that I will win in the end.”
Katie didn’t open her mouth, not because she feared him—which made her an even bigger fool—but because she would rant and rave which would only make her look like a child having a tantrum.
The infuriating truth was that the rage boiling inside her like an overfull pot was all her doing.
Her last act of free will had been swearing to honor and obey him.
The moment the vicar had declared them man and wife, Katie became Dulverton’s chattel, just like his houses, his bloody fossils, and every other possession.
Becky had been right; Katie had made her bed and now she would have to lie in it.
Thwarted, she sat back in her chair, her hands shaking so badly she hid them on her lap.
He regarded her sternly for a long moment, as if to assure himself that she had submitted to his bullying, and then said, “I daresay you have noticed that I have what are considered odd humors?” Katie did not trust herself to open her mouth, so she just glared.
Either he didn’t really expect an answer or took her hostile look as a yes, because he continued.
“I require structure in my life if I am to function efficiently and see to my myriad duties. Capricious actions that upset the order I have imposed on my home and surroundings are not acceptable. Do you understand what I am saying, Kathryn?”
She flinched under the weight of his opaque gaze but refused to look away. “I am not sure I do, Your Grace. You had better explain precisely what you mean so I do not run afoul of your expectations again.”
Dulverton nodded without hesitation and Katie suspected he’d not noticed the heavy sarcasm in her tone.
“Very well. I am talking about any disorderly behavior. Dinner is at eight. And that means eight. Not four minutes after eight. Eight. Numerous servants have worked diligently to prepare and deliver a meal precisely at that time. Common courtesy compels one to respect that and arrive—”
“Common courtesy?” Katie laughed.
“Why is that so amusing?”
“You bark at your servants as if they were medieval serfs. Of course, you barked at Chatham the same way and he is a duke, so at least you do not discriminate on the basis of social standing. In any event, getting a lecture from you about common courtesy is the height of irony.”
He leaned forward in his chair, and Katie flinched back in hers. “I lack a honeyed tongue, is that what you are saying?”
“I am saying you have a tongue like a thistle bush.”
He nodded slowly, the gesture oddly menacing.
“Many people believe a honeyed speech is courtesy. Those same people—often the men and women of our class—frequently prey on those weaker than them, their servants for example. But as long as they keep a pleasant tone and smile sweetly, they are dubbed courteous.”
Katie face heated at the accusatory glitter in his eyes; even an idiot would understand the point he was making.
Namely, that a woman who’d bedded a family servant was in no position to talk about courtesy.
Not for the first time did Katie regret that she’d begun their marriage on a lie.
Especially given how that lie robbed her of the right to defend herself.
When she did not speak, he continued. “I believe actions are almost always more important than words. My servants, tenants, and others who rely on me need never be concerned that I will dishonor their daughters, nor will I sack them without cause or force them to live and labor in squalor or dangerous conditions. I offer generous compensation and a decent, healthy environment in which to work. That, Kathryn, is what I consider courtesy.”
“I could not agree more with most of what you said, Your Grace. But I fail to see how it applies to me.” She eyed him sourly. “Unless you consider me just another of your servants.”
“I certainly do not.”
“I am relieved to—”
“My servants fulfill their obligations without engaging in endless conflict merely for conflict’s sake.”
Katie’s mouth snapped shut.
“As my wife and my duchess, you occupy a singular role and have unique duties. One of those is to not publicly embarrass me or yourself. It is also your duty to not undermine my authority in front of my subordinates. If you wish to dispute a matter with me, Kathryn, I ask that you do so in private.”