Chapter Nineteen
Naturally, Dulverton did not come to Katie’s bed for the next five nights, which meant she saw even less of him than she had before.
Now there was only dinner—always in the company of at least his mother and the steward, and once with the vicar, his wife, and sister-in-law—and later in the library they would sit and work independently while the dowager chattered.
Betje had taken to staying for the first hour—gradually down to three-quarters of an hour and then half-an-hour until Katie wondered if she would soon stop coming at all—before claiming exhaustion and leaving them alone.
It was obviously her sweet, although misguided, attempt to throw Katie and Dulverton into each other’s company.
Katie did not think she was imagining the increasingly desperate tone Betje’s chatter took on as she realized that Katie and Dulverton were every bit as aloof with one another as they’d been that first night.
Indeed, Katie had even less to say to her husband after their first and only ride together.
She had been relieved that her courses prevented him from visiting her the night she had learned about his mistress.
Even now, after five entire days, she was not looking forward to having him in her bed again.
Liar.
Oh, very well. She did like the time they spent in bed, but it was tearing her apart.
It was simply too difficult to use him—or his body, rather—for nothing more than sexual satisfaction.
How on earth did men detach themselves emotionally from their mistresses?
Or did they? Perhaps Dulverton really was capable of love—as Betje believed—but for Anna Wilson rather than Katie?
The thought made her too ill to ponder.
Evidently, Mr. Court had come to Becky that morning to inquire whether the duchess was over her indisposition.
Katie could hardly ask her servant to lie on her behalf, but that did not mean she had any intention of allowing matters to continue the way they had been.
No, tonight was the beginning of a new phase in their marriage.
Betje had suggested that Katie challenge Dulverton, and so she would do exactly that. Although she doubted the other woman had meant that Katie should—
“—do you not think, Katie? Katie?”
Her head jerked up at the dowager’s question. “I beg your pardon, Mama. I was just trying to decide what to do with this section,” Katie lied.
Betje scooted closer on the settee and cocked her head, resembling a little pink bird. “What about a peony? They are quite my favorite.”
“A pink one?” Katie suggested with a faint smile.
The older woman laughed. “You know me so well already, my dear.”
Katie had begun calling her Mama two days earlier.
It had been an impulse of the moment, after they had paid several rather tedious calls together and, instead of lamenting the boring visits, the dowager had smiled and bounced on the plush leather seat in her son’s coach, looking like a child on Christmas morning.
“Just spending time with you makes even bitter old Baroness Hellier worth visiting.”
The words had been like a flaming arrow that pierced the constant gray fog that seemed to surround her since encountering Anna Wilson and arguing with Dulverton—sorry, discussing—about why he did not want her at Briarly.
Her eyes had burned as she’d taken the older woman’s hand.
When had anyone last said something so lovely to her?
“Thank you,” she’d said, her voice choked.
“That was quite the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time, Betje—would you mind terribly if I called you Mama?”
“Oh, I should adore it above all things, my dear! I am so delighted to finally have a daughter. It seems I’ve been waiting all my life for you, Katie.”
Katie had shed a tear at that point.
“You will be finished with this piece before I leave,” the dowager said now, pulling her from her pleasant reminiscence.
“Leave?” Katie said sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry, my dear, I meant to tell you this morning after I received word from home, but the time never seemed right. I must return to Spenwood on the morrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
Betje’s huge blue eyes flickered toward where Dulverton sat silently working on whatever it was that kept him so busy every night. She lowered her voice. “One of the servants who came with me from home—from Utrecht, that is—has fallen ill at Spenwood and I must return immediately.”
“Of course you must. I am so very sorry.” In more ways than one. Without her mother-in-law at Briarly, life would be lonely. And grim. “I—I will miss you greatly.”
Betje patted her hand. “And I you. I regret that I won’t be here when the Countess of Grimsby finally returns from the Continent.”
Katie stiffened at the sound of Jasper’s grandmother’s name.
“The woman is a tartar, but her society is impossible to ignore,” Betje went on.
“Elm Hall is one of her smaller estates and she does not come here often, but I gather she has decided to—” she broke off and waved a dismissive hand.
“But why am I am babbling about that right now? I just wanted you to know that I regret I won’t be by your side to offer support when you finally meet the dragon. ”
The last thing Katie wanted to think about just then was Jasper’s grandmother. “I will miss your company, Mama,” she said, meaning it.
The dowager cut a glance at Dulverton before leaning close and whispering, “I should have made better use of our time, my dear.”
Katie stole a look at Dulverton, as well. But his head was bent, and his brow was furrowed in thought. “What do you mean?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” Betje admitted. “I just wish I had tried… something. But I want you to remember that you are mistress here, Katie. If you stand aside now, you will always be on the edges of Gerrit’s life. Always.”
Katie jabbed her needle into linen, her eyes blurring slightly.
She’d thought about riding out to the Morris farm during one of her daily rides—the only way she could think of to stake her claim as duchess—but every day she’d come up with a reason not to.
Because she was a coward. “Sometimes…sometimes a person has no choice in the matter,” Katie whispered. “Sometimes a person is pushed aside.”
Betje set her small hand on Katie’s forearm. “Fight for your marriage,” she hissed in a voice throbbing with intensity. “You must be the one to push. And keep pushing until you get what you want. And what both of you need.”
But Katie had no response because she did not want to lie to the other woman.
Pushing for what she wanted was not something she knew how to do.
At least not with a man who could not wait until she was gone from his life.
Not for the first time did she see Anna Wilson’s beautiful face—and those of her lovely children—in her mind’s eye.
When she didn’t answer Betje said, “There is love in my son, Katie. And I believe you are the one who can bring it out of him.”
Like the coward she was, Katie reached into her needlework basket and took out the card wrapped with shades of floss. “Help me choose the pink you want for the new peony, Mama.”
***
Gerrit paused on the threshold to his wife’s bedchamber and squinted into the darkness. Had Court misunderstood Kathryn’s maid message? Why was the room in complete—
“I am awake. Come in.” Her voice floated toward him like a chill wind portending an ice storm.
“Why is the room in darkness?” he asked, making his way slowly toward her bed, which was nothing but a huge shadow in the faint light from the half-moon shining through a gap in the drapes.
“Because I prefer it that way.”
He opened his mouth to remind her that he most certainly did not prefer it this way.
But she was not finished. “I would rather we commenced this part of our life the way we mean to go on.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying there is no point in us behaving like lovers when we are nothing more than… associates.”
“Associates.” Gerrit could honestly say he had not been so flummoxed since…
well, since that night in the garden when a beautiful stranger had kissed him.
“What do you mean?” He wanted to kick himself for sounding like a damned imbecile.
It was perfectly obvious what she meant.
But Gerrit wanted to hear her say the words.
“I agreed to bear your children. I did not agree to s-service you in the bedchamber the way a mistress would do.”
Gerrit was grateful it was dark because he was certain the expression on his face was not one he wanted to share. He heard the rustling of sheets.
“I am ready.”
Bitter, vicious fury spread through his body.
Not to mention the stabbing pain of rejection, an unwanted mental voice chimed in.
Bloody unbelievable. The one thing Gerrit had to offer his wife—his skill in the bedchamber—she did not want.
So be it. If she wanted cold, calculated servicing, he would bloody well give it to her.
He shrugged off his banyan and flung it away, not caring where it landed or if he could find it again afterward, and clumsily climbed up onto the bed.
His hands shook as he shoved her nightgown up to her waist.
She spread her thighs for him, but when he reached for her sex—to ready her—she flinched and tried to pull her legs closed. “Please don’t. Just…do it.”
Gerrit gritted his teeth so hard it was a miracle they didn’t shatter. He lowered to one elbow, his movements jerky with anger, and took his cock in his hand. It was as hard as ever, evidently not sharing his brain’s distaste for what was about to happen.
Not since his very first time with the mistress his father had engaged for him when Gerrit had been fifteen had he mounted a woman so selfishly and taken his release.
But if that was what Kathryn wanted? Then, by God, he would give it to her.
***
Katie felt the rage radiating off Dulverton in the darkness. Indeed, it amazed her how easily she could read the language of his body even though she could not see him. She kept waiting for him to say something—preferably no—but something told her she would be waiting a long, long time.
She bit her lip to keep from making any sound when he dragged his slick crown against her soaked, swollen sex.
He jolted—as if surprised to discover how wet she was after issuing such a cold declaration—and Katie silently cursed her eager body.
But it wanted what it wanted without any care for what her heart or mind preferred.
So did her hips, which tilted to take him deeper, a shudder rippling through her at the exquisite stretch.
Rather than pause to allow her time to adjust, as he normally did, he worked her with thrusts so relentless and savage that each one drove her up the bed.
Being penetrated—just the notion of having his body inside hers—was always enough to make her hungry for him, but tonight the pleasure that usually coiled inside her until she could no longer contain it was slow to build.
And when—scant seconds later—Dulverton’s pounding grew faster and wilder, Katie knew that this time, unlike all the others, he would not ensure that she reached her climax before him.
He plunged uncomfortably deep, and his big body froze, his thick shaft swelling deliciously and almost pushing her toward the edge.
Katie tightened her inner muscles around him until she was close, so close, so—
But then his body stiffened again, not with arousal, but with awareness—he knew she was on the brink of release—and he abruptly withdrew, leaving her shockingly empty.
Katie clenched her hands, frustration suffusing her as he slid off the mattress. This was not going the way she had planned—had hoped. He’d not resisted or insisted. He’d just… accepted.
She opened her mouth to tell him that she had been wrong—that she’d not meant what she’d said earlier—but the words stuck in her throat like burrs.
“Goodnight, Kathryn.” He opened the door and disappeared into his room, leaving her alone with only doubt and need for company.