Chapter Twenty-Two
Katie might be a fool, but she was not a complete fool.
She knew that an evening of torrid passion in the library with Dulverton would not miraculously transform how he behaved towards her.
And so she was not terribly surprised when she went down to breakfast the following morning and discovered that, as usual, her husband had already left and it was just another day.
No, she was not surprised, but she was more than a little disappointed.
And frustrated. How was he able to remain so unmoved by last night?
Perhaps he was this way with every woman he’d made love to?
Katie had not felt this wonderful with Jasper.
And she did not think that just because she now hated him, either.
No, she recalled all too well how she had tolerated those uncomfortable couplings with Jasper to keep him happy rather than out of any real desire for him.
But as much as this passion with Dulverton was well and good—actually, it was lovely and wonderful!—it still left her feeling hollow and needy for more. Somehow Katie needed to make him talk to her.
Before meeting Mrs. St. Clare, Katie would not have believed her reserved, taciturn, and uncommunicative husband was even capable of confiding in another person.
Katie had been consumed by jealousy when she’d believed Anna Wilson was Dulverton’s mistress, but that feeling was nothing to the roiling emotions that assaulted her when she thought about Dulverton sharing his thoughts with Mrs. St. Clare.
Before she could become too despondent, she reminded herself that last night had been a step in the right direction.
Dulverton had finally seen her. Not just her face, but the person who occupied her body.
Even if it had only been her skill at chess that had impressed him, at least it was more than what he’d seen in her before.
Of course, he had noticed her face and body as well…
Katie smirked to herself. Indeed, last night would provide her with erotic memories for months to come, although she hoped not to have to rely on just memories. He would come to her again tonight, wouldn’t he?
Katie cursed herself for falling asleep last night before she could somehow find a way to retract her foolish claim about not wanting passion in the bedchamber.
But surely, after last night he would realize all that had changed, now?
And yet, three mornings later—after two nights of perfunctory coupling—Katie was beginning to realize that what had been crystal clear to her had not been apparent to her husband at all.
If they were ever to return to the way they’d been before her foolish declaration, then she would have to be the one to take steps.
Katie was heading to breakfast and dwelling on just how she would achieve her goal when she heard Dulverton’s voice drift up from the foyer and her heart sped. He hadn’t left, yet. What was he doing at home?
Instead of turning left on the landing, she hurried down the stairs.
Her husband was pulling on his gloves as she reached the bottom step and glanced up. “Good morning, Your Grace,” he said in his abrupt way.
“Good morning, Dulverton. Are you going somewhere?” she stupidly asked.
“I have to go to town,” he muttered, his mind obviously elsewhere. But then he appeared to recall himself and say, “Do you have any commissions for me?”
“Might I go with you?”
A notch appeared between his eyebrows, which began to draw down.
“I can be ready to leave in ten minutes,” she promised when he hesitated.
“You have not broken your fast,” he said after a long, awkward moment.
“I do not need anything. I can be—”
“Eat something before you change your clothing,” he said, speaking over her. “I have several matters I can attend to while I wait. I will see you in an hour.”
“I don’t need a whole—”
But he had already turned on his heel and was headed up the stairs she had just descended, likely bound for the library.
She didn’t need an hour! Katie pulled a face at his back but followed him up the stairs, turning left for the breakfast room.
She was too excited to linger over breakfast and hurriedly ate two pieces of toast and a boiled egg before hastening back to her chambers, where she found Becky fussing about in her dressing room.
“I need to change, Becks. You and I are going to town.”
“Ooh, to town! Will you wear the new peridot walking costume?” Becky asked hopefully.
“That seems a bit much for a visit to Lyme”—Katie glanced out the window— “especially when the sky is threatening rain. How about the emerald green and I can wear my new boots.”
Katie and Becky were ready a full ten minutes before it was time to leave. “Let us go down and wait. My husband does not believe women can be punctual,” she explained at her maid’s puzzled look. “I am going to prove we can actually be early.”
Naturally Dulverton was already in the foyer talking to one of the twin footmen—either Jeremy or Jacob, she was ashamed that she could never tell them apart—when they came down the stairs.
His eyebrows lifted slightly at the sight of her. “The carriage is ready,” he said without preamble, gesturing for Katie to precede him out the door the footman was holding open.
Only when she and Becky were settled in the luxurious coach, both of them sharing a seat, did she realize her husband had no intention of joining them.
“Oh, you are riding,” she said rather stupidly as a groom led Dulverton’s gorgeous stallion, Centurion, toward the carriage.
“I will escort you to Lyme and see to my business, but on the way back I will go straight to the dig rather than come all the way back here.” It was clear from the flicker of annoyance that crossed his face that he did not like having to explain himself to a mere wife.
Fuming, Katie sat back, leaving him to shut the door, which he was obviously so eager to do.
“Don’t be angry at him, Katie,” Becky said quietly once the carriage was moving.
Katie looked up from her hands, which she was purposely keeping unclenched in her lap when what she wanted to do was ball them into fists and pummel something. “Why shouldn’t I be angry at him?” she snapped. “If there is a more awkward man alive, I have yet to meet him.”
“He is just shy—”
“Shy?” Kaite barked a laugh. “That must be more drivel from Court, the fount of all knowledge when it comes to Dulverton.”
Becky scowled. “Mock all you like, Your Grace. But the truth is that you are of a prickly and combative temperament, and His Grace is excessively reserved and brusque—”
“Brusque? I think the word you are looking for is rude.”
Becky ignored her comment. “Your differences lead to misunderstandings and bruised feelings. If the two of you keep on this way, you will be living at opposite ends of the country just as the old duke and duchess did.”
Katie hadn’t had the courage to tell her friend about the bargain she’d made the day Dulverton had offered for her.
She found that she did not have the courage today, either.
“That might be for the best. I am clearly nothing but a burden—a boring one—to him and he could be left to his own devices, his tidy house, and his bloody dig.”
Becky pursed her lips and deliberately turned to look out the window.
“I’m sorry,” Katie said after a few moments of silence. She smiled ruefully at her friend. “I should not be snappish with you. You are not the reason I am peeved.”
Becky took Katie’s hand and laced their fingers together just as she’d done when they were girls and she had tried to talk Katie out of one of her moods. “One of you will have to make the effort, Katie. You know that.”
“Why should it be me?” she demanded petulantly.
“Because you are a woman, and it is our lot in life to be peacemakers while men are the ones who make war. Because you have so much more to lose if you do not find common ground with him. And—most importantly—because it is a chance to be happy.”
“Happy? With that man?”
“Mr. Court said—”
“Good Lord, Becky! Every third sentence of yours seems to begin with those three words.”
Becky gave Katie an irksomely superior look. “If you don’t want to hear what he told me about the duke then I will not bore you.”
Katie gritted her teeth and forced herself to say, “I’m sorry. I want to hear.” And she did want to know, so much that it infuriated and terrified her.
Becky made her stew a moment or two before saying, “Mr. Court said that His Grace was a different person before his first marriage.”
“I should think so. He was only ten-and-seven, a mere child.”
“Mr. Court said it was more than just his youth. He said His Grace was… romantic.”
Katie’s eyes bulged. “Romantic? I will believe many things, but that is not one of them.”
“Why would he lie?”
“Perhaps he is not lying, just mistaken.”
“I do not think so. He said His Grace was hopeful about his marriage even though he had never met his bride.”
Katie could imagine exactly what the adolescent Dulverton had hoped: that he’d have a woman to warm his bed whenever he wanted.
But she knew that comment would not please her maid, who was romantic, so she said, “You spend a great deal of time chatting with Mr. Court. And not just about laundry.” Becky tried to tug her hand away but Katie held on.
“Now, now, don’t become all prickly when I poke my nose into your business.
After all, is that not what you were just doing to me? ”
“I was not engaging in teasing gossip for the sake of it,” Becky snapped. “Somebody needs to help you save your marriage before it is beyond your power to do so.
Katie did not tell her friend that she was a member of a quickly growing club.
***
The carriage dropped them off at the Red Lion, which was evidently the nicest posting Lyme Regis had to offer.
Dulverton had already dismounted by the time the carriage rolled to a stop and was speaking to a man who must be the innkeeper because he kept bowing at the duke, obviously delighted to have his custom.