Chapter Eleven
Mayfair, London
By the time Cate was on her second cup of tea, her father made an appearance in the morning room.
“Good morning, Papa. Did you have a late night?” As she asked the question, the longcase clock at the other end of the corridor chimed the eleventh hour of the morning.
“I did. I’m afraid I was lost on a tangent of research.” When he joined her at the table, a footman rushed over with a pot of coffee, a cup, and a plate full of her father’s favorite breakfast foods. “Time well spent, though.”
“How is your paper coming along?”
“Quite well. My notes are scattered, of course, but I’m satisfied with the project.” He slid her a glance. “It would go faster if you were helping me with organization, but I understand you’re busy with your own endeavors.”
She nodded and told herself she wouldn’t be pulled in by guilt. “My work at the lending library as well as the translation is occupying all my time just now, but you are fully capable of writing your paper without my help.”
“I think you mother and I raised you to be slightly too independent,” he said with the hint of a grin as he poured out a cup of coffee. “That is both a good and a bad thing.”
“You are once more thinking of my future.” It wasn’t a question, for she knew it weighed heavily on his shoulders.
“How can I not?” With the wave of a hand, her father dismissed the footman who hovered near the sideboard. Then he settled his gaze squarely on her. “There is something different about you these days, my girl.”
“Nonsense.” Cate shook her head though her cheeks heated. Would he notice the blush? “I’m the same as I have ever been, just being pulled in different directions. Which reminds me, I should probably go by the shops soon for Christmas presents.”
“Don’t try to distract me, pet. I’m telling you. There is a different air about you these days.” One of his graying eyebrows rose in challenge. “Why is that, I wonder, and why is it that this change has happened shortly after you met the Duke of Scarborough?”
Oh, dear.
“I’ll admit, he is as interesting as the translation work I’m doing for him.” In fact, she’d dreamed about both last night, especially after how endearing he’d been yesterday in the library lounge after the poor luck with the tea tray. Was that a product of the alleged curse from the Egyptian book?
“Hmm.” For the next several moments, her father ate in silence while Cate finished her cup of tea.
Then, as he dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his linen napkin, he spoke again.
“I have known you all your life, poppet, and I also know your penchant of chasing the wrong men for the wrong reasons.”
“Oh, Papa, please don’t—”
“I must.” He laid his napkin upon his lap.
“After your last position as a governess, you were let go after having an amorous relationship with your employer. Are you going down the same path with the duke? Will you have your heart broken again?” When she remained quiet, he sighed.
“Are you more than a mere translator for Scarborough? Is that why you have been so happy as of late?”
Well, how could she deny it? Her father may be many things, but he was a keen observer when he wanted to be. “Oh, Papa, it’s… confusing at best.”
“Only the best stories are, pet. Now, why don’t you tell me what is happening.”
She heaved out a sigh. “From the first, there has been some sort of aggressive and quite breathtaking connection between us.”
“And you acted upon that connection?” There was no judgment in his tones, merely curiosity.
“I’m afraid he acted upon it first, and then I returned the favor, until…”
Her father held up a hand. “I don’t need to know.”
“Ah, good.” How much should she tell her father? Perhaps he could provide insight. “All of that to say I am currently at sixes and sevens because of him.”
“How so?”
“Well, I…” She briefly held her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m not sure but I am starting to develop softer feelings for him over and above desire and attraction. And, I’m not quite certain what I should do about it.”
“Do you believe the duke feels the same?”
“I wouldn’t know. He doesn’t discuss such things with me, and I only see him a few hours a day while working on the translation.”
“Mmm.” Her father refreshed his coffee cup. “So after you finish the translation, you feel that the two of you will go your separate ways?”
“I expect so.” Cate shrugged. “There is nothing else there, don’t you think? Over and above what we’ve shared, there is no future. He is a duke; I am the daughter of a university professor, not even a member of the ton.”
Never had she given much stock in social status before, but knowing there was a vast world of difference between her and the duke? It was almost as heartbreaking as knowing she would soon pass out of his life. An ache set up around her heart. How uttering depressing that was.
“I’m of the opinion that none of it matters. People are people. It is the world, society, that puts weigh on position and titles or the lack thereof.” He took a few sips of coffee before speaking again. “I also think you have already answered your own question.”
She frowned. “How so?” With an effort, she forced her concentration back on him.
“If you are nearly gutted that you’ll not see him again after your paid position finishes, then I think you know that there are definitely feelings there.”
“And if there are? What good will they do? He has his life, and I have mine.” She shrugged, tried to pretend she didn’t care.
“Once this horrible weather pattern changes and life can go back to a somewhat methodical rhythm, he will take up the reins of his life as a duke, and perhaps that is as it should be.”
Catherine, you are such a liar!
“Hmm, I rather think you’re hiding, but it’s early days yet. Let us see how things develop over the Christmastide season, then we’ll talk again.”
“I don’t know what good that will have. Nothing will change.” Another sigh escaped her. “I need to dress for the day. The duke is expecting me around one o’clock, and since I made a bit of headway on the translation yesterday afternoon, I’m hoping to keep that momentum.”
Seeing Barr and interacting with him was an added boon.
*
Combes House
Grosvenor Square, Mayfair
London
Cate had been working on the translation in the duke’s study for a couple of hours. When she took a short break to rest her eyes and to stretch her cramped limbs, it was then that a loud thudding sound reached her ears followed by a masculine groan.
“What in the world?” After springing up from the chair behind the desk, she dashed out of the room. “Barr?”
“I’m here… more or less,” came his slightly muffled answer.
She frowned as she sought him out, and when she discovered him sprawled on the second-floor landing, a gasp left her throat. Quickly making her way to him, she kneeled by his side. “Are you hurt? Is there anything broken?”
“You mean over and above my pride?” He maneuvered into a sitting position with another groan. “I don’t think so. Just fell down the damned stairs.”
“Did you trip?” She glanced up the staircase, but didn’t see anything amiss.
“I don’t know. I don’t believe there was anything on the treads. It must have been the curse.”
“What?” That took her by surprise. “Curse?” Then she snorted. “Have you been talking to Travers?”
“Yes.” A chuckle mixed with a groan followed as he struggled to his feet with her assistance. “Did he also warn you about a curse tied to that book?”
“He did.” Her frown deepened. “Do you think it’s true?”
“It’s difficult to say.” With a hand to his hip, he walked slowly and stiffly toward the drawing room. “There was the mirror and the tea tray fiasco from yesterday…”
“Now this,” she added in a soft voice.
“Yes, but I’m none of the worse for wear. There will be bruises on the morrow, I’m afraid.”
“That can’t be helped, I suppose.” With a sense of whimsy, she put an arm about his waist and helped him into the drawing room. “I hope your ancient body will heal in a timely manner.”
“I’m cut to the quick, Miss Pickwick,” he said with mock horror in his voice.
How could she not grin? “Come on.” After seeing him settled on a low sofa, she peered down at him. “Should I fetch a compress or salve or willowbark tea?”
“No.” He caught her hand and tugged her down with him. “Stay with me.” Then he situated her onto the sofa with his legs framing her body and her back against his chest.
Surprise twisted with excitement down her spine. “You’re flirting with scandal since the door is open.”
“I doubt that. It’s Sunday. The servants have the day off.
” The rumble of his laughter sent an avalanche of tingles through her chest. “It’s only you and I here until dawn.
Dinner is cold cuts, cheese, and bread left in the kitchen, and soup should I care to warm it on the stove.
” The warmth of his breath skated over her cheek. “One of my favorite things each week.”
“Ah.” As the steady rain beat against the windows and the candles flickered in their silver holders around the room, coupled with the fire snapping behind the ornamental screen in the hearth, it was far too cozy.
Suddenly, she didn’t have the strength to protest or even leave the secure circle of his arms. “Very well.”
“Good.” He brushed his lips over her nape, chuckling when she shivered. “How is the translation coming?”
“Slowly. Once I have another few pages finished, I’ll tell you another chunk of the tale.”
“I can hardly wait.” As he spoke, the duke caressed her arms, her neck, her shoulders, her nape. “It’s strange, but I’m quite invested in a couple’s romance who lived thousands of years before we are now.”
“I know what you mean.” With a frown, Cate glanced at him over her shoulder for his hands were roaming over various other portions of her body to leave trails of heat behind. “What are you about, Scarborough?”