Married to the Marquess Page 7

  For the longest time, nobody said a word. Then, because he could not stand silence, Colin said, “I don’t know that I will ever understand women, nor wives in particular, but I think that Moira might be the most terrifying woman I have ever met, including Katherine.”

  “And how I love her,” Nathan sighed proudly as he watched his wife stride away.

  “Shut up, Nate,” his friends replied in unison as they went back to the horses.

  Derek joined them, but he knew that Moira’s words would haunt him for quite some time. He vowed silently to himself that he would try harder to attempt to see beyond Kate’s prickly shell.

  But he couldn’t deny that he was more than a little nervous of what would happen if he did not fight back when Kate tossed her harpoons at him.

  With a tender rub to the back of his head, as if he could feel the threatened slap from Moira, he pushed the thoughts of his wife out for the time being.

  They would come back later, as would the guilt.

  If it ever left at all.

  Chapter Six

  Katherine very studiously avoided contact with anybody after her appalling behavior with Whitlock. She shut herself up in her room for the remainder of the day, went to sleep rather early, and woke rather late the next morning.

  She slowly made her way downstairs, desperate to avoid her husband at the moment. She could not bear the awkwardness that would stem from yesterday’s words. He had been cruel and had hurt her deeply, but she had not been kind either. If she had been more composed, as a duchess always should be, then he would not have reacted so strongly.

  A duchess has no regrets; she never has cause for them.

  Well, it was a good thing that Katherine was not a duchess yet, for she had quite a few regrets, and could not begin to imagine how many of those would have to improve before she ever became one.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” the butler, Harville, said with a fond grin. Of all the servants in the household, he was one that seemed to take special care where Katherine was concerned. Most days, his smile was the only one she received.

  “Good morning, Harville,” she replied with a smile.

  “A bit late getting the day started, are we?” he asked, flirting with the line of propriety for a servant, but Katherine always allowed him a bit of leeway.

  “A bit, I am afraid,” she admitted. “It has been a rather exhausting few days.”

  He nodded soberly. “That it has, ma’am. Is there anything I can do for your ladyship this morning?”

  “I am quite hungry, but I imagine that the marquess already had breakfast cleared,” she said with regret as her stomach growled.

  Harville shook his head slowly. “His lordship was up and about quite early, ma’am, and did not eat. He did leave instructions that we were to hold breakfast for you, if you should wish it.”

  “He did?” Katherine asked in surprise as she rocked back on her heels a little.

  Harville nodded with an odd twinkle in his eye. “Yes, ma’am. Looked rather troubled about something, if I may be so bold.”

  “I daresay he was,” Katherine murmured, her eyes far away. Whitlock probably had many things on his mind, now that he had to stay in town for his reputation. And yet, he had taken the time to ensure that she would have a decent meal this morning, though he would take none.

  Could that have been a sort of apology, or was he simply taking control of the household now that he was here to do so? It was impossible to say, but she would like to think that he was not as unfeeling as he had seemed the day before.

  “When did the marquess return yesterday?” she asked Harville, who was still watching her. “I did not hear him.”

  “He came in just after dark, my lady. Did not take dinner either, as it were. He asked after you, but then he spent the remainder of the evening in his study.” Harville gave an uncharacteristic shrug. “I am afraid I cannot say much more than that.”

  Katherine considered his admission carefully, but opted to not assume anything on the part of her husband. It had been a very trying day for both of them, and one could hardly expect him to be in good spirits after what she had told him.

  Perhaps they could simply avoid each other for the remainder of his stay, and then no more fights would ensue.

  “Shall I call for breakfast for you, ma’am?” Harville asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.

  She shook herself and smiled. “Yes, please, Harville. That would be lovely, thank you.”

  He nodded and moved away, then turned back. “Oh, and Lady Beverton called for you yesterday afternoon, and already this morning.”

  “Again?” Katherine asked before she could stop herself.

  Harville nodded once more. “Yes, my lady. I am afraid she is very determined.”

  “So it seems.” Katherine sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. The countess would not give up, it seemed. And she could not, in good conscience, put her off forever.

  A duchess is always gracious, particularly with nobility.

  Her mother’s words in her head made up her mind for her. “Harville, would you please have a note sent over to Lady Beverton and inquire if she might come for tea this afternoon?”

  Harville’s bushy brows shot up, but he nodded. “Yes, of course, my lady.” He bowed and moved away, leaving Katherine alone on the stairs.

  She groaned just a touch and made her way to the breakfast room. The sooner the headache of this meeting was over and done with, the sooner she could get back to her solitude and peace of mind.

  Instead of waiting for what was actually considered by the general public as tea time, Katherine was stunned to find that the countess of Beverton was waiting for her in the drawing room no more than two hours after she had finished breakfast.

  Well, what must be done might as well be done soon.

  Releasing a long breath, and steeling herself for what was destined to be the longest visit of her known life, Katherine pushed open the door to the room and fixed a polite, albeit not very friendly, smile on her face.

  Before she could say a single word of greeting, Lady Beverton was speaking.

  “My dear Katherine, it is so good to see you!” she said as she came over and took her hands.

  Her dear Katherine? They had met once, how could she be her dear anything, and why was she calling her Katherine without invitation to? It went against every rule of formality. Even so, she was determined to be civil. “Thank you, Lady Beverton. I trust you are well?” she asked as she gestured towards the seats.

  “Very, I thank you,” Lady Beverton replied as she sat down and began to pour tea for them both. “I confess, I did not think you were ever going to send for me.”

  “It would be impolite not to, given your… rather extraordinary amount of requests.” That was a polite way to say it, Katherine considered with a mental nod.

  With a light shrug, she handed Katherine a cup of tea. “Not so extraordinary at all. I merely wish to be of use.”

  “Lady Beverton…”

  “Moira, please. I am still getting used to this whole Lady Beverton business,” she said with a merry laugh.

  Katherine restrained a sigh, but relented. “Moira, you called every day. Multiple times.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Why? What are you trying to do?”

  Moira gave her an odd look. “I should think that is obvious. I mean to be friends with you.”

  Katherine choked on the tea she had just been starting to sip, and somehow, between coughs, managed to force out, “You do?”

  “Of course,” Moira said with a smile, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Our husbands are friends, and so should we be.”

  “I... do not have much to do with my husband,” Katherine answered as she shook her head, nearly recovered from her surprise.

  “Yes, so I have heard.” Moira frowned with displeasure. “I don’t approve, but it is not my place.”

  It certainly was not, Katherine thought to herself, w
ondering when this visit would be over. The woman was maddening and presumptuous and had absolutely no idea of anything to do with Katherine. A duchess has infinite patience, as not everyone is as refined or as sensible as she is. Well, she thought with a mental snort, she would need infinite patience with Moira. She carefully sipped her tea again, wishing she knew a polite way to get the woman to leave.

  “If Derek weren’t such a pickled salmon, you two might get somewhere.”

  For the second time in not as many minutes, Katherine choked on her tea, but not so badly as before. She carefully set it down on the saucer and set both back to the table, then turned to face Moira fully. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Oh, Derek,” Moira said with a wave of her hand. “He is just so… I’m not even sure there is a word for what he is. But I don’t like it.”

  Choosing her words carefully, Katherine said, “Most people think I am the one to blame for the way we are.”

  Moira sniffed as she sipped her tea, then shook her head as she swallowed. “Yes, I know that, too, but there are two people in a marriage, not one, and people had best remember that.” Her expression looked so deadly that Katherine almost felt sorry for everyone Moira was currently thinking of.

  “They have good reason to,” she admitted softly, her fingers absently picking at her dress.

  “Well, then we had best set about to fix that, hadn’t we?” Moira said as she reached over and took Katherine’s hand in her own.

  “Moira…”

  “Katherine, I know that you have an extremely tough exterior, and it does you credit. But going about your life determined to exclude everyone is only going to come back to bite you in your backside.”

  Katherine almost hiccupped with the bluntness of her words. Her mind raced as she tried to think of any duchess rules that applied to that, but she could not find any.

  “But we will talk about you later,” Moira said as she sat back. “I want to discuss Derek. He is not a very good husband, is he?”

  “He does what is expected.” Katherine lifted one shoulder lightly, finding herself remarkably at ease. Perhaps Moira was not so bad after all.

  “And that says much about him, doesn’t it?” Moira commented dryly, bringing Katherine back to topic. “I have been married for a month now, and we have a lark of a time. But of course, we were friends before we fell in love. Even so, if Nathan did only what was expected of him, I would never have married him, you can be certain of that.”

  “I did not choose to marry Whitlock,” Katherine said bluntly, but without spite. What would be the point of it? She had accepted her fate when she was a child, and wishing for anything else would have been a waste of energy and mental capacity, and would serve no purpose.

  A sad smile graced Moira’s lips, albeit briefly. “No, of course not, but nor did he choose you. Fact of the matter is, dear Katherine, you two are married and you might want to start acting like it before one of you kills the other. Or before I kill Derek,” she added as an afterthought.

  Katherine laughed out loud, which surprised her. “Why kill him?”

  Moira grinned at her laughter, but her eyes were serious. “Because he does not treat you like a wife ought to be treated. I don’t accept such things, especially not from my friends and to my friends.”

  Now it was Katherine who gave a look. “He does not even like me, Moira.”

  “Do you like him?” she asked, her pale blue eyes fixed intently on her.

  She shrugged, even under the power of Moira’s gaze. “Not really.”

  “Then we ought to change that,” Moira replied matter-of-factly. “I like Derek, in spite of his many flaws, and I do mean many, and I like you.”

  Katherine laughed without mirth. “How can you like me? Pardon me for saying so, but you don’t even know me.”

  “No, but I am determine to like you and there is nothing you can do about it. I feel quite certain that I will like you very much indeed.”

  Katherine was unaccountably choked up by that admission. How could Moira know that at all when all she knew of Katherine was what Derek had told her? That could not have been flattering.

  And yet, as she looked at Moira, she could tell that she was sincere, and it moved her beyond words. When she could manage to, she smiled. “I would like that, Moira,” she said softly. “I would like to be your friend. I do not have many. None that come to mind, actually.”

  Moira set her tea aside, and threw her arms around Katherine and held her close. “Now you have one,” she whispered with fierce determination.

  Katherine squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden desire to cry on Moira’s shoulder, willing the tears back. She could not completely stem them, but she could hold them off until later.

  With a small sigh she sat back, and offered Moira a truly genuine smile, even as she sniffled and brushed at her eyes. “Well, what are friends supposed to talk about?” she asked with a laugh, feeling considerably lighter than she had in days… years, in fact.

  Moira’s eyes twinkled. “All sorts of things, I expect. But the first thing I want to discuss are these tarts! Where in the world did you find them? I would get so fat eating this with every tea!”

  The two spent the next hour and a half giggling like school girls over the most ridiculous things, and by the end of the visit, Katherine could quite honestly say that she, at last, had a true friend.

  That alone was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

  There could be no avoiding it now.

  Derek groaned as he entered the house, knowing that tonight Kate would still be awake. He had been able to avoid his impending confrontation last night, as she had been to bed early. Tonight, however, that would not be the case. He was back earlier than expected, and he quite honestly had nowhere else that he could go.

  He trudged up the stairs, his mind still grumbling about the fact that he had to apologize to his wife for something that they were both to blame for. She was not in any hurry to apologize to him, so why should he do so first?

  He was quick to shove those thoughts out of his mind, as the image of Moira stomping towards him was enough to remind him just how guilty he really did feel.

  Reaching the door to Kate’s bedchamber, he paused, needing to collect his thoughts.

  Then he heard something he thought he would never, in his entire life, hear. Within Kate’s room, someone was crying.

  His brow furrowed in confusion. He had not expected this at all. He rapped on her door softly. “Kate?” he called.

  “Don’t…call me Kate,” came the would-be strong retort from within, still choked with tears and sniffles.

  “Kate, are you all right?” he asked carefully as he listened more closely.

  “I am fine,” she insisted harshly.

  He didn’t believe that for a moment, and pushed open the door. “Kate?” he called softly as he entered. She was sitting on her bed, facing the window, her back to him, but she wiped at her face insistently.

  “Don’t call me Kate! And don’t… do not come in.”

  “Too late, I am coming in,” he said as he closed the door behind him. “I’m calling you Kate and I’m coming in.”

  She turned her tear-streaked face and glared at him. “Can you never be serious?”

  He lifted his hands, then dropped them uselessly at his side, feeling more than a little lost in the face of her tears. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  She turned away from him. “What do you want, Whitlock?”

  “I came to apologize for my behavior yesterday,” he said as he approached the bed cautiously. “It was inexcusable and rude and in appallingly bad taste, least of all because we had company. I should have met with you in private and perhaps we could have discussed things calmly, but considering our past, I doubt it.”

  Still not facing him, she hiccupped and put a hand to her mouth, but nodded, which he took to be an acceptance of his words.

  He sighed and took a seat in a chair across from her bed. “Kate, is there
anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

  She turned and looked at him, her expression full of confusion and suspicion. “Why?”

  “Because, Kate, I am your husband, and I think I should start acting like it,” he said firmly, but he paired it with a kind smile. He was amazed he could even manage one.

  She looked uncertain, and he thought she would put him off, and then his duty would be complete and he could tell Moira he had tried. But then, in a small voice, she said, “Do you… do you think we could just talk for a moment?”

  Surprised beyond measure, he shrugged. “Of course, if that is what you want. Did Moira come to see you again today?”

  She sniffled and nodded. “Yes. I invited her for tea. I thought it best, as she had called so many times.”

  Derek almost swore, thinking that must surely be the reason for her distress after all, and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry about her. She is absolutely impossible to deal with.”

  “I like her,” Kate said bluntly, sniffling one last time.

  His brows nearly shot through the roof. “You do? I thought she would drive you to distraction.”

  Kate smiled a bit. “She did at first, but you cannot help but like her, can you?”

  “No, I suppose not,” he admitted with a chuckle.

  “She says she is going to kill you.”

  “Yes, she told me that, too.”

  Kate tilted her head to one side, and looked confused still. “She says she is determined to like me,” she said slowly. “She wants to be my friend.”

  “I thought she might,” he muttered dryly, but still smiling.

  “Do you… do you think we could ever… be friends, Derek?” she asked in a timid, choked voice, forgoing all formality she had ever employed by addressing him by his given name, which, oddly enough, made him happy.

  Her voice was so small, so full of tears, and it strangely hurt Derek to hear it. If she had asked him only yesterday, he would have laughed in her face. But then, she would never have asked yesterday. “I think we could, Kate. If you were not so impossible…”