A Second Chance With a Duke Page 10

  Wallflowers were a most under-appreciated bloom, Katherine thought idly as she took the bouquet from Wendy. Her father had said that during his last dinner, as a means of defending her from Lady Harrington's grumblings. Her father, who had been the last man who had wanted to protect and defend her from the harshness of the world. Would he approve of Michael? As the doors opened and Katherine saw her duke standing tall and solid at the top of the room, she thought that he would.

  Michael might not love her, but he would look after her, and she him, as best she could.

  The ceremony went by in a blur for Katherine, who felt as though she had stepped outside of her body as she recited her wedding vows. How could two people, who were like strangers, promise to love and honour each other until parted by death, she wondered, as she gazed at the stern-faced man opposite her. Michael's expression was serious but unreadable; Katherine had no idea what was running through his mind as he vowed before God to cherish her until his dying day. He was no longer the boy he had been, but a man, distant and proud. Would they ever find a way to bridge the distance between them?

  In what seemed like mere minutes since they had begun, the reverend pronounced them husband and wife, and Katherine became the new Duchess of Elsmore.

  The small group of guests clapped politely as Michael offered Katherine a chaste kiss upon the cheek.

  "Bravo," Lord Deverell cheered, "Now what say everyone to some breakfast?"

  "Must you always think of your stomach, dear?" Katherine heard Caroline whisper to her husband, but her tone was warm and, indeed, there was little else for the odd assortment of guests to do but eat.

  Katherine's contribution to the guest list included Mary and Bessie, who both seemed nervous at having to mix with folk of rank, and Lord Atwood, who wore the expression of one who had just drunk curdled milk. On Michael's side there was his mother, who was trying her hardest to look cheerful, and his brother in law, Lord Kingston, who had come to take his seat in Parliament whilst his wife was in confinement.

  "Sarah is hoping for a girl this time," Lord Kingston said with a smile, as Katherine enquired after Michael's elder sister. "I swear it will be another boy and then we will have to go through it all again."

  "Such a joy, though, Alfred," Eudora interjected, "To have a home filled with children."

  If Lord Kingston understood the veiled insult in Eudora's words, he did not let on, and for that Katherine was grateful.

  "It's a joy until you wish to do something restful, Mother," he guffawed loudly, "Like read a book. Or get a full night's sleep. Come, let me escort you to the dining room."

  Lord Kingston took the dowager duchess' arm and led her away from Katherine toward the dining room, where a breakfast buffet was laid out. Katherine followed them at a distance, not wishing to attract any more attention from Eudora.

  In all her worrying about the marriage, Katherine had not thought of Eudora once. Michael might profess to be perfectly content with not securing the line with his own progeny, but it was clear that his mother was not.

  "Is everything alright?"

  The instant she had thought of his name, Michael was by her side, a worried frown creasing his handsome face. His eyes followed Katherine's gaze, to where Eudora and Lord Kingston stood chatting, and he gave a sigh.

  "Ignore my mother," he said, as he took her arm, "She is simply out of sorts because she did not get her own way. She will warm to the idea of us in time."

  "Time is infinite, is it not?" Katherine asked with a wry laugh. Eudora would never warm to her, not when she could not produce a longed-for grandchild, but what could Katherine do about that? She had no more chosen her barren womb than she had her hair colour or family, and she had not forced Michael into doing anything that he had not wished to do. On that score, her conscience was clear.

  Katherine allowed her husband to lead her to the long table, where they took their place at the centre of the guests. Lord Atwood sat to Katherine's right, whilst Eudora sat to Michael's left. Luckily, Caroline had seen fit to place herself, Lord Deverell and Lord Kingston opposite the foursome, and Katherine allowed the jovial trio to carry the conversation.

  "Will you take your new bride to view the estates, Elsmore?" Lord Kingston boomed, as he sipped upon sparkling wine.

  "Perhaps, when Parliament has adjourned for the summer," Michael replied, much to Katherine's relief. She had no desire to be locked away with Michael in a country manor. She much preferred the idea of staying in London, where she could keep herself busy and away from the man whose presence beside her was making her heart flutter at an alarming rate.

  "Jolly good," Lord Deverell chimed in, "I know that Caroline will be grateful to have you around for the next few months, Lady Atwood. Ouch!"

  Lord Deverell cast his wife, who had just elbowed him in the ribs, an aggrieved glance. Realisation crossed Deverell's face as he realised his faux-pas. "I do beg your pardon. I meant, your Grace."

  Katherine frowned over at her friend; whilst most people might believe that Caroline had simply corrected her husband's use of the wrong title, Katherine knew better. Caroline's face had gone beet-red and she was nodding along too vigorously to Lord Kingston's chatter to be believable.

  Something was afoot, Katherine thought, though now was not the time to pry.

  The rest of the wedding breakfast ran smoothly enough and after they had all tried some of the fruit cake—which Caroline must have procured from Gunter's—Michael stood up and announced that they were leaving for Elsmore House.

  "Good luck," Caroline whispered, as she pulled Katherine into a warm embrace, "I had Mary pack something for later into your bag."

  Something for later? Goodness, Katherine thought with a flash of alarm, she had not even thought on what would happen once she and Michael were alone together. Which was rather silly, given that she was a widow and knew exactly what lay ahead of her.

  Would Michael demand his conjugal rights? Katherine shivered a little as she wondered on her husband's desires for their marriage. With Charles, the marriage bed had been just another battleground, and Katherine had never felt any desire for her late husband. In fact, his very touch repulsed her. But with Michael...

  Katherine's heart began to flutter nervously again, and she was eternally grateful when the footman announced the arrival of the carriage at the door.

  She bid a fond farewell to Lord and Lady Deverell, gave Lord Atwood and Eudora a courteous goodbye, and whispered to Mary and Bessie that she would see them later, before she followed Michael to their waiting vehicle.

  Any conversation past pleasantries was impossible given the short duration of the journey. Katherine had no sooner clambered into the carriage compartment than she was clambering back out again, helped down by her husband's strong, gloved hand.

  Elsmore House rose above her; proud, intimidating, and far grander than Katherine's own modest home. The five storey house looked out onto the gardens of St James' Square, London's wealthiest address, which housed no less than three dukes and seven earls. It was a world away from the cosy, bohemian charm of Tilney Street.

  Michael led the way up the steps, through the black doors and into a grand entrance hall, whose ceilings were more than double height and covered in Italian frescoes. The soles of his boots slapped against pristine marble tiles, which shone so brightly that they almost dazed Katherine as she entered her new home.

  About two dozen liveried servants were lined up to greet their new mistress. Katherine tried her hardest to remember the name of each one as they were presented to her, but lost track after being introduced to her third under-footman. It was like stepping into a different world, she thought, as she smiled at yet another maid. Even Charles had not commanded such a large household, though Charles had not been nearly as wealthy as the Duke of Elsmore.

  Once all the introductions had been made—which had taken nearly half an hour—Michael left Katherine in the hands of the housekeeper, Mrs Alsop.

  "I will show you to your
chambers, if it pleases your Grace," Mrs Alsop said, as she eyed Katherine somewhat warily.

  "Of course," Katherine replied, wondering why the poor woman seemed so nervous of her. She cast a glance at Michael, who smiled back reassuringly.

  "You're in capable hands," he said, with a nod to the housekeeper, "I will see you for dinner later. I have business that needs attending."

  If any of the servants were wondering what business the duke needed to tend to on his wedding day, they did not show it. Instead, the two dozen or so staff dispersed, wearing blank expressions, leaving Katherine alone with the housekeeper.

  "Your rooms are on the third floor, your Grace," Mrs Alsop said, leading Katherine toward the grand staircase, "I hope that they are to your liking. If they're not, of course, you may tell me what you'd like changed and I will see that it's done. I suppose there'll be a lot of changes around here..."

  The last sentence was mumbled through nervous lips, though Katherine heard quite clearly what Mrs Alsop was trying to communicate; she was afraid that with a new mistress, she might be out of a job. The last thing that Katherine wished to do was upset the woman who had been running Elsmore House for goodness knows how many years, so she quickly reassured her that she had no wish to change anything.

  "I think I shall be relying on you quite heavily, Mrs Alsop," Katherine assured the woman, "For I am certain there is an awful lot I need to learn about running such a large home."

  Mrs Alsop visibly bristled with pride at her words and she gave Katherine a broad grin, "Oh, there's a lot to be sure, your Grace. I don't envy you the task ahead, for Elsmore House isn't even the largest of your Grace's properties. I know you don't need me to tell you that you're now mistress of half a dozen of England's finest homes."

  Actually, Katherine had needed that nugget of wisdom; she was not the type of woman who poured over DeBrett's, or studied the estates and fortunes of great families. The running of six homes would be an onerous task, but Katherine was determined to do the best that she could. She might not have much to offer Michael, but she would take her duties as duchess most seriously.

  At last, they came to Katherine's chambers, which consisted of not one room, but a suite of rooms, which adjoined the ducal chambers. Katherine tried to bite back a hysterical laugh, as Mrs Alsop led her from the parlour room, to the bedroom and into a washroom and dressing room.

  "There's plenty of space for your clothes," Mrs Alsop said, nodding toward the mammoth, mahogany wardrobes, which dominated one half of the room. Katherine thought of the half dozen or so dresses she owned, and resisted laughing. They would be rather lonely hanging in there, she thought.

  Once she had shown her all there was to be seen, Mrs Alsop left Katherine alone to settle in. A maid—whose name escaped Katherine—arrived a few minutes later, carrying the portmanteau that Katherine and Mary had packed that morning.

  "Leave it in the dressing room, please, and my lady's maid will unpack it when she arrives." Katherine knew she was being rather silly, but she did not want Michael's servants to note that their new mistress had arrived with very little to her name.

  The rest of the afternoon Katherine spent exploring the rooms of Elsmore House. She walked from room to room, feeling a little like an intruder, as she explored the palatial house. She counted three parlour rooms, two drawing rooms, a dining room which could sit one hundred, and a ballroom that could surely rival anything in the Royal Pavilion.

  After the ballroom, Katherine found herself in the library, and it was here, amongst the shelves of books, that she finally felt at home. The Dukes of Elsmore had obviously been collecting books since the dawn of the printing press, Katherine thought, as she trailed her finger along cracked spines and ancient bindings. In the far corner, however, she found a shelf of newer works, including some from Minerva Press, which led her to believe that poor Philip had too been a connoisseur of the Gothic novel.

  She selected a volume she had not read and settled herself into one of the large Chesterfields by the fireplace. That the house kept a fire lit in rooms which were not in use, was just another extravagance that Katherine would have to get used to. Though it would not be a struggle, she thought, as she toasted her feet by the hearth.

  The afternoon quickly slipped into evening, as Katherine lost herself in her book. She got something of a fright when the door was opened by a footman, who was busying himself with lighting candles.

  "Oh, dear," she said, jumping to her feet, "I shall be late for dinner."

  "His Grace just sent word, your Grace," the young footman replied nervously, "That he will not return for dinner. He asked that you carry on without him."

  It was clear from the lad's reddening face that Michael's failure to return for dinner with his new bride had elicited much gossip amongst the servants. Katherine flushed a little herself at the footman's pitying gaze, and tried not to let her disappointment show.

  "Perhaps you could ask the kitchen to send something light up to my parlour rooms," she suggested, for the thought of being attended to by a dozen servants in the empty, cavernous dining room was not an appealing one.

  The footman nodded and fled the room, quite obviously relieved that he had not borne the brunt of the duchess' ire. But Katherine was not angry, merely resigned to her fate. Her match with Michael was not a love match, so she had no right to expect to be wined and dined by him.

  Feeling quite melancholy, Katherine returned to her rooms, where Bessie was waiting. Together they unpacked her bags, then Katherine partook of a simple supper alone in her parlour.

  Once she was finished eating, there was little else for her to do for the evening, except prepare for bed and read her book. In the dressing room, Bessie had laid out a night-rail made of silk and lace, which must have been the present Caroline had alluded to earlier.

  It was a beautiful garment, but far more revealing than Katherine's usual cotton night-rails. She allowed Bessie to help her into it, then immediately reached for a wool shawl to cover herself with.

  Once the lady's maid had departed, Katherine crept into the large four-poster bed to read her book. She found that she could not concentrate on the words on the page, as every noise she heard made her jump. Was Michael going to come to her? Fear and anxiety overwhelmed her, but not so much that they extinguished the unfamiliar longing which filled her belly. How wonderful it would be to be held in his strong arms, to be cherished and loved...

  But that is foolish to wish for, she told herself sternly, for he does not love you at all.

  Sometime after eleven, the knock that Katherine had been waiting for all night came upon her bedroom door.

  "Come in," she called, scrambling from under the covers, whilst simultaneously covering her scandalous night-wear with her woollen shawl.

  The door opened and Michael stepped inside. It took Katherine a moment to register that he was fully dressed and that he bore a recent cut above his lip.

  "Goodness," she cried, rushing forward, "What on earth happened?"

  "'Tis nothing," her husband waved a dismissive hand, "I apologise for disturbing your sleep. I simply wished to make certain that you had settled in and to beg your forgiveness for reneging on our dinner plans."

  Michael's words were delivered with the stiff formality of a butler, not a husband speaking to his wife on their wedding night. He remained, Katherine noted, in the doorway, as though reluctant to take a step inside her chambers. So much distance between them still, even though they were joined for life.

  "There's no need to apologise," she said, adopting a similarly formal tone. She wanted to ask him where he had been, but was reluctant to pry. It was not her business to know where he went, what he saw, or whom... Charles had callously informed her on their wedding night that he intended to spend the next night with his mistress, so Katherine had very few expectations of fidelity from her duke. She was well versed in the fact that happy endings existed only in fairy tales.

  "I broke a promise," Michael replied, with a fro
wn. "There's every need to apologise. I am afraid that I was waylaid attending to your brother. He's quite the slippery eel."

  "You were with Toby?"

  Of all the people she had expected Michael to fraternise with, her brother was the last person she would have assumed that Michael had spent the evening with.

  "I wished to settle matters with him," Michael shrugged away her surprise. "His estate is now cleared of debt, but he was rather unhappy with some of the terms I laid out."

  Michael rubbed at his lip absently and Katherine wondered had her brother attacked him in some stupid, drunken show of bravado. Her stomach lurched at the thought of it, and she found that she could not bear to ask him, for fear that humiliation would drown her. How awful he must think her, to have brought such a disgraceful family into his life.

  "You did not need to settle his debts," Katherine stuttered, "He is my problem, not yours."

  "You are my wife, your problems are now mine," Michael's eyes flashed with an emotion Katherine could not decipher, "Though I am glad to say that Lord Harrington will pose no further issues for you."

  "Thank you," Katherine said after a pause, unable to think of anything to say which could properly express the debt of gratitude she felt toward him, "Thank you, Michael."

  "It was my pleasure."

  Silence fell between them, as loaded as any pistol. Katherine nervously gathered her shawl closer to her, as her husband watched her through veiled eyes. Would he come in, she wondered, would he seek to share her bed?

  But Michael made no move to enter into her chambers, instead, he took a step back, as though making to leave.

  "I am glad that you have settled in well," he said, once again adopting a stiff, formal tone, "I shall see you in the morning for breakfast. Goodnight, Kitty."

  "Goodnight," she echoed him stupidly, as he turned on his heel, closing the door behind him.

  A sigh escaped her as the door clicked shut; a sigh of both relief and disappointment. Her husband had no wish to share her bed, and she was left feeling completely and utterly disappointed.