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She felt instinctively that the manknewwhat he had done to her. He knew about all the wonderful and terrible feelings pulsing through her. His Grace released her, and Catherine stood frozen for an instant. When he touched her wrists, she retreated as if he had burned her.

“Your hair looks like a bird’s nest,” he said. “I suggest that you make yourself presentable.”

“You should not have touched my hair,” Catherine said. “My lady’s maid spends a significant amount of her morning ensuring that it is presentable.”

Catherine reached for her hat. Itfeltas though it was misplaced. She clenched her jaw and hastily tucked her curls back beneath it. If her brother or sisters saw her in this state, they would have questions, and Catherine would not be able to answer them.

“You have only yourself to blame, my lady,” His Grace said. “If you had not kissed me, I would never have felt the need to touch your hair.”

“If you had not behaved in such an ungentlemanly manner, I would not have kissed you,” Catherine said flatly. “You provoked me.”

“Youprovokedme. It is quite careless of you to blame your folly on others, my lady.”

“And it is ignoble of you to deny your own flaws, Your Grace.”

“Do not test me, my lady. I shall not release you so easily next time,” he said, smiling tightly. “I trust that you can finish your walk about the gardens without flinging yourself at another man in such an unbecoming manner? Or is that yet another lesson you need?”

Catherine gasped. “Howdareyou question my virtue?”

“Given your behavior, I think questioning your virtue is more than appropriate.”

He turned away, stepping neatly past Elizabeth, Catherine’s gawking lady’s maid. Catherine fought the urge to fling something at the man’s retreating back. She put her hands to her face, aware of how hot her skin was to the touch.

“Are you…well, my lady?” Elizabeth asked hesitantly. “Shall I fetch His Grace?”

For a wild moment, Catherine thought that Elizabeth referred to the Duke of Sarsen, and a mix of horror and want swept through her. Her racing heart calmed as she realized that it was surely her own brother, the Duke of Sarsen, whom Elizabeth meant.

“Saynothing,” Catherine hissed, the moment she was certain His Grace could not hear.

Elizabeth looked at her with wide blue eyes. “Are—are you certain, my lady? Surely, your brother?—”

“He does not need to know!” Catherine snapped. “I will tell my brother when—and if—I feel that it is necessary. I do not wish for you to say anything on my behalf. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And you would never betray my trust, would you?” Catherine said.

Elizabeth bit her lip and furrowed her brow. The lady’s maid wore an expression that Catherine knew well. Elizabeth did not want to keep her silence. “No, my lady,” the young woman murmured at last. “If it is your wish that I say nothing, I will not.”

Catherine nodded sharply. “Good.”

She would never tell Elias about what had transpired between the Duke of Sarsen and herself, especially given that she did not entirely understand the encounter herself. His Grace was a monster—callous and cruel. Cold, except for that kiss?—

She had never before felt soalive. It was as if a new world had opened to her, one where everything was wonderful and frightening. Her body hummed with anticipation. Catherine was not a child. She knew why her body felt like it did, and on occasions, she had thought about all those amorous activities that were usually confined to the marriage bed, for ladies at least.

Never before had she wanted to ardently partake in those activities. Why did she so strongly wish for them when faced withthisman? She had always imagined that these feelings would be inspired only by a man whom she truly loved, and she could imagine no man less worthy of her love than His Grace.

“I need time to think,” Catherine said. “I believe that I will return to my bedchamber for a while. I do not wish to be disturbed, so you may have the rest of your evening to do what pleases you.”

“As you wish, my lady. Thank you.”

Catherine stormed from the gardens, her fury warring with her own desire. She clenched her jaw, her mind racing. She couldnotmarry that man. Dorothy could not either.

Her heart was beating so rapidly that its echo reverberated inside her own skull. There must be some way to escape His Grace with dignity. That was why she had resolved to vex him. If he broke the engagement, her reputation might suffer, but his disgrace would be far greater. What would she do if her planfailed, though? The Duke of Sarsen did not seem like the kind of man who would accept losses easily. For every barb she cast his way, he gave her one in kind!

If he would not relent, what other options were there? She would not allow her sister to marry that man, but she could not bear to wed him either. There must be some solution that she had not thought of. She entered the house, consumed in thoughts of His Grace, as she set a brisk pace towards her bedchamber.

“But Dory?—”