Page 20 of A Duchess Disciplined (Dukes of Dominance #1)

CHAPTER 19

C atherine was frustrated with him. He might have temporarily achieved some measure of peace with her during the boat ride, but the moment that she was not forced into close quarters with him, his wife sought to avoid him.

When he found her in rooms or in corridors, she scowled and promptly fled. William had discovered that she could only be coaxed into good behavior if Hester and Hannah were about, for it seemed as though she did not wish to upset the girls.

It was vexing that she wished to avoid him, but at least, she liked the girls. Given the circumstances, that was more than he had dared hope for. William arrived at breakfast and eyed his sisters seated at the table. He saw how their faces brightened when they saw him.

“Good morning!” he greeted.

William’s eyes lighted next on Catherine’s scowling face, and his grin widened.

“My lovely wife,” William said. “You are looking especially luminous this morning.”

He thought that a rather clever turn of phrase, for Catherine’s face strongly resembled a storm cloud.

“My husband,” she said.

No compliment followed.

Predictable. William refused to let the lack of praise diminish his good mood. “I thought that I would join everyone for breakfast,” he said, “rather than hiding away in my study, as I often do.”

He took his place at the head of the table and smiled at Catherine as he took a piece of toast with orange marmalade. William savored the sweetness of the spread and grinned at his wife. Her face reddened. Catherine shoved a spoonful of eggs into her mouth; he might have described the motion as vindictive .

“What are you going to do for the rest of the morning?” Hannah asked.

“Her Grace said that we might visit the village soon,” Hester said. “Would you like to join us?”

“That sounds like a delightful pastime. I would be delighted to join you,” William said. “My beloved wife need only tell me the day and time that you are going.”

Catherine shoved more eggs into her mouth, followed quickly by a bite of toast. Next, she drank a generous portion of coffee. And another.

William wondered if she intended to spend the entire breakfast in icy silence. “I have not yet decided how I will spend the day,” he said, spearing a piece of roasted potato with his fork. “Perhaps, I might join you, my sisters.”

“I would like to spend some time reading,” Hannah said. “Maybe you would be willing to join us. You could read to us.”

He had not read to them in years. There was always too much for him to accomplish. The papers were endless, and some distant corner of the dukedom always seemed in danger of some new peril. “I would like that,” William said. “I do have some papers that I need to tend to this morning, but I am certain that I could make some time to read to you.”

“We will have to decide on what we want you to read,” Hester said. “Oh, there are so many options!”

“Perhaps, he should read them all,” Catherine said. “Spend the entire day searching through the pages of books.”

“Only if you join me, my dear wife,” William replied. “Or did you assume that you would be elsewhere?”

“I have affairs of my own to attend to,” she said. “There is correspondence that needs answering, and I must speak to the housekeeper. As a duchess, I am also expected to maintain a certain amount of correspondence. I will need to speak to my siblings and the ladies of the ton.”

Somehow, William suspected such correspondence was not as urgent as Catherine made it seem.

“I am certain that you can tend to your correspondence, while we read,” William said.

“You are mistaken, my husband. I cannot concentrate on my correspondence if there is any sound at all,” Catherine said. “Although I would greatly enjoy listening to you read, I do not believe that would be possible.”

“That is unfortunate,” Hannah said, frowning. “I wish that you could join us.”

“As do I,” Hester murmured, taking a bite of her roast potatoes.

Catherine averted her gaze, her expression softening a little. “Perhaps, I may make a little time to listen to you read.”

“That is good of you,” William said.

She took a sip of her coffee and said nothing. William’s eyes lingered on her chest. Catherine’s gown was a soft lilac, the bodice decorated with tiny embroidered leaves and flowers. The cut was scandalously low, proudly displaying the tops of her full breasts. He ached to take her breasts in his hands, to weigh them in his palms, and draw her close.

As if she sensed him staring at her, Catherine’s cheeks pinkened. She ate another piece of toast, and William idly noted that she had quite an appetite for such a slender lady.

“I would like to read something about knights and ladies,” Hannah said, sighing dreamily. “Perhaps, something with Sir Gawain or Sir Lancelot.”

“Or Perceval!” Hester suggested. “I have always enjoyed reading about the Waste Forest.”

“I have never understood why it was called that,” Hannah said. “The stories always describe it as green and lively. There is nothing wasteful about it!”

“What do you like to read?” William asked Catherine.

“Novels,” she said. “I am especially fond of Miss Radcliffe.”

Somehow, he found himself unsurprised by that fact. Catherine did seem like the sort of woman who would delight in sensational literature. He wondered if she liked to imagine herself as such a heroine. Maybe she was writing the story in her head with their every conversation.

Perhaps, she was casting herself as the beautiful and imperiled heroine, wed to a dangerous and wicked man. Catherine would spend her days and nights leaving no stone unturned until she had found all his secrets and brought them to light.

“I am not terribly familiar with Miss Radcliffe’s works,” William conceded. “I have only heard of her novels from others who have read them.”

“You ought to read her. You might find that you enjoy her writing.”

“So I might. Regrettably, I do not believe that we have any of Miss Radcliffe’s works on the estate.”

“Indeed, that is regrettable.”

“Perhaps, I might procure them for you,” William said.

“Perhaps, you might.”

Despite Catherine’s spoken agreement, it was obvious that she suspected they were merely exchanging witticisms. She did not anticipate him truly doing anything kind for her. He would have to show her differently. William wondered if unexpected kindness would earn him the same vexed looks as his argumentations.

“I have never read her works,” Hannah said. “I do admire lady novelists, though.”

Hester wrinkled her nose. “I find most of them to be quite silly.”

“That is because you prefer to read about more scientific works,” Hannah said. “It has nothing to do with the lady writers themselves.”

“I find that lady writers understand the emotions of ladies far better than the male writers do,” Catherine said. “Women possess such delicate dispositions that a man cannot do them justice.”

He caught the gleam of a challenge in her eye. Did she have the same disposition that she claimed? It was difficult to believe that there was anything delicate about this woman, and it seemed as though she delighted in being different from the proper ladies.

“But the physicians are all men,” Hester said thoughtfully. “They must understand women, mustn’t they?”

“They try,” Catherine said, shaking her head in mock dismay.

“Perhaps, we ought to make you a physician for ladies,” William said. “Since your understanding of them is so refined.”

“That is not an unsound notion,” Catherine replied, smiling thinly. “I could found a school to educate lady physicians, who would work specifically to cure ladies’ afflictions.”

“Or maybe you could simply tell men about the nature of your afflictions, so they might be better able to aid you, my wife,” William said.

She took a sip of her coffee and cast him an assessing look over the gold rim of the porcelain cup. “Why would I do that? The more men know about women, the more weapons they would have to wield against us. It is for the best that they are always a little uneasy about their places in the world.”

“Is that how you justify your own behavior?” William asked.

If so, her efforts were in vain. William knew precisely where his place was in the world, and he had no intention of leaving his position. It was too enjoyable to bend Catherine over his knee and instruct her in the intricacies of proper, wifely behaviors.

“I do not need to justify my behavior to anyone,” Catherine replied. “Such behavior is in my nature. Do you ask a cat to explain why she delights in tormenting mice? Orr a bee why it likes to light on flowers?”

William finished his breakfast and considered her for a long moment. “The cat and the bee both know their place in the world,” he said. “In that manner, they are quite different from you.”

Catherine hummed. “I wonder if men are plagued by that same affliction.”

“Some of them.”

Footsteps echoed in the dining hall, and William turned his head. Geoffrey, the butler, stood at the entrance. He bowed stiffly. “Apologies for my interruption, Your Grace, but I have received a letter for you. Knowing of your fondness for receiving correspondence without delay, I thought it best to deliver this directly to you. It is from the Earl of Wyte.”

“Ah,” William said, beckoning for the letter.

“The Earl of Wyte?” Catherine asked.

“You have not had the pleasure?” William surmised. “He is our nearest neighbor. Wyte is a very influential man in certain circles, which I also happen to be involved in. It is very important to remain in his good graces.”

“I see.”

William undid the seal on the letter. It was Wyte’s familiar handwriting—thin and spidery—and William quickly read the contents. He was too aware of the three faces in the room watching and waiting for his reaction.

“What is it?” Catherine asked. “What does he want?”

Predictable.

“Every year, Wyte hosts an extravagant masquerade ball. It is expected for him to send me an invitation,” William said. “This year, he has also requested that my lovely duchess accompany me.”

“Oh! That is unsurprising!” Hannah exclaimed. “I am certain that all the ton must wish to meet you. Do you already have gowns for the ball, or will new ones need to be made?”

“If so, we must consult with the modiste at once,” Hester said. “It is not long until the equinox. That is when Lord Wyte usually holds his ball.”

“Indeed, it is. You have a good mind for dates,” William said. “Nicely done.”

“I am certain that I have a gown which will suffice,” Catherine replied.

Certainly, Catherine’s gowns would be sufficient. However, William could not say if the duchess’s would be equally suitable. Wyte’s ball had already drawn quite near, and he doubted that he would have sufficient time to craft his wayward wife into a proper lady.

“We shall need to discuss this matter,” William said, giving her a pointed look.

Catherine’s chin lifted just a little, and defiance sparked in her eyes. It was the same look she had given him when he had tipped her over his knee and planted that first, open-palmed slap upon her rear. William’s trousers grew a little tighter, as he imagined a similar confrontation regarding the circumstances of Wyte’s ball.

“So we shall,” she said, sounding displeased with him.

William rose from the table. “No time like the present. Shall we discuss the matter in my bedchamber?”

“Of course.”

She rose fluidly from her chair. For all that Catherine was an unrefined rebel, she maintained a lady’s grace when she moved. Her eyes narrowed upon his face, and William grinned. He had a feeling that this confrontation would be enjoyable, indeed.