Page 22 of A Duchess Disciplined (Dukes of Dominance #1)

CHAPTER 21

W illiam wondered what his friend Hamilton might have said about the matter. Although he was quite certain that Catherine was not yet the proper duchess that he needed her to be, it did strike William as though the situation was a little odd. Perhaps, even unreasonable. It was not as if Catherine did not know how to be a lady, after all. She simply did not behave as though she ought to. However, she was still a lady and a woman; she was not a child who needed someone to guide her through everything.

Nevertheless, William had thought it best to try attending some other occasion before going to Wyte’s ball. Lady Beckingworth’s garden party seemed as though it would be the perfect opportunity for Catherine to make her appearance before the ton. It was certain to be a more intimate affair than the ball and less well attended, and William knew that he could depend on Hamilton to smooth over any scandals that Catherine might inadvertently cause.

“You look very dashing today, Your Grace,” said Edward, his valet. “If I may say so myself.”

William said nothing. He looked as he always did. There was nothing particularly special about his appearance, and little vexed William more than when his servants turned into simpering sycophants in an effort to please him.

“I shall see if Her Grace is ready,” he said brusquely.

Edward bowed and hastened away. At least, he had a good head for being a valet. He did not try to befriend William, as some of his previous valets had.

William left his bedchamber and made to enter the duchess’s chambers. He turned the knob to the door and opened it. At once, a peal of laughter sliced through the air. William halted, for he recognized that the joyous, feminine sound must certainly be his wife’s laugh. Never before had he heard her express such merriment. What was the source of such joy? It certainly could not be dressing for the garden party.

He paused, straining to hear.

“I do not believe that I have ever been told I looked like a daffodil before.” Catherine’s voice drifted faintly through her bedchamber and the small parlor, which the duchess’s chambers opened into. “I must thank you for the creative compliment. In truth, I am rather fond of the color jonquil , but it is one that I seldom wear.”

“Why not?” Hannah asked. “It looks lovely on you.”

“I have never thought that it suited me,” Catherine said. “It was my sister Dorothy who suggested this color to me, and because she has such good knowledge of fashion, I agreed to buy this gown. However, I have not worn it even once.”

“It looks beautiful on you,” Hester agreed. “You look like a goddess of spring. Oh! Or maybe one of the Three Graces!”

Catherine’s laughter rang again, as clear as a bell. “I would never say anything so extravagant about myself!”

“Then, it is fortunate that you have us to say such things for you!” Hannah said. “Hester is right. You do look so very lovely today. I think you should wear the yellow gown more often.”

William smiled. For all that Catherine delighted in his sisters’ company, they seemed to appreciate her just as well.

“You seem to love your family very much,” Hester said. “You always sound so wistful when you speak of them. Do you miss your brother and sisters?”

Catherine had not been separated from them for very long, but Hester was, as always, very astute in her observations. His wife always spoke of her family with such a heavy longing that a kinder man might have felt guilty for taking her away from them.

“I do,” Catherine replied. “They are—were—my entire world. I had thought that I might simply live together with Elias and my sister Dorothy forever.”

William shook his head at the absurdity of that idea. He pressed his fingertips against the door, prepared to reveal himself. Then, Hannah cleared her throat. “Is your brother stern like ours is?”

The question gave him pause, and he furrowed his brow. Stern ? His sisters had never described him as stern before, and he found himself wondering if this was how Hannah had always felt about him. And did Hester feel similarly?

“He is not,” Catherine. “Elias cares about appearances, but he is also quite content to let my sisters and me live as we please.”

“Any way you please?” Hannah asked, her tone so hushed that William barely heard it.

He grimaced and tried to decide if it might be wise to interrupt before Catherine managed to turn his own sisters against his authority. William had told her she might be herself in private, though, and this was who she was. Catherine was a lovely, young lady who cared for her family and for his sisters. A lump rose in his throat as he considered his own relationship to Hannah and Hester.

They called him stern . And although William loved his sisters, he had not spent much time with them before Catherine’s arrival. It was really only his wife’s insistence that had him venturing from his study more to spend time with them.

“Any way that you please?” Hester asked wonderingly.

“Indeed. Elias is a good man.”

“I do not think His Grace would let us live however we wished to,” Hannah said. “He wants us to be proper ladies.”

“Yes,” Hester said.

William inhaled sharply. His sisters did not sound distraught exactly, but their voices were unhappy. Solemn. A knot twisted in his chest.

“Your brother has good reasons for what he does. While he could be a little less stern, he is only trying to be a good brother and ensure that the both of you have happy lives with good husbands, who can see to your every need.”

One of them sighed. “I suppose,” Hester said. “But I do not want to think about husbands at such a young age. Can that not wait until I am older?”

“Mostly, it will.”

William moved away from the door. His sisters were unhappy, and he did not know how to face that unsettling realization. Since their mother’s death, William had thought his sisters were content. They had been growing up into proper girls, and he had felt that a feminine presence was needed only to give them a little polish. Now, he knew differently.

How long had they been dissatisfied with their lots in life? William took a steady breath of air and wandered slowly away from the door. Was it Catherine’s influence that had caused such dissatisfaction from his sisters, or was it something that had been boiling inside them for years and escaped his notice? William sighed and raked a hand through his hair, his thoughts awhirl with the possibilities.

“Are you ready to depart, Your Grace?” Geoffrey asked.

William, who had not noticed that the butler stood scarcely a few feet away, jolted at the unexpected address. “I am,” he replied, “but Her Grace is not. I will resume work in my study. Send for me once she has resolved to leave.”

The butler furrowed his brow, confusion apparent on his face, but he said nothing. William swept past the man and bounded up the stairs to his study. He entered the room and closed the door behind him. William stormed to his desk and fell into his usual chair. With a heaving sigh, he tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling.

What was he to do? His sisters were unhappy with him for trying to raise them to be proper ladies, and he had no idea what to do with that notion. Although William loved his sisters, he could not change the ways of the ton.

He could not allow them to run wild and free like Catherine, or they would find themselves unwed and unsafe in a world of wolves set to take advantage of them. But he also did not want them to be unhappy. Could he make his sisters find happiness somehow, or was that feeling something that would bloom with time?

There was a light knock on his study door. William tipped his chin down against his collarbone. “Enter!”

The door opened, and Catherine peered inside at him. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes traced along the delicate curves of her slender form.

In the yellow gown, Catherine did look like a daffodil. She was as delicate and beautiful as any lady of the ton, and he had the passing thought that abandoning the garden party and taking her over his desk might be a far more enjoyable way to pass the evening.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked.

“I have been for some time,” he replied. “I was beginning to wonder if you might have decided to spend the entire day arranging your hair.”

Catherine gently patted her curls. “Rose did splendid work this morning. There is no need to insult her skills as a lady’s maid,” she said. “And she most certainly did not take all day, only the amount of time that was needed. Perhaps, you do not realize how long it takes for a duchess to make herself presentable.”

His lips twitched in amusement. Despite his desire to argue, Catherine did make a compelling point. William had not lived with a duchess for some time, and he had not the faintest idea how long it might take a woman to make herself appear presentable.

“I suppose I cannot argue when the results are so comely,” he said.

William considered asking about the overheard conversation with his sisters, but he could find no way of doing so without admitting that he had been lingering outside the lady’s door and listening in on her personal conversations. He did not wish to do that, for it was a most ungentlemanly thing that he had done. Catherine would be merciless if she knew.

“I am certain that you could devise an argument if you wished to,” Catherine said. “You clearly delight in being the most contrary of men.”

“You also delight in being contrary, although I have hopes that you will exhibit some restraint today,” William said, rising from his chair. “This garden party will be the first event where I introduce you as my duchess, and I need you to look the part.”

She did look the part, but William could not say the same for her attitude. Still, what was the worst that she might do? He considered the question for a brief moment but quickly decided that the possibilities were too horrifying to contemplate at the moment. This woman had chased after a gaggle of ducks, after all. Who was to know what she might do if she encountered a clustering of song birds in the garden?

Horror surged through him as he imagined Catherine’s lovely yellow gown stained with mud and grass and her curls all askew.

“I will look the part,” she said. “I shall be a perfect duchess in public, as promised. You have no need to doubt me, Your Grace.”

She curtsied elegantly, as if to prove her point. If William was a softer man, he might have been thoroughly convinced by the display of propriety. But he was neither soft nor foolish. A fierce feeling of foreboding overcame him.

Even if Catherine did her best to be the perfect duchess, something was bound to go terribly wrong.