Page 36 of A Duchess Disciplined (Dukes of Dominance #1)

Catherine Leedway’s life was in tatters, like a ship tossed in a violent tempest, and it seemed somehow insensitive—unjust even—that the world around her continued as though nothing was amiss. As she gazed at her parents’ freshly dug graves, she thought the sky ought to be overcast and gray. There ought to be rain or hail, even cold and unfeeling snow. But London’s sky was defiantly blue and filled with sunlight.

She wrapped her arms around herself, as if that simple gesture might warm the cold that sank like ice into her veins and in her heart. The grief was not constant. It came in uneven waves, crashing over her without warning. She had prepared herself for the funeral, had imagined herself transforming into a girl made of iron.

In four years, she would be introduced to society. She was not a child. Catherine told herself she would face her parents’ funeral with composure and dignity. She would not cry like Dorothy, who wept openly and sniffled beside her.

Despite her efforts, Catherine’s resolve cracked, and her eyes burned with barely contained tears.

Their older brother Elias Leedway cleared his throat. “I suppose we ought to say our farewells.”

Catherine looked askance at him. Elias was only a man of twenty years, but the past few days seemed to have aged him a lifetime. Dark circles lingered beneath his blue eyes, and his shoulders remained slumped. The tiredness in his face and the contrast of his dark hair with his pale skin made him look ill.

The youngest Leedway sibling, Bridget, held his hand. She had seen only eight years, and this was her first experience with death. Her face was red, and her lashes wet with tears.

“Are they really gone forever?” Bridget asked, her voice very small.

“Yes,” Dorothy replied, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“Who will care for us, then?” Bridget asked.

“I will,” Elias replied, drawing himself up a little. “It will be difficult for a very long time. It will hurt for a very long time. Eventually, it will hurt less, though. We will survive and make our parents proud. I will be the Duke of Reeds, and when you are all of age, I will ensure that you receive suitable marriages. Nothing has to—to change. Those are all the things that our father and mother would have wanted for us.”

“Everything has changed!” Catherine argued. “You cannot claim otherwise!”

Elias looked taken aback, likely startled by her change in temperament. Catherine had remained quiet during the journey to the graves, and when all the ton arrived to offer their condolences and respects. She had scarcely spoken at all since hearing of her parents’ accident. All the while, she boiled with a deep-seated fury that threatened to tear her to pieces. She swallowed hard as her brother’s expression softened. Why could he not look angry or reproachful?

“Catherine,” Dorothy said. “Elias is only trying to comfort us.”

“But he is wrong!” Catherine snapped. “We shall mourn them forever, and nothing will ever be the same again! It is—it is unfair! Our parents were good and kind! Why should we lose them so suddenly? How is that—how is that possible?”

Heat rose to her face. She could not have said whether it was anger at her brother—or maybe her parents for dying—or if it was frustration with herself for not being as unflustered as she wanted.

Her mother had always emphasized the importance of maintaining one’s composure. Catherine was the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Reeds, after all, and she would someday be a lady. She would need to embody the same grace and elegance she had seen in her own mother.

Elias sighed deeply. “Sometimes, Cat, the world is simply unjust. There need not be any particular reason for misfortune.”

Catherine shook her head. “I cannot believe that. I will not believe that. There must be some cosmic justice in the world. Otherwise, why does it matter if one is good at all if misfortune may strike without cause or warning?”

“I am sorry that I cannot provide you with a better answer. Man has tried to answer that question for centuries,” Elias said. “We may never know for certain.”

Catherine shook her head, still wishing to believe that this was all some terrible nightmare from which she would soon awaken, despite all evidence to the contrary. “It is not fair,” she repeated.

“I know,” Elias said.

“We can do nothing but manage with what life has given us,” Dorothy said, as she placed a soothing hand on Catherine’s shoulder. “That is what our mother and father would wish for us to do.”

Catherine shook her head. She knew that her siblings were only endeavoring to provide some measure of comfort, but she did not believe them. Their words were heartfelt, but their impact was like a new sprout in the face of winter, doomed to wither and die.

“I am frightened,” Bridget said.

“All will be well.” As Dorothy spoke, she cast Catherine a pleading look.

Do not say such dour things before Bridget, she was saying. If you are going to be so dark and angry, be so within the confines of your own bedchamber.

Catherine grimaced. She did not wish to be cruel to her sister, but it seemed unfair that sorrow was evidently the only appropriate response to grief. What was she to do with her fiery anger? She had not asked for it. Nor had she invited it, but it swept over her like a plague, demanding to be freed and acknowledged.

“Yes,” Catherine said between her gritted teeth. “All will be well in time.”

“We should leave soon,” Elias said. “It is surprisingly cold.”

It was. Catherine bit the inside of her cheek, her gaze fixed upon the graves. She had a wild thought of flinging herself onto the ground and screaming her grief into the world, of beating the earth with her fists, and of cursing God for allowing this to happen. Catherine swallowed past the lump in her throat.

She had sworn to be composed and elegant and good. It would not do to draw the attention of any passersby and embarrass her family in such a manner.

“We should,” Dorothy said. “Besides, we have left poor Mr. Davies and John tarrying for too long.”

Mr. Davies was their father’s solicitor—now Elias’s solicitor—who had come to pay his respects and to ensure that Elias was prepared to accept the mantle of the Duke of Reeds. John was the coachman, who had only been in their employ for two years. Both men had agreed to wait by the carriage while the Leedway siblings said their last farewells.

“And the horses,” Bridget said.

“Yes,” Elias agreed. “They must be quite chilled by now.”

Dorothy placed her hand on Elias’s arm and pressed her cheek briefly against his shoulder in a small gesture of comfort. “Come, Catherine,” Dorothy said. “When we return to the townhouse, we can ask Cook to make us something warm and filling.”

Catherine swallowed. “May I have just a moment to myself with them?”

Dorothy’s brow furrowed in a familiar gesture of concern. She glanced at Elias, as if seeking guidance, but at last, she sighed. “Yes, Cat. Do not wait too long, though. You do not want to become ill from the cold.”

“I will not,” Catherine said.

“We shall wait for you in the carriage,” Elias said.

“Thank you.”

Catherine watched as her siblings returned to the black carriage. Their black garments and dark hair stood in stark contrast against the too-cheerful. They were like a murder of ravens. After a heartbeat, she returned her gaze to the graves. She took a shuddering breath, bringing with it the scent of wet earth and winter’s decaying plants.

“So,” Catherine said.

That single syllable lingered in the air like a challenge. She could not have said who she was challenging, though. Perhaps, her parents. Perhaps, herself.

“I cannot believe that you are gone,” Catherine said. “I will not believe it.”

How could she? How could she even conceive of a future where her mother was not there to walk through the gardens with her or to fill the estate with her melodic laughter? How could she imagine a world wherein her father did not give her that soft, understanding smile when Catherine behaved in a way people politely called high-spirited? How could she imagine a Season without her parents? A life where her parents no longer descended the grand staircase at Reeds House as the duke and duchess?

“But,” Catherine continued, refusing to fight her tears any longer. “I know that these are your graves. I know that you are dead, and nothing will change that. I only wish that you’d had more time. That I’d had more time.”

Bitterly, Catherine realized that everyone who had lost a loved one probably wished for more time. She rubbed her eyes roughly. It was unfair. All of it was unfair.

“I love you,” she said, her voice shaking. “I love you so much. I always will. I promise that I will try to make you proud. I will try to be a good lady when I am of age.”

Even as she spoke, Catherine felt a tremor of doubt in her soul. Although she was quite young, she already had the inkling that her soul was not that of a proper lady.

“That is…everything,” Catherine said. “I promise that I shall try my very best to be everything that you always wanted me to be.”

She rubbed her eyes once again, dampening her sleeve. At last, she turned away from the graves. Elias waited for her outside the carriage, his hands clasped behind his back. He stood formally and proudly, as though he was already trying to embody all the cold formality expected of his title. Catherine took a steadying breath and followed the short path to the carriage.

John approached to assist her, but Elias dismissed the coachman with a wave. Instead, Catherine’s brother opened the carriage door himself and offered her a hand. She took it and climbed the steps into the carriage, seating herself beside Bridget.

Elias entered after her, taking the space beside Dorothy. John closed the door behind him.

Silence fell between the siblings, as heavy as a funeral shroud. At last, Dorothy, who could never bear silence for long, sighed. The sound was small and furtive, as though she had not meant for the others to hear it.

“It will be nice to return to the countryside for a while,” Elias said. “It is quieter there. Peaceful.”

It was, especially since their world in the past few days had become a seemingly endless parade of condolences and sorrow. To Catherine, it seemed as though all of London had descended upon their townhouse to discuss her parents’ deaths, and although she knew that the lords and ladies meant well, Catherine still found herself wishing that they would all leave and never darken Reeds House again.

“Yes,” Dorothy said. “I think we will all enjoy some peace. If we are fortunate, maybe the lake will have frozen, and we can skate. What do you think, Bridget?”

The girl’s expression brightened. “Oh, I hope so!”

Catherine wanted to do nothing but lie in bed and pretend that none of this was real, but as angry as she was, she did not have the heart to be spiteful towards her youngest sister. She remained silent, as the carriage went over London’s old roads, taking the Leedway siblings—Elias, Dorothy, Catherine, and Bridget—far away from London and their parents’ freshly dug graves.