Page 4 of A Duchess Disciplined (Dukes of Dominance #1)

CHAPTER 3

T he house was silent, save for the faint creak of the floorboards, which sounded as loud as a gunshot to Catherine. She did not want to wake anyone, but reckless energy pulsed through her. When Catherine tried to find sleep, she found His Grace’s composed face and intense gaze instead.

The memory of him was like a fire, blazing through her body and leaving her awake and restless. She imagined that it was worse for poor Dorothy, who had been signed away to the future Duke of Sarsen mere days after her birth.

Catherine quietly pushed open the door to her sister’s bedchamber, relaxing a little when she saw the flickering light from the fireplace dancing upon the wall. Her sister sat nearly doubled over, clad in a white nightgown. Dorothy’s loose, black hair fell over her back and shoulders. Small, muffled sobs filled the air, striking at uneven moments like a poorly tuned instrument.

“Dory,” Catherine said softly. “May I join you?”

Her sister’s head snapped towards her, and Dorothy nodded. There were no nearby chairs, so Catherine sat on the floor beside her sister. Dorothy’s eyes were red. She had been crying for a long time.

“Do you want to talk about what transpired today?” Catherine asked.

Dorothy’s breath shuddered unevenly, and she curled further into herself. “I cannot marry him, Cat.”

“Elias will not make you.” Catherine pressed her cheek against Dorothy’s knee. “Even if the Duke of Sarsen insists upon it, you know that our brother will not make you wed that man.”

“I know,” Dorothy said. “Just as I know that it would be unwise for him to refuse. Whether we like it or not, His Grace has a contract promising my marriage to him. The ton would look poorly upon Elias If he refused.”

“Do we care what the ton thinks?” Catherine asked.

She already knew the answer, though. They cared very much.

Dorothy sighed. “We must. Even if I have resolved never to wed, you have not. Bridget has not, and Elias must. The dukedom will need an heir.”

“But no matter how I try to convince myself that marrying His Grace is the best course of action, I find that I cannot make myself believe it,” Catherine said. “I cannot imagine a life away from all of you. I feel as though marrying the Duke of Sarsen would be the death of my very soul.”

Catherine’s chest ached. “Then, you must not do it.”

Dorothy nodded slowly. “I know that, just as I know that my refusal will have consequences. I wish that His Grace would relent, but I do not think that he will. If he were a kinder man, he would not have come unannounced into our home and demanded my hand.”

Catherine bit her lip, trying to think of some solution, but she could find none. It seemed the best solution would be not to wed the man, but she understood too well the dangers of refusal. In her mind, refusal could not possibly be worse than seeing her sister married to that man, but Catherine knew her insistence to the contrary would fall upon deaf ears.

“Perhaps, we can persuade him to reconsider,” Catherine said, “or else, we can ask for more time to make our decision.”

“That will only delay the inevitable.”

“Not necessarily!” Catherine argued. “If we have more time, we may find some means of persuading the duke to choose another course of action!”

Dorothy’s smile was fond, but her eyes shone with doubt. “I do not want to wed him, but there is also nothing that I would not do for this family. If marrying him is what it takes to ensure everyone’s happiness, I must do it. I will do it.”

“Dory, you cannot,” Catherine said, clasping her sister’s hands in her own. “You cannot sacrifice your own happiness for us. None of us would want that for you.”

“Sometimes, you do not always have the luxury of making a choice to preserve your happiness,” Dorothy said. “Sometimes, you must simply accept the hand that fate has dealt you, regardless of if you agree with it.”

“I think fate has dealt our family more than its share of unfairness,” Catherine replied heatedly. “It is unfair that you should also be taken so suddenly from us.”

“I know,” Dorothy said. “But it may not be so dreadful. You can watch over Elias and Bridget in my stead until you are wed. It is not as though they will have no one in the world.”

Catherine shook her head. “I would do anything to preserve our family’s happiness, but I cannot replace you. I cannot look after Bridget or counsel Elias like you always have. I am not…I am not proper or nurturing like you are. I am a failed lady, and we both know it.”

Dorothy squeezed her sister’s hands. “You are not. You are as good a lady as any young miss in the ton, and if the gentlemen do not see that, they are unworthy of you. It is as simple as that.”

Catherine’s first impulse was to argue, but she had meant to comfort Dorothy. She did not wish for the conversation to become about her complaints instead.

“Still,” Catherine said, “I am not you. No woman could hope to match your compassion, patience, and devotion.”

“That is kind of you,” Dorothy replied. “But you will never know if you do not try, dear sister.”

On the contrary, Catherine did not need to try to know. She only smiled, though.

“Perhaps,” Catherine muttered. “I still think you should refuse the marriage, though. Given time, I am sure Elias could justify such a choice. If nothing else, he may convince the ton of the document’s inauthenticity.”

Dorothy sighed. “Maybe. I do wonder if this is a battle that we ought to fight, though. His Grace is right about the match being advantageous to both our families. What would we do if something happened to Elias? If he fell ill or became involved in some terrible accident, we would have no one to care for our family.”

“You,” Catherine said.

“A woman’s word does not hold the same sway as a man’s,” Dorothy said softly. “You know that. I am the eldest daughter, so I must bear these things in mind. Do not despair, Cat. Whatsoever we decide, I am sure that everything will be well. Perhaps, different. But well.”

Dorothy fixed her attention on the fire, her eyes still bright with freshly shed tears. A lump rose in Catherine’s throat. How could everything be well if Dorothy was wed against her will? Catherine wanted to scream and rage and fight. But how could she when Dorothy was already resigned to her fate and Elias only willing to offer the feeblest— most proper —resistance?

“I am tired,” Dorothy said. “I think I should retire. You ought to, also. It has been a rather trying day.”

Catherine stood, stretching to soothe the ache in her knees. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Dorothy replied, sighing. “The matter will be less frightening in the morning. I am sure of it.”

It would not be. Catherine left her sister’s room, still thinking about their conversation. Dorothy should not have to wed, especially not at the behest of some man who had the gall to force himself into their estate and demand a bride.

Still, she found her thoughts lingering in a decidedly improper way about how handsome he was. He was as cold and composed as a marble statue, and he seemed to have the physique of one, too. The duke’s shoulders were broad and tapered to a thin waist. His jawline was strong, and his eyes held an unusual, piercing sharpness. When he looked at her, Catherine had felt as though his green eyes could see all the way to the very depths of her soul, and the intensity of his gaze had left her breathless.

Catherine was so consumed with her thoughts that she failed to notice His Grace until she stumbled into a wall of hard muscle. Heat rushed to her face, and she stumbled back. Catherine hurried to find words, as the Duke of Sarsen stared at her in the darkened light of the corridor.

“What are you doing?” she finally asked, her temper flaring. “It is far too late for you to be wandering the corridors, Your Grace.”

The Duke of Sarsen did not even have the grace to look sheepish at being caught outside his bedchamber at such an unseemly hour. Catherine knew that it must be approaching midnight. After a heartbeat, his features sharpened into a mask of disdain.

“I might ask the same of you, my lady. Why are you wandering the corridors when you ought to be abed?”

Catherine’s jaw clenched. “Unless you have forgotten, Your Grace, this is my home. I think I have far more reason to wander the corridors at such a late hour than you do. Besides, what I choose to do is hardly any business of yours. You have come unannounced and unwanted to my brother’s estate—to my family home—and demanded an exorbitant price from us!”

A small part of Catherine knew that she ought to cease speaking, or else, she chanced deeply offending the Duke of Sarsen. As her face grew hot and her temper frayed, Catherine found that she could not bring herself to care about the consequences of offending him, though.

Maybe she could make him angry enough that he would storm away and leave them be. Sure, Elias would be forced to contend with the embarrassment should His Grace spread the story to anyone else, but it was certainly preferable for his wayward sister to cause a scandal than for him. No one would be surprised if she caused trouble.

“You have come here to take my sister with no preamble, and you do not even care what taking Dorothy away will do to our family!”

His Grace’s nostrils flared, and he took a bold step towards her. Then, another. Catherine glowered at him, her chin tipped up in defiance.

“Do you deny it?” she asked.

Another step. He had become improperly close, so Catherine took a step back. However, she met the wall and found herself trapped. His Grace towered over her, so near that she could reach out and touch him. Catherine tilted her head back until her neck ached, so she could look him in the eye.

The scent of his cologne, a warm mingling of orange blossoms and spice, swept over her and consumed her senses. Catherine’s breath shuddered, and then, it seemed impossible to breathe at all. Heat curled inside her chest, and her lower muscles clenched.

A beat passed in silence with them simply staring at one another. “So,” His Grace drawled at last, dragging out that single syllable. “You are so angry about your sister, yet you do not feel inclined to do anything to remedy the situation. So much anger and no rational thought.”

“I have many rational thoughts!” Catherine snapped. “I have said nothing untrue, have I?”

“No, but a rather obvious solution presents itself,” the Duke of Sarsen said. “It is quite astonishing that you have not already thought of it yourself, my lady. If you do not wish for Lady Dorothy to marry me, you may take her place. I am promised a bride from the late Duke of Reeds’s daughters, and I do not particularly care which one.”

“How romantic,” Catherine said between her clenched teeth.

“You are both equally attractive,” His Grace continued, as though he had not heard her. “You are both young and likely to produce heirs for my dukedom. I have no preference for Lady Dorothy over you.”

“How dare you?” Catherine asked, her face growing hot. “You speak as though my sister and I are interchangeable, as though we are livestock to be traded and offered to you without hesitation!”

“The offering has already been made,” the Duke of Sarsen replied. “It is your duty—or your sister’s—to fulfill it. You may dislike that, but it is nevertheless true.”

“My brother will not relent.”

“We both know that he will ,” His Grace said, his eyes gleaming darkly with enjoyment. “I always obtain what I want, my lady.”

Catherine could not explain her reaction to those words. She felt that she ought to have grown angrier, but instead, that strange and unwanted heat stirred within her. Catherine’s heart raced, and her eyes lingered on his face.

His lips. The Duke of Sarsen was so near her that they could have kissed, and a jolt of pleasure swept through her. Catherine fought to ignore it.

“How confident you are,” Catherine said.

“My confidence is warranted,” he replied, his voice low and husky. “But I will warn you that I expect my wife to be a proper lady and Duchess of Sarsen. If you choose to trade your hand for your sister’s, expect to be put in your place.”

“My place ?” Catherine scoffed. “How should you know what a woman’s place is?”

His eyes gleamed with anticipation and the promise of something Catherine could not quite grasp. When the Duke of Sarsen tilted his head towards her, his warm breath brushed against her cheek. Catherine’s toes curled inside her slippers. She ought to flee, but she could not. It was as if her body was fastened to the floor.

“Your place,” His Grace confirmed, tucking a wayward curl behind Catherine’s ear.

The touch was as light as a butterfly lighting on a flower, but to Catherine, it was like being struck by lightning. Her breath shuddered unevenly, and her pulse jumped.

“Properly and thoroughly,” he murmured.

New anger sparked inside her, burning to greater heights than before. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands. Catherine could not imagine precisely what the Duke of Sarsen meant, but she defied any man to put her in her place , as if she did not already know it. As though she was some wayward servant who had spoken out of turn, rather than a lady and the sister of the Duke of Reeds!

“You will do no such thing,” Catherine said, her voice shaking. “To either my sister or to me.”

He smirked. “We shall see. Enjoy your night, my lady.”

“I will,” she said, smiling tightly. “Thank you.”

Without another word, he turned away. Catherine waited until he rounded the corner before inhaling deeply. The air shuddered in her chest. She tipped her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, trying to steady herself. It was difficult, for so many contradictory feelings swept like a tempest within her.

Catherine was angry. She longed to storm after the Duke of Sarsen and demand that he leave the estate at once without any bride at all. The man’s confidence was like a thorn in her thumb, and she ached to rip him free. Beneath the anger, there was something deeper. A longing, which she recognized, but wished she didn’t.

His Grace was a detestable and ill-tempered man, unquestionably so, but he was very handsome. Catherine forced down the lump that rose in her throat. His Grace’s solution, as detestable as it was, had a sort of beautiful simplicity to it.

“I can marry him,” Catherine muttered to the night and the quiet. “If I do, Dorothy will not have to do it.”

It was a terrible thought, and she loathed herself for considering it. Still, she could not deny that marrying His Grace would fulfill the promise that her father had made. It would appease the Duke of Sarsen, and Dorothy would not need to leave their family.

Had Catherine not said that same night that she would do anything for their family? Anything except take Dorothy’s role? She squeezed her eyes closed and bit the inside of her cheek. Catherine would do it. For her family, she would wed His Grace.

* * *

The Duke of Reeds was seated at the head of the table, his face as hard as stone. Despite Reeds’s obvious desire to exude confidence and dominion over his estate, his eyes betrayed his exhaustion. His sisters seemed to be in similar states of fatigue. Lady Dorothy’s eyes were red and swollen—evidence that she had spent the night crying. Lady Bridget stifled yawns behind her hand, and Lady Catherine looked like a feral cat, overly tired and prepared to strike with little provocation.

William chewed silently on his eggs. It had been some time since he had experienced such an uncomfortable breakfast. He had won, even if Reeds had not yet officially agreed to his victory.

“I have been thinking about our contract,” Reeds said stiffly.

“As have I,” William said. “I trust that you have decided to do the honorable thing and fulfill it, as your father intended.”

Reeds clenched his jaw. The man’s body was tense, his shoulders drawn, and his back straight. William sensed that the young man probably wished to defy him, to insist that the contract would never be fulfilled.

And yet, Reeds cast Lady Dorothy a quick, apologetic glance. In that look, William saw that Reeds had already agreed to the terms. William would leave with a lovely, young wife and a new maternal presence for his sisters, Hannah and Hester. It took all his strength not to let his eyes wander to Lady Catherine. He had asked for the eldest sister, and although she did not stir the same passions within him that her younger sister did, William was certain that Lady Dorothy would be an adequate wife. He had won, as he always did.

“My sister and I have discussed the contract at length,” Reeds said. “We are considering agreeing to your proposal.”

“Considering?” William asked.

Where had this courage come from? William did not imagine that it would last for long.

“Yes,” Reeds said. “First, I wish to verify the authenticity of this contract. I wish to speak with the Baron of Westwood to determine if he has any recollection of our fathers making this agreement. Then, I shall speak with my solicitor to determine if he has any knowledge of this arrangement.”

“Do you suspect me of deceiving you? If I desired one of your sisters to be my wife, I am quite certain that I could devise some means of obtaining one without resorting to such an absurd scheme.”

Reeds took a sip of his coffee. William suspected it was a delay tactic to consider his answer. The man looked as though he was on the verge of saying something regrettable. How pathetic!

“I suppose so,” Reeds said, “but I am sure you understand the reason for my hesitancy. I would not wed one of my sisters to you without being certain about the contract’s authenticity.”

“You distrust me.”

“I distrust everyone with my sisters,” Reeds replied. “I especially distrust the man determined to marry the sister of mine who has resolved herself to spinsterhood. Are you incapable of finding a willing woman to marry you?”

It sounded like something Lady Catherine would say. William wondered if she was responsible for her brother’s sudden courage. Perhaps she had spoken to him during the night.

“You act as though I am unreasonable,” William said coolly. “Many lords of the ton marry ladies who are not particularly besotted with them. That is the truth of an arranged marriage. Were you convinced that all husbands and wives were love-matches? I had not thought you so na?ve.”

Lady Catherine sighed. When William glanced at her, the young lady smiled sharply and stabbed her eggs as though she intended to murder them.

“Are you vexed, my lady?” William asked.

She wore a pale pink gown that beautifully traced her delicate, feminine figure. It reminded William of the night before. He had stood so near her that, when he gazed down, he had been able to appreciate her firm breasts and her slender neck.

The memory of that slight touch, when his fingertips brushed the shell of her ear, burned within him. He ached to touch her again and longer. William’s pulse quickened when he imagined Lady Catherine on her knees or seated on his bed, gazing up at him with such boldness.

“I am,” Lady Catherine said.

“Perhaps, you ought not to display such feelings of displeasure before your guests,” William said. “It is unbecoming.”

“I may do as I please,” Lady Catherine snapped. “This is my home.”

It was becoming readily apparent why Lady Catherine was so spirited. Her brother failed to correct the young lady and showed no interest in requesting that she display even the smallest feminine graces. If she were William’s bride...

If she were his wife and he caught her wandering outside the bedchamber in the early hours of the morning, he would have caught her about her waist and kissed her until he left her breathless. Then, he would have carried Lady Catherine to their bed and taught her the consequences for a young lady wandering where she ought not to.

“How long will it take your solicitor to arrive?” William asked.

“I sent correspondence to him this morning,” Reeds replied. “I thoroughly explained the situation to him, so I am certain he will answer quickly.”

William caught the veiled criticism. He had not been so forthcoming when presenting the contract to Reeds. That was because Reeds was too proper and afraid to fight for what he wanted.

“We should have our answer in two days. My solicitor is in London,” Reeds continued. “So we need to wait for an answer.”

“Then, I see no need to delay writing the marriage contract since we will be forced to wait two weeks before our wedding anyway,” William said. “I am sure that the solicitor’s report will be entirely satisfactory.”

“We will write nothing until we receive word,” Reeds insisted. “That is what Dorothy and I have agreed to do.”

“Once we receive word,” Lady Dorothy said, “if it is sufficient, I will marry you. As per the contract.”

“What?” Lady Bridget whispered, her eyes wide.

“To maintain our family’s honor,” Reeds said. “It is what must be done.”

A fork clinked loudly against a fine porcelain plate. Everyone’s heads turned to Lady Catherine, who curled her hands into fists atop the table. William somewhat feared for the lace covering the table. Her nails looked ready to tear it asunder. “No,” Lady Catherine said. “No, Dorothy will not marry him.”

William raised an eyebrow. His lips curved into a sly smile. The expression seemed to anger the lady, for she scowled in reply. Her face was too comely to be threatening, and his blood became alight with anticipation. Did she intend to keep resisting, or had she realized that offering herself would be the simplest solution for her family’s plight?

“His Grace wants a wife from this family,” Lady Catherine said. “Dorothy does not want to marry him, so she should not. However, I have a string of failed Seasons behind me. I am of marriageable age and have not made such promises.”

William let his face betray nothing, but his pulse jumped in anticipation of his victory.

“What are you saying?” Reeds asked.

“Do not say something foolish,” Lady Dorothy said. “I have already discussed this with Elias, and?—”

“ And ,” Lady Catherine interrupted, “I ought to marry His Grace. If he will accept me, I would be proud to be the Duchess of Sarsen.”

William feigned cool acceptance. Inside, his body stirred with warmth and desire. This arrangement was far better than the one he had anticipated. It seemed as though Lady Catherine had seen the wisdom, the elegance, of his solution.

“ What ?” Reeds asked.

A strangled sound emerged from Lady Dorothy’s throat, and Lady Bridget nearly choked on her toast and jam.

“What an interesting solution you propose,” William said. “I accept.”

“Wait!” Reeds exclaimed. “Cat, have you—why would you?—?”

“I have already explained my reasoning,” Lady Catherine said. “You will not change my feelings on the matter. This is the choice that makes the most sense. It is the best option.”

“I agree,” William said. “I think you will make a wonderful duchess.”

With the appropriate amount of correction, of course.

It would be some time before Lady Catherine became worthy of that title, but he was sure that she would be—eventually.

“Yes, but…” Lady Bridget trailed off.

Lady Catherine’s eyes glinted with fury. “That is, of course, provided that the solicitor’s answers are satisfactory,” she said. “If they are not, there will be no wedding. Do you agree to those terms, Your Grace?”

They would be satisfactory. Lady Catherine had lost this gamble, and she knew it. This was simply a weak bid for more time.

“I do,” William said. “I will impose on your hospitality a little longer, Reeds.”

“Of course.”

Although Reeds spoke to William, his gaze remained fixed on Lady Catherine. William wondered if the man was vexed that his sister had spoken over him and agreed to marry without her brother’s consent. If Reeds was angry, he did not allow his fury to show.

“Then, I will enjoy the chance to learn more about my future wife,” William said. “You will take a walk through the gardens with me, my lady.”

“Of course, Your Grace. Shall we go at once?”

Her tight words and fierce expression were, to William, like the call of a siren, irresistible and haunting.

“I have finished eating,” William said. “Have you?”

“So I have,” Lady Catherine replied.

Reeds cleared his throat. “I wish to speak to my sister first. This has all happened rather quickly.”

William considered declining the request, but the thought of his own sisters made him more inclined to mercy than he otherwise might have been. He offered the smallest nod of acknowledgement. “I shall wait in the gardens for my young bride.”

“For Lady Catherine,” Reeds said reproachfully. “She is not your bride yet .”

“She will be. That is close enough.”

After offering a curt bow to Lady Catherine, William left the room and set a slow path to the gardens. Doubtless, the family would be arguing for some time. He hoped it would not take too long, though. Last night’s unexpected encounter with Lady Catherine burned strongly in his mind. He longed to be alone with her again, if only for a few moments.

William waited by the garden’s entrance and tried to decide if he was brazen enough to touch her. Would Lady Catherine be receptive to his advances? Or would she be appalled? Perhaps, all her boldness was merely a facade.

He knew some wayward misses like that. They were all fire and anger until presented with the unknown, and then, all their fire became extinguished in an instant. He hoped that she was not such a lady and that he had not been tricked into promising to wed such a boring bride.

At last, he heard the faint sound of slippers on the floor behind him. He turned his head and found Lady Catherine standing there, her lady’s maid a few steps behind. “You thought of a chaperone,” William said.

Adorable.

“Of course,” Lady Catherine said. “A proper lady must not be without one.”

“I was not under the impression that you were a proper lady.”

William tilted his head in the direction of the gardens. He began walking along the well-maintained garden path. Sweeping grasses and cheerful flowers bloomed, as yet untouched by the faint autumn chill. If William listened very hard, he could hear Lady Catherine’s faint steps and the whispering of her gown as she walked beside him.

She seemed determined to put as much space as possible between the two of them. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the same was not true of the insipid lady’s maid, who followed so closely that any illicit dalliance would be impossible.

They kept walking, and the more they did, the more Lady Catherine fidgeted. William hid a smile. She was as wild as the flowers around her, but with proper care, she could become a carefully cultivated rose.

Lady Catherine scoffed. “You insisted on this walk around the gardens, and you have nothing to say at all.”

He smirked. “This is your first lesson in manners, my lady. I expect my duchess to speak only when spoken to.”

Her face reddened until her cheeks rivalled the reddest of roses. Lady Catherine worked her jaw for a heartbeat, like she was trying to decide the best barb with which to wound him.

“We need to come to an understanding if I am to be your wife,” she said.

“I agree.”

“I am marrying you only to spare my sister this fate,” Lady Catherine said. “I do not intend to make this a pleasant arrangement. On the contrary, I intend to be so insufferable that you decide to abandon your search for a wife entirely. Then, it will be your honor that is besmirched, rather than mine or my sister’s.”

“I see,” William said. “And do you suppose that you will escape unscathed if I tell the ton that you are a wild and aimless woman?”

“The ton already knows that. They will believe that you are a foolish man who did not care to learn his wife’s character before marriage.”

“No. They will marvel at how I have made you a perfect duchess,” William said. “We spoke yesterday of Shakespeare. I am sure that you are familiar with The Taming of the Shrew ?”

“Not his best work.”

“A shrew would think so.”

“Are you frightened of ladies who have their own thoughts and desires?” Lady Catherine asked. “I will always be high-spirited, and I am not unshaped clay or some plaything that you can mold into what you want. I am not a pet or a pupil to be lectured.”

William said nothing. It was readily apparent that arguing with her was an exercise in futility. Instead, he merely gazed calmly at her, while Lady Catherine’s scowl deepened. That would vex her more than outright disagreement.

“You are infuriating!” she snapped. “Purposefully so!”

She turned away from him. Seeing she was about to leave, William seized her wrist and pulled her to him with more force than he had intended. Her back pressed against his chest, and a gasp escaped the young woman.

“Listen,” he said.

She looked at him, a smirk playing across her lips. “Is this appropriate behavior, Your Grace? Grasping a lady and holding her against you?”

He clenched his jaw. Lady Catherine was not only determined to be defiant, but she also delighted in mocking him.

“You are not the only one who can become angry, my lady, so I would advise you to tread very softly.”

Lady Catherine shivered against him and arched her back. William doubted that she even noticed her body’s movements, whereas he was far too aware of them. His manhood throbbed. If they were already wed and the chaperone elsewhere, he could have taken her right there along the garden path.

He would have seen her laid upon the grass and been astride her waist in an instant. At the moment, the most he dared do was grasp her hand and hold her against him, breathing in the scent of lavender and roses.

Her gown was such a light garment. If he pressed more insistently against her, he might be able to feel her stays beneath it.

“You are not a plaything or a pet,” William said humbly.

Lady Catherine’s breath hitched. “ You seem to think so.”

“Not in the least. However, if you are to be a duchess, you must learn,” he continued, “and I am more than happy to teach you.”

“I will be a difficult student.”

He laughed darkly. “That is already apparent.”

“Well, do your worst, Your Grace. Whatever lesson you might devise, I can assure you that I have no intention of learning anything from you,” Lady Catherine said. “I quite like the woman I am.”

His eyes darted to her lips, still tilted in that coy smirk. Lady Catherine really thought that she could challenge him. She really thought that she could best him in any encounter.

William leaned nearer to her, aware but uncaring of the lady’s maid’s startled gasp. He licked his lips and was rewarded with another sharp inhale from Lady Catherine.

The flush from her face spread downward towards her throat and the tops of her breasts. Her blushes were as wild as she was. Rather than a pretty and delicate sweep of color, hers were uneven spatters of red strewn across a red canvas.

“I cannot wait to break you,” he said, slowly and deliberately. “It will be a wonderful pastime, indeed.”