Page 13 of Five Ways to Bed a Duke
Chapter Thirteen
A s Emmy tried to appropriately name the cutlery she’d spread out on the table, Catherine tried not to be distracted by the fact that she wanted to end her arrangement with Richard.
If she kept a constant appearance in their townhouse, she wasn’t sure she would be able to maintain her stand on ending their forbidden relationship, and she knew very well that there were always new heights of ruination to be attained. With a man like Richard, who had no inhibitions, she didn’t think her self-control could last.
She was grateful to hear that he wouldn’t be back till late as he had some business matters to attend to.
“No, Emmy,” she corrected for the fifth time. “That is the salad fork.”
Emmy nodded and tried again, but she made the same mistake and kept looking over her shoulder at the door as if expecting someone.
Usually, she was always focused and even excited about their lessons, but the girl looked somewhat distracted, as though something was weighing heavily on her mind.
“Is something wrong Emmy?” Catherine asked softly. “You don’t seem your usual self today.”
“No!” Emmy answered, wringing her hands. Then, as if realizing she was overreacting, she added softly, “No, nothing’s wrong.”
Catherine smiled at her friend. “You know you can tell me anything, right, Emmy?” she soothed, placing a hand on hers.
“Oh, Cathy,” Emmy sighed, squeezing her hand. “I am worried about Richard.”
Oh? Catherine was not expecting that.
“Has something happened to him?”
“No, not at all,” Emmy answered, shaking her head. “I just worry he’ll be upset with me when he finds out what I’ve been doing.”
“Emmy… should I be worried?”
What could she have been doing that would worry her brother?
Catherine thought back to what she had been doing with Richard and feared that perhaps Emmy had also done something scandalous.
“No,” Emmy sighed. “You know that our mother abandoned us when we were quite young, and Richard has never forgiven her for that. I hadn’t too, but…”
“But what, Emmy?”
She sighed and rose from her seat, going to stand by the window.
“She’s been writing to me, and she is sorry for leaving us with our father. I was so angry and told her as much, but I so long to have her in my life.”
“Why haven’t you told Richard about it yet?”
“Because, Cathy”—Emmy turned to Catherine with tear-filled eyes—“I am afraid he is going to forbid me from speaking to her. I know he will. He spent so many years after she left telling me that if she ever came back, he would throw her out. She wants to see me, Cathy, and I don’t know how to tell her I can’t see her. We’ve been writing to each other for a while, and there’s so much I still want to know about her. I really want to see her, but I can’t go anywhere without Richard or my maid chaperoning me.”
Catherine sighed and leaned back in her seat. She understood her friend’s fear and wanted to help, but she didn’t know how.
Richard had every right to be angry with their mother, but it was about time Emmy told him. How he hadn’t even discovered her correspondence already was a miracle.
He would be very upset if he knew how long his sister had been writing to the woman he was so angry at, and now that Catherine knew, he would also be angry at her for knowing and not telling him.
“You could try talking to him,” Catherine suggested. “It might not go as poorly as you expect.”
“Cathy, I can’t!” Emmy cried. “He will never forgive me. You have to promise me you’ll keep this from him.”
“I—”
“Please, Cathy. Promise me.”
Sighing deeply, Catherine resigned herself to her fate. “I won’t tell him.”
“Oh, thank you!” Emmy cried, hugging her.
“Alright, alright.” Catherine laughed, rubbing her back. “Let’s finish your lessons quickly, so we can do something fun for a change.”
“What do you have in mind?” Emmy asked gleefully. Her entire demeanor had changed, so one wouldn’t know she had been crying.
“Cards.”
“Are we going to make a wager?”
“Gambling isn’t ladylike, Emmy,” Catherine chided, shaking her head.
“But there’s no one here to see us.”
“Focus on your lessons.”
An hour later, she was proud of Emmy’s table manners and conversational skills, and then she announced the lessons were over for the day.
They went to the drawing room for cards and munched on sweet pastries and tea served by the parlor maids. Emmy proved to be proficient at cards but was no match for Catherine’s superior skills.
An hour passed before Catherine decided to return home, so she could also have time to rest before the evening meal.
As she was helped into her coat, Richard strolled in, looking tired. His eyes widened with surprise, and then he schooled his features into a neutral mask.
“Good day, Miss Burlow,” he greeted.
“Good day, Your Grace.”
They were conscious of the butler and maids present, and considering the servants were the purveyors of gossip for the ton, it was only proper they didn’t show how familiar they were with each other.
Her face reddened as she thought back to how familiar they’d become, and it seemed her train of thought wasn’t lost on him, as he raised an eyebrow at her, shaking his head.
“I am done with my lessons for the day, so I’ll be heading home,” she explained once she was finally able to push the errant thought aside.
“I was hoping to catch you before you left,” he admitted, halting her movement. “I have something I require your help with. We can discuss further in my study.”
She nodded and handed her coat back to the butler.
Catherine followed behind Richard, heart beating fast as she wondered if perhaps he wanted to repeat what had happened the last time they’d been alone together.
When they stepped into his study and made straight for his desk after shutting the door, she felt disappointment settle in the pit of her stomach.
“I need your help in finding out if Emmy is being courted by someone,” he announced suddenly.
“Excuse me?” she asked, sitting up.
“I know it’s an odd thing for me to ask, but I’m desperate.”
He did sound like he had given much thought to it, and it was a hard thing to ask her. It was obvious how much he loved his sister, and it was that fact that made it so hard for Catherine to lie to him.
“Why do you think she is being courted by someone?” she asked past the lump that had formed in her throat.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I have seen her receiving letters and hiding them, and I don’t want to seem overbearing by asking her about them.” He sighed. “If she does have someone she is courting, I would like to know. Could she be hiding him because he’s someone beneath her station? She should know I wouldn’t care about things as trivial as social standing, as long as he isn’t just after her dowry.”
“But there’s no reason I’d be in possession of such information, Richard,” Catherine argued.
“You’re the closest thing she has to a best friend now, Cathy,” he argued. “If she’s going to tell anyone, it will be you. Do you know anything about this?”
Catherine bit her lip and tried not to look guilty. She’d already promised Emmy that she would keep her secret, so she had to come up with a way to assuage her brother’s doubts.
“Unfortunately, no. Emmy hasn’t told me anything,” she started. “If she does have someone she likes, though, you’ll most definitely be the first one to know. She could be writing back to one of the girls that she befriended while you were in your country estate.”
She mentally clapped herself on the back for her quick thinking. Emmy had mentioned the girls in passing but didn’t realize she was giving Catherine the means to save her in the future.
“Oh, I forgot about that.” Richard laughed awkwardly. “Thank you, Cathy. You have no idea how worried I’ve been.”
“It is my pleasure.” She smiled, rising from her seat. “If that is all…”
“I also have something else to ask,” he added, rising from his seat as well. “But this has nothing to do with Emmy.”
“Oh? What is it?”
He stepped even closer to her then, the scent of his spicy saffron and sandalwood cologne filling her senses. His eyes, normally a bright cerulean blue, had darkened to an almost midnight blue, and Catherine noted the stubble on his jaw. He’d most definitely rushed out of the house earlier.
It added a rugged appeal to his otherwise handsome features, and she decided then that it wasn’t a bad look on him. She quite liked it and was tempted to run a hand over it to see how it felt against her skin.
If he were to kiss her now, would it be harsh enough to leave scars on her cheeks?
“I would like to know if Lord Livingston has called on you yet,” he said, looking innocently curious, once again disappointing her with his question.
“Why would you want to know that?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest defensively.
The Viscount had yet to call on her, but that was to be expected, since he had only claimed one dance, despite marking two on her dance card, and he’d been all but snubbed when Richard had interrupted them.
He was a man after all, and it seemed his ego was also easily bruised, so it didn’t beg the question of him not calling on her.
But to let Richard know was to remind her of the fact that Lord Livingston hadn’t actually called on her quite when she was looking forward to their discussion on botany and better yet an invitation to see the transplanting of the palm seedlings.
“I am just curious to see if your charms were sufficient to secure his attention,” Richard answered, shrugging his shoulders as he sat on the edge of his desk. “You two seemed rather interested in each other.”
“And you would know that how?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or were you spying on us the whole time?”
For a brief moment, his ears turned pink, and he looked like he’d been caught out, which brought a satisfied smile to her lips and warmed her insides.
Had he really been watching her the whole time?
“I wouldn’t say the whole time, but I did see you two,” he said nonchalantly. “I thought he would have proposed by now.”
“What if he is close to proposing?” she teased.
“Would you say yes?” he asked, his tone dark and serious.
She sensed then that the conversation had taken a much more serious turn than she’d expected.
“I might.” She pushed further, wanting to see what he thought of her marrying another man.
Some deluded part of her wondered if he was really attracted to her or if he was just looking to help her secure a match, and a tiny part of her she was learning to ignore painted scenarios where Richard liked her.
“So you like him?” he probed further still with that air of nonchalance, though his arms tightened, and his body looked tense, as though he could snap at any moment.
Catherine didn’t derive joy in pushing anyone’s buttons, but she wanted to see whether he would be bothered by the prospect of her being with another man.
“It is too early to say, but he seems nice enough,” she answered honestly. “With time, I can learn to love him.”
“You would marry a man for being nice?” he asked with a mocking laugh.
“Many marriages have started on less,” she retorted. “This wouldn’t be the first one to do so. Plus, we at least have something in common.”
“You do realize you will be spending an eternity with him,” he pointed out, rising from the edge of his desk. “He will be the father of your children. You will have to warm his bed at night. Will you like him enough to share his bed?”
Her cheeks reddened at the prospect of sharing anyone’s bed, but she couldn’t help but wonder why Richard would enunciate it as though it bothered him.
It was no concern of his if she chose to marry a man she could barely stand.
“I will do my duty by my husband,” she declared, squaring her shoulders, incensed. “I do not need love to perform my duties.”
“Oh?” he said mockingly, looking down at her. “You would let a man you don’t like touch you so intimately?”
His breathing was labored, and his hands kept clenching and unclenching as though he didn’t know what to do with them. Her brain kept yelling at her to kiss him even though she felt she should hit him for asking her such stupid questions.
Couldn’t he tell she was lying?
It was not as though she was unaware of what went on in the marriage bed, but considering men still visited brothels, it was obvious love was not needed where the act was concerned.
“Women have been doing it for ages,” she pointed out, not backing down. “Men, too, or there won’t be so many brothels around.”
He let out a loud laugh that ignited her rage further. How dare he laugh when she was being serious?
“You are one smart-mouthed woman,” he said, grinning. “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much with a woman.”
“But am I wrong?” She frowned.
“No, you’re not,” he acknowledged. “I am still curious, though. If Lord Livingston were to kiss you suddenly, would you let him?”
“Richard, that is really?—”
“If he were to come up to you like this…” He moved forward. “Held you close to his body.” His arms went around her waist. “Leaned forward and captured your lips, would you kiss him back or stop him?”
“Richard, you?—”
“Humor me, Cathy,” he murmured, nipping her ear. “I want to know if you’ve pictured him kissing you. Will you grip his hair the way you did mine?”
“Don’t bring it up, Richard,” she warned.
Catherine put her hand on his chest and tried to push him back. She was already struggling to breathe in his proximity.
“Why? Are you bothered by the thought of Livingston kissing you? Or is something else bothering you?”
“Richard, please,” she begged, her resolve faltering.
“Answer the question, Cathy.” He nipped her ear again. “Do you want Livingston to kiss you?”
She groaned and did the last thing she’d ever thought possible. She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him.
Her eyes popped open as shock filled her. What the bloody hell had she just done?