Page 33 of Five Ways to Bed a Duke

Richard turned to her, laughing. “I would be honored to take you with us, Miss Lily.”

The dinner went smoothly from then on. By the time everyone was busy eating their desserts, Catherine excused herself. Her job there was done, she had managed to host a dinner without her parents squabbling. She deserved a quiet moment away from the turmoil that the Duke inspired merely by being present.

She made her way to the library, the one place in the entire house where she could have peace. Once she got there, she took off her shoes and stockings, proceeding to curl her feet under her to continue reading Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar.

In a few moments, she was engrossed in the betrayal, friendship, and love that were woven within those pages.

Her concentration was broken by the sound of a man clearing his voice. She raised her head, a scowl already forming on her face because of the distraction. And she was shocked to find Richard standing in the doorway.

He walked in now that he had her attention.

“Julius Caesar is one of my favorites. I see you have good taste in books. I never thought you one to read, at least not these types of books,” he amended, seeing the deepening scowl on her face.

“I wonder why you would have thought that way,” she drawled.

Instead of arguing, he sat at the other end of the sofa. Facing her, he asked, “Are you quite alright? You seemed tensed throughout the dinner.”

Catherine could not tell if it was the concern in his voice or the intimacy of the library that made her open up to him.

“I was scared that the dinner would be ruined. I am only relieved it ended with no squabbles.”

“Why would you be scared about that?” he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “The fare was delicious, and your family was delightful. I didn’t see anything that could have gone wrong.”

“They are not always that way.”

“How so?”

“As I am sure you know, my parents are a love match. They love each other so much, but their passion seems to spill over into their arguments. I grew up listening to their volatile quarrels. They eventually settled, but it was scarring being caught in the middle. They are so wrapped up in each other, it is almost like they have no room for anyone else—not even their children.”

She flashed him a rueful smile. “This is why I would never marry for love. I can’t stand bringing any child to this earth and abandoning it because I cannot be bothered to tear myself awayfrom my husband. I’d rather have peace in my marriage if I have anything to say about it.”

Chapter Ten

Richard did remember that Catherine had told him she was not going to marry for love when he had encountered her on the balcony during that long-forgotten ball. Back then, he had interpreted it as a statement of a naive, gently-reared lady who thought defying her parents’ wishes counted as some form of rebellion. But now, listening to her speak and the pain that laced her words, he revised that opinion.

He imagined her as a little girl, scared and alone, enduring parents who yelled at each other, forgot their children’s birthdays, and barely knew their ages, likes and dislikes. It must have been difficult having to learn basic survival skills with the help of the servants. The loneliness must have been excruciating, and he marveled at the fact that she had grown into a strongly opinionated woman.

He guessed having to parent your younger siblings yourself could make you strong by default. But the fact that she carried her burden gracefully didn’t mean that it wasn’t heavy, and hecould hear from her voice that some part of her was exhausted from years of carrying a burden that wasn’t supposed to be hers.

At least on his part, he had his father’s love and attention. If there was one thing the late Duke had done well, it was raising a young boy into a man lovingly even in the midst of the chaos that was his marriage.

The only problem Richard had with the man was that when the woman he called his wife packed up and left, he shattered into pieces, and he couldn’t pick up enough of those pieces to somehow be whole enough to care for his children. Instead, his father wallowed in his misery for so long that he turned into a ghost.

No matter how he tried to shake the feeling, Richard believed that his father didn’t love him and little Emmy enough to fight the despair and hopelessness that had swallowed him whole.

He had always believed that marriages of convenience, while as cold as stone, were more peaceful and dignified than the so-called “love matches.”

To him, those “love matches” produced more traumatized people than the typical arranged marriage, himself and Catherine being prime examples.

Some young friends of his who recently got married swore that their love was one for the ages. Richard was happy for them, but the jaded part of him believed that no matter how much theyclaimed to love each other, that love would turn toxic at some point, potentially destroying a lot of people at the very core.

This was why he would never marry. That love had destroyed him, and he frankly did not believe there was any decent part of himself to offer any well-bred lady.

But he could offer Catherine empathy, because in his experience, no matter how well he carried a burden, it always felt good to know he was not alone.

“My parents’ marriage was a love match—at least at first. But it was a lie. My mother was a beautiful woman, you must have heard. Many of the odes written about beauty were written in her honor. My father made the mistake of thinking that he could capture a butterfly and keep her beauty all to himself. For the first few years, it worked—or it seemed to work.

“We were the perfect family, but then my mother started feeling trapped, far away from the vibrant life she had thought she would enjoy when she became a duchess. She demanded that we move our permanent residence back to London. My father wouldn’t have it, so she nagged and sulked, and when that didn’t work, she started living recklessly, hoping to force him to bend to her wishes.

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