Page 49 of Five Ways to Bed a Duke

“I will inform her.” He nodded, looking forlorn. “I will send for my carriage to take you home—and please don’t refuse. Let me do you this last favor.”

She nodded and said nothing, walking to the door and ignoring the questioning stares of the staff.

When the coach arrived, she let him help her into her coat and stepped out without looking back at him. It was only when the carriage rounded the corner that she let her tears fall.

She had always known it was pointless giving her heart away, and to do so as early as she had was a foolhardy thing, but she’d done it anyway, forgetting that Richard was first and foremost a rake despite his nice words and offer of help.

He hadn’t even forced her into anything but made use of her lack of clear boundaries so she couldn’t even hate him if she wanted to.

She sniffed, wiping her eyes with her hands. She would fix herself up and not let this small incident distract her from her lifelong dream.

She would pick the most carefree suitor and settle into a life where she could reside in solitude as long as she wanted.

Chapter Fifteen

After enduring a tortuous week of pining, Catherine had come to the conclusion that the heart was a fickle organ. The Duke had practically told her that he had no plans to marry just a few minutes after completely ravaging her senses in ways that she had not previously known was possible. She should be angry with the man and be cursing him to Hades.

Yes, some part of her ached at the thought that he did not value her enough to think of pursuing her. Otherwise, she was a giant ball of longing, unable to let go of the unattainable entity that was Richard.

She had filled the last week with several activities, like sitting in on Hugh’s Latin classes and lecturing Emmy on etiquette as they walked down the banks of the Serpentine because visiting their townhouse was sure to be unbearable torture.

Despite how fast-paced her days were, she spent her nights tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, plagued by thoughtsand dreams of one brown-haired duke in particular. Some nights, she hated him for initiating her into the world of desire and abandoning her to be ravaged by the fires of that desire with no relief in sight. Other nights, she longed to have the comfort of his body around hers, and her fickle heart refused to accept the reality that it was impossible.

The longing in her chest had worsened when she stepped into Lady Tremaine’s ball and sighted his dark, dashing form in the ballroom. As usual, he was his impeccable self, his hair managing to look slightly disheveled and tidy as well. She swore his hair had a character just like its owner, that glimpse of wildness beneath the proper attire.

The dark look in his eyes threatened to burn her alive, even with the distance that separated them, and she shivered involuntarily with desire. She hurriedly averted her gaze. If she was to survive this evening, she had to manage the no-small feat of pretending the Duke was not present, which was as close to impossible as can be, as she could feel the heat of his gaze on the back of her neck.

For a man who claimed he never wanted to have anything to do with her, he was surely showing more interest than any other suitor standing in this room. But then it was a widely accepted fact that men were contrary creatures.

“Miss Burlow.”

Catherine looked up to see Lord Livingston approaching her with a bright smile on his dashing face. She felt a twinge of guilt, looking at his cheerful face.

She had a handsome, rich, and respectable suitor in the dashing Viscount. She should be overjoyed, since she was aware that several ladies of the ton would do practically anything to be the recipient of his attention. Why oh why could she not summon any modicum of excitement when she saw him? Instead, her body vibrated simply because a certain duke occupied the same room as her, even though he stood several feet away.

It was unfair to the Viscount, but unfortunately, he was her ideal suitor. She just had to try her hardest to nurture affection for him. If she did not—or could not—she was doomed. Maybe if she kissed the man, she might free herself from the dangerous desire Richard stirred within her? Any man could stir her desires, couldn’t they?

“Miss Burlow, permit me to say that you look absolutely ravishing.” The Viscount leaned in with a conspiratorial smile on his face. “I am quite privileged to be the one courting you.”

In reply to that, she managed a tight smile. She was not sure he would still think that way should he become privy to the direction of her thoughts.

She wondered what he would think if he knew that his intended was considering kissing him to test the theory that she could feel wanton desire towards him. Knowing Lord Livingston’spersonality, he was most likely to turn down such an offer in the hope of preserving her innocence for their wedding night.

She wondered what he would think if he learned that she was no longer innocent. That even while she stood with him, smiling like a proper young lady, she was reliving the feel of the Duke’s hands on her body just a week ago.

The man was definitely too good for her. Unfortunately, he was her only choice. She could grow to love him, she was sure.

“I missed you at the park yesterday morning. I hope you are well?” he asked, concerned.

Catherine and Lord Livingston had taken to taking morning strolls around the Serpentine with her chaperone, her maid following just a few steps behind. During those walks, she had come to know the compassionate man that was hidden beneath his proper attire.

He regaled her with tales from his travels and some of the antics of his younger sisters, assuring her that she would love their company when she moved to his home. Catherine did not disagree, his sisters seemed to be delightful based on his stories. Even if they were not, she had enough experience dealing with children who threw tantrums—she was sure she could handle them. She was not blind to the fact that love made people see their loved ones with rose-colored lenses, but she was sure she would have a good marriage with Lord Livingston.

From their conversations, she had come to the conclusion that he would be a terrific father to their children, Even though he told her he was not looking for romantic love, primarily because he believed love was a myth at best, he possessed the capacity for selfless, affectionate love towards his children. His relationship with his sisters was evidence of that.

If Catherine was to choose a father for her children, she could not choose a better one than Lord Livingston. The question was, did she want him to be her husband?

“I was unwell that morning. I am sorry for leaving you stranded. I should have sent a note to notify you. My apologies, My Lord.”

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