Page 64 of Five Ways to Bed a Duke

Shite.

She had the same look in her eyes as on the last night he’d seen her.

“Cathy, I’m sorry,” he started. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you like that, but you don’t know what that… I am sorry for yelling at you and for calling you a bad influence. You are none of those things. It was not fair to accuse you of something you had no part in…”

“Richard, it is fine. I forgave you long ago,” she said, trying to stop him.

She had not expected such a profuse apology from him, and even though she’d desired it, now that he was apologizing, she did not know how to feel. She had never seen him this way. Now that she was sitting so close to him, she could see the dark circles underneath his eyes—he had not been sleeping well either.

She did not deign to think she was the reason for his sleepless nights, but a tiny bit of her hoped that he had been as tortured as she was.

Her heart still hurt as she looked him over, taking in his rugged beauty, knowing that even if he did care somewhat for her, he would never be hers because he wouldn’t let himself be with her.

She could understand his reasons and respected them.

“No, Cathy. I need to say this.”

She nodded and let him continue, even though she’d already forgiven him. Even if she had wanted to hate him, she couldn’t bring herself to. It just was not possible where Richard was concerned.

He had somehow imprinted himself on her heart and mind so deeply that he haunted her waking and sleeping hours.

She had hoped that marrying Lord Livingston would distract her from her lingering feelings for Richard and that perhaps, with time, she may even grow to love him, but sitting with Richard now, breathing in his sandalwood cologne and watching his lips move as he spoke, she knew there was no helping it.

These feelings weren’t leaving her anytime soon.

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You weren’t to blame for Emmy’s decision, and even then, my anger was not directed at you but more at myself for being a coward who couldn’t face his past,” he told her, taking her hand in his. “You have been more than a friend to Emmy. You have been the sister she hasalways wanted. I should be thanking you for being so brave where I have been so afraid.”

His words were so beautiful that they left her speechless. How was anyone to respond to such a well-worded apology? It was obvious he had given serious thought to his actions, and she appreciated it.

“I have already forgiven you,” Catherine said once she found her voice.

He nodded, and they settled into an uncomfortable silence she wondered how to fill.

“I really don’t think you should marry Lord Livingston,” he declared suddenly.

“What?” she blurted out, turning to him.

“I don’t think you should marry Lord Livingston,” he repeated in a serious tone. “I don’t think he is right for you.”

“And you are the perfect judge of that for what reason?” she asked, folding her arms.

He really did know how to take her from happy to angry in less than a second, but he really did have audacity in abundance.

“I know men, and I know him,” he argued, a deep frown on his face. “He cannot make you happy.”

She sighed, exasperated at his insistence on telling her who she could and could not marry.

“You do not know that,” she protested. “He makes me very happy.”

“Oh, really?” he asked mockingly, folding his arms. “Enlighten me then.”

She frowned and looked away, trying to pull up the mental list she had made to rationalize how Lord Livingston was a much better choice than Richard.

“He is funny…”

“You’ll marry a man because he is funny?” Richard scoffed.

“Yes, I will,” she answered stubbornly. “People have married for less, mind you.”

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