Page 63 of A Duchess Disciplined

“I find that lady writers understand the emotions of ladies far better than the male writers do,” Catherine said. “Women possess such delicate dispositions that a man cannot do them justice.”

He caught the gleam of a challenge in her eye. Did she have the same disposition that she claimed? It was difficult to believe that there was anythingdelicateabout this woman, and it seemed as though she delighted in being different from the proper ladies.

“But the physicians are all men,” Hester said thoughtfully. “They must understand women, mustn’t they?”

“They try,” Catherine said, shaking her head in mock dismay.

“Perhaps, we ought to make you a physician for ladies,” William said. “Since your understanding of them is so refined.”

“That is not an unsound notion,” Catherine replied, smiling thinly. “I could found a school to educate lady physicians, who would work specifically to cure ladies’ afflictions.”

“Or maybe you could simply tell men about the nature of your afflictions, so they might be better able to aid you, my wife,” William said.

She took a sip of her coffee and cast him an assessing look over the gold rim of the porcelain cup. “Why would I do that? The more men know about women, the more weapons they would have to wield against us. It is for the best that they are always a little uneasy about their places in the world.”

“Is that how you justify your own behavior?” William asked.

If so, her efforts were in vain. William knew precisely where his place was in the world, and he had no intention of leaving his position. It was too enjoyable to bend Catherine over his knee and instruct her in the intricacies of proper, wifely behaviors.

“I do not need to justify my behavior to anyone,” Catherine replied. “Such behavior is in my nature. Do you ask a cat to explain why she delights in tormenting mice? Orr a bee why it likes to light on flowers?”

William finished his breakfast and considered her for a long moment. “The cat and the bee both know their place in the world,” he said. “In that manner, they are quite different from you.”

Catherine hummed. “I wonder if men are plagued by that same affliction.”

“Some of them.”

Footsteps echoed in the dining hall, and William turned his head. Geoffrey, the butler, stood at the entrance. He bowed stiffly. “Apologies for my interruption, Your Grace, but I have received a letter for you. Knowing of your fondness for receiving correspondence without delay, I thought it best to deliver this directly to you. It is from the Earl of Wyte.”

“Ah,” William said, beckoning for the letter.

“The Earl of Wyte?” Catherine asked.

“You have not had the pleasure?” William surmised. “He is our nearest neighbor. Wyte is a very influential man in certain circles, which I also happen to be involved in. It is very important to remain in his good graces.”

“I see.”

William undid the seal on the letter. It was Wyte’s familiar handwriting—thin and spidery—and William quickly read the contents. He was too aware of the three faces in the room watching and waiting for his reaction.

“What is it?” Catherine asked. “What does he want?”

Predictable.

“Every year, Wyte hosts an extravagant masquerade ball. It is expected for him to send me an invitation,” William said. “This year, he has also requested that my lovely duchess accompany me.”

“Oh! That is unsurprising!” Hannah exclaimed. “I am certain that all the tonmust wish to meet you. Do you already have gowns for the ball, or will new ones need to be made?”

“If so, we must consult with the modiste at once,” Hester said. “It is not long until the equinox. That is when Lord Wyte usually holds his ball.”

“Indeed, it is. You have a good mind for dates,” William said. “Nicely done.”

“I am certain that I have a gown which will suffice,” Catherine replied.

Certainly, Catherine’s gowns would be sufficient. However, William could not say if the duchess’s would be equally suitable. Wyte’s ball had already drawn quite near, and he doubted that he would have sufficient time to craft his wayward wife into a proper lady.

“We shall need to discuss this matter,” William said, giving her a pointed look.

Catherine’s chin lifted just a little, and defiance sparked in her eyes. It was the same look she had given him when he had tipped her over his knee and planted that first, open-palmed slap upon her rear. William’s trousers grew a little tighter, as he imagined a similar confrontation regarding the circumstances of Wyte’s ball.

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