Page 28 of A Game with the Rakish Duke
“Oh, how quaint it is,” Beatrice enthused as they stepped down from the carriage, gazing around the village. “It looks like something out of a storybook!”
Catherine laughed at the wide-eyed joy on her friend’s face. It took so little to make Bea happy. Her friend truly was a diamond.
She gazed around, taking in the village of Crompton. She could see why Beatrice was entranced. It had cobblestone roads, sandstone houses with thatched roofs, and bright flowers blooming in window boxes everywhere. The little church on the hill was made of bluestone with a tall steeple, surrounded by gravestones, some of which were no doubt centuries old. It really did look like something out of a storybook.
They meandered down the main street, peering into shop windows, but there wasn’t much to see. Eventually, they ended up at the Crompton Tearooms which were positioned at the end of the street. The shop bell tinkled merrily as they stepped inside.
When they were seated at a table near the window and had ordered refreshments, Catherine sighed heavily, reaching across the table for her friend’s hand, squeezing it tightly.
“It is sogoodto see you, Bea,” she moaned, giving her friend’s hand another tight squeeze. “I have missed you dreadfully.”
Beatrice laughed. “Oh, Cathy, you are so dramatic! It has not been that long since we last saw each other at your wedding. Remember?”
“It feels like an eternity,” Catherine declared, sighing deeply, her eyes darting around the room before settling on her friend again. “An absolute lifetime.”
“How is it going, dearest?” Beatrice asked, looking at her. “Are you getting accustomed to being the Duchess of Newden now?”
Catherine sighed heavily. “I hardly know what to think,” she admitted, trying to smile. “The estate is very grand and large to be sure. But trying to avoid my new husband is still hard.” She rolled her eyes. “I must admit, I am dying to return to London. At least I have friends in the city, and there is always amusement.”
“You are still resolved to avoid him then?” Beatrice gazed at her sympathetically. “It must be a marriage of convenience and nothing else?”
“Of course,” Catherine declared, rolling her eyes again. “I am even more resolved than ever.” She shuddered. “He tries to flirt with me all the time, but I am alert to it and deflect it. He issucha rake, Bea.”
At that moment, their refreshments arrived. A plump woman with snowy hair and a beaming smile set a pot of tea, two cups, and a plate of scones on the table, alongside two jars filled with clotted cream and strawberry jam.
Beatrice picked up a scone, topped it with jam and cream, and took a large bite. “Glorious,” she moaned with a full mouth,rolling her eyes with delight. “Why do scones always taste better in the country?”
“Probably the fresh cream,” Catherine replied in an absent-minded way, gazing out the window, watching the prim middle-aged lady who had accompanied Beatrice loitering outside, looking bored. “Your companion looks as if she would rather be in London.”
Beatrice sighed. “Miss Vickers can be a bore,” she said, “but Mama always insists she follow me like a shadow. The poor thing. It cannot be easy being a lady’s companion, living in reduced circumstances.”
Catherine nodded, feeling a pang of pity for the lady. No wonder Miss Vickers always had a sour puss on her—it mustn’t be an easy life living in penury, forced to make a living as a lady’s companion when once she had been a lady herself.
It could have been me. If the Duke had not proposed to me, and Oliver had lost everything, I would have been forced to live such a life.
She tried to shake off the dire thought. All had turned out well. Oliver’s debts were in the process of being paid off. The Duke had assured her of that over breakfast this morning.
“So you were able to put off the Duke on your wedding night, then?” Beatrice asked suddenly before taking a sip of tea, her cheeks flaming. “He did not insist you share the bedchamber?”
“We did not share the bedchamber,” Catherine declared, picking up a scone. “He tried, of course, but I stopped it. At least he was a gentleman and did not force the issue.”
“But what about children, Cathy?” Beatrice’s eyes were round. “You will never have them. How can you bear it?”
Catherine shrugged. “You know I am not particularly maternal, Bea,” she said. “He does not want them either. So there is no disagreement on the subject.”
“I see,” Bea said, frowning slightly. “Well, it sounds as if you have designed your life exactly as you want it… even if it does sound a trifle lonely.”
Catherine felt a flash of irritation. “How so? I will not be lonely. I have my brother and circle of friends.” She put the scone back on the plate. “That is all that one needs in this life. So, in fact, it is really like I have never married at all and kept my promise to myself.”
Beatrice looked sad. “But what about romantic love, Cathy? Do you truly never wish to experience it?” She shook her head incredulously. “I know that you have a strong opinion about it because of what happened between your parents, but that was only one instance. Could you not give your marriage a chance?”
Catherine barked out a laugh. “Romantic love is for fools,” she declared, raising her chin. “I have not changed my mind on the subject, and I never will.”
“So there willneverbe even another kiss between you and your husband?” Beatrice raised her eyebrows. “The way helooksat you, Cathy! He is a man burning with longing. Even I can see that clearly.”
Catherine flushed. “I am certain he looks at every lady he fancies that way. That is his nature. It means nothing, and it will fade with time.”
Beatrice didn’t look convinced. “So you never wish to kiss him again?”
