Page 50 of A Game with the Rakish Duke
Her eyes flew open in alarm. Hastily, she withdrew her hand, her heart thumping painfully. What was she doing? What was wrong with her? She pinched her arm, quite hard, until the feelings subsided. It took a while, but once again, she was simply lying in the tub, cold and irritated.
I knew I could control these feelings. It is just mind over matter after all.
She gazed up at the ceiling, frowning, waiting for the maid to return with the hot water. Five minutes passed and then ten. It was twenty minutes before she finally admitted to herself that Polly wasn’t coming back at all. Her dear husband didn’t tell the girl to return like she instructed. Instead, he had made her sit in a cold bath for over twenty minutes. No doubt he thought it a great lark. Or was it punishment for refusing him?
Furious, she dragged herself out of the bath, sopping and cold, and grabbed the towel and wrapped it around herself, shivering like a puppy that had been caught out in the rain.
Oh, very funny. What a lark. Hilarious.
Muttering to herself, she stormed out of the room and entered her chambers. She found her dressing gown and slipped it on before sinking down onto the bed, gazing out the window.
The door opened. It was her lady’s maid, Jean, who she had brought with her from home, carrying a pile of fresh linen. Jean’s jaw dropped when she saw her mistress sitting on the bed in her dressing gown, her wet hair dripping down her back, a furious expression on her face.
“Your Grace,” Jean breathed, putting down the linen and rushing to her side. “What are you doing there, dripping and shivering?” She shook her head incredulously. “You will catch your death of cold!”
Catherine sat limply as Jean fussed over her, drying her hair vigorously with a towel and muttering under her breath about dying and pneumonia the whole time.
But Catherine wasn’t listening to her. All she could think about was her reaction to her husband walking into the room when she had been bathing.
She closed her eyes. She was already on tenterhooks. Who knew what this evening was going to bring?
Chapter Twenty-Four
“The carriage is ready, Your Grace.” The butler’s voice was solemn, as always. “It is ready to leave as soon as you like.”
“Thank you, Davies,” Thomas said, smiling absently as he gazed up at the top of the staircase.
He felt a frisson of disquiet. Where the deuce was she? They would be late for the ball if she didn’t come down soon.
The butler left, padding down the long hallway. Thomas sighed heavily, clasping his hands behind his back as he started to pace the foyer. He hadn’t lied when he had told her that his grandmother would have their guts for garters if they were late. The old lady was a stickler for protocol, and this ball was being held in their honor. The ton would be waiting for them.
He stirred, thinking about her in that tub. He hadn’t meant to catch her in it, no matter what she believed. But it had taken allhis willpower not to turn around to catch a glimpse of her in it. No matter what she thought, he would never do it without her consent.
Thomas prided himself on the fact that if a woman came to him, she did so willingly.
He groaned aloud, cursing himself anew. He must leave her alone. And after tonight, he was resolved to do it. First thing tomorrow, he would talk with her about their living situation. They would come up with a plan. They would live separately and rarely see each other again. He knew many couples who lived such lives, and it seemed to work fine.
He glared up at the top of the staircase again. Wherewasshe?
But at that moment, he heard a rustle of silk. He straightened, gazing expectantly. And then, suddenly, there she was, her hand on the banister as she glided down the staircase, her chin raised.
Thomas’s jaw dropped.That gown. It was the most spectacular thing he had ever seen, and it fit her like a glove. A shimmery white silk piece covered in tiny, embroidered gold stars, it plunged lower at the neckline than the current fashion dictated so that he could fully see the swell of her divine breasts. The sleeves were very short, practically non-existent, mere pieces of fabric attached to the rest of the gown, holding it up.
She kept gliding down the staircase, not looking at him. Thomas’s eyes widened. Now, he could see the back of the gown.It plunged low, exposing most of her beautiful, smooth back, ending at the curve of her lower spine. It was daring, indeed.
It was also the most erotic sight he had ever witnessed.
“My God,” he whispered as she finally reached him. He gaped at her before shaking his head incredulously. “You are a vision. I have never seen anything more stunning in my life.”
Catherine blushed fiercely. For a moment, she dropped her gaze before she raised her eyes, staring him straight in the eye. His heart actually somersaulted in his chest.
“Thank you,” she said in a prim voice. “Itisrather daring. Beatrice almost had apoplexy when she saw the design.” Her lips twitched. “It will certainly cause a commotion.”
“It will,” he agreed, gazing at her, knowing he couldn’t even attempt to hide his admiration. “I am sure there will be some older, more conservative members of the ton who will be scandalized, Duchess.”
Catherine flashed him a wicked smile. “Oh, let them be scandalized,” she quipped, opening her fan and waving it in the air. “It will do them good. Their lives are far too dull as it is.”
Thomas let out a bark of laughter. “I could not agree more. I often think they have milk running through their veins, rather than blood. One strong wind would blow them over.”
