Page 75 of A Game with the Rakish Duke
“What do you mean?” Catherine laughed. “I did not leave the country, Bea. Or even the city. I have been at our townhouse in London this whole time.”
Beatrice shook her head impatiently. “You know what I mean,” she pressed, fixing her friend with a stern look. “I have not seenhide nor hair of you since the Dowager Duchess’ ball. What have you been doing?”
Catherine took another sip of her champagne, gazing at her friend coyly. “My husband and I have been getting to know one another better,” she replied then paused. “Much,muchbetter.”
Beatrice gasped, grabbing her arm and squeezing it so tightly that Catherine yelped.
“Are you saying what I think you are saying?”
Catherine smiled, looking down at the ground. “Yes, I believe that I am,” she replied. She looked around, lowering her voice. “I am no longer a maiden, Bea.”
“Oh!” Beatrice put a hand to her face, looking stunned. “I knew it! I could just tell that something had happened. You have this glow about you that I have never seen before.” She lowered her voice, as well. “What is it like?”
Catherine sighed. How could she put into the words the ecstasy that she felt when she made love with her husband? The shattering joy that she had never known existed? Was it even proper to talk about such things with Beatrice, considering her friend was an unmarried lady?
“It is… unbelievable,” she replied eventually, her heart skipping a beat. “Being so close to another person that you forget where you end and they begin is the most amazing experience.” Shehesitated. “But it must be done with the right man, Bea. I really do not think I could feel this way with any gentleman. There has to be that passion.”
Beatrice blinked. “You were so dedicated to keeping him at bay, Cathy,” she reminded her in a low voice. “You even managed to convince me that you could do it, even though I could see how strongly he affected you.”
Catherine sighed again. “I wanted to keep him at bay so badly,” she said slowly. “It seemed imperative. But the passion grew stronger than the fear. I had to take the risk.”
“And now?” Beatrice stared at her. “Have you resolved those fears at last?”
Catherine bit her lip. She took a long sip of champagne before she turned back to her friend. “I must admit that the fears are still there,” she began. “I do not know if they will ever vanish. They are so ingrained in me that it is hard to let them go, no matter how much I try.”
Beatrice nodded. “You love him, then? You have fallen in love with him?”
Catherine’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes,” she admitted, shivering. “God help me, but I love him.” She hesitated. “I still do not know how he feels about me though, Bea. He desires me, he likes me, he admires me… but I do not know if helovesme in the same way.”
There. She had said it. It felt good to admit her love for him, but also to voice her fear that he could never feel the same way about her. She felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
“Oh, Cathy,” Beatrice breathed, gazing at her. “I am sure he does! Or if he does not realize it yet, he will, in time. He cannot take his eyes off you. He isdefinitelyinfatuated with you.”
Catherine frowned. It wasn’t quite the reassurance that she needed. She had been hoping that her friend would tell her that Thomas was definitely in love with her, that it was so obvious as to be glaring, and that she had no need to worry about it at all.
Her frown deepened. Of course, Beatrice could not give her that reassurance. Her friend didn’t know if Thomas truly loved her any more than Catherine did. The only person who could tell her the truth was him.
But she knew she could never ask him. She would surely die if he stuttered and couldn’t look her in the eye before changing the subject. That would be the ultimate humiliation.
“Beatrice!”
They both jumped, swinging around. The Dowager Countess of Afferton was standing there, looking fearsome as always. Catherine’s eyes were drawn to the lady’s headdress—a large ostrich feather, dyed purple, that bobbed and swayed in the slight breeze.
Catherine inclined her head. The Dowager Countess swept into a curtsey, but her face was tight when she rose. Catherine knew that the old lady hated curtseying to her.
“What is it, Mama?” Beatrice asked in a tentative voice. “Cathy and I were just catching up…”
“I need you to come with me,” old Lady Afferton interjected, as if her daughter hadn’t even spoken. “There is a gentleman who is eager to make your acquaintance.”
“Oh, Mama,” Beatrice said, her face dropping. “Please, can I just talk with my friends for a while without this incessant matchmaking?”
The Dowager Countess looked affronted. “It is not seemly to talk in such a manner,” she chided in a tight voice. “And you must do what you are told, Beatrice. I am your mother, and I want you to come with me.” She glared at her daughter.
“I might go and talk to Patrick,” Catherine said quickly. “We can catch up again later, Bea.”
Beatrice nodded, looking sad.
Catherine felt a pang of pity for her. Old Lady Afferton was relentless in her efforts to find her daughter a husband. And Catherine knew it was only sheer luck that she had escaped such a fate. Her own mother had been exactly like Lady Afferton, after all.
