Page 44 of The Earl's Forbidden Governess
What had she done? Had she just ruined everything? Would Edward dismiss her now, send her away without a reference?
But even as those fears swirled in her mind, Catherine felt a strange sense of relief. She had said her piece, laid all her cardson the table. Whatever happened now, at least she could say she had fought for what she believed in—for the man she loved, even if he couldn't or wouldn't love her back.
As she reached her room, Catherine paused, her hand on the doorknob. She could hear the faint sound of pacing from Edward's study, the occasional muffled thud as if he was slamming his fist against his desk.
For a moment, she was tempted to go back, to try one more time to make him see reason. But no. She had done all she could. The rest was up to Edward.
With a heavy sigh, Catherine entered her room and sank onto her bed, her mind and heart racing. Whatever the morning might bring, she knew that nothing would ever be the same again at Wessex Manor.
Chapter 20
Edward’s fingers drummed an erratic rhythm on his desk as he stared unseeing at the papers before him. The letter lay in one of his drawers—and he’d read it multiple times. The events of the past few days played on an endless loop in his mind, and though he tried to ignore them Catherine’s impassioned words echoed vividly in his ears. With a frustrated growl, he pushed back from the desk and strode to the window.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. It reminded him of the blush that so often graced Catherine’s cheeks. Edward closed his eyes, remembering the softness of her skin under his fingertips, the warmth of her breath against his neck. He could almost smell the faint lavender scent that clung to her hair.
A sharp knock at the door startled him from his reverie. “Enter,” he called, his voice gruff.
Mr. Harper appeared, his face impassive as always. “My Lord, Lady Emily is asking for you. I believe she wishes to discuss something relating to the dinner party.”
Edward nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Thank you, Samuel. I will see her now.”
As he made his way to the parlor, Edward’s steps faltered. To his utter surprise, Catherine was there, bent over a book with Emily, their heads close together as they discussed something in animated whispers. The sight made his heart clench painfully.
Catherine looked up as he entered, her green eyes widening slightly before she quickly averted her gaze. “My Lord,” she murmured, rising to her feet. “I shall leave you to speak with Lady Emily.”
“No,” Edward said, a tad more sharply than he intended. Both Catherine and Emily looked at him in surprise. He cleared his throat. “I mean... there is no need to leave on my account, Miss Winslow. Please, continue your lesson.”
An awkward silence fell over the room. Emily glanced between Edward and Catherine, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Edward,” she said hesitantly, “I… I thought after our dinner with Lady Isabella that we could hold our own dinner party… and I’d like to plan it. With… with Miss Winslow’s help, of course.”
Edward saw Catherine stiffen, her knuckles white as she gripped the back of her chair. “I will allow the party,” he said. “Though I am sure Miss Winslow has more important matters to attend to,” he let out at last, his voice carefully neutral.
“Nonsense,” Emily insisted. “Miss Winslow always has such wonderful ideas. Don’t you think so, Edward?”
He met Catherine’s gaze, seeing the conflict in her eyes. Though she remained quiet, there was a world open in her gaze. “Yes,” he said softly at last. “She certainly does.”
Catherine’s cheeks flushed, and for a moment, Edward was transported back to that night in his chambers, when her skin had been flushed for an entirely different reason. He shook his head, banishing the thought.
“Very well,” Catherine said, her voice barely above a whisper. “If you insist, Lady Emily.”
The next hour passed in a haze of polite conversation and careful avoidance. Every time Catherine spoke, Edward found himself leaning in, drinking in the sound of her voice. When their hands accidentally brushed as they both reached for the same sheet of paper, he felt a jolt of electricity run through him.
“Well,” Emily said finally, stifling a yawn, “I think that is everything. Thank you both for your help.”
As Emily left the room, Edward and Catherine found themselves alone. The air between them crackled with tension.
“Miss Winslow,” Edward began, not quite sure what he wanted to say.
“My Lord,” Catherine interrupted, her voice trembling slightly. “If that is all, I should retire for the evening. Unless…”
Edward shook his head. He could not spend a moment thinking about that letter or what it meant, he couldn’t… Catherine paled visibly, then nodded.
“Well then… if you will allow me. Goodnight, My Lord.”
Edward nodded, watching her retreat with a heavy heart. He wanted to call her back, to explain, to beg her forgiveness. But the words stuck in his throat.
The next morning, Edward found himself in the library, ostensibly reviewing estate documents but in reality, lost in thought. The sound of footsteps made him look up, his breath catching as Catherine entered the room.
She froze when she saw him, her eyes widening. “I am sorry, My Lord. I did not realize you were here. I… I will come back later.”
