Page 11 of The Duchess Trap
A woman with silver-threaded hair and shrewd eyes stepped forward. “If you’ll follow me, Your Grace. I shall show you to your chambers.”
Her voice was brisk but not unkind. Catherine nodded mutely, trailing behind. The tour blurred around her in endless corridors, lined with portraits of severe-faced Witherleys, polished banisters, as well as the faint scent of beeswax and lavender.
She heard the words, “morning room,” “blue salon,” “east wing,” but none of it lodged. She felt untethered, drifting through a stranger’s house, until at last they reached a pair of adjoining doors.
“These will be your rooms, Your Grace. His Grace’s chambers connect here.” Mrs. Hardwick gestured to the panel of dark wood between them. “A convenience, of course.”
Convenience. The word felt all too right for their particular situation.
Catherine managed to nod but refrained from saying anything..
The housekeeper curtsied and withdrew, leaving in her place a young woman hovering near the doorway, hands folded neatly before her.
“Your Grace,” she said softly, dipping into a curtsy. “I’m Alice. His Grace assigned me as your maid.”
Catherine blinked, caught off guard by the girl’s quiet manner—no more than twenty, with earnest brown eyes and a nervous flush rising in her cheeks. “Thank you, Alice.”
“Shall I unpack your trunks, ma’am?”
“Yes… Yes, please.” Catherine’s voice caught initially, so she cleared her throat delicately before proceeding.
As Alice moved quietly about the room, unfastening buckles and shaking out silks, Catherine sank onto the edge of the bed. The gilt posts gleamed in the afternoon light, grand and cold. She let her gloved hands rest in her lap, watching the girl’s efficient movements until the noise of drawers opening and fabric rustling blurred into a distant hum.
“That will be all, Alice,” Catherine said gently once the last gown had been hung and the drawers neatly closed.
“You must be tired after the journey.” Alice hesitated. “Shall I bring tea, Your Grace? Or have a bath drawn?”
Catherine shook her head. “No, thank you. I should like a moment to myself.”
Alice dipped into another curtsy. “Of course, ma’am. Ring if you need anything.”
When the door closed behind her, the silence settled at once, heavy with unfamiliarity. The faint scent of lavender polish lingered in the air, mingling with the chill that clung to the walls.
Alone, Catherine removed her gloves and flung them on the bed next to her. Then, she stared at the gilt posts.
Her bed. Will it be mine alone? Or should I expect the Duke to share it with me?
She could not help but recall the kiss they’d shared at the chapel hours ago. When the Duke’s lips had touched her own, her senses had ignited, and she had instantly been filled with a desire for more.
But how much more?
Catherine ran her fingertips over the silky sheets, and as she did, a delicious shiver coasted up her spine.
Will the Duke visit me here…now? Or perhaps he will come to my chambers later.
Catherine was a novice. Because her mother died when she was still rather young and she had no older siblings, she only knew on a low level what she should expect to experience on her wedding night. So, as Catherine sat there, trying to decide how best to prepare for the evening, her stomach flip-flopped, her heart raced erratically, and she worked herself into quite the frenzy in wondering what the Duke would do next.
A few hours later, Catherine gathered her courage and descended to the grand dining room where a table large enough for twenty stretched the length of the space.
But the Duke never appeared.
Only the butler and footmen stood by as she sat at one lonely end. Catherine had no appetite. She still did not understand what she was to do in this situation.
Should I eat without him? Shall I wait? Perhaps I should send one of the servants to collect him from…wherever he might be…
In a very unladylike manner, she drummed the tips of her fingers impatiently along the tabletop. With each passing moment, she grew increasingly weary.
I expected him to join me.
