Page 124 of The Duchess Trap
At the other end of the table, the dowager duchess raised her glass.
“To Brightwater,” she declared, voice sharp and clear. “To second chances. May we bestow them graciously on others and consider ourselves lucky when we are granted the same in our turn.”
The room buzzed with warmth, the kind that came from something more than fire. Catherine sat back, letting it sink in.
Midway through dinner, the dowager cleared her throat with a deliberate sort of drama. “Now, before the brandy, I have a confession to make.”
“Oh dear,” Duncan murmured under his breath.
Catherine arched a brow. “Should we be worried?”
“Always,” he said dryly.
The dowager waited until all eyes turned to her. “You may recall,” she began, “that fateful evening some months ago, during the house party, when our dear duke and duchess found themselves locked together in a certain room.”
Catherine froze, fork halfway to her lips. A murmur spread around the table, followed swiftly by giggles from the children who clearly didn’t understand but knew a secret when they heard one.
Duncan’s head turned sharply toward his grandmother. “Grandmother,” he said in warning.
She ignored him, eyes bright with mischief. “Well, as it happens, it wasn’t a coincidence that jammed the door as was once assumed.”
Helen gasped. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did,” the dowager said, entirely unapologetic. “A woman has to take matters into her own hands when two people insist on being blind to what’s standing directly in front of them.”
Catherine’s jaw dropped. “Youlocked us in?”
“But…” Duncan spluttered. “When we found ourselves in that room, the Duchess and I didn’t even know each other. We had never been properly introduced.”
The dowager raised her glass again, eyes twinkling. “You might have been perfect strangers to one another, but I knew of you both. I could see how well your personalities would intertwine, and so, I acted.” She lifted her glass higher. “I assumed you would get to know each other quite well in that tiny, restrictive space.” She winked at Catherine. “Was I wrong?”
The table erupted in laughter as the Dowager took a dainty sip of her drink. Stephen nearly choked on his wine. Helen was dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. Even Catherine’s father smiled, shaking his head in disbelief.
Catherine turned to Duncan, mortified and amused all at once. “Did you know?”
“Of course not,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched. He turned toward the dowager. “We’ll discuss this later.”
“I look forward to it,” she said sweetly.
Catherine pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to contain her laughter. “I can’t believe?—”
“Believe it,” Duncan murmured, his tone wry but affectionate. “She’s been meddling since I could walk.”
The dowager leaned back in her chair, looking immensely satisfied. “Well, perhaps I should share my technique with a few friends. A locked room might do wonders.”
When the laughter subsided, Duncan lifted his glass, looking toward his grandmother. “For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “thank you.”
Her brows rose. “For meddling?”
“For sending her in my direction,” he said simply, glancing at Catherine.
Dinner continued with easy warmth. Stories passed down the table—Helen recounting the chaos of her engagement preparations, Stephen telling tales of his students at the university, the dowager interjecting with scandalous gossip that made Catherine laugh until her ribs ached.
When the final plates were cleared, Duncan rose, tapping his glass. “One more surprise, before the night is through.”
The children stilled, eyes wide with anticipation.
“Your Grace?” Mary asked. “Another pudding?”
