Page 35 of The Duchess Trap
She lowered her head quickly, hoping the shadows of her lashes might conceal the color blazing in her cheeks.
“Look at her,” the Dowager crowed, misinterpreting entirely. “Blushing like a maid on her wedding night. Well then, perhaps there is hope yet.”
Duncan’s mouth thinned into a severe line. “That is enough.”
“Nonsense.” The old woman adjusted her cane and surveyed them both with hawkish pride. “However, a marriage must be tested in public as well as private, which is why I have taken the liberty of arranging a ball in your honor. Three nights hence. Invitations are already sent.”
Catherine’s eyebrows shot up. “A ball?”
“Yes, child, a ball. Music, dancing, half thetongathered under one roof to see whether you and my grandson are truly wed in spirit as well as in law.”
Her stomach plummeted. To stand before Society, to be scrutinized, whispered about, measured for every tremor and glance, so soon after that kiss? The very thought made her skin prickle with dread.
She managed, “Is it… is it quite necessary?”
The Dowager arched a brow. “Do you mean to hide yourselves away forever? Of course it is necessary. You will attend, and you will show London that your union is ironclad.”
Catherine’s pulse thundered. She looked at Duncan, desperate for some reprieve, some refusal, but he only regarded his grandmother with that same calm which overwhelmed her, then inclined his head.
“Seeing as we are the guests of honor, it would have been nice if you had cleared the date through our diaries first.”
His grandmother tutted. “Your diary is quite empty now, my dear grandson. You are a married man—one who has hidden himself and his bride for far too many weeks.”
Duncan lifted his hand slowly as if meaning to halt her speech. “Enough cajoling,” he said tiredly. “We shall attend the soiree.”
Catherine spun toward him, aghast. “We shall?”
His eyes caught hers, steady, inexorable. “It is time we made a public appearance. People will expect us to be sociable, as we were before.”
The Dowager smirked, satisfied. “Excellent. I shall expect you both in full splendor. And dear Catherine, choose a gown that will silence every whisper in the room. You are a duchess now. Best you look the part.”
With that, she swept past them, her cane tapping briskly, servants scattering in her wake as though she were an army of one.
Catherine did not know what to make of this impromptu visit. Moreover, she could not believe that her husband had acquiesced so easily.
She pivoted to face him and saw nothing, but exhaustion etched into the lines of his face.
“Could your grandmother not have called upon us at an earlier hour to relay such information?”
Duncan guffawed. “Doing things suitably—in the accustomed fashion. That is hardly my grandmother’s way.”
Catherine chewed pensively on her lower lip. “I feel as if those words carry a warning.”
“Indeed, they do.” Duncan took her hand lightly in his own. “Do as my grandmother suggested. Ready yourself. In three days’ time, all eyes will be on you…on us. And…”
“And?” she prompted when he seemed reluctant to proceed further.
“Get your rest, Catherine.” He brushed a chaste kiss across her knuckles before dropping her hand. “You will need it. I can assure you of that much.”
CHAPTER 11
“You mean to tell me you’ve been sitting on this plan for weeks and only now decide to share it?” Stephen’s voice rang out across the space, irreverent as always.
He lounged against the edge of Duncan’s worktable, one boot scuffing the floorboards, his cravat already loosened as though the weight of formality was too much for him.
Duncan kept his gaze fixed on the ledger before him, quill poised, though he had not written a word in several minutes.
“I tell you now becausenowis the proper time,” he replied evenly while lacing his words with a hint of practicality.
