Page 13 of The Duchess Trap
“I thought not,” he murmured.
Catherine’s breath hitched. She was still outraged by his words and the way he had abandoned her earlier, but her bodybetrayed her again, shivering though the fire roared in the grate. His nearness, his scent, twined through her like smoke, and all at once the truth she had been avoiding rose cold and clear in her mind.
He has every right to claim what the vows demand.
The thought unsettled her so completely that she could scarcely breathe. She told herself it was only duty, only what marriage required, but her pulse refused to believe it.
Her heart pounded with dread and shame.
This is what wives do. This is what is expected.
She drew in a trembling breath and took a step backward so that her nightgown brushed the bed sheets.
The Duke stilled. “What are you doing?”
Her lips barely formed the words. “What must be done.”
Her knees gave way as she lowered herself onto the edge of the mattress. Her fingers fumbled at the ties of her nightgown. She trembled so violently that she feared he would see her teeth chatter.
Slowly, agonizingly, she began to slide the fabric from her shoulders.
The Duke’s voice cut through the silence. “Stop.”
Her head jerked up, eyes wide. “But—it’s our wedding night. You?—”
“Stop.” The word was sharp, brooking no refusal.
She froze, the silk clutched desperately to her chest.
For a moment, silence stretched. His eyes burned into her, but for once, Catherine could not read his thoughts clearly. His refusal of her had been absolute, yet there was something else lurking in his eyes. He was nursing a further batch of emotions. When he tilted his head to the side and his eyes softened, the truth became all too evident.
He pities me.
Her throat ached as a sense of rejection flooded her. “I thought this was what you expected.”
“I do not expect much, Catherine,” he said as he continued to fix her with a sympathetic stare. “It simply never occurred to me that when we came together this way, you would quake as though facing your own doom.”
Without another word, he turned on his heel, strode back through the adjoining door, and shut it firmly behind him.
Catherine stood motionless. The wispy nightgown was still clutched at her chest.
Of all the things he might have said…
She was not sure what to make of this, her first day, as the Duchess of Raynsford. It was impossible to know if she should be offended by the Duke’s treatment or if she should feel relieved that he had noticed her reluctance and timidity and fled.
Lost in her own world of confusion, Catherine slid her nightdress back into place, tied the laces, then turned and pressed her face into the pillow. She breathed deeply and prayed that tomorrow, in the light of day, she would be granted more clarity.
CHAPTER 4
“Your Grace, will you be wishing to rise now?”
Catherine blinked awake to the soft knock at her door. Morning light spilled across the chamber, gilding the heavy drapes and casting warmth upon the carpet. She sat up, smoothing the tangled hair from her face.
It was her first morning as a wife. As a duchess. The words clanged hollowly inside her head.
“Yes,” she said at last, her voice steadier than she felt.
Alice curtsied as she entered before scurrying away to fetch water.
