Page 61 of A Night of Desire with a Duke
“You’re incorrigible,” she whispered.
“I am in love,” he said, the words falling like an oath. He leaned closer, until his lips brushed the shell of her ear, sending a violent shiver through her. “Desperately, madly, properly in love. And if you wear that gown tonight, Catherine, I cannot promise I’ll survive the evening with my sanity intact.”
Before Catherine could frame a reply to James’s devastating whisper, a voice, unwelcome, sharp, and calculated, cut across the quiet path.
“Your Grace! Lady Catherine! What an utterly delightful surprise.”
Miss Worthing approached on her glossy mare, her mother and Lord Ashford flanking her like attendants in some grim little pageant. Her smile gleamed brittle as cut glass, her eyes bright with malice barely concealed.
“Miss Worthing,” James said, his tone clipped to cool civility. “I was unaware you were in the habit of riding in the park so often.”
“Oh, I’ve only just taken it up,” she replied airily, patting her horse’s neck with theatrical delicacy. “Lord Ashford has been so very generous in offering his expertise. He is, after all, most accomplished with horseflesh.”
Ashford shifted in his saddle, visibly ill at ease beneath her simpering glance.
“Indeed,” James said flatly, the single word laden with disdain.
There was a pause, brief but heavy, before Miss Worthing leaned forward, her smile sharpening further. “And how goes the courtship?” she asked, her voice sugared with false sweetness. “The ton is simply beside itself with anticipation. Everyone longs to know when we might expect an announcement.”
Her gaze slid deliberately to Catherine, daring her to falter under the weight of so many watching eyes and whispered wagers.
“The ton will know when we decide they should know,” Catherine said, her voice calm though her pulse hammered.
“How mysterious,” Miss Worthing replied with brittle sweetness. “Though after such a dramatic beginning, I suppose you’d want to be more… circumspect.”
“What we want,” James said, voice sharp as steel, “is to be left in peace.”
“Peace?” Miss Worthing’s smile curved like a blade. “How very dull. Surely you want excitement. Passion. That was how it all began, was it not? With passion?”
The insinuation slithered through the air. Catherine felt James’s arm tighten beneath her hand, the tension in his body palpable.
“I wouldn’t know aboutyourpassions, Miss Worthing,” Catherine said smoothly. “Though I do understand desperation can often masquerade as passion. Easy to confuse the two, I’m told.”
Miss Worthing’s cheeks burned scarlet. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you? How refreshing. I do so admire innocence, even when it is only feigned.”
Mrs. Worthing cut in quickly, alarmed. “Ladies, that is enough. Come, Amelia.”
But Miss Worthing was not finished. “Do enjoy yourselves at the Cowpers’ ball tomorrow,” she said, her voice honeyed and poisonous. “I hear there will be… revelations.”
She wheeled her mare and rode off, leaving Catherine with a knot of unease twisting in her stomach.
“What do you think she meant?” she asked.
“Nothing good,” James said grimly. His jaw was a hard line, his eyes stormy. “But whatever game she plays, I’ll put an end to it.”
“We’ll put an end to it,” Catherine corrected. “I’m not a delicate flower, James.”
He turned on her, eyes blazing. “I know. But you aremyflower. And I’ll see anyone who tries to touch you crushed beneath my heel.”
“James, you cannot fight every whisper.”
“Watch me.”
Before she could protest, he seized her arm and drew her behind a great oak, pressing her back against the rough bark with a force that stole her breath. The voices and hoofbeats of other riders drifted nearby, but in that moment they might have been utterly alone.
“James, what are you...”
