“I had more women before I was sixteen than most men have in a lifetime.” He bit off the words and, as he was speaking, he realized that they were landing with more force than he had intended. “It’s not something I’d expect a spinster like yourself to understand.”
Her face fell. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if he had struck her.
Then she opened them once more and turned towards the window, her eyes back on her book.
Fuck.
Her expression told him all that he needed to know.
He had taken it too far.
And she wouldn’t be dignifying him with a response.
Chapter Nine
In little morethan twenty-four hours, the Duke of Edington hadimpliedthat she was a whore and had actuallycalledher a spinster. Catherine was, seemingly, in his estimation, a spinster whore, or a whore spinster, depending on which identity took precedence over the other. Strange, she thought, because his decided implication in the carriage today was that, as a spinster, she was a dried-up husk who had never been touched by a man—not exactly true, as he well knew, but he wasn’t wrong that her life hadn’t been a decadent bacchanalia of erotic delight—while yesterday he had suggested that she was an abandoned wanton for what amounted, in the grand scheme of dalliances, to a few kisses in a garden.
Catherine fumed as she stood in the lobby of the Crown Arms whilehearranged their rooms. It was late, after the supper hour, but nevertheless the pub attached to the inn was crowded.So much for a quiet country place.
Luckily, she recognized no aristocrats or prominent members of the gentry.
The duke walked over to her with a grim expression.
“I must tell Marcel that we have found a room. Wait here until I return.”
“Aroom?” she said, her mind whirring at the prospect of asingularaccommodation.
“There was apparently a hunt. And only one room is vacant.”
She gave him a look, which, she hoped, communicated her unwillingness to share a bedchamber with the man who thought of her as a spinster whore.
“I am not delighted either. But what can be done? Would you rather bed down in the stable with Marcel?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
He gave her a look that she couldn’t quite interpret.
“I am going to speak with my coachman. Don’t move from this spot.”
He strode out of the lobby and Catherine had no choice but to wait for him. The thought of sharing a bedchamber with the Duke of Edington—John—had her shaking. She was angry with him at present and yet she couldn’t ignore the desire that coursed through her at the thought of warming his bed.
When they reached their room, the chamber was minuscule. The bed took up half the space and the only other accouterments were an old bureau, a washbasin, and a wooden jug for water.
He came in behind her and shut the door. He looked at the room and sighed. “Charming.”
“Trust me. I’ve stayed in worse,” she said, echoing his words from earlier, and he gave an unamused grunt in response.I live in worse,she should have said, and she wouldn’t have been far off.
“At least the innkeeper is sending up some refreshment.”
Her stomach rumbled at the thought. She was angry with him, but she couldn’t be upset at the prospect of food. She sat down on the bed. In the small room, there was nowhere else to sit. He set about removing his boots and his jacket and waistcoat. She tried to avert her eyes but it didn’t help. Just hearing his jacket fall to the floor made a heaviness pool in her belly.
Soon, a boy entered their room with a tray of cold victuals and she watched as the duke fished a shilling from his pocket and gave it him. His eyes went wide at the sight before he scampered off.Why,Catherine lamented to herself,did he have to be kind?If he was going to be an ass, why couldn’t he just be a through-and-through arse? Why did he have to call her a spinster whore and then give a serving boy enough money to feed his family for a month? It was the same as his letter to Ariel. It would be much easier to revile him if he weren’t given to unpredictable acts of kindness.
He placed the tray on the bed and sat down beside her. They ate the cold dinner in silence.
When they had finished, the boy appeared again and took away the tray. John provided him with another shilling and Catherine stifled a sigh.
Once the boy left, there was nothing to do but go to bed.
