She swallowed. “Benjamin.” It came out as a whisper, a silent benediction. But for what, she wasn’t sure. Part of her wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her and the other, more reserved part wanted him to leave her alone. She couldn’t decide which shewanted—or needed—more at this moment in time. It was surely too early to be intimate with him. It still seemed odd to call him by his given name.
Benjamin must have clearly read her indecision because he stepped back and let his hand fall away. He glanced back at the discarded book. “I’ll let you continue reading. You should know how the story ends.”
As he left, Catherine didn’t have the heart to tell him that she already knew the heroine’s fate. She just hoped that it could someday become her own.
As the dinnerhour drew near, Benjamin considered taking a tray in his study, but that would have been the coward’s way out. He’d finally put his head down and concentrated on getting the ledgers in order. He’d even summoned his steward that afternoon to go over anything he might have missed. The meeting had taken the better part of the day while he wondered what Catherine might be doing in his absence. He didn’t think she would have spent all of her time reading, but perhaps she enjoyed a leisurely activity, especially in her current condition. The sad part was that he didn’t really know that much about her. Yet. But he vowed that would change. And with patience, they would grow to respect each other, if nothing else. He certainly wasn’t planning on love. That was a tricky emotion and one he had never fully understood.
He had certainly never been shown affection by his father and most generally not by his mother, either. She had always been set about making a better life for herself and prominence had always been her main objective.
Benjamin supposed that was where he had adopted his own habitsfrom. Naturally, the ne’er-do-well personality traits had come from his father, but he had never allowed affection for anyone to stand in the way of something he wanted. It was why he’d betrayed his stepsister, Beatrice, in such a terrible manner. She’d stood between him and her father’s wealth, so he’d dismissed the problem. Then, when he had been denied her favors, he’d taken his revenge on her best friend, Daria.
That was when fate had stepped in and reminded him that tragedy could befall him as well.
He scrubbed a hand over his face as he left the study intent on joining his wife for the evening meal. There was no need for her to suffer the brunt of his past morality issues. There was nothing he could do but move forward and today, when she’d set her hand on her abdomen and he could feel the slightest flutter, he had found it difficult to recall it wasn’t his child. He was already forming an attachment to the new life she carried, regardless if he was the natural father. When the child was born, he vowed to love it as much as if the babe carried his blood through their veins.
He heard movement on the stairs and glanced up to see Catherine’s lady’s maid descending. “My lord, you should know that the baroness isn’t feeling well and asked for a tray in her room. I was just coming to ask if you should like the same.”
The dismay in Benjamin’s shrunken chest was evident, although he attempted to hide it by acting as though the news did not affect him. “Yes, that would be preferable. Thank you.”
The servant walked off as if she hadn’t just delivered a large blow. He wondered if Catherine was hiding out as he’d initially intended to do but decided that was unfair to her. She was carrying a child and if she was anything like Daria, there would be many times she took to her bed because of illness.
However, as Benjamin passed by her room, he found himself pausing. The desire to see her overrode all else and his hand began to rise to knock.
“Come in.”
His wife probably believed that the maid had returned, and it was confirmed a moment later when she turned her head at his entrance and some of the blood left her face. “My lord.”
She got to her feet and for a moment, Benjamin found it difficult to speak. Or move. Or breathe.
Under the impression that she wouldn’t have to entertain that evening, she had discarded her gown and underclothes, leaving her clad in nothing but a white cotton nightdress that accentuated her slightly rounded figure. But more than that, it also enhanced the rest of her body, including the gentle swell of her tempting breasts.
His pulse started to pound incessantly. “I-I… wanted to see if you were… well.” He blinked and tried to rid himself of the sudden stammer. “The maid said you were not… well.”
Dear God. Had he completely lost the ability to speak?
She must have realized the state of her undress, for she grabbed a robe from the end of the bed and held it in front of her, clutching it around her chest. “I shall be fine soon enough.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Benjamin told himself it was time to leave, that he had done his gentlemanly duty by inquiring into her health and there was nothing else for him to say. However, he couldn’t seem to force his feet to obey the command his brain had given him. “If there is anything I can do…” He let his voice trail off, hoping that she might pick up the meaning and invite him to linger a while at her bedside.
Instead, he was doomed for disappointment.
“I appreciate that, but I am rather tired. I just want to get some rest.”
He swallowed down the bitter taste of regret. “Of course. I shall see you in the morning.” He turned and this time, he didn’t hesitate, walking out the door before he found he didn’t have the strength to leave her.
Chapter Six
After her husbandhad left, Catherine remained in the same place, standing in the midst of her room, her robe clutched in front of her like a shield, for an endless span of time. It had been the perfect opportunity to ask him to stay with her. Her body certainly wished for just that, but she didn’t feel it wise to do so when she was feeling this vulnerable.
All afternoon, she’d been pondering their arrangement and wondering if she should just lie with him and allow that part to be over with. Her duty would be fulfilled and their marriage would be binding, and then he could retreat to London and take up a mistress while she remained here and tried to act like the perfect society wife who ignored her husband’s liaisons.
Unfortunately, Catherine had decided long ago that she would not be that biddable sort of wife. It was one of the main reasons she hadn’t wanted to marry. She didn’t want the disrespect of smelling another woman’s perfume on her husband’s clothes or finding evidence of undergarments that were not her own. It was too horrific to imagine, and yet it had worked for her parents for years. Or, at least, that was what they wanted the rest of the world to believe. She could feel thediscontent between them, the animosity lurking just beneath the surface.
So rather than add to the suffering of countless others, Catherine had tamped down her baser urges and began to plan how she might use her current situation to take down the reining matchmaking queen of London. Mrs. Dove-Lyon had to be held accountable for the unions that did not work as she’d expected. There had to be other couples who were miserable and unhappy. Catherine refused to believe that every match was one filled with love and adoration. It just wasn’t possible in the reality in which she lived.
And she intended to discover the truth.
Thus, the investigation had begun. She penned a few letters to some close acquaintances in town, ladies who had debuted with her and had begun households of their own. Holding teas and salons, they would be privy to some of the latest gossip, good or bad. They likely already knew of her vows, but she decided she would be polite and inform them, anyway, perhaps invite them to the estate.
