“Yes.” Catherine wished she did not sound so breathless. “It is just… You asked me that same question on our wedding day.”
She watched as Alaric’s eyes widened for just a moment before a thoughtful expression crept across his face. He nodded to himself.
“Then I suppose that answers that question.” He gave her a sidelong look. “Hopefully, you will come to trust me in time.”
“Why?” Catherine asked without thinking.
Alaric pursed his lips, his brow creasing as though he was not sure himself. “You are my wife. Surely in a marriage, there should be trust?”
“There are many things a marriage should have, but that does not mean ours will.” Catherine turned her face from Alaric, not wanting him to see the mingled sadness and anger that stirred within her.
She clenched her hands into fists and shook her head, trying to banish her feelings. She felt Alaric’s hands wrap around hers, gently unclasping her fist. Gooseflesh spread across her body, and she looked up at him, the scent of amber and cedar making her head swim.
“Surely it is for us to decide what our marriage will or will not have?” Catherine’s heart swooped as Alaric said ‘us’.
His face was serious, with his lips pressed together and his brow gently creased. However, it did not seem guarded; there was an openness about him that felt genuine.
There is no us.
“Did you mean what you said? About trusting me?” The words fell from Catherine’s lips as she slipped her hand from Alaric’s grip; she knew he was letting her go.
“Of course. I may not remember much, but I know that I am not a liar.” Alaric’s eyes hardened for a moment, and Catherine remembered the old Duke. “You are my wife, why would I not trust you?”
Catherine opened and closed her mouth several times as she searched for something to say. A million different thoughts occurred to her. She should tell him that they scarcely knew each other, that he had no reason to trust her, but what would that do?
She was not going to play whatever game he was playing. He might claim to trust her, but she saw no reason to extend the same to him.
As they approached the kitchens, she heard a woman’s laughter. She found herself staring at a plump cook who was slicing a thick piece of cake and passing it to Oliver.
She watched as the boy took it, smiled shyly, and began to eat it. He ate with speed, as though he feared that someone else might take the cake from him, and it broke Catherine’s heart.
“I see Oliver has quite the appetite.” Alaric’s breath tickled her as he whispered in her ear.
Catherine yelped in surprise, which made Oliver jump. The plate slipped from the boy’s hands onto the floor and shattered. China went everywhere, and Oliver’s eyes widened.
Catherine noticed the fear in his eyes and glanced at Alaric, prepared to step in if he dared to scold the boy. To her surprise, Alaric raised his hands, speaking softly and calmly. “I did not mean to surprise you. I apologize.”
He looked at her and then at Oliver. “I think it would be best if I left. Cook, could you have someone send a plate of biscuits to my room and have one of the maids show my wife to her rooms?”
“Of course, Your Grace.” The cook curtsied. “Martha, clean up this mess before young Master Oliver hurts himself.”
“Yes, ma’am!” A maid leapt into action, sweeping up the broken China.
Catherine caught the cook looking up at a clock and knew she should let the servants get back to preparing dinner. “I should take Oliver to our rooms. I am sure you have enough to be getting on with.”
“It is no trouble, Your Grace. It does the heart good to feed little ones like him.” The cook smiled at Oliver and ruffled his hair. “You take these biscuits with you.”
Catherine’s heart swelled as the cook handed the small boy a tin of biscuits. He took it with hands that shook so badly that Annabelle quickly intervened and took the box, lest he drop it.
The cook snapped her fingers. “Martha, show Her Grace to her rooms. I apologize, Your Grace. I know a scullery maid shouldnot usually do such a thing, but with Mrs. Danvers still in London...”
Catherine waved the cook’s explanation away. “I understand. Our arrival was unexpected, and His Grace has not had a chance to find a housekeeper for the castle. It is perfectly all right.”
The cook’s relief was obvious, and as Catherine followed Martha toward their bedrooms, she wondered if she should send for Mrs. Danvers.
Do not be ridiculous. This is a temporary arrangement.They could survive without a housekeeper; after all, they would not be entertaining guests.
“These will be your rooms. I should check to make sure they are ready, Your Grace.” Martha hovered outside a large oak door.
