“I am not expecting anyone. Tell me it is not another over-eager girl wanting the position of governess?” Catherine shook her head.
“No, Your Grace.” Mrs. Danvers swallowed. “It is the Marchioness of Danford.”
Catherine was on her feet at once, her heart thundering wildly. “My mother? What on Earth is she doing here?”
“She said that she wished to pay her daughter a visit, to see how married life suited her.” Mrs. Danvers tilted her head toward Catherine. “Do you wish for me to tell her you are unavailable, Your Grace?”
For a moment, Catherine considered it, but then she shook her head. “She will just come again another day, I suspect she has taken a room in the village given the length of the journey.. My mother does not generally take ‘no’ for an answer. I suppose at least Oliver and Alaric are out; that removes one complication.”
Catherine’s fingers went to the wedding band on her finger, absentmindedly playing with it as she moved around the desk. “Given the time of year, she would have been in London. I doubt she has come all the way to Bath for something as simple as a chat.”
My mother had months to call on meand see how married life was suiting me when I was in London, but she never did.
The hairs on the back of Catherine’s neck prickled. “Whatever the reason for the visit, I mean to get to the bottom of it, preferably before Oliver and Alaric get home.”
She had no wish to hear her mother say unkind things about Oliver, and as Alaric’s memory had not yet fully returned, she did not want to risk her mother finding out.
Am I a monster for being suspicious of my mother?
Catherine pushed the thought away as she swept out of the study. “Where is she?”
“In the e astern Drawing Room, y our Grace.” Mrs. Danvers fell into step beside Catherine.
“Good. Have the cook prepare tea, though nothing to eat. If we do not at least make an attempt at hospitality, that will arouse suspicion.” Catherine forced herself to walk, even as every muscle in her screamed at her to run. “If it has been longer than half an hour, interrupt us with an urgent matter.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Mrs. Danvers curtsied and peeled off toward the kitchens.
Catherine approached the large oak doors of the e astern drawing room, her heart thundering in her chest. She rolled her shoulders back, took in a deep breath, and nodded for the footman to open the doors for her.
Lady Danford stood in the center of the drawing room, her arms clasped in front of her, her blue eyes surveying the room around her. Catherine forced a smile onto her face.
“Mother.” Catherine took a step toward her mother, her familiar perfume washing over her as she dutifully kissed her on each cheek.
“Really, Catherine, how many times have I told you that chrysanthemums are far too common to be on display like that? You are a duchess now; you should have something more befitting of the station.” Her mother gestured to the flowers.
“They are my favorite flowers, and as I am a duchess, I think that makes them perfectly appropriate for my household.” Catherine kept her voice level, resisting the urge to stroke the flowers’ petals.
“Must you be so argumentative? I am only trying to help you, and I have had a rather long journey to get here, you know, and you have not even offered me any refreshments. Though I suppose that is more to do with your staff, I suppose.” Her mother sniffed.
“The tea will be here shortly.” Catherine felt her shoulders begin to tense and forced them to relax. “Now, tell me, why are you here?”
“Can a mother not simply yearn to check on her only daughter?” Her mother sat on the chaise longue, gesturing for Catherine to sit as well.
This is my house.
She felt a stab of irritation flit through her, but kept it from her face. She knew that refusing to sit would seem petulant and childish.
“A powerful yearning indeed to force you into such a journey many months after I was married.” Catherine’s smile was all daggers as she sat in the armchair. “A pity it did not strike while I was still in London.”
“I do not care for your implication, Catherine.” Her mother’s expression darkened, her lips thinning so much they were nearly invisible.
“I am not implying anything, Mother. Simply pointing out the inconvenient timing of your motherly urge.” Catherine’s eyes flashed.
“There is very little about being a mother that is convenient.” Her mother’s tone was icy as a winter morning. “Especially when your daughter lets the most ridiculous rumors circulate around her.”
Catherine did not take the bait. “So long as they are not saying I killed Alaric, I could not give one whit what thetonare saying.”
“You should, Catherine. The things they are murmuring are truly dreadful. Apparently, you have taken in some sort of urchin, some halfwit whom the Duke sired with a streetwalker.” Her mother shivered.
