Chapter Eight
Kate scurried upto her bedchamber. Relieved not to encounter any servants on the stairs, she managed to close the door before a loud sob burst from her throat. She had wanted Robert to make love to her, desperately. She loved him with a passion that would last a lifetime, whatever happened between them. The strength of her emotions caused her to gasp in surprise. Why, when he did not deserve her love? Perhaps because she’d glimpsed the fine man, he could be when he was not retreating from any intimacy between them, and it gave her hope. If she allowed him to continue to treat her so casually, however, their relationship would never rise above that of so many of theton, an indifferent arrangement to suit both parties.
Well, it would not suit her to live that way. She undressed and paced the room in her shift and petticoats, considering what best to do. In the end, she fell onto the bed, her tears dampening the pillow with the solution still no clearer.
Kate woke to a shadowy room. She’d slept for hours, and night approached. A possible answer to their problems had come to her when she lay half-asleep. Robert carried some sort of hurt. Might it have something to do with his estrangement from his mother? She remembered when they’d met in the ballroom, how on edge he had been, and how he spoke so unkindly to her. It was possible she might gain some knowledge of how to improve things between her and Robert from Lady Charlesworth.
Tomorrow, she would go and see her. She slipped from the bed and rang for Brigitte.
They had an engagement to attend this evening. She heaved a sigh. Would Robert appear at dinner? She expected things between them to be strained.
“I’ll wear the rose pink and cream dinner gown, Brigette, and the ruby earrings,” Kate said when Brigitte came in.
The maid studied her. “A cool cloth over your eyes, perhaps my lady.”
“Very well.” Kate was determined to appear at her best.
That evening, rested and more in control of her emotions, she waited in the salon for Robert to join her.
“Good evening.” Her foolish heart leapt when he walked in, cool and handsome in a sapphire-blue silk taffeta coat embroidered in silver thread with a froth of lace at the neck and cuff. His blue eyes glowered silently at her. He was angry, it was evident by his stiff bow. Well, wasn’t she entitled to be angry, too? He nodded toward the drink’s tray. “Do you care for Madeira or sherry before dinner?”
“No, thank you.”
He must have sensed it would be useless to make conversation, for he came and offered her his arm. She slipped her arm through his as tension tied her shoulders in knots. What might she say to him to lighten this dark mood? The very touch of his silk-clad arm beneath her fingers and his scent made her heart race. Her mind retraced every detail of their lovemaking despite it ending so badly. To recall his kisses and what his clever hands did to her body made her swallow a sigh.
It was so hard to be near him like this and not want his arms around her, to be engulfed by his strength and his maleness, and relish how strongly it affected him. To be tender and loving toward him. Would it have happened if she’d insisted they go to her bedchamber? She wanted to tell him how much she desired him, how she regretted what had taken place between them, but a glance at his profile made her firm her lips. He’d retreated into his shell again and was as remote from her as the first night they met.
Their sad lack of conversation continued as the first course was served. Not able to speak of important issues, Kate wracked her brain to find something amusing to say and decided any attempt would fall flat. She swallowed a little of the oyster soup before pushing the bowl away. Then moved potted asparagus around her plate with her fork. By the time the roast meats were removed along with the salad, Kate could bear the silence no longer. She had to speak to him even if they argued. “Did you have a pleasant afternoon?”
“I did. And you?”
“Not very. Robert…”
“Not here, Kate.” He frowned as a servant brought in the dessert course.
Kate declined the syllabub and selected a nut from the dish. “I thought I’d wear my green damask this evening.”
He lowered his wine glass. “What about the sea green?”
“The Italian silk? If you prefer it.” She was pleased that he expressed an interest.
“Yes, it makes you look regal.”
Regal? Kate would never have chosen such a word to apply to herself. Was that what he wished of her? Then it was understandable why she’d failed to impress him or gain his affection. Must she spend the rest of her life attempting to appear regal? She didn’t know where to begin. Perhaps the dress of his choice would help. She put down her napkin, and the footman rushed to pull back her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I must dress.”
Robert stood and bowed.
Brigitte had just begun the finishing touches to Kate’s toilette, when a knock sounded at the door. Kate gave a nervous start. “That must be Robert.” Had he come to inspect her and see if she looked regal enough? She licked her lips nervously as feelings of inadequacy consumed her.
A footman bowed. “Lord Southmore is below, my lady. He wishes to attend while you dress.”
“Watch me dress?” Appalled, Kate frowned into the mirror and pulled her wrap over her chest, tightening the sash. “What can he mean?”
“He asks to come to your boudoir, my lady,” Brigitte said, “to assist with the placing of your patches, jewelry, and hair adornment. It is often done.”
“Indeed?” Kate thought this a most deplorable fashion.
“You would insult him should you refuse.”
