Page 69 of A Duchess Disciplined

“That is true,” William said, gesturing for the ladies to go ahead. “Please, enjoy yourselves.”

“Follow me,” Lady Beckingworth said.

Catherine readily fell into step beside the lady, as they made slow progress through the garden. Dimly, Catherine was aware of William coming behind them. She resisted the urge to turn around and cast a glance at his expression. A duchess was supposed to be composed. She had learned that lesson well.

“It is unfortunate that I was unable to attend your wedding,” Lady Beckingworth said. “I am certain that it was a lovely ceremony.”

“It was very small and intimate,” Catherine said, ensuring that her tone was just the right amount of apologetic. “We wished to marry with all haste, so a larger ceremony was impossible.”

“I see,” Lady Beckingworth replied. “I must say that I am surprised to hear that His Grace wanted to marry so quickly.”

“Oh?”

Lady Beckingworth’s eyes darted about, and a mischievous expression crossed her face. “I do not wish for you to be offended,” she said quietly, “but I had thought that your husband would never wed.”

“I am surprised to hear that,” Catherine said.

“Indeed,” Lady Beckingworth said. “Some of the ladies had wagers about when or if he might wed.”

Catherine grinned. “I see. Did you win anything?”

“Regrettably, no. Ah—Mrs. Abernathy!” Lady Beckingworth exclaimed. “Please, come and meet Her Grace, the Duchess of Sarsen.”

An elegant woman with red hair twisted into a sleek chignon said a few parting words with her male companion before approaching Catherine and Lady Beckingworth. Mrs. Abernathy wore a pale green gown that glittered with tiny crystal beads, crafted into fanciful swirls and flowers. “A pleasure, Your Grace,” Mrs. Abernathy said, curtseying.

“Mrs. Abernathby is a close friend of the family,” Lady Beckingworth said. “She leads our little group of bluestockings when we are in the countryside. We meet monthly to discuss what books we are reading.”

“Bluestockings!” Catherine exclaimed. “How delightful! What manner of books do you read?”

“All manner of them,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “I am partial to Miss Radcliffe’s works myself, but my betrothed favors Greek and Latin texts. I will confess that he is slowly winning me to his side, so my reading has been remarkably varied of late.”

“Can you read Greek and Latin?” Catherine asked.

Mrs. Abernathy shook her head. “Of course not,” she replied, gesturing to her companion, who seemed involved in an in-depth conversation with another gentleman. “My betrothed is very scholarly minded, so he translates the texts for me.”

“I find the notion to be very romantic,” Lady Beckingworth said.

“Yes,” Mrs. Abernathy said, sighing happily. “He is quite different from my late husband.”

Catherine noted that Mrs. Abernathy did not sound particularly upset about her late husband’s death. She wondered if Mrs. Abernathy had married first for the advantage, second for the love-match. That was the strategic way for a lady to wed.

“Ah, I should have asked. How is marriage suiting you, Your Grace?” Lady Beckingworth asked, shooting a sly glance toward William.

Catherine’s husband had found his own acquaintances. He and a few other lords stood some small distance away, conversing together beneath a tree. Even though William was being regaled by an enthusiastic, dark-haired companion, Catherine sensed that his eyes remained on her.

How did marriage suit her?Catherine could not honestly say. It was complicated. She did notdislikeit. Even though her husband still remained a stranger in many ways, there were certainly some enjoyable aspects of matrimony. If Catherine had not resolved to be the perfect duchess, shemighthave been able to find some subtle way of asking the ladies if they also found such pursuits to be pleasurable.

“I think it suits me well,” Catherine said. “His Grace and I complement one another well, and I love the girls.”

“That is wonderful,” Mrs. Abernathy said, her face soft. “The young ladies have been too long without a feminine presence in their lives.”

“Indeed,” Lady Beckingworth said.

“My betrothed appears impatient,” Mrs. Abernathy said fondly. “He keeps casting glances towards us. Shall I invite him to join us?”

“I think you ought to let the poor man suffer for a little longer,” Lady Beckingworth said, grinning.

Catherine chuckled. “How unkind!”

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