Page 25 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

“He’s a very independent man.” Edwin sighed, shaking his head. “Sometimes a little too independent, and I worry that he will not tell me about problems that I might quickly solve for him. Please, do assure him that I only wish to help and not interfere.”

Catherine felt sympathetic to Edwin’s argument, having already observed something of Hugh’s idiosyncratic approach to life and the effect it could have on himself and others.

“I will do what I can,” she promised while doubting her ability to do anything at all.

A maid arrived with the tea tray, just as Hugh and Lady Georgina entered the room together, evidently having met up on the grounds.

“Why, Hugh, she’s a beauty! You did not tell me that the new Duchess of Redbridge is quite so lovely!” a handsome, black-haired woman of around forty exclaimed, enthusiasm lighting up her brown eyes and broad smile. “Your Grace, I am so very happy to meet you and welcome you into the family.”

Unexpectedly, Lady Georgina took both of Catherine’s hands in her own and then kissed her on both cheeks, before looking back at Hugh.

“I wish you many years and many blessings, of all kinds, my dears,” she cooed. “Having now seen Catherine, I’m sure your children will be perfect angels.”

This remark made Catherine’s cheeks flush as she remembered why she had wanted to speak to Hugh earlier. There would be no children, angelic or otherwise, as things stood between them.

Her husband avoided meeting her eyes or responding to his aunt. Instead, he went to inspect the tray beside the armchair. “The toddy is cold now,” he remarked, lifting and then replacing the glass. “I’ll ring for another.”

“How wasteful, Hugh.” Lady Georgina tutted, although still smiling kindly. “You have always been the most frugal of our family, and I have always admired that. I wish that Edwin and I could be so modest in our attire and lifestyle. Unfortunately, your uncle’s business dealings require him to keep up a certain standard of living and presentation. That is the lot of younger sons, I’m afraid.”

“What’s in the drink?” Catherine asked. “Perhaps I could drink the cold toddy and Hugh could order another. Since I have never tasted a rum toddy hot, I can hardly complain if it’s cold.”

“Spouses should share all things, I say.” Lady Georgina laughed. “Even rum toddies.”

“My wife hates rum toddies,” Edwin commented. “It was after smelling your drink earlier that she had to go out to the garden. It made her feel quite ill.”

Hugh shrugged and passed the glass to his wife. “Well, it always smells good to me, but it tastes better hot. It’s just warm milk with cinnamon, a single jigger of rum, and nutmeg grated on top.”

Catherine raised the glass to her nose and sniffed. Yes, she could detect the cinnamon and nutmeg but also something else stronger and more bitter. Rum? She didn’t think so, although a weaker rum aroma was also detectable. Perhaps it was simply a different kind of spirit from the rum she knew.

Still, something in that strong overlying smell prevented Catherine from putting the glass to her lips. It reminded her of something, although she could not quite put a finger on it. She frowned and shook her head.

“Not to your taste either?” Edwin chortled at her hesitation. “I’m afraid the rum toddy is all yours, Hugh.”

“Then give it back to me, and I won’t waste a drop.” Hugh sighed, reaching for the unwanted drink.

Not to be eaten. Those words flashed in Catherine’s mind as though they were written on the glass itself. She somehow knew that this drink must absolutely not be consumed but couldn’t say why.

Before Hugh’s fingers could touch the glass, Catherine threw it against the corner by the door. The glass smashed loudly, spattering the floor and wall with pale, creamy liquid.

They all looked at her in astonishment, at a loss for words. The maid who poked her head around the door was similarly taken aback by the sight and rushed away quickly to fetch the brush and mop.

Catherine offered no explanation—she had none to give.

Edwin recovered quickly, just as a sleek grey cat slunk around the door and began lapping at the milky puddle. “It really wasn’t to your taste, was it, Your Grace?” he jested, his eyes crinkling with laughter. “But you could have just sent it back to the kitchen, you know. Don’t let your new Duchess do that with every new dish, Hugh, or Redbridge Hall will be out of glassware and crockery in a month.”

Hugh laughed, too, although he did not seem amused and was more worried about the kitchen cats potentially ingesting slivers of glass.

Lady Georgina smiled sympathetically at Catherine. “I thought it smelled horrid, too,” she whispered. “I don’t know why he drinks those things.”

The maid had now returned with a companion. The two servants quickly cleared away the mess, demanding no explanation for what had occurred and receiving none.

“Finish your tea, Edwin. We should leave soon,” Lady Georgina urged. “We’ve met Her Grace, and we should now leave these young people to enjoy their honeymoon in peace. It’s been less than a week since the wedding, and this house is a lot for Catherine to get used to.”

Catherine felt slightly ashamed of the scene she had made, but she was still sure that she had somehow done the right thing. At least, Lady Georgina was trying to provide some cover for her embarrassment. She was grateful.

“You must come again another time,” Catherine told them both, but they were staring at each other, and neither was listening to her.

“Georgina, I do need to speak to Hugh about a certain matter while I’m here,” Edwin protested, evidently unhappy at being hurried along by his wife. “I did tell you that. You can take another walk in the gardens if you wish.”

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