Page 42 of Duke in Shining Armor
James Hastings, Duke of Pembroke
What the devil is this? Catherine thought. She recognized the poem by Robert Burns ‘A Red, Red Rose,’ but before she could think on the meaning of this any further, Charlotte had taken the letter from her hand, while she and Beatrice hurriedly read it. They gasped with delight and cooed, for they thought James was a romantic. Catherine did not particularly think so because this was not a poem that the duke had written himself. Nevertheless, the sentiments were not lost on her, because it could very well be that he was making amends for being a boor yesterday.
“It is a beautiful poem, Catherine. The duke seems to be a romantic,” Charlotte said with a sigh.
“Indeed,” Beatrice said as she giggled.
Catherine moved from her chair and stood before the drawing room window while the sun warmed her skin. Catherine imagined James wanted to apologize. He had not thought about her feelings and sensibilities when he spoke yesterday, and he naturally thought better of it today. She found it incredulous when he spoke so casually of visiting trollops, when they had shared such intimacy. It hurt. She did not care if it was society’s convention, for no husband of hers would have a mistress or visit such establishments.
The countess entered the room disrupting her thoughts.
“There you are, my dear. You have seen the lovely roses and letter?”
Catherine sighed. “I have, mama.”
“And have you thought to reply?”
“I will do so forthwith.”
Catherine sat at the desk in the drawing room and penned her reply.
Your Grace,
Thank you for the roses. They are most beautiful.
I trust you enjoyed our walk in the garden yesterday.
Lady Catherine Davenport
The countess read her reply before ordering it to be delivered at once.
Catherine spent the rest of the morning preparing for afternoon tea. She thought about her prospects while she busied herself as James was not the only gentleman showing interest in her this season. There was the Marquess of Claydon, who seemed kind enough, and he would possibly make a suitable match. The Earl of Belmont had called upon her, but it was all that she could do to remain civil because he stared at her bodice more than her face. Then again, he was much older than papa; although quite wealthy, she would not agree to marry the old lecher. It was not just his age, for he was a licentious man. She had seen it in his gaze. She could not imagine sharing what she had shared with James with this odious man.
Good God.The very thought made her ill.
There was the poor Viscount of Tilbury, and she meant poor in every sense of the word. While he had a title, the family had lost its fortune, and this would not do in her circumstances. The viscount’s bride would be a lady with no title, but whom had enviable wealth so that it would be barter, a title for wealth. The viscount was unable to keep his lack of wealth a secret from thehaut ton, so she knew he would not be welcomed in every drawing room. Her family’s own circumstances would remain a secret for only so long, and Catherine knew she must tread carefully. She knew how savage thehaut toncould be if one faced ruin.
Her reflection turned to the duke, and she wondered if anything could be salvaged between them … after all hewasmaking an effort. Now that she contemplated her situation, he was most certainly not the worst, for he was a better prospect than the dreadful Earl of Belmont. Catherine closed her eyes and sighed. James had vexed her so yesterday, nonetheless he was contrite today. She fashioned she would make the most of the duchess’s dinner party and see what James would make of that. It was peculiar the way her heart shivered with anticipation at seeing him again so soon.
Do not be silly and reckless with him again, she fiercely reminded herself. Merely learn more about his character.
The day of the dinner party finally arrived. At her request, her lady’s maid prepared a perfumed bath, where she languished in the tub until the water was cold, then hurriedly exited before she caught a chill. Catherine took great care in her appearance. She chose a dark shade of lilac silk on a backdrop of ivory brocade. It was one of the new gowns from her wardrobe, which had matching ivory gloves and satin shoes. She complemented her outfit with red rubies.
When she descended the stairs, her brother Edward had been there to greet her.
“You look rather smashing, sister.”
“Thank you, Edward,” she replied as he assisted her to the carriage. All of her family were guests this evening. As the carriage pulled away, she wondered how many guests would be attending the affair. James said it was intimate, so she was not expecting many. It was but a short carriage ride so she would soon discover who the other guests were.
Charlotte and Beatrice chatted excitedly in the rear of the carriage while Edward sat beside her.
“I daresay this is our second engagement with the Duchess of Pembroke,” Edward remarked.
“That is so.”
“Remarkable since it is quite early in the season. Should we expect the duke to declare his intentions?”
Her heart jerked but she worked to keep her expression composed. “That is not my reasoning, Edward. I don’t believe he will,” Catherine replied. “Perhaps the duke wishes to spend time with me, but I am sure he is doing so with other ladies in thehaut ton.”
