Page 64 of The Duchess Trap
“Then you’ll do well in this family,” the dowager said, rising with a faint smile. “Come. Let us walk.”
They strolled along the gravel path, the sunlight glinting through the trees. Birds sang overhead; the air smelled of lilac and rain. The older women chatted easily among themselves, but Catherine’s thoughts wandered.
Attentive.She had said it without thinking, but now the word echoed in her mind, bringing heat to her skin.
Was he?
Yes—and no. Duncan had not touched her since a few nights ago at the ball, and nothing beyond that. And yet every look, every brush of his gaze, every breath that seemed to catch when they stood too close, had left her trembling. His nearness granted a kind of attention she could feel in her bones.
She remembered his mouth, the slow, devastating way it had claimed her at the bench. The rough edge of his voice. Her pulse fluttered. She lifted her chin, forcing composure, but her mind betrayed her.
“Are you quite well, my dear?”
Catherine blinked, startled from her thoughts. The Dowager was peering at her, concern mingling with curiosity.
“Oh, yes,” she said quickly. “Quite.”
“Good. You looked rather flushed. The park can be stifling in spring.”
“Indeed,” Catherine murmured, though the heat had little to do with the weather.
The dowager’s knowing glance did not help matters.
They paused by a fountain, the sunlight dancing across the water. The other matrons caught up to them then, and Lady Harbury dipped a gloved finger into the stream before flickingthe droplet of water playfully at Catherine. “Admit it, darling. You’re thinking about your husband now.”
Catherine scoffed. “I am not.”
“You are,” Lady Harbury sang, triumphant. “You’ve the look of a woman picturing her husband in some most indecent way.”
“Agnes!” Lady Merrow hissed, scandalized.
Catherine’s blush deepened so violently she feared she might faint. “You are quite mistaken,” she managed.
The dowager’s lips twitched. “Are they?”
Catherine shot her a look of mock outrage. “Your Grace!”
“Oh, do not pretend innocence with me,” the dowager said, tapping her fan against Catherine’s arm. “You forget I was a new bride once, too.”
Laughter rippled through them again, loud and shameless. Catherine laughed with them this time, her embarrassment dissolving into something warmer, freer.
By the time they returned to the carriage, her cheeks still glowed, but her spirit was lighter. The women had teased her mercilessly, yes, but they had also drawn her in, as though she truly belonged among them.
As the horses started forward, Lady Harbury called out through the window, “Tell the Duke his wife has done the impossible; she’s made us laugh before noon!”
Catherine waved back, laughing, though her heart beat unsteadily.
I made them laugh.
And yet, she wondered, what would Duncan say if he saw her now, flushed, laughing, alive beneath the spring sun?
Would he laugh along with the ladies?
She pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering the taste of his once more, and thought, not without longing?—
If only he would.
“You were radiant today.” The Dowager Duchess’s words broke the silence of the carriage.
