Page 69 of Devoted to the Duke (The St. Clairs 1)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jeremy knew themoment Catherine fell asleep against him. The tension which had blanketed her melted away. He looked down at her, the long lashes resting against her porcelain cheeks.

His duchess. His wife.

His life.

Guilt coursed through him. He’d married her under false pretenses. He had no intentions of letting her get with child. He’d seen too many women in his family die from childbirth.

Catherine would not be one of them.

He knew it would hurt her because of what he’d already seen of her and Jenny together. Catherine was a natural mother and had handled the baby with ease. She would long for children of her own.

And he could never let that happen.

Jeremy admitted to himself that he was a selfish bastard. He’d rather have an unhappy, childless Catherine in his life than see her swell with a child inside her and then watch as her life drained away after birthing it. He’d spent too many years without her and wasn’t willing to sacrifice her in an attempt to produce an heir. Luke would make for a fine Duke of Everton someday.

He didn’t know how to break the news to her, though. He had yet to tell her he loved her. It had to be obvious, though. He doted on her. He couldn’t stop kissing her when they were alone. He only hoped he would be enough for her.

She awoke after an hour and tried to pull away from him. He tightened his arm about her.

“You’re not going anywhere, Your Grace,” he teased, pressing a kiss against her temple.

She stiffened. “I’m hot,” she declared and scooted away from him.

Her behavior puzzled him. Twice when they’d been alone in a coach together, he was afraid he would break down and make love to her, knowing she’d be a willing participant. Now, though, she seemed a stranger who rode in his carriage, looking out the window.

Reaching for her hand, she shook him off. “Not now,” she murmured and continued to stare at the passing countryside.

Where was the passionate woman he’d married?

They arrived at Eversleigh. Mrs. Talley met them and greeted Catherine as Jeremy instructed Strong where to take the carriage.

“The servants are ready to meet you, Your Grace,” the housekeeper said.

Jeremy remembered the last time he’d seen the lot of them lined up. It was when he’d brought Mary home.

Catherine moved through the group of servants listlessly, none of her usual vitality present.

Once he dismissed the lot, he asked, “Are you well?” noticing how pale she seemed.

“I’m so tired,” she admitted. “I think the whirlwind of the past week of activities has finally caught up to me.”

“Are you hungry? Mrs. Talley can have food brought upstairs to us.”

She looked away. “No. Go ahead and eat without me.”

Jeremy took her arm. “Here, let me take you to your rooms.”

He escorted her upstairs, pointing out her suite and his and the connecting door that lay between them.

Though it hadn’t been the case with Mary, he enveloped her in his arms and said, “I’m sure your bedroom won’t be used often. I plan for you to sleep with me each night. At least, we’ll try to sleep,” he teased, hoping to lift her dark mood.

Anguish filled her face and she cast her eyes downward. “I am weary, Jeremy. Could we... is it possible to discuss this tomorrow?”

He drew her to him, her head resting against his chest as he stroked her hair. “Of course, darling. The wedding and travel have tired you. You’ll feel better in the morning.” He kissed the top of her head and she shuddered.

Withdrawing his arms, she moved away.

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