I cannot wait to see what else you have planned.
“It is not working,” Cathy murmured to herself in front of her bedroom mirror.“None of this is working!”
This time, an emerald dress awaited her. She had done everything in her arsenal to seduce her husband, but he always seemed like he was ready to escape. It was humiliating. It seemed like her own husband would rather be celibate thanrespond to her attempts. Tristan had been polite most of the time, but he had also blatantly stared at her, teased her, and touched her skin fleetingly, so that she sometimes wondered if it was merely in her imagination. Perhaps he was more honorable than she thought. She had made him promise to leave her alone. So far, he had respected the bargain.
Was he watching her and waiting for her to fail all along?
Cathy’s pride wanted her to completely retreat, but with an annulment threat, she knew she should not. The thought of being discarded was not as terrible as the thought of her sisters being ruined.
“Does he want the truth?” she muttered. “Does he truly want to know what I am thinking? Can I be direct?”
Perhaps she should let Miss Priggish take the reins this time if her new persona did not work at all. Perhaps the Duke needed someone to dominate and not flirt with him. She sighed. Either persona did not know what to do.
Oh, she wondered about what life would be like without having to marry a man to save oneself.
“Lottie!” she called.
The young maid scurried to her room, as if she were just waiting around the corner. Cathy chided herself for not using the bell pull. She was still not quite used to having someone wait on her. She had not had that in years. This marriage had provided her with that kind of comfort.
“Yes, Your Grace?” Lottie asked breathlessly.
“Please inform Cook and Henderson that His Grace and I will be dining in the small parlor by the library tonight. There is no needfor footmen to watch over us. The trays can be served, and I will handle the rest. Do you understand?”
The maid’s eyes widened. “A private dinner for two, Your Grace?”
“Yes,veryprivate,” Cathy replied, keeping her voice nonchalant even though her maid was looking all thrilled. “I think I will wear the emerald gown tonight.”
Lottie left the room shaking with excitement, while Cathy studied her reflection. She looked at her fingers. Finally, she managed to scrub the ink away until her skin was red.
“Tonight,” she whispered. “Let’s see if you can resist my charms, husband.”
She shuddered after she said those words, disgusted with how things were unfolding, but mostly disgusted with herself. It felt like a tawdry performance, a betrayal of who she truly was. Her dignity would be stomped on, crushed. Yet, beyond that surface shame, she felt a thrill. The thrill of being desired by her husband.
This performance is for my sisters, she told herself, the lie tasting bittersweet.I am merely doing it for their future.
It was a convenient mask. She wanted to believe that if she did all this, she was merely being a tactician, not a fool for a handsome face. Yet she wanted to feel his skin, the weight of him, and how much bigger he was than she. It somehow made her feel... protected.
“All’s well that ends well.” If it did not, he would more likely be aghast at her behavior and insist on calling the physician once more.
Either way, she should be able to show him that the Duchess of Baxter was more than ledgers and high-collared dresses.
At dusk, Tristan had returned from the woods after they had successfully dealt with the north fence, among other matters. He was bone tired, muscles aching from the effort. He never liked merely watching and supervising work. Participation was always part of the experience.
As he entered the dining hall, Henderson rushed to him, looking a little nervous.
“Your Grace,” the butler greeted, bowing low. “Her Grace requested that dinner be served in the library parlor tonight. She does not want the staff to wait on you. She was very specific about the details of theprivatedinner.”
Tristan paused. All the day’s exhaustion was suddenly gone, replaced by a slow, dark heat urgently pooling in his groin.
“A private dinner?” he repeated, sounding awed even to himself.
“Yes, Your Grace. The meal is already laid out, and the servants have been dismissed for the evening.”
Tristan looked in the direction of the parlor. He sighed. Acting oblivious was harder than he thought it would be. As she made the strange twitches she called seduction, she was actually seducing him in the most ridiculous way. Anticipation coiled within him.
“Very well,” he growled. “Don’t you worry, Henderson. I can manage the service myself.”
The Duke leaned back in his chair, his mind reeling. He attempted to catalog every strange but beautiful thing that had transpired in the last few days. Every day, it seemed like the curtain to the stage had been pulled back to reveal a woman he barely recognized. He became a witness to the transformation of an efficient accountant into a creature of calculated glances.