Page 69 of Kathryn

Only the ache in her thighs remained.

Once again, another night had gone by without them having a chance to converse—nothing serious, just the sort of chatter she had engaged in with Jasper.

Clearly, Dulverton is not Jasper.

And Katie was glad of that fact. But surely lovers spoke to each other? How would they ever get to know each other if they never talked? They seemed most at ease with each other in the bedchamber. If they could not talk here, then where?

Katie closed her eyes, too tired to think about the tangled mess that was her marriage.

It was better that he’d gone while she slept, that way there would be no awkward leave-taking.

That is what Katie told herself.

Chapter Seventeen

The next four days at Briarly followed the pattern of the first one: Katie woke late and sated from a night of passion, broke her fast alone, spent the afternoon learning housekeeping matters, exploring the extensive gardens, visiting the massive succession houses and selecting flowers—which were allowed in the dining room provided there were two arrangements and they were exactly the same—eating dinner with her husband, Betje, and David Sessions, spending a few hours on needlework in the library, and then receiving her husband in her bed.

Every night she tried to initiate conversation with her husband and every night she failed. Dulverton never responded beyond a curt yes or no and Katie took the coward’s way out and did not try to keep him in her bed again.

She also spent some time answering the veritable flood of letters she received from her family. To the countess she penned her third polite but adamant rejection of her offer to visit. To her sisters—all except Hy, who was still angry at her because marrying Dulverton was evidently not penance enough for her stickler of a sister—she sent short, cheerful missives about Briarly, deliberately omitting any mention of her marital situation.

Katie spent most of each day with the dowager, who advised her to rest for a week and commence morning calls the following Wednesday. “People will understand if you take a week to settle in, but you really cannot wait much longer. Although given Gerrit’s insistence on privacy—and the fact that he long ago trained the neighbors to expect little in the way of socializing from him—you might be able to get away with two weeks. But that is the limit.”

Yes, Katie knew exactly how it was to be a duchess in a rural setting. After all, she had lived with her sister Hy for five years. Every year it was the same when they’d retired to Chatham Park for the summer and autumn. Poor Hy was forced to make the social rounds before she could retire from center stage and leave the planning of dinners, house parties, the annual ball, and the public day to her husband’s well-trained secretary.

The only thing that changed on Katie’s fifth day at Briarly was that it was a Sunday and, for the first time, Dulverton was in the breakfast room when she went downstairs.

He stood when she entered. “Good morning, Your Grace.”

He only called her Kathryn when they were alone. She called him Dulverton all the time. Maybe that was something she could change tonight? She could call him Heh-REET. Would he notice? And if he did, would he care?

Her husband was looking at her curiously, making her realize she’d never responded. “Good morning, Dulverton.” She nodded at Thomas to pour her a cup of coffee. Once she’d filled a plate with fruit, toast, and a ramekin with a coddled egg, Dulverton closed the newspaper he was reading and set it aside.

“Please do not stop reading on my account,” she said.

“I was finished.” He glanced at the clock.

Katie was instantly on edge. “I was told we would not leave until a quarter to eleven.” She sounded resentful to her own ears.

But Dulverton didn’t appear to notice. “Correct,” he said, as curt as ever. He glanced at the footman. “Please go and see if the dowager plans to join us this morning.”

“At once, Your Grace.”

“You have not ridden since coming to Briarly,” Dulverton said once they were alone.

Katie looked up, surprised he’d initiated a conversation. Had he done so in the past? Only to chastise her, she thought.

“I have been occupied exploring and gaining my bearings.” She didn’t mention the other reason—that she’d hardly felt confident enough to enter her husband’s stables and demand a mount without his permission—because she was revolted by her own timidity. The last thing Dulverton needed to know was how much his displeasure terrified her.

The duke’s austere face was neither approving nor disapproving.

Katie experienced one of the bizarre flashbacks to the night before and hastily lowered her gaze, as if somehow Dulverton might see that she was imagining his face—more specifically, the expression on it—when he was looming above her and moving inside her. His eyes rarely left hers, unless it was to inspect her body with a hungry avidity that sent thrills through her. He left the candles burning, sometimes lighting even more, evidently comfortable in her bedchamber now that there was nothing on the walls to offend his sensibilities.

Plenty of expressions flickered across his normally impassive face when he was in her bed: raw carnality, sensual satisfaction, and masculine possessiveness, and so forth. One of her favorite expressions was the one he wore for the few seconds when he achieved release, when bliss transformed him.

Now he was looking at her as if she was a stranger, and not a very interesting one. He was certainly a stranger to her and seemed determined to remain that way. Betje was deluded to think he wanted more. And Katie was deluded for hoping Betje was right. The best thing she could do is—

“I purchased a mount for you,” Dulverton said, the words pulling her from her unhappy thoughts.