Page 36 of The Duchess Games

Because he already had a duchess.

And she would never know it.

Chapter Thirteen

You don’t belong here.

Try as she might, Cat could not stop it from reverberating inside her skull. It had whispered to her throughout the long dawn, tainting her sleep until she woke with a mild headache and a not-so-mild case of annoyance. At herself. There was nothing cruel about Callum’s statement. And it was nothing she had not thought herself a hundred times since stepping foot over the gilded threshold of Penhallow. Nothing every single person here had not thought. Or voiced aloud.

You don’t belong here.

Nothing which was not the simple truth.

After checking on Viola who was snoring thickly, Cat went for a long walk to clear her head. She climbed over fences and stepped around cows until the wind off the sea found her. It whipped through her hair and snapped her dress against her calves. The water boiled and frothed far below her, tiny ships already setting out in search of fish.

When she returned to the house and found herself in the bustling breakfast room, she felt more like herself. She had her equilibrium back. She didn’t belong here because she belonged to the sea and the village and her dogs and most of all, her family. She would do anything for them. Steal from a duke. Drink tea from a cup as delicate as a seashell while Lady Siddal snickered in her direction. Luckily, Callum had not deigned to join them and so those particular slights slid off her like melted butter. She could ignore them when he was not there to give them weight. He was somewhere else, apparently talking to Mr. Armstrong.

Not ideal that.

Sunlight sparkled at the windows and over the silver cutlery as the guests helped themselves to a stunning selection of food. There was tea and coffee and marzipan in the shape of birds. Cream that dissolved like clouds in the warmed chocolate as it was poured into Cat’s cup. Cat ate two scones with extra blackberry jam, coddled eggs, herbed potatoes, and fried trout. It was delicious and well worth the snide remarks about how ladies should eat like baby birds. They had clearly never eaten like baby birds and then set out to work a field or bring in the nets.

“I am not a bird,” Summer said loudly, deliberately helping herself to another scone. “Nor do I aspire to be any such thing.

Three ladies and the vicar helped themselves to more pastries after noticing the flattering, interested look Lord Blackwood sent her way. For once she did not snap at him. She kept her attention on the pot of jam for an inordinately long time. He winked at Cat. She flashed him a grin, the kind her brother usually prompted from her.

“Right,” Summer announced abruptly. “I hope you’ve eaten more than a bird would because we are off to the seaside. And you shall need your strength.”

“Oh, I do love to paint the waves,” Lady Siddal said. “Turner himself said I have a way to capturing them.”

“Paint them?” Summer scoffed, setting down her linen napkin. A row of sapphires marched around her throat like raindrops. “Swimming, Lady Siddal. Today’s task is swimming.”

Lady Siddal blinked. “I thought that was a jest.”

“Not at all,” Summer sounded prim, but the effect was ruined by the gleam in her eye. “My brother takes swimming very seriously.”

“But… is it very dangerous?” Lady Imogen asked tremulously.

“Only if you drown,” Lady Ruby returned flatly. “So don’t drown.”

Summer led them along a well trodden path through the long grass. Steps carved into the cliff led them down to a secluded cove, private to the family. There was no danger of spying eyes or the stench of a pilchard harvest off the beach. Footmen carried hampers of towels and food and laid them out on the warm rocks before departing. Three maids waited in the shadow of the cliff.

The sun warmed smooth stones and sand underfoot, hillocks of grass dotted with wildflowers, and sparkled off the water. The waves murmured and whispered secrets to the ladies milling around uncertainly. The tide pool was one of the largest Cat had ever seen, surrounded on all sides by smooth stone, like melted beeswax. The movements of the tide filled the crater and then retreated, leaving it to be warmed by the sun. During such a hot spell of weather, it would feel like bathwater.

She remembered it well.

Lady Summer was not cruel enough to force them into the cold sea, though Cat wondered if she might steal a moment to do just that. The push of water as you struggled to keep upright was invigorating and would bring her solidly back to her body. She’d been in her head entirely too much.

Work needed doing. It was time to be a village girl.

“A show of hands from the strong swimmers, please?” Summer called out. Cat, Lady Ruby, Miss Wentworth raised their hands. “Excellent. Ladies, you are in the best of care so no need to be alarmed. And it’s not very deep around the edges.”

“I don’t have a swimming dress,” Lady Imogen fretted, her cheeks already pinkening with the sun. She was all cream and sugar. “And there are no bathing machines!”

“This isn’t Brighton,” Lady Ruby rolled her eyes, though her tone was not unkind. “And you’re not going into the sea, only the pool.”

“It’s like a bath,” Cat assured her.

“In Brighton, they have dippers,” Lady Imogen frowned.