More Than Charming (14 page)

She smiled at him in answer and shook her head. He offered her a sweet biscuit and turned the conversation back to the coming visit to Chesterfield. She hoped it would keep her brooding thoughts about James at bay.

Chester and Constance met their carriage when they arrived at Chesterfield. James assisted Catherine from the vehicle as they faced their good friends.

“Roberts!” Chester said, grabbing James’s hand and giving it a firm shake. “So glad you could make it.”

James smiled. “Thank you for having us, Chester.” He turned to Constance. “Hello, Constance.”

“Hello, Lord Roberts,” she returned. She embraced Catherine warmly. “Catherine, I’ve missed you.”

Catherine returned the sentiment. Lord and Lady Chester led the couple into their grand home. After James and Catherine changed out of their traveling clothes in their guestroom, the four of them met in the parlor for tea.

“Oh, Catherine,” Constance said, her gray eyes open wide. “I wished to speak with you before the other guests arrive.”

Catherine arched a brow at her. “What about?”

Constance leaned closer. “I wanted to tell you that Waltham will be in attendance.”

Catherine was taken aback for a brief moment. She recovered and nodded. “I know that you’re great friends with Lady Joan. I had wondered why they were not present at your wedding.”

“Waltham’s estate business kept him away from town,” Constance explained. “As you know, his holdings are far to the north of London.”

Catherine nodded. “Constance, please don’t fret about it. I hold no ill will toward Lady Joan. Or Waltham, for that matter.”

Catherine’s gaze fell on James where he stood in conversation with Chester. Her smile widened and she turned once more to Constance. “I’m most happy with the way matters resolved themselves.”

Constance smiled at her. “Marriage agrees with you, I daresay.”

James caught Catherine’s eye then. He grinned and winked at her. “Oh, yes.” She lowered her lashes. “James is so wonderful to me.”

Several of the other guests soon arrived. The ladies’ conversation grew livelier as Michelle and Elizabeth joined them in the parlor. Paul strode over to join James and Chester.

“Hello, Chester,” he said in greeting. He turned to face James. “Brother.” He grinned.

Chester laughed at that. “My, that sounds strange.”

“Never mind.” James looked over at Catherine where she sat with the women. “I suppose I’m stuck with you, Leed.”

Paul cuffed him on the shoulder. “I trust you’re keeping my sister happy?” he asked, the serious look in his eyes belying his jovial tone.

James met his gaze steadily. “Yes,” he said firmly. “Catherine is very happy.”

Paul gave a nod to that. Talk soon turned to the prospect of a marvelous hunt on the morrow.

After a while, James crossed to his wife. “Why don’t we go ready ourselves for dinner, love?”

Catherine nodded and excused herself from the others. James led her from the room and back up to the chamber Constance had set aside for their use. James found her seated at her vanity, lost in thought, when he emerged from his dressing room. A frown marred Catherine’s delicate features as she sat perfectly still in her chemise and petticoat.

“We’re expected downstairs in a few minutes, love,” he told her, tying his cravat. “Why aren’t you ready?”

She shrugged, her frown clearing.

“Catherine,” he said. “What is it?”

She met his gaze in the mirror. “Waltham will be here, James.”

“Ah, hell,” he muttered. He crossed to his wife and rubbed her shoulders. Catherine visibly relaxed. “Don’t let that scoundrel ruin our visit, wife,” he said, placing a kiss on her cheek.

Catherine nodded and turned to face him. “I won’t.”

He cupped her cheek with his hand and gazed down at her. James arched a brow at the confounding play of emotions on her face. She seemed almost . . . wistful.

“Is something wrong?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be ready in a moment, James,” she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him lightly.

He watched her go, having the distinct feeling that his wife was keeping something from him. It had better have nothing to do with that bastard Waltham.

Catherine soon stood beside her husband in the parlor, her hand on his arm. Her gown, a beautiful creation of ivory, hugged her curves. James felt Catherine’s fingers twitch and turned to see what had caused her discomfort. Lord Waltham stood in the doorway, his wife beside him. The man ran his pale blue eyes over Catherine, his mouth curved in a slight smile. James caught his lustful gaze and bristled.

When Waltham tore his gaze from Catherine, it was only to find James’s eyes boring into his. Apparently recovering himself, Waltham crossed the distance between the two couples, dragging his wife along with him.

He wore an insincere smile on his thin, aristocratic face. “Catherine,” he said smoothly. “Constance mentioned that you would be here.” He turned to James. “Roberts,” he said in greeting.

James managed to smile at the miserable man. “Waltham,” he said with a nod. He turned toward the man’s wife. “Lady Joan.”

Waltham turned to Catherine. “I hear best wishes are in order.”

“Yes,” Catherine allowed.

“I must say I was quite surprised to hear of your nuptials,” the man said. “Was the wedding as grand as ours was to be?”

James held his hands in fists at the mention of their aborted wedding. “Waltham,” he began. “Don’t think to—”

“It was beautiful,” Catherine cut in. “Perfect, actually,” she added, smiling up at her husband.

James returned the smile, pleased with her show of loyalty.

“I daresay ours was a bit rushed.” Waltham sighed dramatically. “But when you’re in love, you care not for such matters. Isn’t that right, darling?” he asked his wife.

Joan smiled wanly, her face turning nearly white. James was shocked at the girl’s appearance. Joan was much thinner than when he last saw her at the Markham’s ball. Her eyes appeared nearly sunken, and quite dull.

Catherine must have noticed, as well. “Lady Joan,” Catherine said, concern on her face. “Are you feeling all right?”

Joan opened her mouth to speak, but Waltham’s hand on her arm stilled her. A shadow of a smile curved her mouth. “Yes,” she said finally. “I’m quite well, thank you.”

Catherine seemed as doubtful of her answer as James was. She turned to him. “James, look. There are Lord and Lady Kanewood.”

James caught her meaning right away. He bowed to Lady Joan and nodded to Waltham. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Waltham returned the nod, his eyes on Catherine as her husband led her away.

Long after dinner, when the men rejoined the ladies, James stood watching Waltham out of the corner of his eye. Paul obviously caught the scowl on his face.

“Roberts,” he asked in a low voice. “What the devil’s troubling you?”

James flicked his head in Waltham’s direction. “That bastard has been drooling over my wife all evening,” he said through clenched teeth. “If he so much as thinks to touch her—”

“Easy, brother,” Paul cut in. “He wouldn’t dare, not with both you and me in attendance.”

James nodded, appeased that Catherine’s brother would do anything to protect her. His gaze settled on her where she sat in deep conversation with her friends.

James looked back at her brother. “That doesn’t change the fact that every time I look at him, I want to wring his scrawny neck.”

Paul gave a small chuckle. “I very nearly did, after the way he treated her last year.”

James gazed at his brother-in-law with renewed respect. A dark thought crossed his mind. He took a few moments to put it into words.

“Leed,” he began hesitantly. “Did Waltham ever attempt . . . ?”

Paul’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He laughed heartily at what James was intimating.

“Roberts,” he said, clapping his friend on the back. “I barely allowed the scoundrel five minutes alone with her. Never trusted the bastard.”

“Your instincts were correct, as always.”

Shooting a look of irritation at Waltham, James crossed to his wife’s side. He sat beside her and took her hand in his.

She turned to favor him with a smile. “James,” she said softly.

“Hello, love,” he returned, placing a kiss on her temple.

Paul followed his brother-in-law’s lead and joined the ladies, as well. They sat down and played a few games of cards. James didn’t take his eyes from Waltham for one second, however. The man didn’t even attempt to hide his lust for Catherine.

Catherine’s voice called his attention back to the table and the game at hand. He looked at his cards absently, letting the others’ conversations go on without his participation. Catherine was
his
. Waltham be damned.

*     *     *

Later that night, as they readied for bed in their guest chamber, Catherine sat in front of the vanity clad in her nightgown, brushing her hair.

“James, I can’t believe how poorly Lady Joan looks,” Catherine said.

James shrugged, stripping down to his breeches. “She always was a plain little thing, Catherine.”

Catherine put her brush aside and stood, shaking her head. “But she’s so pale.”

James placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing the tension from her.

“I had noticed that,” he offered. “Perhaps she’s expecting.”

Catherine nodded and let him lead her over to the bed. “She’s frightfully thin, James,” she added. “Perhaps Waltham should—”

James placed his fingers over her mouth to quiet her. “You won’t speak that man’s name, Catherine,” he said the command gently with a light kiss. “I want only my name on your lips.”

He sounded so possessive. She could almost believe he loved her. She cocked her head to the side for a moment, a smile teasing the corner of her mouth. She reached up and placed her hands behind his neck. “All right,” she said as she leaned against him, “James.” She kissed his throat. “James,” she whispered, kissing his chin. She placed her lips gently on his. “James,” she whispered into his mouth.

He grabbed her and kissed her thoroughly, inflamed by her teasing kisses. They fell on the bed, where James proceeded to kiss every inch of her.

Catherine later fell asleep tucked cozily in her husband’s arms, his deep, easy breathing telling her that he was as satisfied as she was. He desired her, and demanded that she desire only him. She looked at his dear, handsome face and sighed. It would have to be enough.

*     *     *

While the men were out hunting the next day, Catherine and the other ladies passed their time in the parlor. They discussed the ball to be held that evening as they sipped their tea.

“Constance,” Elizabeth began excitedly, “pray tell me there will be several unattached gentlemen in attendance at the ball?”

Constance assured her that, yes, several were indeed expected. Elizabeth’s eyes lit up and Catherine arched a brow at her sister.

“Elizabeth,” she teased. “Are you in the market for a husband?”

Elizabeth took no offense whatsoever and nodded enthusiastically. The ladies shared a laugh at that. All but Lady Joan, that was. The thin young woman shook her head sadly.

“Marriage isn’t always a desirable state, Elizabeth,” she said softly.

The others had no answer to that statement, exchanging glances of confusion. An awkward silence fell over the room, broken when Elizabeth let out a dramatic sigh.

“I suppose I’ll just have to wait for my wedding,” she said dejectedly.

Catherine squeezed her sister’s hand in consolation. “Elizabeth, I’ve no doubt that you will be betrothed within the year.”

“Oh, do you truly believe so, Catherine?” she asked.

Catherine nodded, at which Michelle wholeheartedly agreed. The talk resumed its light tone, though Catherine didn’t miss the fact that Joan remained silent.

Readying herself for the ball, Catherine thought to see if Elizabeth possessed some ribbons to match the gown she planned to wear. Her sister did indeed have ribbons to match the violet gown Catherine had chosen, and happily gave them to her. Catherine thanked her and thought to return to her guestroom.

She passed the room being used by Paul and Michelle and noticed the door was slightly ajar. Thinking to say a quick hello, she raised her hand to knock. Paul’s voice from within stilled her.

“I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it, love,” he said to Michelle.

“They seem incredibly well suited, Paul,” Michelle said in answer. “Catherine seems quite happy,” she added.

“Yes,” Paul allowed. “Roberts as well. Quite remarkable, considering I forced his hand.”

Outside in the hallway, Catherine felt a chill go through her. She clutched the ribbons to her chest, her eyes closed tight. Could it be true? Her heart pounded as her stomach churned. Had Paul truly forced James to marry her?

She turned and walked slowly back to her guestroom, numb. As she entered, James turned from where he stood shaving in front of the washstand.

“There you are, love,” he said warmly.

She looked up and smiled wanly at him. “Hello,” she said in a flat voice.

James arched a brow at her. He grabbed the towel and wiped his face. “Catherine, are you all right?”

“What?” she said absently. “Yes, yes. I’m all right. I suppose the excitement of the ball has me a bit out-of-sorts.”

He studied her. “You do seem a bit preoccupied, love.”

The endearment tore at Catherine’s heart. Not only did James not love her, but he’d been forced to marry her. How could he stand to look at her? To touch her?

With a small smile, James strode into the dressing room to change into his formal attire. She choked back a sob and rang for her maid.

Catherine turned from the cheval mirror and gasped to find James staring at her.

“My God, Catherine,” he said in a low voice. “You look incredible.”

The warmth in his gaze told her that he did feel something for her, even if it was only physical attraction. Sad, but it seemed that was all they had.