For Love of the Duke(63)

Now, with Katherine she’d opened his eyes to the staggering truth—he lived; he lived, and still felt desire and all other sentiments he’d hoped to keep buried.

Jasper shoved the book atop the pile of misbegotten books where it fell open upon its spine.

He rested his elbows onto his knees and stared down at the floor, as he acknowledged the truth: he did not, could not resent Katherine. Rather—he hated himself. For seated there, he couldn’t dredge forth Lydia’s face. Not the color of her hair, or the sound of her laughter. Nothing.

In his mind’s eye, she’d been replaced by a woman with tight brown ringlets, a tart tongue, and a husky alto laugh. A woman unimpressed by his title who challenged him on every score.

His gaze landed on that open page.

And Hopes, and Fears that kindle Hope,

An undistinguishable Throng!

And gentle Wishes long subdued,

Subdued and cherish'd long!



She wanted him to again celebrate Christmas, and though it seemed the ultimate betrayal of Lydia and his unborn babe, Jasper was fast finding it nigh impossible to deny Katherine anything.





~20~



Katherine walked a circle around the massive, stone foyer, hands propped upon her hips. She angled her head and studied the white sheets draped over the tapestries hung on the stone walls. She’d expected the servants would have removed the coverings, and yet, in the light of a new day, the draperies remained.

Katherine nibbled at her lower lip, and wandered closer to the nearest sheet. She really couldn’t see to the proper Christmastide trimmings with the castle in its present state. Arching on tip-toe, she made a grab for the corner of the covering.

“Might I be of assistance, Your Grace?”

Katherine screeched and spun around to greet the butler. She pressed a hand to her racing heart. “No. I was just…”

He angled his head.

Katherine’s lips flattened. “Actually, yes, Wrinkleton you can be of assistance. I’d like to take this down.” She pointed up at the sheet. “And that one.” She waved her finger over to the next covering. “And all of them. If you would be so good as to send several footmen.”

The servant blinked like a night-owl. “Remove them?”

Ahh, it would appear they were up at the duke’s urging, and not merely because Jasper had been in London. “Remove them,” she said with a nod.

The older servant shuffled back and forth upon his feet. He held his hands folded in front of him, wringing them in an agitated manner. “His Grace would—”

“Want me to do as I see appropriate with the household furnishings.” She crossed her fingers and hid them in the folds of her skirt.

A bead of sweat dotted Wrinkleton's brow. He removed a kerchief from within his jacket and dabbed at his head.

“If you’d speak first to the duke, and ascertain if that is to his pleasure, I’d most surely assist, Your Grace. It is just…” his words trailed off. “What are you doing, Your Grace?” he blurted, in his seeming nervousness forgetting his status. Or mayhap it was merely that he feared his employer that much.

She’d forgotten that whole Mad Duke nonsense.

“I’m taking them down myself, then,” she murmured, and made a swiping grab for the nearest sheet.

The momentary thrill of satisfaction surged through her, as her fingers made purchase with the fabric.

She tugged it back and forth, and then in a fluttering cloud of white, it tumbled to the floor.

Katherine stared at it with satisfaction, ignoring the manner in which the butler closed his eyes and shook his head back and forth.

“I assure you, my husband will voice no complaint.” After all, this seemed a rather small indulgence in the scheme of the cold, practical union     Jasper insisted upon.

She would have wagered the nails upon one of her hands that he muttered, “We shall certainly see.”

Katherine mustered her most winning smile and returned her attention to her task. “Will you send round the servants? Or shall I…” Her words ended on a breathless whisper. “Oh, my goodness.”

The meticulously stitched fabrics could rival any embroidery in all the kingdom. She tiptoed closer to the work of art. She angled her head and studied the piece. Adorned in a cascade of red, fuchsia, and violet rose bushes with a powder blue sky filled with white clouds, the image drove back the cold of winter, and called forth thoughts of spring.

“Her Grace completed them.”

It took a moment for the servant’s words to penetrate her awe. Katherine blinked.

The butler coughed discreetly. “Forgive me, Your Grace.”

Katherine glanced over her shoulder. She spoke with gentle tones. “You’ve nothing to apologize for, Wrinkleton.” The stunning craftsmanship called her notice once more.