“That’s not necessary.”
“It’s the least I can do. You’re letting me host the ball with you, at your lovely home, since Father’s ill and it wouldn’t be proper to have a ball in mine. So I’ll see to the invitations.”
“If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
Winnie released a deep breath. “Thank you. That’s one less thing to worry about.”
“I’ll stop by the stationers on my way home.”
“You’re such a dear.”
Catherine yawned again. “Sorry.”
“I don’t recall there being any balls last night, and yet since the moment you arrived, I’ve had the distinct impression you were out rather late,” Winnie said.
“I simply didn’t sleep well.”
“Is it your father? Has his condition worsened?”
It should have been her father keeping her from sleep. It had been almost a year since his last bout with apoplexy had left him a bed-ridden invalid. Now he was little more than a shell of a man. She spent her afternoons and often her evenings reading to him, trying to bring him what comfort she could. She’d hired nurses to see after him when she couldn’t be there, because she’d known he’d feel guilty if he thought she was devoting all her time to him. She was young. He’d want her to enjoy life. But of late, that was very difficult to accomplish.
“No, Father seems to be the same, although it’s difficult to tell since he can’t speak.”
“What’s pressing on your mind then?”
A certain irritating lord. Somehow he’d managed to cast some sort of spell over her body to make it writhe unsatisfied for the remainder of the night, not that there had been much remaining after she’d finally gone to bed. What sort of debauchery had he been engaged in to return home so late? And to immediately assume that a woman such as she was there for carnal purposes? Only the worst of blackguards would view women in such a way. Catherine wasn’t a trollop. She was chaste and pure and proper. Although after tasting his kiss, she realized her life was rather dull. Still, his actions had resulted in her finally comprehending why ladies were discouraged from experiencing such intimacies until they were wed. Did all men hold such power over women—to make them burn with desire? Or was it only those like Claybourne, who loitered at the gates of hell?
“Winnie, you’ve been married for five years now.”
She’d attracted the Duke of Avendale’s attention their very first Season and had married him at Christmas that same year.
Winnie furrowed her brow. “Is that a question?”
“No, it’s an observation that I felt compelled to make before asking: Does he kiss you?”
“That’s an odd question.”
“I’m a maiden and I have no mother to ask about the questions that cause me curiosity, and so I must turn to my married friend for the answers. Does he kiss you?”
Winnie sipped her tea as though mulling over her answer. “On occasion.”
“Does it leave you wanting?”
“Wanting what?”
Catherine almost laughed. If she had to explain it, well, then he wasn’t kissing as Claybourne did. But Avendale had been born a gentleman, while Claybourne was little more than a scoundrel dressed in lord’s clothing.
She watched as Winnie leaned forward ever so slightly to pour them more tea. It was ironic that such beauty as found in this garden surrounded a house where incredible ugliness lurked. Her movements explained so much about her unnecessary worry over the invitations. “He’s beaten you again, hasn’t he, Winnie?”
“Don’t be silly.”
Reaching out, Catherine placed her hand over her friend’s, stilling her actions. “I see how gingerly you move—as though the smallest of movements causes you the greatest of pain. You can confide in me. I won’t tell a soul. You know that.”
Tears welled in Winnie’s expressive eyes. “He came home late last night in a fit of temper. I’m not sure what I did wrong—”
“I doubt you did anything wrong, and even if you did, he has no right to strike you.”
“The law disagrees.”
“Damn the law.”
Gasping, Winnie widened her eyes. “Catherine, your language.”
“You chastise me for my language and yet I wager you take his beatings in silence.”
“I’m his wife, his property. The law gives him leave to do with me as he pleases, even force his attentions on me when I might not want them. A day will come when you’ll learn the truth of marriage.”
“I doubt I shall ever marry. But if I should, I’ll not give a man control over me.”