Married to the Marquess (13 page)

When she could not hear them anymore, Katherine stepped out from her hiding spot, her knees weak, her eyes watering, and her lungs burning.

So that was what people thought of her. Though they had not seen her, though they would never know she had heard them, their words wounded her as though they had been flung in her face like mud.

Things were far worse than she had imagined.

She could not stay here any longer, not even for Moira.

Somehow, she made her way back to the ballroom without seeing another person, and she only prayed that her countenance was not too distraught, though she knew that if anybody looked closely enough, they would see her distress. But if what she had just heard was true, no one would look at her anyway. No one would care.

She saw her husband instantly, standing and talking with his friends, and she cursed the fact that he was never alone. She approached, unnoticed by anyone, and touched his arm. “Whitlock, can we leave?”

“What’s that, Kate?” he asked with a smile, turning to face her. Then his smile vanished and he looked at her with concern. “What is the matter?”

She shook her head, feeling the eyes of each of his friends upon her. “Can we go, please?”

“Kate,” he whispered, stepping closer, “we have only just arrived. We cannot possibly…”

“Please, Derek,” she begged, her voice breaking as more tears rose to the surface.

He stopped talking and looked a trifle stunned, but instantly he nodded. “Yes, of course… Of course, we can.” He turned to Nathan. “Sorry, Nate, but we have to leave.”

“It’s quite all right,” Nathan responded, still looking at Katherine with concern. “I am certain that…”

“Katherine?”

She closed her eyes as Moira’s voice met her ears. Then her arm was seized and she opened them to find Moira directly beside her, looking worried.

“Katherine, what happened, what is it?”

She shook her head again. “I have to go, Moira, I’m sorry, but I…”

“What happened?” Moira asked again.

“I do not wish to create a scene,” Katherine whispered, as tears continued to threaten.

“You aren’t,” Derek assured her, taking her other arm gently. “Duncan is blocking everybody’s view, and nobody ever looks at Colin anymore.”

“It’s true,” Colin said with a sigh, for once not against her. “You are in luck, Lady Whitlock. They are getting my more popular side at the moment.”

She tried to smile, but could not manage it. “I just…” She broke off with a sharp inhale as she saw Lady Greversham enter with two companions, and she knew immediately those were the women she had heard. Worst of all, they were women who had been one-time friends of her mother. As if she were hearing the words for the first time, she felt as though a knife were slicing through her, and her hand fluttered to her throat.

“What is…?” Moira began, but then she saw where Katherine was looking, and stopped. “Oh,” she said in a very low, very dangerous voice. “Don’t say another word, my dear. I will take care of this.” She immediately gave Katherine a tight squeeze of a hug, and then marched directly over to a very pretty blonde not too far from them.

“Oh no,” Nathan groaned, swaying a bit.

“What?” Derek asked, looking around, but still holding onto Katherine’s arm.

“That is my sister-in-law Caroline,” Nathan muttered, shaking his head. “She has a vendetta against Lady Greversham and only needs an excuse to act. She and Moira have become thick as thieves. I think you had better leave now before those two hatch a scheme that will probably make us all very proud, and the rest of Society exceptionally appalled.”

“Say no more,” Derek said with a raised hand. “I trust we can leave the resolution of anything unpleasant to you lot?”

“Oh, yes,” Geoffrey agreed, nodding. “You can be sure we will find some way to blame Colin for this.”

“I’ll take it,” Colin chimed in at once. “I need all the attention available.”

Katherine nodded gratefully at the group, but could not say more. Thankfully, Derek led her out a side door quickly, his grip on her arm the only thing holding her up. The closer to the carriage they got, the harder it became for her to keep her emotion contained. It was going to all come out in one panicked, sobbing mess, and if she could avoid completely breaking down before her husband, it would be a miracle.

Derek was grateful he knew this house so well, as it enabled him to get Kate out of that ballroom and away from the public eye swiftly. He had no idea what could make his strong wife break like this, but he found himself rather enraged, and he didn’t understand it. All he knew was that he needed to get her home and get to the bottom of this.

Their carriage arrived rather quickly, for which he was grateful. He helped Kate in, then climbed in after her, and they were off.

Derek watched Kate carefully, waiting for an explanation. She stared out of the window, holding herself as stiffly as possible. But he could see her chin and her lower lip, and both were trembling. He couldn’t take it.

“Kate,” he said as gently as he could. “What happened?”

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then her shoulders heaved and gasping, panicked sobs started racing out of her. Stunned beyond action for a moment, Derek sat across from her, staring helplessly. Then his sense returned to him, and he moved to the other side of the carriage, not sure if he should touch her or hold her or leave her be.

“Tell me, Kate,” he pleaded quietly, deciding to take her hand in his.

“I’m… trying, you… idiot,” she gasped, raising her free hand to her throat, as if it might help her breathe.

Derek almost smiled at her retort.

Gradually, she was able to tell him exactly what had happened, and, as he thought, he was disgusted. He was half tempted to turn the carriage around, go back to Nathan and Moira’s, and bring down all of the power and influence of the name of Ashcombe, Whitlock, and Chambers upon each of those women.

What Derek did not expect was the rest of the things came out of Katherine. Soon she was talking about not being able to be a proper duchess, how she would never live up to the standards she needed to, how she didn’t know what she was going to do without her mother to turn to for help, how she could not possibly be a mother herself when she did not even like the man who would be the father of her children, a point which made Derek flush slightly.

“And… and…” Katherine tried, still gasping. “And I am
not
a bloody whore!” she cried, bursting out into fresh tears again.

Derek’s heart stopped. “You heard that?” he whispered.

“I have
never
been unfaithful to you,” she said, poking a finger into his chest. “I would never do that to you or to our family name. I have never even considered it for a moment.” Her jaw quivered and her eyes flooded once more. “And nobody would want me anyway. Nobody does. Not even you.”

“I didn’t mean it, Kate.” He immediately decided to forgo his pride and pulled her against him, knowing she would probably shove him away. “I’m so sorry. I should never have said anything of the sort. I know you wouldn’t. I know, I know.”

“I know I make you miserable,” she sobbed, surprising him once more by burying her face against him. “I will try to be better, I promise I will.”

“I know, Kate,” he soothed, rubbing her back. “I will be better, too, I swear.”

She nodded, sniffling. Just when he thought it might finally be over, she burst out with, “And I hate black crepe! I look terrible in it, and I do not want to wear it. It is depressing, and morbid, and uncomfortable, and I hate it!”

“Then you don’t have to wear black crepe, Kate,” Derek said in a placating voice, wanting to laugh just a little.

“I do, too,” she huffed, pushing against him finally. “Society says…”

“Hang Society, Kate. Don’t wear it. Wear whatever you want. I will buy you dresses in twenty-seven shades of purple, brown, grey, and any other dark color you want, in whatever fabric you want. It doesn’t matter. Your mother is not here to be scandalized.” He broke off and winced, releasing her as she sat back to look at him. “Was that too insensitive?”

“It was insensitive,” she said slowly, but a small smile briefly graced her lips, “but it was also remarkably true.” She sniffled, and thought for a moment. “I choose to not wear black, or crepe.”

“Very good,” he praised, nodding in approval.

She grimaced suddenly and shook her head back and forth, as if she were trying to shake something from her hair or she just had a chill.

“What?”

She shuddered. “I think I just heard my mother turn in her grave. It was… rather unpleasant.”

Derek hesitated only a moment, then released the laughter he had been holding in all night. Kate smiled and wiped at her cheeks, sitting back against the seat.

“Better?” he asked on a sigh, as he matched her pose.

She nodded. “I’m so sorry for doing that, Whitlock. It was…”

“Call me Derek,” he interrupted on a whim.

She gave him a look. “What?”

“You have called me Derek twice now when you were feeling particularly emotional. I like it,” he admitted with a shrug. “My friends call me Derek, and I think you should too. I am your husband, Kate. When we are alone, just like this, or at home, call me Derek. When it is just the two of us, I don’t want us to be the marquess and the marchioness. Let’s just be Derek and Kate.”

“Katherine,” she muttered, but with a smile.

“Chamber pots.”

She snickered finally, the last of trace of her tears vanishing. “All right. Derek it shall be.”

They sat with their backs to the carriage seat for a moment, and then Derek nudged her shoulder with his own, grinning. “I hope you’re done crying for a while. It was quite a shock to me. I didn’t even know you
could
cry until yesterday, Kate.”

She nudged him right back with a smile of her own. “Shut up, Derek.”

C
hapter
E
ight

D
erek was actually rather pleased with the way things were going with Kate. Breakfast this morning had been quiet, but not unpleasant. They’d avoided the topic of last night’s emotional outburst, and he’d not missed the gratitude in her eyes when he started rambling about the food.

It was becoming obvious to him that her upbringing had been even stricter than his. Eventually, he hoped that she could break free from it, as he could not have a warm and friendly relationship with both Kate
and
her dead mother, who seemed to rule from the grave. He wished he knew severe enough curses that could reach her there, but alas, he did not.

Walking through the halls on the main floor of his home, he wondered where Kate had gone to now. He’d gone down to the kitchens after breakfast, finding the meals at home not to his liking, and discussed bringing in additional help for their young and inexperienced chef. He could hardly get rid of the man when Kate craved his pastries so fiendishly, if his reports and suspicions were correct.

And he wanted Kate to be happy.

Which was a bit of a strange thought.

A sound met his ears then, and he stopped in his tracks to listen. Was that…singing? And the pianoforte?

His thoughts trailed off and his mouth gaped. There was only one person in this house that could possibly be playing in the music room, and that was his wife. But Kate was not musical, was she? He would have known that, wouldn’t he?