Married to the Marquess (11 page)

She turned her tear-streaked face and glared at him. “Can you never be serious?”

He lifted his hands, then dropped them uselessly at his side, feeling more than a little lost in the face of her tears. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

She turned away from him. “What do you want, Whitlock?”

“I came to apologize for my behavior yesterday,” he said as he approached the bed cautiously. “It was inexcusable and rude and in appallingly bad taste, least of all because we had company. I should have met with you in private and perhaps we could have discussed things calmly, but considering our past, I doubt it.”

Still not facing him, she hiccupped and put a hand to her mouth, but nodded, which he took to be an acceptance of his words.

He sighed and took a seat in a chair across from her bed. “Kate, is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

She turned and looked at him, her expression full of confusion and suspicion. “Why?”

“Because, Kate, I am your husband, and I think I should start acting like it,” he said firmly, but he paired it with a kind smile. He was amazed he could even manage one.

She looked uncertain, and he thought she would put him off, and then his duty would be complete and he could tell Moira he had tried. But then, in a small voice, she said, “Do you… do you think we could just talk for a moment?”

Surprised beyond measure, he shrugged. “Of course, if that is what you want. Did Moira come to see you again today?”

She sniffled and nodded. “Yes. I invited her for tea. I thought it best, as she had called so many times.”

Derek almost swore, thinking that must surely be the reason for her distress after all, and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry about her. She is absolutely impossible to deal with.”

“I like her,” Kate said bluntly, sniffling one last time.

His brows nearly shot through the roof. “You do? I thought she would drive you to distraction.”

Kate smiled a bit. “She did at first, but you cannot help but like her, can you?”

“No, I suppose not,” he admitted with a chuckle.

“She says she is going to kill you.”

“Yes, she told me that, too.”

Kate tilted her head to one side, and looked confused still. “She says she is determined to like me,” she said slowly. “She wants to be my friend.”

“I thought she might,” he muttered dryly, but still smiling.

“Do you… do you think we could ever… be friends, Derek?” she asked in a timid, choked voice, forgoing all formality she had ever employed by addressing him by his given name, which, oddly enough, made him happy.

Her voice was so small, so full of tears, and it strangely hurt Derek to hear it. If she had asked him only yesterday, he would have laughed in her face. But then, she would never have asked yesterday. “I think we could, Kate. If you were not so impossible…”

“I beg your pardon?” she protested.

“…and I were not so stubborn…”

“That’s better.”

“…then yes, I think it’s possible that we could,” he said with a nod, and much to his surprise, he actually meant it. This Kate before him, the lonely, innocent Kate who was not constantly aggravating him, who did not control every aspect of his life without consulting him, who did not make him want to tear his hair out or climb walls or spit fire like a dragon, she would be someone he could gladly associate with. If this was who he married, he could see things growing much brighter in the future. If it was the other, then he was doomed.

“I would like to try,” she said simply, sitting up a little taller.

“Very well, then, we shall try.” He stood from his chair and bowed, then stuck his hand out towards her. “Hello, my name is Derek, Lord Whitlock.”

She gave him a confused, slightly amused look and took his hand. “Hello, my name is Katherine, Lady Whitlock.”

He gasped in mock surprise. “We share a title? How extraordinary!”

She quirked a brow and shook her head. “Are you always this droll, my lord?”

He shrugged. “Rarely. I’m usually quite a bore.” He paused at her surprised giggle, and fought a smile. “I wonder, Kate, if I may ask you to join me for breakfast tomorrow morning. I should like to make sure that my new friend has pleasant table manners, as I find bad table manners a sign of deplorable willpower and I could never be friends with somebody who uses the wrong fork.”

“No, I should say not. What a travesty,” Kate said seriously, surprising him with her quick reply, but then, he knew she was witty. Sharp, but witty. “I would be happy to join you for breakfast. What time?”

He pretended to consider it for a moment, then tilted his head. “Would eight o’clock be too early?”

“No, indeed, for I happen to be an early riser.”

“As am I,” Derek said, a little curious now.

“Eight o’clock at breakfast, then.” Kate smiled, giving him a nod.

Derek snapped out of his thoughts and bowed once more. “Very good. I shall see you then, Kate.” He smiled at her, then left the room and shut the door quietly behind him.

His curiosity was certainly piqued as he made his way to his own chambers.

What else could he have in common with his wife?

C
hapter
S
even

A
t eight o’clock sharp, Katherine hesitated outside her own breakfast room, feeling absolutely ridiculous in doing so, but she could not be certain which husband of hers she would be greeting this morning. If it was the man she had arranged this meeting with last night, it would be amusing. If it was the husband she was used to, it could be a disaster.

Still, she was willing to attempt cordiality and friendship, if he was. She had meant what she had said the night before; she did want to try. Moira’s words to her had penetrated some long-forgotten piece of her, and she realized that she had been lonely for a rather long time. She had been so focused and driven on doing her duty that she had shut the entire world out.

Now she wanted something else, something that once seemed far out of reach.

The door to the breakfast room opened, and there stood Derek, who was very properly dressed for breakfast, she was pleased to note. He bowed to her, the barest hint of a smile on his face, even as his green eyes danced.

“Good morning, Kate,” he said, offering her his arm in such a proper fashion that it almost seemed mocking.

She fought a smile and took the proffered arm. “Good morning.”

“I trust you slept well?”

She nodded. “Very well, thank you. You?”

“Like the dead.” He winced as he pulled the chair out for her. “I’m sorry, that was…”

“Just a phrase,” Katherine said with a wave of her hand. “You need not think everything regarding death or funerals is insensitive. I’ll not take offense.”

“Really?” he asked in surprise, dropping his overly proper act.

“
A duchess never takes offense where no offense is meant
,” she quoted with a smile.

He quirked a half smile and looked at her in slight confusion as he moved to the opposite end of the table. “What’s that from?”

“Mother’s rules for proper duchess etiquette,” she responded, feeling a little embarrassed. She had never told anybody about the rules that had been governing her entire life, nor where they had come from. It hardly seemed appropriate to do so.

Derek’s brows snapped together and, for a moment, he looked a trifle upset. “Did she have many of these rules?”

“Hundreds,” Katherine replied softly, wishing he would pick a new topic.

“Hmm,” he murmured softly, but said nothing further, still looking unhappy. But then the food was brought in and his expression cleared.

“So,” Katherine asked as she started on her meal, “what have you done with yourself of late?” She almost winced at the awkwardness of that statement. She had never been very good at small talk. She was far better at fighting with her husband than she was at trivial conversation with him.

He quirked a brow in amusement. “Of late? Or since our wedding?”

Relief washed over her. “Both, I suppose.” She offered him a tiny, apologetic smile. “I am afraid that I really do not know you all that well, even after all this time.”

He nodded, still amused. “Sad, isn’t it? But I suppose now is as good a time as any to start.”

And so they began to talk of themselves, very simply, without detail or embellishment. Katherine learned that her husband might not have been quite so lazy as she had previously thought, as he had spent the last few months helping Beverton with his estate. When asked he about her, she was embarrassed at not having much to tell him. Since their marriage, she had been here, working and managing and dictating the affairs of their estates. That was all she ever did.

He looked ready to comment on that when Harville came in with a letter and handed it to him. He took it with confusion, looked at the seal, and then frowned.

“Urgent, did you say?” he asked, not looking up at Harville.

“Yes, sir. That is what I was told.”

He muttered something under his breath, but nodded. He looked up at Katherine with regret in his eyes. “I apologize, Kate, but I have to read this. Will you excuse me?”

“Of course,” she said with some surprise. She had not expected him to be polite; she assumed he would simply leave. The fact that he bothered to ask made her question if perhaps he was not quite the imbecilic animal she had thought she had spent the last five years married to.

Perhaps.

He stood back from the table and walked past her, then stopped and took a few steps back so that he was in front of her again. “This was nice. I think we should eat together more often. What do you think?”

She knew she looked as surprised as she felt, but she managed to say, “I think that is a very good idea.”

He smiled. “No need to sound so surprised, I do have them occasionally, Kate.”

He walked out, but not before she called, “It’s Katherine.”

“Chamber pots,” he responded in kind, and for once, it made her smile.

But only a little.

Derek groaned and sat back in his chair, rubbing his forehead, hating his father at the moment.

The note he had received from the duke during breakfast was even more upsetting than Derek had imagined it would be, and he had a very vivid and accurate imagination where his father was concerned.

Of course, it had to do with David.

And, of course, the duke was counting on Derek to fix things.

It was getting to be ridiculous. David was no more reckless or irresponsible than any other gentleman of his age and station, and he was a good deal more sensible. In fact, David was one of the most intelligent people that Derek had ever met, but intelligence and normalcy was not something that mattered to their father. He only wanted them to appear far superior to everyone else.

He sat forward again and picked up the note, trying to decipher just what his father wanted him to do, in between the parts about fearing for the future and the rather dramatic imagery of washing his hands of the waste of space his son was becoming.

Even then, it was not very clear.

Against wisdom and habit, he dropped his head to his desk and banged it a few times, hoping it would either give him a new idea to relieve the situation, or kill him instantly so that he would not have to do anything about it at all.