“You only see what you want to see,” he replied. “All right. I must make arrangements to see the duke.”
“Say no more. I’ll leave you alone.”
After she left the room, he turned his attention to what he’d say when he confronted Catherine’s father.
Chapter Seven
The Duke of Rumsey’s eyes bore into Ethan, and though sweat trickled down his back, Ethan refused to break eye contact. The duke remained sitting behind his desk, and since he hadn’t offered Ethan a seat, Ethan stood across from him. But Ethan wouldn’t yield and run from the library. If he was going to be dealing with the duke for the rest of his life, he needed to pretend the duke couldn’t intimidate him. And considering the weight of the duke’s stare, that was no easy feat.
“How did news of your impoverished status make it into the Tittletattle?” the duke asked.
Ethan shrugged. “How does anything make it into the Tittletattle?”
“Do you think by answering my question with a question that you’re being clever?”
“No, Your Grace.”
“Are you telling me that the Tittletattle makes up stories about you?”
Ethan paused because this was a trick question. If he said yes, he’d expose himself and Agatha. If he said no, he’d admit he was poor. “Quite frankly, I don’t think the Tittletattle should exist. All it does is create problems.” There. That should throw him off the trail.
“You didn’t answer me.”
Ethan inwardly groaned. Why couldn’t the gentleman forget the blasted question?
“I want to see your steward,” the duke finally said.
“No.”
“No?”
“No!” Ethan took a deep breath and strengthened his resolve. “Either you believe me or you don’t, but I already told you the truth. I am not a pauper.”
The duke didn’t blink, and though it took all of Ethan’s willpower, he didn’t either. The duke clenched and unclenched his jaw a couple of times before he finally spoke. “This is how it’s going to be? I’m going to ask you questions, and you’re going to be disrespectful enough to either ignore me or refuse my request?”
“With all due respect, you didn’t request to see my steward. You demanded to see him.”
He tightened his hold on his armchair. “And if I had asked?”
“I’d still say no.”
He closed his eyes. Ethan thought he saw some smoke come out of the duke’s ears but figured that had to be his imagination. The duke, after all, wasn’t a dragon, even if he acted like one.
“My finances are my business,” Ethan said. “If I owed you money, it’d be one thing. But since I don’t—”
“You are going to marry my daughter, and you have the nerve to be belligerent with me?” the duke yelled, rising to his feet.
Ethan jumped.
The duke hurried around the desk, and Ethan backed up to the door, relieved it was open. If the duke killed him, there would be witnesses. To his surprise, the duke came within a few inches of him and stopped. “My daughter is the most important thing in my life, and despite my wishes, I have to hand her over to you. As her father, I have a right to know that in addition to your corrupt lifestyle, you’re not going to submit her to poverty!”
Ethan swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “All right.” Her father made a good point. If Ethan had a daughter and thought she was about to end up with a pauper, he’d demand to see the steward, too.
The duke visibly relaxed.
Figuring that the sooner he relieved the duke’s fears, the better, Ethan cleared his throat. “Then you’ll be going with me to my townhouse?”
“I wouldn’t dream of traveling anywhere with you. I’ll go in my own carriage.”
Why wasn’t he surprised? Deciding not to comment, Ethan turned and followed her father out of the library. On their way to the front door, the footman opened it and Catherine and Lady Roderick stepped into the townhouse. They were laughing and holding a few expensive packages. No wonder the duke worried over his daughter’s fate. She was a spendthrift! Well, that was no matter. He had more than enough money to keep her happily spending money for the rest of her life.
The ladies stopped when they saw the two gentlemen. “Father, what is he doing here?”
The disdain in Catherine’s voice didn’t go unnoticed. Ethan was ready to make an equally disdainful reply but decided against it since her father stood right next to him.
“I have some pressing matters to tend to,” her father said. “I won’t be gone long.”
“You’re leaving with him?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.
“Only for a short time. It’s only business.”
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Ethan greeted the ladies then went to his carriage. Once he was settled in his seat, he let out a weary sigh and closed his eyes. He honestly didn’t know who upset him more. While this whole ordeal was his mother’s fault, the duke and Catherine weren’t helping matters at all. Granted, he could understand that they weren’t happy. That was to be expected. But couldn’t they at least make an effort to be nice?
In his mind, he got a glimpse of his upcoming marriage. His wife would see him as nothing but a rake and would shun him. His father-in-law would be looking over his shoulder, ready to examine every little thing he did or didn’t do. And his mother would undoubtedly be hinting at an heir. He grimaced. His future was going to be a nightmare.
***
In the middle of May, Ethan and Catherine’s close family and friends gathered at St. George’s Church for the wedding, or rather, the disaster. Ethan tried not to notice the way the duke glared at him or the fact that Catherine sobbed relentlessly into a handkerchief. The whole thing was humiliating. The only person who was happy with the event was his mother who kept grinning from ear to ear.
Once the horrifying wedding was over, they went to the breakfast supper. He had to sit next to Catherine who continued to dab her eyes with a new handkerchief. At one point, he set down his fork and groaned.
“Will you please stop crying already?” he asked, wondering how many tears a lady could possibly have. Good heavens, but she must have cried a river at this point!
From her other side, her father directed his sharp gaze at Ethan. “What else would you expect from someone attending her own funeral?”
Just as Ethan was about to reply, his mother, who sat on his other side, patted his hand. Peering around him, she offered the duke a glowing smile. “It’s normal for brides to cry.”
“Those aren’t tears of joy,” Ethan muttered.
“Of course, they are. She just doesn’t know it yet.” She patted his hand again and looked at Catherine. “You’ll love your bedchamber. I spared no expense in decorating it. Your furniture is made of rosewood. Oh, I can’t express how beautiful it is to see chairs with such rich, deep brown color in them. They go so well with your peach bedding and curtains. Peach is such a soothing color, don’t you think?”
Ethan gagged. Like he wanted to be subjected to talk of decorating bedchambers! “Mother, would you like to change seats so you can discuss this in detail?”
She laughed and waved her hand at him. “I wouldn’t dream of separating you from your bride. This is your special day. It’s a new beginning. Think of it as the first day of the rest of your life.”
That made Catherine cry even harder.
“It’s not working, Mother,” Ethan replied, wondering why she insisted on acting so cheerful.
This was anything but a cheerful event, and all the food and music in the world wasn’t going to lift the feeling of doom that hovered in the air. Even the guests, who consisted of a few family and friends were unusually quiet during the whole thing. And who could blame them? This really did seem like a funeral.
Ethan managed to finish his meal, not because it was easy to eat but because the food was good and no matter what the circumstance, he refused to let good food go to waste. He noticed that Catherine didn’t bother
to eat any of it, though she poked her food with her fork from time to time.
Meanwhile, Ethan’s mother chatted with some of the guests about the fine decorations and the excellent music. They offered stilted replies while glancing warily at Catherine, but no one came right out and called the whole thing a farce so Ethan supposed it went as well as could be expected.
By the time it was over, Catherine’s father asked to speak with Ethan. Though he didn’t want to, he didn’t dare upset him or Catherine any more than he already had, so he agreed.
Finding a secluded spot, her father clenched and unclenched his jaw. “This is a conversation I never wanted to have, but it appears I have no choice,” he quietly said.
“Your Grace?” Ethan hesitantly asked, not sure where the other gentleman was going with this.
“It’s not in my nature to be so bold, but my daughter is a delicate creature so I must.”
Ethan couldn’t argue that. He knew ladies were prone to crying and fainting, but Catherine was obnoxiously so. Every time she walked, she needed to lean against her father as if she didn’t have the strength to manage on her own, and she was still crying. He’d be fortunate if she didn’t fill his townhouse with her tears and float them all out to sea.
“Ethan,” the duke began with a shudder, a silent indication that he hated thinking of Ethan as family but had to now that the wedding was over. After a long, and what Ethan suspected was an intentionally dramatic pause, the duke continued, “I must insist that you practice the utmost restraint tonight. You can’t approach her as some common whore.”
His jaw dropped. Was his father-in-law serious? Why was he having this discussion with him? And now? He glanced at the others who, thankfully, remained out of hearing distance.
“You will be gentle with her, and you’ll be quick,” the duke added. “Do I make myself clear?”
Unable to believe this was happening, he stared dumbly at him. He had no idea the duke could be so blunt. Good heavens. Between his mother and his father-in-law, he was being pestered from all angles!
“Well?”
The impatient tone in the duke’s voice prompted him to respond. “Yes. Of course. I wouldn’t dream of being any other way with your daughter.”
The duke looked visibly relieved. “Good. I believe you’ll do it.”
Ethan remained still as the duke returned to his daughter. Never in his life did he think a wedding night could terrify a gentleman, but he was absolutely and completely terrified. He had no desire to be with Catherine in bed. All she’d do was cry. What gentleman wanted that? The whole thing made him sick to his stomach.
Well, there was an easy way to handle that. He wouldn’t go to her bedchamber. Then he wouldn’t have to force things along while she sobbed into her handkerchief. Relieved, he went to Catherine, forcing a smile to the guests who offered their congratulations.
When it was time to go to the carriage, Catherine wobbled on her feet and claimed she was weak, so his mother rushed to put her arm around her and steadied her. He knew it was awkward that his bride sought help from his mother, but it couldn’t be helped. Even if his mother was the deceitful mastermind behind this travesty, Catherine would find more comfort with her than with him.
They entered the carriage and Catherine refused to sit next to him, so his mother sat between them. As the coachman led the horses forward, he shook his head and stared out of the small window. It was ridiculous. The guests had to be laughing over the whole ordeal. He knew he’d be laughing if he was watching it. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. Not only would he be laughing, but he’d hurry over to White’s to tell the gentleman all about it.
“Ethan, it’s bad manners to grumble when you’re leaving your breakfast dinner,” his mother admonished. “People are apt to think you don’t want to be married.”
“They’d be right,” he hissed.
Catherine stopped sniffing into her handkerchief and glared at him. “I don’t want to be married to you either!”
He made it a point to roll his eyes so she’d notice. Like everyone didn’t already know that! “At least I didn’t groan during the whole wedding and meal.”
“I didn’t groan.”
“Your endless crying is just as bad.”
His mother let out a hearty chuckle. “What you two need is time to sit and talk to each other. Once you do, you’ll realize how ideal you are together.”
He bit back his reply. It wouldn’t do any good to argue. His mother refused to listen to reason. While his mother continued to console Catherine, he crossed his arms and turned his attention to the window. The irony wasn’t lost to him. He’d spent the last five years carefully crafting his reputation in hopes of avoiding marriage, and yet it was his reputation that forced his mother to take such extreme measures. And now, he wasn’t only married, but his marriage was already a dismal failure.
When the carriage finally came to a stop, he waited as the footman opened the door before daring a glance in his bride’s direction. At least she wasn’t crying anymore. Her eyes were swollen and her cheeks and nose red, but she wasn’t crying so that was progress. After she and her mother stepped out of the carriage, he reluctantly followed them.
Though he’d love nothing more than to run off to White’s, the taunting from the gentlemen there would be unbearable. “You swore you’d never marry,” they’d say. “So much for your boasting!” Then they’d make bets on whether or not Catherine could tame him.
Well, he did have one small comfort. The townhouse was large enough where he could be alone, and he had his own bedchamber. When he entered the townhouse, the butler informed him that he had a package waiting for him in the library. Surprised, he left his happy mother with her new daughter-in-law and went to the library to see what came for him.
He recognized the handwriting as soon as he saw the small box wrapped in brown paper. It was from Agatha. His curiosity piqued, he opened it. In the box was a jar of olive oil and a neatly folded paper. Even though he had a sinking sensation what the jar was for, he opened the letter and read it.
Before you disregard the jar, keep in mind I was married. Albeit, it was for almost twenty-four hours, but even so, I have experience in this area that you’ll benefit from. Your wife’s first time will most likely be disappointing. This isn’t your fault. You don’t know what to do. However, it works to your advantage that she doesn’t know this. I’m afraid there’s little you can do to relax a frightened young virgin, but you must not hop on top of her and stick it in right away. My advice is for you to touch and kiss all of her. Take time to adore her. Then put four to five drops of olive oil on your finger and slip it in the area between her legs. It’ll make things more bearable for her, and she’ll be more receptive to you next time you visit her bed.
Ethan quickly placed the jar back in the box and tore the letter so his mother and his new wife wouldn’t read it. He closed the box and slipped it into the drawer of his desk. While other gentlemen might have been appalled at Agatha’s boldness, he expected it from her. Sure, she wouldn’t behave that way in polite society, but they both knew each other well enough to put aside such formalities when no one was around.
Even though he’d never admit it, he was relieved she gave him something to use to help the process go easier. He’d hate for Catherine to be so frightened over her first time that the duke would pick up on it. Granted, she would never tell him her first time was a disaster, but somehow—some way—Ethan knew her father would figure it out. The duke was a sly fox.
However, it wasn’t an issue tonight, so Ethan could rest assured that, at the moment, he was safe from trying to make Catherine’s first time bearable enough where she wouldn’t collapse into another bout of tears. He went over to the shelf, picked up his decanter and poured himself a glass of brandy. The day had been awful. He didn’t know how it could get any worse, but he was sure if he spent any time with Catherine or his mother, it would. So he spent the rest of his time holed up in his library, reading a book.
Chapter Eight
Catherine accepted the tea from Ethan’s mother and took a sip. The two were alone in the drawing room, and the closed door afforded them some privacy, giving her a much needed reprieve from her husband.
“You must not despair, Catherine,” Ethan’s mother softly said from where she sat next to her on the settee. “My son isn’t as awful as he appears.”
Though Catherine doubted it, she kept silent. Of course, a mother wouldn’t think the worst about her son. To her, he was a darling cherub who did no wrong, no matter what scandalous deeds the Tittletattle reported about him.
“I know it’s hard to believe,” she continued as if she could read Catherine’s thoughts, “but it’s true. He’s taken good care of me after his father passed on. I’ve never lacked for anything, and he’s never spoken an ill word toward me. I expect he’ll be the same way with you.”
She sighed in despair. There was nothing she could do to get out of this marriage, and she couldn’t believe any of the assurances his mother was giving her, though she wished she could. It’d make her feel better about this whole travesty.
“I want you to call me Rachel. We’re family now, and I’d like for us to be friends. I hope it’s all right that I call you Catherine?”
“You’ve been doing so already,” she blurted out before she had time to think about it.
Rachel laughed. “I know, but it just occurred to me that I didn’t ask. Given the circumstances of this wedding, I suddenly wondered if you’d want me to address you so informally.”
“I suppose. It doesn’t really matter.” Not since she was now trapped in this family. She forced down a sip of tea.
“While we’re alone and since you have no mother to address private matters with, I was wondering if you’d like me to explain what to expect in bed tonight.”
Even as her curiosity nudged her to say yes, she wondered if it was wrong to agree. She lowered her gaze to her cup and ran her thumb along its handle. As a lady, she wasn’t supposed to ask questions about such things. It was her duty to the crown. She understood that. She also understood it wasn’t supposed to be something she’d enjoy. But even so, she was curious about the whole thing.
A Most Unsuitable Earl (Regency Collection Book 3) Page 6