"No." His response was cold, angry.
"No?" Maria laughed as Benedict lit the candle nearest the bed.
The woman was draped with nothing but a sheet, her hair tumbling around her waist, a coquettish pout on her lips. "Spirited tonight, hmm?"
Benedict pinched his nose and prayed for patience. "Listen to me."
She leaned forward giving him a view that made him ill with disgust.
"If you do not leave within the next five seconds, I'm going to remove you myself, and I guarantee you there will be nothing sensual or erotic about it. Now, get out of my bed chambers."
Maria's smile fell, her eyes narrowed. "Is this a new game?"
"No!" he yelled. "Get out!"
Slowly, because Maria was provocative about everything, she pulled back the blankets of the bed, exposing herself to him. With languid movements, she reached for the nearest robe, wrapped it around her naked body and, with a seething glare, slammed the door.
"That went well." Benedict cursed again, then tumbled into bed. It was too late, and he was too irritated and upset with himself to deal with the woman tonight. In the morning… he would fix everything in the morning.
And hire a new housekeeper as soon as possible.
His eighth in the past two years.
Meaning, he had been going through at least four mistresses a year, hiring each of them as his housekeeper in order to keep things…
Convenient.
Their jobs were simple: be available to pleasure him at all hours of the day and night, and he would not only pay them a salary, but on their parting terms give them a special bonus.
He laughed bitterly.
A bonus?
For what?
Sex?
Convenience?
Utterly sickened, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Tomorrow would be the day the Devil came to terms with his demons.
Katherine woke earlier than usual and quickly dressed in a simple white muslin. If she was to be decorating and surprising Benedict, she didn't need to wear anything more lavish.
Besides, she would not be making any morning or afternoon calls. At least not today.
Excited for her idea, she quickly went to Bond Street and made several appointments for the house redecorating. Giddy with excitement, she made her way to Benedict's home.
It was located in Mayfair, much like hers. But it was big, so much bigger than she imagined it would be.
Nervous, she bit her lip and knocked.
A crisp-looking butler opened the door and peered down at her through spectacles.
"His grace has enough servants."
Katherine laughed. Did she truly look that horrendous? "No, I'm sure his grace wouldn't mind for me to visit. You see, I'm his fiancée."
At that, the butler's lips quirked into a smile and then his eyes darkened. "You poor thing."
"Pardon?"
He sighed. "I'll see if he is receiving callers. Why don't I show you to the Lavender room? Would you care for some tea, miss?"
"Lady Katherine Bourne."
"Pardon, did you say Lady Katherine Bourne?"
"Yes."
"W-well, why don't you have a seat, there, right there." His shaky hand pointed to the settee. "And I'll have Ma—" he coughed. "That is to say, I will have someone, anyone bring you tea."
"Alright." She smiled warmly and leaned back against the sofa, taking in the beautiful room surrounding her.
It was done up in purples and eggshell colors, beautiful actually, and not masculine at all. After a few minutes, she began to feel the need to snoop. After all, he was to be her husband in a manner of days.
Her eyes fell on the large bookcase at the far end of the room. Her gloved hand traced the furniture as she made her way to the books and began reading the titles.
Odd, they were all in strange languages. Curious, she picked one up.
And promptly dropped it to the floor.
What type of man kept books with pictures like — like that?
She tried another.
Same thing.
And another, until she had looked through at least ten books. All of them with graphic pictures she would never be able to remove from her memory as long as she lived.
Carefully, she put them all back, the last one, however had fallen on its spine causing the first page to flutter open.
Scrawled across the page were the words, My love, Maria.
Who in the blazes was Maria?
A sudden commotion took place outside the doors. A woman's voice. A man's. And then suddenly the door burst open.
A beautiful woman with dark hair and dark eyes came into the room. Her uniform was typical of a servant, and in her hand was a tray with tea and biscuits.
"Hello," Katherine greeted.
The woman glared.
Katherine cleared her throat. "You must be the housekeeper?" she guessed.
"Yes," the woman answered crisply.
A butler who stuttered and laughed, and a beautiful exotic woman with the manners of a streetwalker.
Apparently before any decoration was to take place, Benedict needed a new staff.
"Please, sit." The woman's eyes fell to the book in Katherine's hands then snapped back up to her face. "Find anything interesting, my lady?"
"O-oh, this? No, no, it fell, so I was putting it back." She felt heat rise to her cheeks as she pushed the book into its rightful place and shuffled back to the sofa where the housekeeper was laying out the biscuits and tea.
Katherine couldn't help but notice how striking the woman was. She could not be much older than Katherine herself. Jealousy surged, but Katherine fought it with everything in her. Perhaps Benedict was extending a courtesy. After all, a woman this striking would surely find herself in a house of ill repute if left to her own devices to survive. Shame washed over her jealousy.
As the woman made a curtsy to leave, Katherine reached out the only way she knew how, politeness. "Thank you… Apologies, I did not catch your name?" Not that it was typical for ladies to ask such things, but this woman did not need to know that.
The woman gave a hollow laugh. "Maria, his grace's seventh housekeeper in two years."
Odd. "Does he have trouble keeping housekeepers, Maria?" Katherine asked with amusement tickling her voice.
Maria turned cold eyes to Katherine. "Let us just say his grace has a variety of tastes."
Benedict awoke with a start.
His butler, Marsail, hovered over him, worry etched in his every feature.
"What the devil are you doing in my room?"
Marsail cleared his throat. "A young lady is here to see you, your grace. I thought it best to keep her away from other parts of the house, but I fear…"
"Who? Who is it?" Benedict demanded.
Marsail began to perspire. "She claims she is your fiancée, but that is a ridiculous notion, is it not?" He patted his forehead with a handkerchief.
Benedict reached for Marsail's coat and pulled him close. "Tell me that Maria is no longer here. Tell me that Lady Katherine has been locked in the very room you put her in."
Marsail looked away. "Maria stole the key."
"How does a tiny woman steal a key from you, of all people?"
Marsail began to shake.
"Never mind." Benedict cursed and pulled on his clothes in rapid fashion. His valet rolled his eyes when he strolled into the room, but aided in making him presentable, mumbling something under his breath that at least his grace was choosing to wear clothes after such a late evening.
Benedict chose not to comment.
He raced down the stairs and pushed open the doors to the Lavender room with such urgency he could have sworn they were going to fly off their hinges.
Katherine sat prim and proper, tea in hand, but her eyes were distant.
"Katherine?"
She licked her lips. "I shouldn't have come." She placed her tea on the table and rose.
"No, don't." Benedict reached out to her, but she pulled
away.
"Benedict."
"Yes?" His voice felt shaky. Devil take it, he was nearly trembling with fear, shame… all of the above.
"Why have you had seven housekeepers in the last two years? Why would a man need that many replacements… unless…"
She was assuming the worst, not that he didn't deserve it. "You should sit back down."
"I don't want to sit back down!" she yelled, her arms clenched at her sides. "Explain to me why you would need so many housekeepers." Her eyes pleaded with his. It was as if she was begging him to lie, to tell her that her suspicions were not correct.
He looked down at the floor. He couldn't bear to look at her, not now.
She walked toward him then. He saw her shoes beneath her dress, and slowly raised his eyes to meet her face.
"Tell me," she said.
"A man doesn't need seven housekeepers in two years, not unless he's the absolute devil. Not unless he hires them to be his live-in mistress. Not unless he's so deranged that he values convenience above all else."
"Alright." Katherine bit her lip. "Alright." She repeated, her head nodding up and down as if she was trying to make sense of the information.
"But…" Benedict grabbed her arms and pulled her against him. "I'm not that man anymore. I cannot be that man."
Katherine said nothing.
"I-I…" Benedict ran his hands through his hair. " Damn it, I promise you, I had every intention of getting rid of Maria last night when—"
"When?" Katherine's eyes narrowed.
"When I was in his bed," Maria's voice announced from the entryway. "Isn't that right, Benedict?"
Katherine jerked back in horror.
"You are a witch." Benedict glared at Maria. "Leave my house this instant."
"But what about your promise?" Maria tilted her head.
Benedict groaned.
"Promise?" Katherine asked.
"Yes, you see, his grace here is so brilliant in the way he hires mistresses. We live and work here, and then when he cuts us loose, as he's doing this moment, he settles us a grand sum of money for our troubles. I take it…" Maria looked Katherine up and down. "…that you will be housekeeper number eight?"
"That's it!" Katherine yelled and surged forward. Benedict didn't stop her, mainly because he knew he deserved whatever physical blow she would deal him.
But it wasn't him she was charging after.
Nor was it him that she hit, repeatedly.
He really shouldn't be amused. It wasn't the time to laugh, but seeing Katherine claw at Maria was a proud moment for him.
Maria screamed until finally Katherine relented and pushed her. "If you ever speak of me in that way again, I'll kill you."
Benedict wanted to add how truthful she was being. After all she had nearly killed him, how many times by accident now?
Katherine continued to push Maria until she was out of the room. "And if I ever see you here again, I'll not hesitate to shoot you. His grace will stay true to his promise. He will give you the money you deserved, spreading your legs like a whore. But know, this man," she pointed back to Benedict with fire in her eyes, "is mine. Do I make myself clear?"
Maria nodded several times before gathering her skirts and running out the front door.
Katherine's whole body shook.
Benedict couldn't comfort her, couldn't touch her, not after everything. Never had he felt so dirty, so debased. To see his innocent fiancée yell at his former mistress after revealing so much about his affairs. He could not bear it. Could not fathom it.
He truly was the Devil Duke.
"Benedict," Katherine said without turning. "You will still marry me."
It wasn't a question.
"If you'll have me."
"One question." Her hands opened and closed at her sides as if she was trying to regain feeling in her fingers.
"Yes."
"Last night, did you—"
"No!" he yelled, and then, "Absolutely not! You must know how I feel about you, Katherine. I would not do that to you. I have not touched another woman since that first night at the ball."
"Good," she said tersely.
"Good?" He shuffled closer to her.
"Yes." She whipped around and charged toward him.
Here it comes.
"You are mine. Mine, you devil! If I ever catch you with another woman, if you as much as grin at a woman in the next ten years of our marriage, I'll castrate you. Do I make myself clear?"
His body responded to her in such a violent way he he nearly fell to the ground. Groin tightening, he couldn't help the growl that passed through his lips at her possessive words. "Crystal." Heaven help him, he loved her. He wanted to tell her, to fall to his knees. It wasn't the time. Would it ever be the time?
"Fine." She pushed away from him and walked to the door.
"Katherine," he called.
She stopped.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The words seemed too shallow, not deep enough to convey how wretched he felt, how he wanted to cut himself open and bleed all over the floor.
Benedict wasn't sure how long he stood there, immobile. Matters became worse when people continued to shuffle in throughout the day in hopes to help redecorate a few rooms as a surprise-wedding gift from Katherine.
He was a cad.
He wasn't sure if he should get foxed.
Shoot himself in the foot.
Or just apologize again and again until she knew he meant it.
He started with flowers. As many as he could order, and sent them to her house. No response.
So he became creative.
He bought her a horse. Stupid idea really, what the devil was she going to do with an extra horse?
And then a thought occurred to him. When they were young, she had always liked to read. Books were her favorite pasttime, the little bluestocking.
With a smile, he placed his next order.
Books, lots and lots of books.
When his final gift elicited no response, he decided to make his way over there in person.
"Lady Katherine is indisposed and not receiving callers, your grace." The butler's expression was heated. Benedict half-expected his coattails to catch on fire.
"Do you know if she at least received the books?" Benedict asked.
At that, the butler's face broke into an amused smile. "Ah yes, I believe the lady mentioned something about using the books for kindling in place of wood. Brilliant idea, if I say so myself. Good day." The butler shut the door.
In his face. A duke's face nonetheless.
Benedict cursed and looked up at the large house, scaling the wall was out of the question.
Desperate, he ran around to the back.
Spying. He was now resorting to spying on the woman he was to marry.
A door opened, Katherine emerged onto the balcony, a sad smile on her lips. "Is he gone?"
"Yes, my lady." The maid curtsied. "Will that be all?"
"Yes, but, next time he arrives, allow him into the sitting room. I shall see him now."
Benedict almost ran back to the front of the house to knock on the door, but something in Katherine's expression gave him pause.
And then he saw them. Watery tears running down her cheeks. She lifted her dainty hand to wipe them away then let out a guttural sigh before laying her head against the rail of the balcony and hiding her face in her hands.
He was the reason.
Suddenly, he felt quite at odds with himself. As if he had put his boots on the wrong feet. Having made a mess of things, he knew the only person he could trust to give him adequate advice was the one person he never expected to be seeking wisdom from.
Agatha.
She should be arriving today.
After all, she was to make an appearance at the Kringle Ball in a few days, and she would want to rest up before she did so.
A new plan began to form in his head, one that caused a slight smile to replace the frown.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A Sad End, A New Beginning
Benedict appointed his very best footman to stand watch by his aunt's house. The minute she arrived, he wanted to know.
Hours later, he was knocking on the door with such force, he thought it would come off the hinges.
"Yes?" Baldwyn answered, odd. Where the devil was the butler? The minute his eyes fell on Benedict, he exhaled and pulled him into a hug. "I saw you from the window, by the time Agatha's old butler would have made it here, you would have been an old man."
Coughing was heard from behind Baldwyn. He rolled his eyes.
Benedict stepped into the house; it felt odd, almost eerie. "What's going on? Something's wrong." But everything seemed to be in place. From the perfectly calm servants to the sparkling floors.
Everything but… Agatha.
Dread shot down his spine, Benedict looked at Baldwyn with a questioning gaze. "I take it she's resting."
Baldwyn lifted his arm and scratched the back of his head, and it was then that Benedict was able to focus on his cousin's horrendous demeanor.
"What the devil happened to you?"
"Life," Baldwyn muttered. "Agatha, Anastasia, marriage, and a half-empty bottle of brandy, thanks for asking."
Benedict squinted and leaned in toward his cousin. "Let's start with the first one, though I can't help you with life, considering I've mucked up my own and that of the woman I love quite thoroughly. Let's discuss Agatha."
At the mention of her name, a nearby maid burst into tears and ran from the entryway.
Was the woman that much of a dragon to her own staff?
"She's not well." Baldwyn swallowed and looked away, his eyes glassy from being foxed or perhaps depressed.
"I need to speak with her."
"Follow me." Baldwyn led him to Agatha's chambers. "I'll just be outside while you two have a little chat."
Benedict opened the door and paused. "Baldwyn?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you love her?"
Baldwyn paled. "Agatha? Of course, you fool, anyone would—"
"Not Agatha. Anastasia. Do you love her?"
Immediately Baldwyn looked to the floor. "Yes."
"Then you should tell her before you lose her forever."
Benedict slapped his cousin on the shoulder and walked into the large room. It reeked of medicine and tonics. Confused, he looked from left to right until his eyes finally settled on a lump in the bed.
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