Page 48 of Kathryn

Was that how Dulverton thought of her—a whore? Is that why he had just treated her the way he had tonight?

Uncertainty rose within her, threatening to overwhelm the pleasurable afterglow from their coupling.

On the heels of that uncertainty was hot anger—at herself—for caring what Dulverton, or anyone else, thought about her. He had known she was not a virgin before he’d made his offer; there was no point in flogging herself all over again.

Katie rolled onto her side and winced at the soreness in her hips, her face heating in the darkness as she recalled her body’s worrisome reaction to Dulverton’s vulgar commands and encouraging words. Why would it arouse her to be called his good girl? She was a woman, after all, not a child. She yawned and decided that she did not want to examine the matter too closely. She could worry about that later. Much later.

Instead, she would be grateful that Dulverton was a skilled, considerate lover and bedding him would certainly be no chore. It was more than she had ever dared to hope.

And it is certainly more than you deserve.

Yes, it was. If Katie were to get what she deserved… Well, that would be grim, indeed.

Chapter Thirteen

Dulverton’s cortege left the following morning at first light.

Katie had traveled with Hy and Chatham times beyond counting and was accustomed to ducal pomp, but she’d never experienced anything as grand as this journey.

“Four lovely black coaches all with four identical black horses,” Becky murmured, all but bouncing on her seat in excitement, her cornflower-blue eyes glued to the window as they rolled away from Dulverton House. “Four,” she repeated before turning to Katie. “And Mrs. Kent said that two more coaches loaded with trunks already went to Briarly last week. Have you ever seen the like?”

“Four. Amazing.” Katie yawned and rubbed her eyelids and then winced; it felt as if somebody had sprinkled sand beneath them. Although it had scarcely been eleven o’clock when Dulverton left her chambers, she had tossed and turned until well after two. When Becky had roused her at six o’clock that morning, Katie felt as if she’d only just closed her eyes.

“Here, Your Grace.” Becky held out a small flask wrapped in a knitted cozy.

“What is it?” Katie reached for it.

“Hot chocolate. I thought you might want it as you did not break your fast.” The words were chiding. Katie had begged another half hour of sleep in lieu of eating.

“You think of everything, Becks.” Katie wrapped both hands around the warm wool and lifted it to her mouth, drinking greedily. “Ah,” she sighed after several mouthfuls of satiny hot chocolate had slid down her throat. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Becky clucked her tongue.

Katie gave a tired chuckle. “I am sorry. I meant to say thank you, Stone.”

Becky rewarded her with a prim smile and then turned to watch as London slid away. “I am glad to escape this nasty heat.”

Katie gave a noncommittal grunt and took another greedy gulp of chocolate.

“Jeremy says the master usually stays at Briarly all the way up to shooting season, which is when he goes to Spenwood.”

“Who is Jeremy?”

Becky pointed to one of the red-headed servants in livery riding beside the coach. “He is the one of the gingers—the handsomer one.”

“Aren’t they identical twins?”

“Yes.”

“Then one cannot be more handsome than the other, Becks, er, Stone,” she corrected at Becky’s scowl.

Katie enjoyed the last of the chocolate in peaceful silence before screwing on the cap and handing it back to Becky, who tucked it into a large hamper beside her feet.

Katie yawned, shifted her bottom on the plush leather until she was more comfortable and briefly considered removing her ankle boots. After a moment, she dismissed the notion. Her oh-so-proper maid would object if she sat in an un-duchess-like manner and Katie was too tired to argue right now. “What is the other twin’s name?” she asked.

“Jacob.”

“How… alliterative.”