Blame It on Bath Page 0,12

Katherine hated to subject Birdie to Lucien’s censure, but everyone knew Birdie had left the house. There was nothing to gain by trying to hide it. At least claiming she had given Birdie permission to go meant Lucien couldn’t direct his full ire on the abigail. Katherine set her candle down on the mantel. The room looked as she had left it, a fire burning low and a lamp glowing on the table by the armchair near the hearth. “Why were you looking for me?”

He glanced pointedly at the bed, cloaked in shadows in the corner but clearly untouched. “I wished to see that you were well, but obviously you are. Your headache, I presume, is better?”

“Some. I couldn’t sleep,” she said evenly. “I was reading.” She gestured toward the chair.

He walked over and picked up the book she had left on the table. “Tillotson’s Sermons.” He glanced at her, pleasure lighting his face for the first time. “I’m pleased to see you reading it.”

“Every night.” Lucien had given her the book and urged her to read it, so she did. Every night she read another sentence or two, just to prove it. She might have had more respect for Lucien’s devout faith if he hadn’t used it as a cudgel against her, berating her for any sign of independence or gaiety, which he termed willfulness and indecency. Katherine never thought of herself as a frivolous person, but her heart and soul strained against the dour, obedient cage into which Lucien wanted to shut her. Even her late husband Lord Howe enjoyed the theater, and he’d certainly had no objection to drink and fine clothing.

Lucien turned the book over, seeing where she had marked her place. “I see you haven’t progressed far.”

“I have tried to give it the thought and consideration you requested.”

He shot her a keen look, but Katherine knew her face was placid and serene. She had become quite expert at masking any sign of impatience or disgust, happiness or eagerness, any emotion at all, really. Howe had liked his wife to be ever calm and undemanding; vigorous emotion wasn’t healthy for women, he claimed. Lucien only enlarged upon that desire, wanting her to be subservient and biddable, subjecting herself to his judgment at all times. Katherine sometimes wasn’t sure if she still knew how to smile or laugh, although she was pretty certain she could still lose her temper, given enough privacy and space to do so. Even now, when the chill of her evening’s daring escapade still clung to her skin and Lucien watched her with sharp, critical eyes, she could feel the heat of fury licking at the edges of her mind. She couldn’t give in to it, but she could still feel it.

“I hope it will show you enlightenment on what you must do,” Lucien said. His moment of approval had faded already, and he fixed a stern eye on her. “You cannot put it off forever, Katherine.”

“I hardly think it has been forever,” she replied. “Not even a year yet of mourning for your uncle.”

He pressed his lips together in irritation and glared at her, but he was caught by his own words there. Lucien had never been subtle about his belief that a woman should obey every dictate of propriety, and at first he praised her circumspection. Then he learned how badly indebted his inherited estate was to her, however, and his views on mourning periods underwent a marked change. Katherine had used that mourning like a shield as she tried to find a way out, but she had a feeling Lucien would soon declare her mourning—and his patience—at an end. Katherine pictured tall, strong, handsome Gerard de Lacey facing down Lucien, whisking her away from the grim, ascetic life Lucien planned, and said a silent prayer he would agree to her proposal.

“Nevertheless,” Lucien said in a cool voice, “we cannot delay forever, my dear. Your respect for my late uncle’s memory does you great credit, but we must secure the estate. I am sure no one could fault you for shortening your mourning when the circumstances are so pressing. You know we came to town only to settle your affairs and make arrangements for the wedding. I expect us to be married by the end of this month at the very latest.”

She felt a bit light-headed at the sudden demand. “That is very soon,” Katherine protested.

“I cannot afford to wait,” he exclaimed. “The estate cannot afford it. The Howes have been