Page 148 of Kathryn

And she would have to think of it in a hurry because he was leaving in a mere five days.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The evening after Lady Grimsby’s party had been one of the longest of her life as Katie waited for Gerrit to confront her about the carriage ride with Jasper. But the servants must have held their tongues because her husband never mentioned it. Indeed, he had been more affectionate than usual last night. He’d stayed in her bed after their passionate coupling, but—for once—Katie had not slept. Instead, her mind had raced, her thoughts churning endlessly about Jasper and what to do.

Thanks to her sleepless night Katie was heavy-eyed this morning and grateful that Dulverton—who was busy with his bailiff—had postponed going to the dig until two o’clock.

Katie had ordered a pot of tea rather than her usual chocolate because she’d needed something to wake her up. Something to help her think.

She finished her last cup of tea an hour ago and now she was staring at the product of her morning’s labor: two sheets filled with her cramped handwriting. Did she dare give this to Jasper when she met him? Or should she bring the jewels?

“Your Grace, it is here!”

Katie jolted and swung around, ready to chide Becky about sneaking up behind her. But her maid held out a letter with familiar handwriting.

“Already?” she stupidly said, taking the message she’d hoped would not come for at least another day. She sighed and unfolded the letter, her eyes flickering over the few sentences.

“Well, what does it say?” Becky asked, radiating impatience.

It amused and comforted her when Becky forgot Katie was now a duchess and hectored her just as she had when they’d been girls.

“He wants to meet at that cottage… tonight.”

“Tonight? That is impossible!” When Katie did not immediately agree, Becky groaned. “Please tell me you are not considering it.”

“I am considering it.”

Becky cast her eyes ceilingward. “Why, why, why, why?”

“Do you think I am enjoying this, Becky? I have to end this, and it is not as if he is giving me any choice.”

“But tonight? How on earth could you get away?”

“I don’t know.”

“What time?”

“Midnight.”

“Midnight!”

Katie winced and cut Becky a quelling look.

Becky crossed her arms and shook her head, unquelled. “It will be full dark and too dangerous,”

“There is a half-moon.” Katie tore the message into tiny pieces before throwing it away. “It is as good a time as any and the path is well-trodden. There will be plenty of light.” At Becky’s skeptical glare she added, “I promise to be careful; will that satisfy you?”

“None of this satisfies me. Whatever will you tell His Grace? He is either in your chambers every night or you are in his.” She bit her lip, her face flaming.

Her friend’s mortification amused her and lightened her grim mood. Becky was scandalized by how often the duke came to his wife’s bed, not to mention being outraged that he did not just do his duty but stayed in Katie’s bed for part of the night. She had pondered telling the other woman that one’s wifely duty could be pleasurable, but decided to leave that conversation until Becky became betrothed. Judging by how much she idolized Mr. Court, hung on his every word, and spent all her free time with the taciturn valet, that would not be long.

“I don’t know what you’re smirking about,” Becky snapped.

“You will,” Katie said.

Becky narrowed her eyes.

“As for His Grace, I will just tell him I do not feel well. Or I will tell him—” Katie frowned and pulled open the overstuffed drawer on her secretaire desk, pawing the contents until she found her appointments diary. She’d hardly consulted the little book since she had no balls, parties, or other social engagements that required scheduling. She skimmed over the prior months, tracking the dates that marked the beginning and end of her flux.