Page 36 of Kathryn

Katie’s eyebrows shot up. “I just wanted to look.”

“And now you have.”

Her flaming hot face felt exactly as it used to do whenever her mother slapped her, a punishment the countess had used freely.

“And am I allowed the same right?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“May I refuse you admittance to my private domain?”

She hadn’t thought it possible for his eyes to grow colder, but they did. “I have no interest whatsoever in your sitting room.”

The quiet words were like a slap. Katie opened her mouth to demand if the same could be said for her bedroom, but thankfully he spoke before she could utter such foolishness.

“Come,” he said, gesturing to the door. “I will finish the—”

“I will show myself the rest of the house,” she retorted sharply, pleased when his tanned cheeks darkened at her snappish response. If he wanted to be rude and abrupt? Well, two could play at that game.

She thought he might insist—as if he didn’t trust her to roam his house unaccompanied—but he inclined his head. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

Katie did not enjoy snubbing him as much as she’d hoped. And so, she needled him a little more, “Before I leave, perhaps you might tell me if there any other doors I am not allowed to open?”

“You may open any door you please.”

Except this one.

A suffocating wave of weariness suddenly swamped her as she glared at her husband of less than six hours. This was her new life and thus far it was even more bleak and joyless than she had feared.

Overwhelmed by the grim vision of her future, she strode toward the door, desperate to get out of this place where she was not wanted.

The duke was there before her. Rather than let her out, he paused and said, “One more thing.”

Katie gave him a wary look.

“If you must use my Christian name, you should know it is pronounced heh-REET, not GAH-ret.”

And then he opened the door and waited silently for Katie to leave.

Chapter Ten

Gerrit glanced at the clock and gritted his teeth. It was now four minutes past eight.

He looked from the clock face to the two footmen who waited along with him. “Avery, will you please go and inform Her Grace that—”

The door opened and his wife breezed into the room. “I am sorry I’m late,” she announced, not sounding sorry in the least.

Willow came in behind her, and Gerrit knew his butler had probably been hovering outside the room wringing his hands. The old man’s gaze flickered anxiously from Gerrit to the duchess.

“You may serve now,” Gerrit said.

“Very good, Your Grace,” Willow said, soundlessly closing the door behind him.

Avery hastened to pull out Kathryn’s chair at the foot of the table. Rather than be seated, however, she stood staring from her seat to Gerrit’s. “What is your name?” she asked the hovering footman.

“Avery, Your Grace.”

“Avery, would you please move my place setting closer to His Grace?”