More Than Charming (28 page)

“Yes,” Constance returned. “Our children will be born scarcely a month apart, Catherine.”

Catherine blinked and looked at James.

“You know, then?” James asked them. “Morgan told you?”

“No,” Chester answered, hiding his grin.

“Then how did you learn of it?” James asked.

Chester barked out a laugh. “You don’t believe your brother-in-law is capable of keeping such news a secret, do you?”

“Hardly,” James allowed with a chuckle.

Chester crossed the room to retrieve a bottle of brandy. “To celebrate, friend?”

“Indeed. But only the smallest amount for the little hens, please,” James added with a grin.

Catherine clicked her tongue at him and sat once more. As the ladies compared symptoms, the gentlemen fairly beamed with pride. Catherine wouldn’t think about the love match Constance had made. They were both blessed with attentive husbands and would soon be doubly blessed with their babies.

They called an early end to the evening in deference to the ladies’ conditions. After making plans to attend the opera together the next week, James took Catherine home. They readied for bed shortly thereafter.

“James,” she said as she sat in front of her vanity, “I’m so happy for Chester and Constance.”

“As am I, love,” he returned, stepping from the dressing room.

“I’m afraid that Constance still has a few weeks of sickness ahead of her.”

She rose and walked over to where he stood beside the bed, magnificent in his satin dressing gown. She had fond memories of this dressing gown. That first night, when she’d gone to him.

He placed his hands upon her shoulders, lightly caressing her through her nightgown and wrapper. “And what of you, sweetheart?” he asked, rubbing her shoulders. “Are you truly fine now?”

She smiled up at him. “Yes, James,” she said, untying the belt of her wrapper. “Quite fine.”

His eyes glittered as he ran his gaze over her. He placed his hands on her waist, easily spanning the space with his hands.

“You’re still so small,” he said, his brow slightly furrowed. “Are you certain all is well?”

“I daresay I’ll soon swell, husband,” she said, moving his hand down to the spot just below her navel. “Do you not feel that?”

James’s hand cupped the tiny bulge she showed him. He looked up at her, a big grin on his face. “Our baby grows,” he said in awe.

Catherine simply nodded. He placed a kiss on her belly and she drew in a breath. He came up quickly and captured her lips. She opened for him as she wound her arms around his neck. Holding her beneath her bottom, James turned and fell with her upon the bed. Their nightclothes were soon in a heap on the floor as he placed teasing kisses over every inch of her body. He lavished attention on her sensitive nipples, nipping and licking them thoroughly. She whimpered as he brushed his lips over the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs. She could feel his hot breath near her very center.

“James, please,” she urged, wild for his possession.

“Hmm?” he murmured. “What is it, darling?” he asked between kisses.

She cried out in frustration and pulled his hair. “James . . . !”

He laughed then, a slightly-strangled sound. With a soft groan, he lowered his head and touched his mouth to her.

Catherine nearly screamed as his tongue flicked over her hot flesh, driving her toward ecstasy. Her body arched wildly. When his fingers moved inside of her, she did scream, her climax running through her like a bolt of lightning.

James lifted his head and stroked her as her passion eased. “I love the way you respond to me, Catherine,” he rasped.

Before she could ponder that statement, he was inside of her, his thrusts deep. She clung to him as he drove into her, bringing her closer to her second release.

“Please—” she whimpered, her nails raking his back.

James whispered her name in answer, his control rapidly falling away. When she pulled him down to her for a kiss, he lost that control, giving a great shout as he exploded inside of her. Before he could ease his thrusts, she joined him in fulfillment, arching off the bed and taking all of him deep inside of her.

When their breathing eased, he lifted his head. “There’s no other woman in the world for me, Catherine.”

Sweet words, if a little strange. She opened her eyes, gazing up at him.

“I love you, James,” she whispered, stroking his face.

 “Catherine,” was all he could say. “I . . . Ah, Catherine.”

Catherine fancied she could see the love in his beautiful eyes. If he never said the words, it wouldn’t matter.

The week after they learned of Chester and Constance’s happy news, Catherine and James prepared for an evening at the opera. She realized with regret that the opera house would no doubt be much more crowded than the theater had been scant weeks earlier. It was nearly Easter, and all and sundry would be returning to town with a vengeance.

Catherine donned a beautiful gown of emerald green, quite sophisticated in design. The low-cut bodice hugged her figure and, while her waist was still small, her breasts were larger than they’d been when she was measured for the dress prior to her wedding. As she had for weeks now, she left off her stays.

She patted the curls piled on top of her head and stood in front of the cheval mirror, worrying over the expanse of flesh fairly threatening to spill over the top of her gown. Taking one of the thick curls, she draped it over her bosom, chagrined that it did nothing to hide her bosom from view. She turned her head as James strode out of the dressing room.

“Oh, James,” she said in mild irritation. “What am I going to do?”

“About what, love?” he asked absently, his attention focused on the precise tying of his cravat.

He wore black breeches with a waistcoat of deep blue. After shrugging into his charcoal gray jacket, he crossed to her. As his gaze swept over her, his eyes widened in obvious masculine appreciation.

“My God,” he whispered, his eyes on her creamy flesh. “You look . . . You don’t think to wear that dress to the opera, do you?”

“Yes.” Catherine placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side. “What am I going to do about these?”

He chuckled. “I believe I may have a notion or two.”

“James, I’m serious.”

“Don’t fret about it, love,” he said, placing his hands on her waist. “We’re sharing a box with Chester, and he’s hopelessly devoted to his wife.”

“Thankfully, yes,” she said with a sigh.

“But know this, wife,” James added. “Don’t think to step one foot out of that box without me on your arm.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she returned with a cheeky grin. She glanced once more in the mirror. “Perhaps I’ll keep on my wrap,” she muttered.

Still chuckling, James led her from the room and down to the waiting carriage.

There was quite a crowd of patrons at the opera when they arrived and they hastened to join Chester and Constance in their box. Catherine was thrilled with their position, as it was well above the main floor and she could watch the people milling about below. Their friends were already there and she and Constance immediately began to remark upon all that were in attendance, spying several acquaintances whom they hadn’t seen since the conclusion of the previous Season last August.

As the ladies ogled the crowd below, James and Chester spoke of some business matters. It was soon time for the performance to begin. They settled back in their velvet and gilded chairs and watched the stage intently as the musicians tuned their instruments.

The voices of the performers on stage were quite overpowering, and soon Catherine yearned for intermission to arrive. She fidgeted in her seat and let out a soft sigh.

James took her hand in his and leaned over, placing his lips near her ear. “Are you growing tired, sweetheart?”

“What? Oh, no,” she answered with a sheepish grin. “Although I do admit that I find the performance quite tiresome.”

He laughed out loud at that, causing several heads to turn in their direction. Schooling his expression, he simply nodded.

“There will be a break soon, love,” he promised. He flicked his head toward the stage, indicating a very large woman with a very large mouth. “Surely her voice is driving the horses out front quite mad,” he added in a whisper.

Catherine bit her lip to keep her own laughter from bubbling out. She shook her head at him and held more tightly to his hand.

Intermission soon arrived, much to Catherine’s relief. She stood and stretched with a soft groan. As she looked over at Constance, she found her friend looking a bit pale.

“Constance, are you feeling quite all right?”

Chester’s head turned sharply toward his wife. “What is it, love?” he asked worriedly.

Constance managed a weak smile. “I assure you all that I’m just fine, if a little tired,” she said easily. “I could do with some refreshment, however.”

“Allow me,” James said, coming to his feet.

He dropped a kiss on Catherine’s cheek and left the box, bound for the refreshment table. Constance turned to find her husband still wearing his worried frown.

“Perhaps we could take a turn about the lobby, husband?” she asked him.

Chester, relief clear on his face, nodded and took his wife’s arm. “Catherine, do you care to join us?”

“No thank you, Lord Chester,” Catherine answered. “I believe I’ll wait here for James’s return.”

Chester nodded and led his wife from the box. Catherine sat herself down once more and peered over the railing at the crowd below, her eyes searching for James’s dark head, his fine figure. Unable to spot him in the throng, she sighed and settled back in her chair.

“Are you having a pleasant evening, Catherine?” a feminine voice asked from beside her.

Catherine turned with a start. “Lady Brookdale!” She recovered herself and managed a small smile. “You startled me.”

“So sorry,” Priscilla said smoothly. She sat herself in the chair James had recently vacated and brushed her fingers over the sleeve of her brocade gown. “The performance leaves something to be desired, does it not?”

“A bit, yes,” Catherine allowed.

Priscilla ran her eyes over Catherine, apparently searching for some flaw. She gave a false smile. “I believe we share the same taste in a great many endeavors, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Hmm?” Catherine murmured. “I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning.”

“Oh,” Priscilla began with a sly grin, “we both recognize what a simply remarkable man your husband is.”

Catherine puzzled over the lady’s confounding words. “What does James—?”

“He’s so very charming, Catherine,” Priscilla cut in. “Ever solicitous.” She paused and leaned toward her captive audience. “He knows how to give pleasure, that’s certain.”

Catherine gasped at what she was intimating. “You can’t . . .” she sputtered. “He’s never . . .”

Priscilla simply smiled. She turned from her to gaze down at the crowd. Catherine blinked rapidly as she studied the very pretty widow beside her.

“He’s quite the gentleman, however,” Priscilla went on. “When we were last in contact, he told me that—”

“What?” Catherine cut in, her hands in fists in her lap, her cheeks hot. “You’ve had no contact with my husband.”

Priscilla smiled wickedly. “Oh, haven’t I?” she countered. “Why, I sent him a missive just two weeks ago.”

Catherine felt ice settle in the pit of her stomach. The note. The one James had stuffed into his pocket, saying he’d take care of it. Could it have been from Lady Brookdale?

“I admit I wanted to renew our, um, relationship,” Priscilla went on. “I believe he feels some sort of loyalty to you, however.”

Catherine paid scant attention to the irritation in the widow’s voice. She felt as if her heart was breaking. James lied about the note from this woman. What else had he lied about? She vaguely noticed when the woman stood, brushing her hands over her skirts.

“I wouldn’t count on that loyalty lasting much longer, my dear,” she said in parting. “Remember how easily Waltham cast you aside.”

With that she swept out of the box, the velvet curtains softly rustling in her wake. When Chester and Constance returned a few moments later, Catherine smiled wanly at them. They obviously noticed something amiss in Catherine’s demeanor but said nothing of it, much to her relief. No doubt they thought her fatigued. But when James returned with their drinks soon after, Catherine couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Catherine,” he said, holding her glass out to her.

She looked up at last, blinking back tears. James saw them and visibly blanched.

“Are you all right?” he asked, setting down the glass to take her hands in his.

She looked up at him, this charming man she loved, this handsome man whose child she carried. The possibility of his betrayal cut her to the bone. Favoring him with the smallest of smiles, she nodded.

“I’m fine, James,” she said in a small voice.

James took his seat beside her just as the curtain rose on the second half of the performance.

When the curtain fell for the last time, Constance looked quite done in. Bidding farewell to their friends, Chester gently grasped his wife’s elbow and helped her to her feet. They went downstairs to have their carriage brought around.

James had watched Catherine closely throughout the performance and even now his brow was furrowed as he stood and escorted her downstairs to the exit.

An icy rain had begun to fall, causing much delay in bringing the carriages around to the waiting patrons. James retrieved their wraps and led Catherine away from the milling crowd.

“Why don’t you wait here, love,” he said. “It’s frightful out. I’ll see to our carriage.”

Catherine nodded absently, barely noticing when he thoughtfully draped the cloak over her shoulders. But she couldn’t keep her eyes from following his form as he worked his way through the crowd toward the glass doors at the front of the opera house.

James instructed the attendants at the front of the house and turned, intent on swiftly returning to Catherine’s side. She looked tired and upset, a combination he found troubling. When he was barely halfway across the room, a slight figure suddenly stepped into his path. His eyes widened in surprise for a moment, quickly narrowing in disgust.