Duchess of Seduction (Hearts in Hiding 3)

Justin, lately, had not been the contented husband of old. The recent bolstering she’d silently received from him faded upon this acknowledgement as she dwelt upon the altered tenor of their relationship. A relationship that had begun with such hope and passion.

The colonel was still speaking. Lord, he could intone forever and she’d somehow know how to nod and murmur and smile in a way that was eminently satisfying to him.

But Justin was not like that. He could see through platitudes. He’d seen through her the moment her responses no longer indicated the true state of her heart.

Cressida squeezed her right hand into a fist until her fingernails pierced the flesh of her palm while her lips curved into a smile of even greater parody .

When had it all changed? Why had it all changed? Surely Catherine’s words were nothing more than evil gossip with not a jot of truth to them. Catherine had always been a trouble-maker. A fun cousin, to be sure, but a jealous, discontented one, ready to stir up trouble at the first opportunity, nevertheless.

“And this preoccupation with orphans when there are matters of governing that should take precedence.” The colonel’s whining monologue was accompanied by a great twitching of his mighty moustache. Fluffy and white like two rabbits’ tails lying end to end. If Catherine had been here, they might have giggled over it like two school girls if only to strip the conversation of any seriousness. Cressida was often confronted by emphatic views she did not share but which she was given no chance to refute. She simply wasn’t the kind of woman who used forceful words to indicate her feelings.

But there were other ways to ensure her wishes were acceded to.

Another frisson of discomfort snaked its way through her and she bit her lip as she continued to respond like a marionette to her undemanding audience. The colonel only required that she observe the niceties and give him a hearing. He didn’t really care what she thought.

But Justin— She swallowed painfully. Justin had always cared what she thought.

Justin. Longing tore at her as she turned towards him once more. She wanted to pick up her skirts and run through the ballroom, pushing people out of her way before snatching at Justin’s finely tailored coat sleeve. She wanted to beg him in an impassioned whisper to run out into the night with her. To press her body against his and twine her hands behind his neck while he kissed her senseless.

Senseless so she need not think of the consequences and she could again be the wife he needed and deserved.

“My husband believes governing means following a path that ensures justice even to orphans,” she said softly .

Justin adored children. Didn’t he? Of course he did.

Her mind felt suddenly fragmented as she tried to assimilate the current conversation with the the truncated exchanges she’d had with Justin over the past few months. The children. Her needs, their needs.

She swallowed uncomfortably .

Justin’s needs.

She shook her head as if that might shake out the demons while she confronted the unpalatable truth.

Cressida knew her behavior had not been beyond reproach— that she had withdrawn and that understandably, Justin was confused.

It had been some time since they’d enjoyed cosy evenings side by side upon the sofa; affection and playfulness leading to passionate bedroom trysts. How wonderful those days had been.

But the repercussions. She’d not thought they’d weigh so heavily upon her. Joyfulness had been the natural consequence of giving birth to their first healthy child. A second child had cemented the family unit. A third in such a short time had been tiring but Justin had insisted a second nurse was hired so that Cressida could regain her health as quickly as possible.

The birth of Thomas—their fourth—had been especially difficult.

Cressida sucked in a breath at the memory. She had nearly died. The pain had been like nothing she’d ever experienced and she’d wondered if she’d ever again feel like her body belonged to her as it once had.

Fortunately, she had healed but the fear remained. How could she ever go through that again?

Forcing aside her shame, she turned in the direction of her cousin and took advantage of a pause in the colonel’s complaints to say, “Catherine? A minute, if you please?”

Nodding politely at the colonel, Cressida waylaid the stately, dark-haired young woman dressed as a siren as the colonel—thankfully—responded to his wife’s perfunctory summons. With a little intake of breath and a stammered excuse, the recently gossiping Mrs. Browne slipped away while Cousin Catherine betrayed her guilt with a blush.

“Why, Cressy, I did not notice you. How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to wonder who Madame Zirelli might be and what she is to my husband,” Cressida responded with uncharacteristic harshness.

Catherine’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Cressy,” she gasped. “I had no idea you— I’m so sorry. But of course, it’s only gossip. You know how quick people are to jump to conclusions.” But her cheeks were flushed. She knew she was guilty of the charges Cressida made.

“Only gossip?” Cressida demanded. “Gossip which it seems I’m the last to know .”

Catherine became brisk. “I hope you’re not complaining, my dearest cousin, for we are not all as blessed as you with an indulgent husband. Behold Miss Hardwicke over there who is to marry the man beside her.”