Chapter 7
Staring at her reflection in the tall standing mirror, Catherine hardly recognized the image looking back at her. The gown’s pink hue infused her skin with warmth she did not feel, and despite assurances that it was perfectly respectable, Catherine found the décolletage a little too revealing. She bit her lip and frowned slightly. The gown seemed far too extravagant for a simple family dinner, but perhaps, she reasoned, her discomfort was due to a general lack of knowledge as to what was considered socially acceptable. It had been a long time since she had needed to dress for dinner.
The maid, thoughtfully sent by Lettie to assist her, had proved to be quite skillful with arranging Catherine’s hair. Now her heavy locks fell in a cascade of curls, interwoven with pink ribbons, over one bare shoulder. The overall effect was an appearance of fetching innocence, and while Catherine might not think the dress appropriate, she knew that she looked pretty.
She glanced at her own dark dress lying on the bed and for a moment was tempted to disobey her cousin’s wishes. But then she recalled the look on Lettie’s face. One that reinforced the notion such defiance would not go unpunished, except it wouldn’t be Catherine bearing the brunt of her cousin’s displeasure. Her face crinkled in an expression of disbelief. Surely Phillip would not be so unreasonable over something as mundane as a dress? But a voice in the back of her mind told her not to dismiss his wife’s alarm. Who knew him better? If it was important that she wear the gown Phillip had chosen, then she would wear it. If not to please her cousin, then to appease his wife.
It was impossible not to feel the tension in the house. It was so thick and oppressive, it threatened to crush Catherine the moment she stepped into the room. Lettie had warned her that Phillip was almost fanatical about punctuality, particularly at meal times, but dressing for dinner had taken longer than she anticipated. Hearing the clock strike the quarter hour, Catherine kissed Lettie on the cheek, and apologized for her tardiness, seeing a sudden glimpse of unease flare briefly in the other woman’s eyes. Whether the emotion had been shared by accident or design, Catherine could not tell, but in any case it was quickly hidden behind Lettie’s impenetrable mask.
Turning, Catherine now looked for the first time at her cousin, and her dislike was both instantaneous and vehement. She might not be aware of the current trend in women’s fashions, but she knew when a man was looking at her inappropriately. Her cousin wasn’t simply looking at her, his stare lingered, fixing on her in such a way she could not help but be uncomfortable at his scrutiny. But had he given her only the briefest of glances, Catherine still would have found his observation distasteful. Hesitantly she closed the distance between them, fighting hard not to let her feelings show. Though she was now dependent on this man’s goodwill, she trusted her instinct. She would have to be on her guard, at least until she was able to determine the true nature of her cousin’s character.
Swallowing nervously she said, “Cousin Phillip, I can never thank you enough for the kindness you have shown me.”
“Dearest Catherine, how could I do anything else?” The sound of his voice made her feel as if something slimy had slithered out from beneath a rock, and she suppressed a shudder when he reached for her hand. “My only regret is that ignorance of your existence made it impossible for the offer to have been given sooner.”
The rank odor of his breath assaulted her, and she was forced to turn her head away. All she could do was hope Philip would mistake the movement as an indication of her relief at his generosity. Taking a deep breath she forced herself to look back at him. It mattered not how odious she found him; her debt to him was one that could never be repaid. Something she could never forget. “Your gift is most generous,” she told him, gesturing with her free hand to the rose hued cloud she wore.
His expression shifted. A shadow darkened his features and sent a shiver down her spine. “It is most becoming,” Phillip agreed. “Come, you must be famished, and the hour is getting late.”
Catherine’s initial dislike of her only living blood relative did not change with the meal. Whatever manners Phillip may have had, he chose to disregard them at his own table. The soup course was an auditory nightmare of sounds better suited to a farmyard feeding trough. And for some reason known only to him, he abandoned the use of utensils altogether during the main meal. Instead he shoveled food into his mouth with his fingers, all the while insisting on conversing with her, and not caring that particles fell from his mouth onto the table and his clothes. Revolted by his behavior, Catherine felt more than a little nauseated. She wanted to protest, but a glance at Lettie’s raised brow was enough of a warning to keep silent.
Her appetite completely ruined, Catherine wondered if it was possible Jacob Whitney had made a mistake about her familial tie to Phillip Davenport. Perhaps having the same name was nothing but a coincidence. Davenport was not so very unusual a name, but as she continued to observe him, Catherine was forced to acknowledge physical similarities between Philip and portraits of her grandfather that she could recall. Davenport blood ran through Phillip’s veins as surely as it ran through hers.
Finally the torturous ordeal came to an end, and Phillip joined the two women as they adjourned to the salon. After pouring himself a whisky, he offered a glass of sweet wine to Catherine, which she politely refused. He did not offer his wife anything at all, and continued to ignore her as he had all through dinner. It was as if she didn’t exist. Lettie did not appear to be concerned by her husband’s behavior. If Catherine had to guess, she would think it was a common occurrence, but it did not excuse Phillip’s rudeness and lack of manners. She turned her head to speak to Lettie, but before she could say anything, Phillip quickly drained his glass and came to stand before her. Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips, bade her good night and marched smartly from the room. A few moments later both women jumped at the sound of the front door being slammed shut.
“Did I say something to offend?”
Lettie gave a sigh of relief and patted Catherine’s hand. “No dear, of course not. You will, I am sure, soon accustom yourself to some of your cousin’s peculiarities.”
“What sort of peculiarities?”
“At times his behavior can appear to be quite unfathomable, and erratic.” She squeezed Catherine’s hand, and the mask slipped. “But you must not let him frighten you.”
Catherine narrowed her eyes slightly. “Why would you think he would frighten me?”
“Oh dear, did I say that? That’s not at all what I meant.” In her haste to try to cover up her blunder, Lettie’s true feelings were revealed, making Catherine wonder how many times her cousin had frightened his wife. And why. “You must forgive me,” Lettie continued, “Phillip is forever telling me what a silly goose I am, always saying the wrong thing.”
She offered nothing further to explain her remark, and Catherine did not pursue it. But she did not think Lettie had misspoke.
“No matter.” Catherine smiled, determined to put the other woman at ease,. “I am certain we are more than capable of providing our own entertainment.” For the first time since her arrival, Lettie gave Catherine a smile that was free of any restraint, and it lit up her face. “Oh Catherine, I do hope we will be the very best of friends.”
“Of course we will. How could we be anything else?”
Whatever was amiss in Lettie’s life, whatever secrets she chose to keep to herself, Catherine was positive about one thing. The woman seated next to her was desperately unhappy. And had been for a very long time.
* * * *
Phillip was totally captivated. Having assumed the report of his impoverished cousin’s beauty to be somewhat exaggerated, he was stunned to find the truth was a very different matter. The description had been woefully inadequate, so much so it occurred to Phillip that perhaps the fool of a lawyer had been looking at an entirely different girl when he made his account. Or perhaps age was impeding the man’s sight. Whatever the reason, Catherine was a vision.
Her voice, thanking him for his kindness, had been a throbbing purr to his ears, and as he scanned her upturned face he found himself consumed with a sudden, overwhelming need. All reason was destroyed by the one strident, demanding thought pounding inside his head. He had to have her! Take her body, possess her flesh, and not be content until he had satisfied himself completely. Never before had such an overpowering urge filled him, sweeping through every fiber of his being, and dominating his senses.
Closing his eyes, Phillip felt waves of lust roll in his belly as he imagined the firm roundness of her breasts filling his cupped palms. All thoughts of delivering Catherine to the man he had already promised her to vanished, especially after he took her hand and pressed his lips against the smooth skin. Though she tried to disguise it, he had felt her shudder at the feel of his mouth on her flesh. It ignited a flame within him. So much the better. It was more than he could have hoped for. And the subtle shift in her body language said she would not willingly let him take her. Which would make the experience all the more exciting.
And now the idea of being allowed to watch as Catherine was broken in became ludicrous. No force imaginable was going to persuade him to turn her over and place her in the hands of another. At least not until after he had personally introduced her to the pain and pleasure that would become her reality.