Hidden Places, Book 1 of Autumn Club Series

Chapter 7

The next ball took place on the hottest day of the year. The entire ballroom smelled of perfumed sweat. It was nearly unbearable.

There would be no sneaking to the terrace because the doors were wide open and people came and went. It was probably for the best - gardens were clearly too dangerous for her.

The Autumn Club took up residence in the corner. All three of the other girls were making good progress with the noblemen of the ton - at least from what Katrina could gather. But she still had no callers and her thoughts always went to the duke.

The girls rattled on about the gossip of the day. Evidently her brother, Reggie, had been seen with a notorious widow a few nights ago. It sounded like she was in a long line of mistresses her brother had taken recently. Rumor placed one of his close friends and sworn bachelor, Major St. John, at her townhouse at the same time. So of course as far as the ton knew, Reggie was having a three way love affair with the widow and the major. Perhaps it was time to speak to her reprobate brother.

Thinking of her brother, Katrina's mind wandered to the duke. He called her every nickname in the book, but she could only call him "sir." It almost became a term of endearment in her mind.

But it was time to end this charade. They were playing a dangerous game. The dinner party punishment was too risky. Plus he saw parts of her no man had ever seen - much less touched!

She was worried to dance with other men in fear that would be considered a "touch" that he expressly outlawed. And she didn't want to anger Harrington. So she declined dances and spoke to her friends until she spotted the duke across the room.

Lady Eleanor had her hand on his arm, laughing as though they had just shared a joke. In typical Harrington fashion, he stood stoically, staring at her without warmth. Katrina wondered when they would announce their marriage. She had to end things now before she become the "other woman." She didn't need a reputation like her brother.

She met his eyes and saw him mumble down to Eleanor. He prowled across the room where he tilted his head for Katrina to follow. And she did - she always did as he asked. She needed to end this quickly.

The library wasn't easy to find, but after a few turns they ended up in the silent and poorly lit room, clearly a place not intended for guests.

"Good evening, kitten. Are you enjoying the ball? It is quite hot, is it not?" He asked as he stood only a foot away, stroking a finger down her cheek. The way he said "hot" made her hot all over her humming body.

"Yes, sir, but I need to tell you that I...I can't...this can't happen anymore, sir." She tried to sound resolute. Determined. But it came out like a plea - pleading for him to let her go.

"This?" He said pointing back and forth between them. "This can't happen?"

"No, sir. It is too risky. And I'm sure you plan to marry Eleanor soon, and I can't be a mistress." The idea of sharing the duke made her feel ill. And she could never embarrass herself or family by becoming a mistress to a married man.

"A mistress, huh? You wouldn't do that for me? Become my whore? I could pay you, so I can truly own you. No, kitten?" He made the words sound so dirty. His tone held a bite to it.

"No-no, sir. I-I could never...be...never a mistress, sir. Never. Not ever." She sound like a fool as she rushed her words.

"But see the thing is, you would be my whore. My slut. I wouldn't have to pay you for that, pet. You would just do it. And why you ask?" He sounded certain, and seemed to enjoy calling her those crude names. "It is simple, kitten. I own you already. You are my whore, slut...mine. I know it, and you know it. But what makes you think I plan to marry Lady Eleanor? Do you know something I do not on the subject?"

"She is perfect for you, sir. You deserve her. She is incomparable. You deserve the best, your grace." This was true. He couldn't have a blue stocking, wallflower. He needed and deserved the best the ton had to offer. Not only was he born to it, he showed it in the way he moved, spoke and looked.

"So you think that I can't decide what I need or want? You think you control me? You are right, Katrina. Perhaps you aren't who or what I thought you were when we met." He stepped back and smoothed his hands over his coat in a measure to make himself more presentable and distance himself from any emotions.

"I-I don't know what you think of me, but truly you must know that I'm not deserving of you. I'm so plain - unremarkable. I can't play the pianoforte or paint. Wide hips. Short. Not travelled or cultured. Not exceptionally smart or witty. I'm shy. I'm hidden, your grace, like you have noted and as I should be. And where I should remain."

He looked at her and assessed her words. With a nod of finality he turned and began to walk out of the library. Then he stopped and peered over his shoulder.

"Indeed. You aren't suitable for a duke. Take care, Lady Katrina."

With that, the duke took his leave with Katrina staring at his back.

It felt like she lost a piece of herself as the door shut behind him. She wanted to run and beg him on her knees to forgive her. That she was foolish. That he was right, she would do anything for him. Be anything for him.

But it was for the best. He would see it soon if he didn't already.