Read The Secret Diary of Lady Catherine Bexley for Free Online Page A

on in his nephew.’ Joseph remarked sombrely.
    ‘I am certain you will be a wonderful influence on Albert,’ I said. ‘As for philandering tendencies — I do not know enough about them to comment.’
    ‘Nor will you,’ Joseph replied. ‘You never need fear them in me.’
    Dear diary, it is a relief to know that my husband will not stray to the arms of another woman — I merely wish he’d stray into my own arms a little more frequently — and perhaps stay there a little longer than he is known to.
    ‘I am grateful,’ I whispered, and nestled closer towards him. I could feel the heat from his thigh burn through the layers of cloth between us. Did he feel it too? My hands had been at rest in my lap, but I let one rise and fall to land on the leg that stretched beside mine. I felt my husband’s body tense beneath it. I turned to face him; I would be bold.
    ‘Would you kiss me?’ I whispered, knowing my cheeks burned at the words.
    He stared at me as if I’d spoken Gaelic, and hesitated.
    ‘Please?’ I asked.
    It took him another moment to decide, but he swiftly dipped his head and kissed me lightly on the cheek.
    It was not the kiss I’d wanted or envisioned. I’d seen other people kiss — and kiss passionately at that. Lovers would hide, secreted away behind hedges and dark doorways at parties and balls, kissing each other with longing and desire. In my opinion, kisses on the cheek should be reserved for grandmothers and babies — not wives.
    ‘I meant …’ I felt the blush. ‘Perhaps you may wish to kiss me on the lips.’
    I stared at his mouth then and focussed on his lips; they were full and well-shaped.
    He pulled away from me and stood.
    ‘Kissing on the lips, Catherine, is for the French — you are a well bred Englishwoman. A kiss on the cheek is proper.’ He looked angry.
    ‘Of course, I apologise,’ I said. As I stood, he offered me a stiff arm — which I took lamely, and we returned to the hall.
    I had heard raised voices when Joseph and Albert conversed in the library. Perhaps as a result of this conversation, dinner was a painfully dull affair. My husband glowered at me, though perhaps not as much as he glowered at Albert, who seemed not to care in the slightest. Of conversation during the meal, there was little. It would have been more appropriate if I had just retired for the night, as the men could not in all good conscience leave me alone in the sitting-room whilst they had post-dinner drinks and smoked in the library, as men are wont to do. So instead, we all gathered in the sitting room. The men smoked and drank whisky whilst I sipped at my tea.
    I could not help but notice that cousin Albert seemed to be partaking in more than his fair share of whisky. I watched the young man as he lounged indolently on our Grecian couch — the one so much like that on which I’d witnessed Lord Stanton and his maid. His tongue became lax and his language more so.
    ‘So,’ Albert slurred, his twinkling blue eyes meeting mine and offering a wink, ‘cousin.’ He turned to face my husband. ‘I am surprised you have not rushed to be abed with your lovely wife. Married only a month — surely that is not time enough for her to be repulsed by you.’ He laughed and puffed indulgently at his pipe.
    My mouth fell open in surprise and horror. I felt my cheeks become hot. It was a notion that had not occurred to me. Was it perchance my husband’s repulsion of me, rather than his piety and prudishness, that kept him from my bed?
    My husband’s eyes flashed as he was taken a-back.
    ‘You overstep your mark, Albert,’ he growled. ‘You are under my roof to relieve your family of the scandal you have brought upon them. I will have no such speak here.’
    ‘It was just a comment — a query if you will, cousin. Should Lady Bexley be my wife, I’d be rushing her abed every spare moment of the day. Such a fine looking woman,’ he added.
    Now my face burned in earnest. What a singularly outrageous