The Viscount Who Loved Me | Anthony Bridgerton

Chapter Eight

1805-1810
Two years had passed since Katherine's wedding to the Duke of Kent, and she found herself in the throes of intense labor, about to give birth to their first child. In the dimly lit room, surrounded by midwives and a doctor, Katherine lay on the bed, her face contorted with agony as she clutched the bedsheets.

As the pain wracked her body, she longed for the support of her mother, but Eleanor was not there to offer words of encouragement and comfort. Instead, Katherine felt a sense of isolation and fear as she faced the ordeal alone, with only the presence of the medical staff.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Katherine gave birth to a baby girl. But the duke was still nowhere to be found, leaving Katherine feeling even more abandoned and alone.

Later, when James returned and was informed of the birth of their daughter, his disappointment was palpable. "A girl?" he exclaimed, his voice laced with frustration. "I was expecting a boy, an heir to my title. Girls cannot inherit a dukedom."

Katherine watched as James's expression darkened, his disappointment casting a shadow over the joy of their daughter's birth. She felt a pang of insecurity wash over her as she realized she had failed to meet his expectations, to provide him with the son he desired.

In the days that followed, Katherine couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy that lingered within her. She felt as though she had let down her husband, unable to fulfill her duty as a wife to give him the heir he desired. James's reaction only deepened her sense of insecurity, leaving her questioning her worth as a woman and as a wife.

As she lay in bed, cradling her newborn daughter, Katherine couldn't help but wonder what the future held for them. Would the duke ever come to love their daughter as much as he had hoped for a son? And what would become of her place in his life if she failed to give him the heir he so desperately wanted? In the darkness of the room, she cried silent tears, feeling more alone than ever before.

By the year 1810, Katherine had given the Duke of Kent an additional girl and, more recently, a boy. Despite the growing family, her years with the duke had left her changed. No longer the spirited and warm-hearted woman she once was, Katherine had become cold, unhappy, and almost cruel, building walls around herself to protect her against any further heartaches. The only ones to whom she showed any love were her children.

One evening, as Katherine sat in the dimly lit drawing room of their estate, her husband's voice echoed through the silence.

"Katherine, when are you ever not reading a damned book?" James asked, his tone tinged with irritation.

Katherine glanced up from her book, her eyes cold and distant. "What does it matter to you?" she replied flatly, her voice devoid of any warmth.

The duke's expression remained indifferent. "I was merely making conversation," he replied casually.

Katherine's lips formed a thin line as she regarded him with disdain. "You only ever talk to me when you need something," she retorted bitterly. "Otherwise, you couldn't care less about me."

James shrugged, unfazed by her accusation. "As long as you continue to provide me with heirs, I have no reason to care about anything else," he replied callously.

As Katherine turned away from him, a sense of resentment and bitterness welled up inside her. She had long since given up hope of any affection or love from her husband, resigned to her fate as nothing more than a vessel for producing heirs.

Later, as Katherine interacted with the household staff, her changed personality was evident to all who knew her. She was no longer the kind and gracious lady she once was, instead, she was cold and distant, showing little interest in anyone or anything beyond her children.