Dust on the Horizon by Tricia Stringer Page B

was no denying that, but she didn’t intend to be a slave to it. Her mother had a housekeeper but she also lived in Adelaide where there were plenty of other pursuits to keep her occupied. Catherine had no idea how she would pass her time all day if she didn’t have the shop and Henry’s occasional clients to attend to.
    His hand slid down and patted her bottom. She pretended she hadn’t felt it and moved on to unpack some new handkerchiefs that were amongst the goods that had arrived on yesterday’s train. He needn’t think that she would sit at home waiting to attend to his needs at any time of the day either. She enjoyed his attention in bed most times now but when he took her during the day she was always so tired afterwards. He would have a short doze then go back to work with a spring in his step. She would be left to drag herself from the bed and then have to spend a long time redressing and doing her hair. Then Henry often became impatient with her. She had to be careful to keep his ardour sated at night so that during the day her body was her own.
    Besides, she had a suspicion she was with child. She put a hand to her stomach. Was there a slight bulge? She glanced in Henry’s direction. His head was bent over the book of figures he kept. She wasn’t sure how he was going to take that news. There had been no discussion about children. She wondered where they fitted into his schemes, or if they did at all. She needed the counsel of another woman, but so far she’d met few, and certainly none Henry wished her to keep company with.
    Catherine decided she would write to her mother. She needed help to decide on the best way to tell him. The very thought of it gave her heart. She went back to her handkerchiefs. Her mother would advise her on the best way to manage a husband. Catherine lifted her head with a start as a hand slipped around her waist from behind.
    â€œHenry,” she gasped.
    â€œIt’s been a very profitable morning, my dear.” He bent forward, brushed his lips across her neck and nibbled her ear.
    Normally Catherine loved the feel of his whiskers on her skin and the nipping of his teeth but they weren’t in the privacy of their bedroom.
    â€œIt’s not even midday yet.” She stiffened in his arms and tried to keep her tone confident.
    Henry wasn’t to be put off. He spun her to face him. “I think we should celebrate.” He kissed her lips. “In the daylight.”
    â€œBut Henry …” Her words were lost as he scooped her up.
    The shop door opened and the bell jangled.
    â€œWell my word. What is going on here?”
    Henry nearly dropped Catherine in his haste to put her back on her feet. She had trouble standing. Her knees had gone to jelly at the voice she recognised.
    â€œMother.” Henry straightened his coat and hurried around the counter.
    Short in stature and carrying more weight than when Catherine had last seen her, Harriet Wiltshire glared from Catherine to her son, then, as he wrapped his mother in his arms, Catherine saw Harriet’s benevolent smile.
    â€œHello, Mrs Wiltshire.” Catherine’s cheeks radiated heat and yet a shiver wriggled down her back as her mother-in-law looked her way.
    Henry held his mother at arm’s length. “This is wonderful. How did you get here? Why?”
    â€œOn the train. To see you.” Harriet cupped Henry’s cheek in her gloved hand. “I must say I wasn’t expecting to witness what I did when I arrived.” Once more she glared in Catherine’s direction.
    â€œWe were celebrating, Mother.” Henry’s tone was subservient. That was rare. Catherine had only ever heard him that way in his mother’s presence.
    â€œIndeed. This is a place to conduct business, not a hotel. Although I shudder to think what kind of people carry on in such a way, even in a hotel.” Harriet drew up her small frame and for the first time