Captain Chilberlain bowed low over Catherine’s hand. “At your service, Miss Shreveton. I beg of you, may I have the honor of this next dance?”
Flustered, Catherine managed to nod jerkily and, to her chagrin, found herself looking back over her shoulder at the Marquis as the Captain led her onto the floor. Stefton inclined his head slightly in recognition of her regard, a slight smile playing upon his lips.
“That is your Cinderella?” Soothcoor inquired incredulously.
“Careful, my friend, that your bumptious tongue does not lead you astray,” Stefton murmured, his eyes mere slits as he glanced over at his friend.
Soothcoor looked at him in wonder and shook his head. “I say again, what devil is in you tonight?”
Stefton gave him a wintery smile. “Call it a whim or a quixotic gesture.”
The next two hours passed in a whirl for Catherine. After her dance with Captain Chilberlain, she found herself being led out by the dour Northumbrian, Lord Soothcoor, then, strangely, by one gentleman after another. She scarcely had time to draw breath between dances. It was with relief that she heard the orchestra strike up a waltz, for she knew she could not venture onto the floor without prior approval by one of the doyennes of Society.
She gently refused the youthful gallant who solicited her hand for the waltz and sent him off instead to procure her a glass of punch. Despite her avowed wish to remain a wallflower, she was forced to admit she had enjoyed herself. The gentlemen she was introduced to were, for the greater part, more interestingthan those she met at the country dances at home. Furthermore, there was the added fillip of knowing they did not dance with her for her wealth. But the question remained, why did they ask her to dance? The ball did not lack available women; in fact, there were more young women present than men.
Unconsciously she caught her lower lip between her teeth as she considered the matter, a faraway look in her chocolate brown eyes.
A small smile tugged at the corners of the Marquis of Stefton’s mouth as he saw Catherine bite her lip. He had retired to the card room after assuring himself that she would not lack for dance partners and had just returned to the ballroom, searching out his Cinderella to see how she had fared.
He was pleased to note that wisps of wavy auburn hair were escaping the tight confines of her braided coronet. They curled riotously about her piquant features, softening the planes of her face at cheek and jaw. She was a wide-eyed innocent beauty, and he almost regretted the game to propel her into the forefront of Society. But not quite. She was vastly different from the young women launched every year into Society. She possessed wit, courage, and determination. It was a pity she was so determined to play the role of a poor country mouse.
Looking at her as she gracefully accepted a glass of punch from Mr. Stanley, he decided he must pay a call upon Raymond Dawes. Perhaps Sir Eugene Burke’s agent could explain her odd behavior.
Whatever her reasons, he was equally determined she would not go unappreciated by the beau monde. He heard the chimes ring announcing supper was being served. A contemplative eyebrow rose, a feral smile transforming his face to satyr wildness. Quietly he approached Catherine and Mr. Stanley.
“Thank you, Stanley, for dancing attendance upon Miss Shreveton in my absence.”
Stefton’s dark, low voice floated over Catherine’s shoulder, startlingly near. Catherine whirled around, nearly dropping the punch glass she held. He removed the glass from her grasp and placed it by a vase on a nearby pedestal. He looked markedly at Mr. Stanley until the youth began to fidget.
“No trouble at all. Delighted. Perhaps we may have our dance later. . . . He ran his forefinger underneath the white stock of the cravat that swathed his neck in intricate folds. He bowed stiffly, his lips still working though no words came, then turned and scurried to the far reaches of the ballroom, placing as much distance as possible between himself and the Marquis of Stefton.
Stefton watched him go with satisfaction.
“My lord,” Catherine began crossly, “I fail to understand how you so intimidate everyone.”
“Because I don’t intimidate you?” he asked softly.
She looked up into his handsome face, her fingers curling into fists at her sides as she fought back the heady wildness his presence always brought forth in her. “No, you do not."
"Good. Then you will not be afraid to accept my company down to supper. Ah, here comes your cousin. Miss Shreveton, with your permission, I shall ask a friend to join us so that I may dine with two lovely ladies.”
“My lord,” Susannah said, ‘‘you honor us.” Blushing, Susannah turned her head slightly away to look out across the ballroom. She gasped.
Catherine and Stefton broke the challenging eye contact they’d maintained to see what had so caught Susannah’s attention. Approaching them was Captain Chilberlain. A rather bemused Captain Chilberlain, Catherine thought. She looked over in her cousin’s direction to see a twin expression on Susannah’s features.
“There you are, Stefton,” the Captain said, but he never looked in the Marquis’s direction, his attention, his world centered on Susannah.
The Marquis’s lips twitched, but he managed to respond gravely. “Yes, here I am. Perhaps you would like me to present you to Miss Shreveton’s cousin. Miss Shreveton, this great looby, totally lacking in manners, is Captain Richard Chilberlain.”
“Miss Shreveton,” breathed the Captain. He bent formally over her hand.
Catherine had never believed in love at first sight. She was rapidly revising her beliefs. She exchanged amused glances with the Marquis, relaxing in his company as they observed love come full bloom before their eyes.
“We were all just going down to supper, Chilberlain. Care to join us?” Stefton asked laconically.
“What?” The Captain’s eyes slowly focused on the Marquis. “Oh, supper, right. A grand idea.” He turned back to Susannah, offering her his arm. “Miss Shreveton?”
Shyly, Susannah laid her hand on his arm. He quickly covered it with his other hand, anchoring her to his side. They smiled at each other, big, silly smiles.
