“After you, Chilberlain,” interrupted Stefton.
His eyes never leaving Susannah’s, Captain Chilberlain led the way across the ballroom and down the stairs. Behind them, a fragile camaraderie had sprung up between Catherine and Stefton and they smiled at each other.
It was an exchange of glances witnessed by many of the guests still in the ballroom. Tongues, which had wagged curiously early in the evening at the strange behavior of the Marquis, were now set to furiously flapping behind fans and gloved hands. A hissing sound rose throughout the room.
“It’s the devil, to be sure,” sighed the Earl of Soothcoor, shaking his head. “And what will be the end, I ask?”
“I beg pardon, my lord?” said a young gentleman standing nearby.
“Nothing, laddie. We’d best do our duty and choose a lady to escort downstairs afore Lady Oakley does it for us. I’ve not a mind to sit through a meal with any hatchet-faced wench of her choosing. That would spoil my digestion.”
CHAPTER 7
“Excuse me, Miss Catherine, but her ladyship wishes you to join her and the other young ladies in the drawing room. This being her at-home day,” the footman added, by way of explanation, for he liked Catherine, as did many of the more discerning members of the staff, and after last night’s ball, there would be plenty of callers.
Catherine sighed and laid the book she was reading on the table at her side. “Thank you, John. I will be there directly,” she said softly.
The footman looked at her uncertainly for a moment, then bowed. “Very well, Miss. I’ll inform her ladyship.”
Catherine watched the man back out of the library and close the door softly behind him. She looked around the comfortable old room with its book-lined shelves and beautiful paintings of the Quorn. She liked this room. Since she had discovered the library on her first full day at Harth House, it had become a peaceful refuge from Aunt Alicia’s maddening condescension and the twins’ cunning animosity.
For the most part, her relatives allowed her to spend hours within its peaceful walls. Her aunt demanded her presence for shopping excursions or when one or another of her old croniescame to call. Such visits were always uncomfortable, for the women came to judge the caliber of the Shreveton young ladies and comment or compliment Lady Harth on theGrand Gestureshe was making in the name of family by opening her house to four nieces at once. Catherine sat awkwardly silent during those visits. Her teeth clenched against any vocal reaction to her aunt’s response to her guests’ carefully-worded queries as to her nieces’ situations in life. The picture she painted of Catherine’s lot was bleak indeed.
When she first arrived, Catherine found her aunt’s misconceptions to be amusing. But the humor soon lost its power to draw even a tiny smile, for Catherine’s thoughts flew guiltily to Yorkshire and her family. The Marquis of Stefton’s words smote her. It was wrong for Aunt Alicia to denigrate her mother’s family as she did. It was also wrong for Catherine to allow her to continue to do so, but Catherine was reluctant to try to explain to her aunt the error in her conceptions.
She sighed again. She was turning into a coward, and she knew it. Everything was so confusing. It didn’t help that she was having difficulty maintaining the meek mien she’d vowed to adopt in London. And the Marquis of Stefton, that infuriating man, had not helped with his inexplicable ability to throw her into confusion and anger. It was challenging to be meek and angry at one and the same time. It would perhaps have been better for her to allow her natural inclinations to show rather than the sorry play she acted. In truth, it may have so irritated Aunt Alicia and the twins that it would have hastened her return home. Her current public disposition did not seem likely to accomplish that coup. Though, in all honesty, she was no longer as eager to return home.
Catherine rose from the comforting security of the worn leather chair, wondering what had prompted Lady Harth’s summons, for she had not as yet heard the large brass knockeron the front door heralding a visitor. She quietly left the library and crossed the hall to the drawing room door.
“She is selfish, Aunt Alicia. Not once did she make a push to introduce us to the Marquis of Stefton, as she rightfully should have. After all, we are the daughters of an Earl,” Lavender Ribbon was saying. By the voice pitch and the color ribbons she sported, Catherine concluded that it was Iris.
“That’s not fair,” protested Susannah. Her hands clutched the edges of her embroidery frame until the knuckles whitened. “You were both very well engaged all evening.”
“You would defend her, after all. She introduced you to the Marquis.”
“She did not introduce me to the Marquis at the ball. Lady Oakley introduced us,” Susannah said. Her cheeks flew two bright spots of color as she skirted the lie.
“That may be,” put in Yellow Ribbon, whose voice was higher than her twin’s, “but you can’t deny that she virtually threw herself at him. Conniving him into taking her down to supper when there were so many other women of rank deserving that privilege.”
“Meaning yourselves, I presume,” Catherine said blandly from the open doorway. “Personally, I did not consider it the privilege you do. And I seriously doubt any female can manipulate the Marquis.” She crossed the room to sit at Susannah’s side on an ornate, uncomfortable settee.
Susannah threw her a look of ardent relief. Catherine smiled reassuringly at her, feeling a measure of remorse for placing her gentle cousin in the position of defending her.
“That is enough, girls. Susannah, you have always been a biddable, well-mannered young woman. Your defense of your cousin Catherine is laudable, if misguided. Iris and Dahlia, I understand your distress. Please remember that your cousin is still learning how to go on in Society. We cannot fault herfor what she has not been taught in the godforsaken wilds of Yorkshire,” Lady Harth counseled, gracing Catherine with another of her condescending smiles.
Catherine gripped her hands together, shoving them deep into her lap. “You are most magnanimous,” she said tightly.
Her aunt nodded in acceptance of Catherine’s statement, then reached up to pat a stray hair back into place under her lace cap. “Now, Catherine, be taught by me. You always should be mindful of rank and position in Society. Just as you would vary the depth of your curtsy depending on the rank of the person receiving the salute, so it is with protocol at any public event. Your cousins are daughters of an Earl, while you are a daughter of a younger son. In the hierarchy of Society, your cousins Iris and Dahlia hold precedence.”
The twins smiled superiorly at each other, then cast that smile at their cousins.
“I know that precept may be hard to remember, as friendly and cozy as we are together,” Lady Harth went on, “but strive to bear that in mind. It will save you and us from needless censure in Society.”
“Did I incur censure last evening?”
Lady Harth compressed her lips tightly. “Luckily, you escaped that horror,” she reluctantly admitted. “This time. Most likely because Society is captivated by the novelty of my grand gesture. I received untold compliments on my patience and constitution,” she said with pride.
Lady Harth paused, a triumphant, contemplative expression on her face. “Mrs. Drummond Burrell even unbent so far as to promise vouchers to Almack’s for all of you and approve you all for the waltz.”
