Stefton chose coffee and prudently set it down on a side table far away from Lady Harth. “You must be pleased that all four of your nieces are so eminently presentable."
"Well, they are Shrevetons.”
“True, though I believe Miss Catherine Shreveton has more of the Burke family coloring and manner.”
Lady Harth laughed. “Well, she certainly lacks the Shreveton fairness.”
“As does your son, Justin,” observed Stefton drily.
“That is true,” she said grudgingly, “but the Harth family is distinguished in its own way.”
“And I believe Aldric’s sons take after their mother.”
Lady Harth pursed her lips. “But they are his sons, too, and I believe they will one day credit the Shreveton name.”
Stefton studied her through hooded eyes, a sneering smile twisting his mouth into satyr handsomeness. “Appearance,” he mused, “can be unusually deceptive, sometimes giving no clue as to a person’s lineage, and at other times, stamping distinctive features on each descendent like a family crest. Your niece, Catherine, for example, bears the distinctive Burke chin that connotes stubbornness, confidence, and pride.”
Lady Harth sniffed. “Her mother was a pretty enough country maid; however, I don’t recall her possessing any of those traits. Catherine is well enough, I suppose, but lacking in charm or social artifice.”
“You consider social artifice an admirable attribute?” he asked.
“It is a necessary attribute for any young woman."
"Odd. It is the one attribute I find the most deplorable in the marriageable young ladies who litter London every Season. I presume you intend to train Catherine in this art.”
“I shall do my best, of course,” she assured him majestically.
“Then I shall enjoy her company before she learns her lessons.”
“Surely you jest, my lord.”
A sneering smile curled the Marquis’s lips. “Only to the extent you do, my lady.”
“You, my lord, are becoming impertinent.”
“Aunt Alicia!” protested Lavender and Yellow Ribbons.
“Then allow me to remove myself and your troublesome niece from your company,” Stefton returned blandly, pulling a gold engraved pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket and checking the time. He nodded. “Yes, Friarly should be arriving momentarily. I shall take her driving in the park."
"It will do her credit, but I fail to understand why you bother,” Lady Harth said petulantly.
“Yes, I know you do,” he returned enigmatically. He rose to cross to Catherine’s side. “Miss Shreveton, allow me to invite you driving in Hyde Park.”
Catherine compressed her lips. She’d overheard most of the conversation between her aunt and the Marquis, as, she realized in dismay, had most in the room. She wanted to reject his invitation because it was issued by him; however, she chafed at her aunt’s callous attitude toward her. She found herself rising and agreeing to the drive with a willingness she didn’t expect.
“I will just be a moment, my lord, while I get my bonnet and cloak.” She looked over at her aunt to see her agitatedly plucking at the folds of her skirt. Catherine looked down and hurriedly left the room.
Lady Harth stood up, knocking another small pillow off the sofa. “I have a splendid idea,” she said to the room at large. “I propose a theater outing this evening. Would you gentlemen care to join us?”
“Delighted, my lady,” Chilberlain said with alacrity, beaming down at Susannah while he spoke.
Lady Harth frowned at him, noticing for the first time his attentions to Susannah.
Stefton raised a thick black brow and looked pointedly at Soothcoor.
The Scotsman’s lips twitched sourly, but he bobbed his head in Lady Harth’s direction. “Aye, I’ll come,” he said grudgingly.
Catherine appeared at the drawing room door wearing her blue spencer and a plain chip bonnet. “I’m ready, my lord.”
