“I gather you wish to wed Miss Shreveton?”
“It is my intention. You see, I have suffered some, shall we say, less than trivial losses recently and need to effect recovery. Flight to the continent does not agree with me, so I do not ignore the size of the wren’s fortune.”
‘‘From my observation, the little bird has taken you in dislike.”
“An early misunderstanding, no more. I do not intend to allow it to stand in my way,” he said grimly.
Lady Welville’s lips twitched. She took a glass of insipid lemonade from the waiter and raised it to Kirkson in salute. “To your success!”
He inclined his head and smiled. “And may I wish you the same?”
Panthea’s darkened eyelashes descended over her eyes until she looked at Kirkson through narrow slits. Her smile thinned enigmatically. “You may, sir. You will of course, let me know if I may assist you in any way?”
“Of course,” he replied.
They looked at each other and smiled again in perfect understanding.
“My thanks to you, my lord,”Catherine said breathlessly as the Earl of Soothcoor led her off the dance floor. She unfurled her fan. “That has to be the most vigorous dance in existence.”
“Aye, I’ll grant you that. May I fetch you a glass of lemonade, Miss Shreveton?”
“Yes, that would be grand, thank you,” she said, smiling up at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kirkson look speculatively in her direction. “Then again, why don’t we go together? I would not have you think I am some missish young lady,” she said in a rush, peremptorily taking his arm.
The Earl’s thin face registered surprise for a moment, then he smiled at her, placing his other hand over hers. “I should be honored,” he said.
He had been curious all evening as to Miss Shreveton’s desire for his company, especially coming hard after the Marquis’s request that he watch over her. Something, or rather someone, was causing her distress that was obvious. Most likely importuning her for favors. He thought himself an unlikely choice for a protector; however, since both she and the Marquis seemed to expect it of him, he calmly accepted the mantle.
He looked about the room. Only one person seemed to be watching her: Sir Philip Kirkson. A bad one that, but an odd one to be pursuing Miss Shreveton.
“I don’t mean to pry, but if we’re to set the tabbies’ tongues wagging by remaining together to protect you from Kirkson, do you mind telling me why?”
A blush swept up Catherine’s neck and face. “I’m sorry, my lord. I know it is very bad of me.” She tried to remove her hand, but he held it fast.
“Don’t fratch yourself, lassie. I’m perfectly willing to be of service.”
She smiled wanly at him. “Again, I apologize. You are right, but truthfully, I do not know why he persists. Unless it is a matter of pride.”
“And how is that?”
“I first met him during my journey to London. He took me to be, well, you know, a certain type of lady.”
He looked black. “I be understanding you.”
She sighed. “Yes, well, he was rather adamant that I accept his regard and would not listen to any protests I made.”
They halted before the refreshment table. “And how did you convince him of his error?” the Earl asked as blandly as possible, though his dark eyes were alertly watching Catherine’s face.
“It was the Marquis who finally came to my rescue.”
“Stefton?” he asked, jerking upright, lemonade sloshing out of the glasses he held.
“Yes, and then Mr. Dawes, my uncle’s agent. Thank you,” she said, accepting the glass he handed her.
“Dawes? Sir Eugene Burke’s man? Burke is your uncle? So that explains it!”
“Catherine! What are you about?” demanded Lady Harth in a strident whisper, sweeping down upon them before Catherine could question the Earl.
“I beg your pardon? Did you need me for something, Aunt?” She set her glass down on the table.
