Catherine shrugged. “I don’t pretend to understand the man. Evidently, his obligation to my uncle is immense.”
Her aunt clucked her tongue and shook her head. “You are a very obstinate young woman.”
“The Marquis says it is a Burke trait, evidenced by my square chin,” Catherine informed her aunt, faintly smiling atthe memory. “Still, you haven’t yet explained how you became involved.”
“As luck would have it when Stefton found your uncle, he was with Seaverness. Your uncle Seaverness is hunting-mad, you know. He went to Nottingham to meet Burke and see about getting a new hunter. After he heard what was going on, all of which he could believe, knowing his wife, Seaverness convinced them to come and see me, for he reasoned that I would be the best person to, uh,educateAlicia.”
Catherine laughed again. “Something I had already done in a rather brash manner that Stefton would say was bad ton.”
Lady Orrick nodded. “Very true. You seem to know him well.”
Laughter died on Catherine’s lips. She sighed. “That’s how I also know he has no interest in me.”
“I think you’re wrong, Catherine.”
“Aunt Penelope, you don’t know how I wish I were. But you didn’t see him yesterday. He was so cold and formal. He made me feel like a little girl caught in some prank who deserved a thunderous scold.”
Her aunt shook her head but smiled kindly. “Then we shall have to agree to disagree. But I propose a wager."
A wager?”
“Yes. I bet Stefton will make you an offer before the Season is out. If I am correct, you will give me a pair of Burke carriage horses. If I am wrong," she shrugged, “you set the terms.”
“If you are wrong . . .” Catherine said slowly, trying to think of a suitable stake. Unfortunately, she found herself trying to choose a suitable pair for her aunt. She wanted her to be right. “If you are wrong, you must have Aunt Alicia over to your home at least twice a week for a month.”
Her aunt closed her eyes and shuddered, visualizing the havoc Alicia could create in her home among all her chinaheirlooms. “You drive a hard bargain. You should one day do very well running Burke’s, of that I have no doubt. All right, done! I agree to your terms, but only because I know I won’t lose.”
“Aunt Penelope, you are a romantic.”
“I know, I know! Isn’t it wonderful?”
But in the week before the ball, it did seem as though Lady Orrick would lose. On his return, the Marquis of Stefton resumed the habits he’d established before his trip to Nottingham. He continued the afternoon rides with Catherine, though now, at his invitation, their parties also included Soothcoor, the twins, and several of their suitors. There was never the opportunity for private conversation in such a large group, nor did the Marquis appear to desire private discourse. Never again did he and Catherine exchange amused glances at the idiosyncrasies of people. At balls, routs, and other social events, he could be counted upon for one dance or a short conversation of social inanity dealing with such subjects as Catherine’s health and the health of her cousins, the weather, Byron’s poetry, or Brummell’s flight from his creditors.
In the face of Stefton’s formality, Catherine retreated to like behavior, saving her smiles and laughs for others. And there were plenty of others flocking around her, for all Society soon learned of Catherine’s wealth. At first, there was displeasure among the ton, and some people cut her acquaintance. But they were in the minority, for the combination of money and birth were the immediate tickets to the beau monde.
To assuage the old guard sticklers who took offense at her dishonesty, Lady Orrick and Lord Harth set it about that Catherine’s play-acting stemmed from a desire to avoid fortune hunters. They also said, to Catherine’s chagrin, that their niece was a great romantic who desired to be loved for herself and had felt the way to do so was to pretend she didn’t have money.Lady Harth was painted as the innocent victim of Catherine’s machinations.
Their diplomatic explanations soon caused even the strictest Society matron to unbend toward Catherine. Many felt it behooved them to deliver a lecture on the impropriety of her actions, but afterward, they all forgave her, calling her a clever little puss, and then chucked her under the chin or pinched her cheeks. Catherine suffered it all with good grace, deeming it her penance. It was not the worst of her trials. Seeing the Marquis every day was the worst. Her love for Stefton sat like a cold, oppressive lump in her chest. Sometimes the weight would get so heavy she felt out of breath and suffocating. These feelings angered her, and she railed against them; sometimes, she railed enough to even banish them for brief moments. But through it all, she smiled and laughed, seeming to enjoy her newfound popularity.
Catherine worked at including the twins in all her activities and was always certain they were introduced to every gentleman she met. She kept them busy and active, so busy they had no opportunity to notice how much time Susannah and the Captain were spending alone together. It was ironic, too, that with their circles of friends and suitors increasing, they began to see the values of those gentlemen who early in the season came to call. It appeared that Dahlia was showing a marked preference for Sir Richard Chartrist, a quiet-spoken man of impeccable manners and taste who desired political involvement. Iris still hoped for the Earl of Soothcoor to evince interest in her, but she’d begun to flirt with other gentlemen, such as Mr. Peter Howlitch and Mr. Dabernathy.
If by morning Catherine’s pillow was often damp, Bethie never told anyone. Lady Orrick watched for the odd moments in repose when her niece’s determinedly cheerful expression would sag. Not even the long-looked-for good news announcing hermother’s betrothal to Squire Leftwich raised much of a response from Catherine. Her only comment was predictable. Now she could go home.
Penelope shrewdly surmised that Catherine’s former masquerade was nothing to the lie she currently lived. But there wasn’t anything Penelope could do. Phlegmatically, she began to wonder how many of her beautiful china pieces would be destroyed by the time she’d paid her debt, and also if it was in the spirit of the wager for her to consider packing up her collection of figurines and relegating them to the attic until afterward. Regretfully, she knew it wasn’t. By the day of the ball, Penelope experienced a strong desire to throttle the Marquis, and so she told his friend, the Earl of Soothcoor.
“Aye, I know what you’re saying. I’ve been experiencing similar thoughts.”
“I’ve never seen him consider anyone but himself before, so I thought he held Catherine in some affection. I couldn’t think of any other reason for his behavior. But now he’s so cold and formal. Catherine told me his attentions were merely to fulfill an obligation to Sir Eugene, but frankly, I didn’t believe her.”
“Donna believe it either,” the Earl growled.
Penelope looked at him in surprise.
Soothcoor scrutinized Lady Orrick, his eyes narrowing. “Are you saying the lassie holds some affection for him?"
"Some! The silly pea goose has fallen in love with him! However, she is determined not to show it.”
The Earl’s lips twisted downward, and he ruefully shook his head. “It’s the same for him, the clod head.”
