She looked daggers at him, then slipped away among the crowd in the large room.
“I can’t thankyou enough for bringing Sir Eugene to see me and explaining Catherine’s behavior. The poor child, what a twisted path she has trod. I’m glad to see her settling down,” Lady Penelope told Stefton later that evening.
The Marquis, his arms crossed over his chest and his chin tucked into his cravat, stared across the room at Catherine, more beautiful than he could have imagined. The touches of green and gold in the gown she wore gave it, and her, a richness in appearance that proclaimed the truth of her wealth. And now, there she sat on a sofa, like a queen on her throne, surrounded by admiring suitors, most of whom Stefton knew to be without a feather to fly with. At least Soothcoor was one of their number. He would keep some of the worst of the hungry hounds at bay, and so he told Lady Orrick.
“Yes, I think you’re correct. And they do complement each other, too,” she said complacently.
The Marquis shifted his attention from Catherine to Lady Orrick. “I would not set your sights on Soothcoor if I were you. He is a confirmed bachelor,” he said humorously.
“Umm,” returned Penelope noncommittally. She sighed. “But I think I’ll keep hoping, for you should know that Catherinehas stated that since she must marry, she will accept the first offer that is creditable.”
“Creditable?”
“Why, yes, you know, not a man who desperately needs a rich wife. Someone like Mr. Dabernathy. She says all she requires is a modest competence of at least five hundred pounds per year to recommend a gentleman. Oh, and he must not be known to be a gamester.”
“Five hundred pounds! Has she windmills in her head?” he asked thunderously. He jerked his attention back to Catherine, his arms falling to his sides. He watched her turn her head upward to look at Soothcoor, laughing at something he said. In the back of his head, it struck him as odd that his dour friend could cause anyone to laugh. But he allowed the idea to slide away, his thoughts on Catherine’s matrimonial considerations.
“No, I don’t think so,” Penelope said. “She merely is feeling remorseful for being a trial to everyone, and for some reason, is apathetic concerning whom she marries. By her behavior one would think she had suffered some disappointment in love! I don’t know and try as I may, I cannot get the child to confide in me,” she said blithely with a patent disregard for the truth. “Look, Captain Chilberlain has arrived! I must go and see what news he brings. I’ll tell you a secret. He rode down to Portsmouth today to ask my brother Glendon for Susannah’s hand in marriage. By his expression, I’ll wager he has it! Alicia will be furious!” She gleefully scurried across the room.
The Marquis of Stefton scarcely heard her, for his attention was centered on Catherine, as it had been the entire evening despite his efforts to the contrary. He was no better than a lovesick puppy, he thought disgustedly. He watched a little byplay where Catherine accepted an invitation to dance from some gentleman quite unknown to him. The rest of the gentlemen in her circle pretended to be devastated.
The Earl of Soothcoor looked up to note the Marquis intently watching the group. His eyes narrowed. Judging by Stefton’s expression, perhaps Lady Orrick’s little plan was not bacon-brained after all. Now might be a good time to enact his part, he decided, leisurely crossing the room.
“I think I preferred Catherine in her rags,” grumbled the Earl when he reached Stefton’s side.
“Why? Don’t tell me, my friend, that you are jealous of the attention she receives!” The Marquis’s smile was faintly sneering.
The Earl scratched the side of his face and frowned. “Aye, and it’s humorous even to me,” he said matter-of-factly.
The Marquis’s smile faded, and he looked closely at his friend, his eyes carefully hooded. “Perhaps as a fairy godfather I overplayed my hand,” Stefton drawled.
Soothcoor looked across the ballroom floor to where Catherine was dancing. He paused a long moment. “Aye,” he said finally, softly, “perhaps you did at that.”
The dance ended, and Catherine’s partner escorted her back to her courtiers' circle. Soothcoor murmured his excuses and quitted Stefton’s side to return to Catherine. The Marquis again crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the wall, hooking one foot across the other. A harsh frown carved deep furrows between his brows and alongside his nose, sharpening the planes of his face. His eyes were cold as stone.
He watched Susannah come to her side and whisper in her ear. Quickly Catherine rose and went off with her toward the library. Susannah was probably telling her of the betrothal, he thought angrily. Explosively, he came away from the wall and walked quickly, with the catlike grace typical of him, toward the staircase. He had to get outside for a breath of air.
“Oh, Susannah, I’m so happy for you!” Catherine hugged her cousin then stepped back to study her radiant features. “You deserve all the happiness in the world.”
“So do you,” Susannah said softly.
Catherine laughed. If one looked closely, one could see faint smudges of gray under her eyes and an over bright, feverish quality in them. Susannah did, and her heart went out to her cousin.
“He’s watched you all evening, you know.”
“Yes, my uncle’s loyal watchdog, undoubtedly on guard to protect my purse more than my virtue.”
She tossed the words out casually, but the underlying bitterness twisted Susannah’s heart. She wished there was something she might do to ease her cousin’s pain. Catherine had done so much for her. Perhaps she should gather her courage in her hands and confront the arrogant Marquis. He’d always frightened her and made her feel the stammering schoolgirl. But for Catherine, she’d surmount her fears.
Catherine leaned her forehead against the cool marble of the library mantel. “When is the wedding to be? I fear I shan’t be able to attend as I am leaving for Yorkshire within the week.”
“Catherine, no!” protested Susannah.
“Catherine, yes,” she corrected, summoning yet another smile. She was so tired--tired of all the lies, the subterfuge, the sorrow. “My mother is also getting married soon, remember. I have to get back to wish her well, or she’ll fret herself right out of the engagement!” she said with a hollow laugh.
Susannah laid a comforting hand on Catherine’s shoulder. “I understand,” she murmured.
They stood there a moment, Catherine fighting back the same tears she’d fought against all week. Angrily, Catherine tossed her head back, willing the tears not to spill from her eyes. She gulped air almost hysterically, then ordered her breathing torelax. She closed her eyes. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to be alone for a minute,” she said tightly.
