“Actually, I cannot stay for tea, Your Grace. My conscience will not allow it. I came on business, and I think it best to get straight to that business and not tarry. I do not wish to waste anyone’s time, nor try anyone’s patience. It is best to just get straight to the point, I think.”
“Oh?”
The Duchess leaned forward, arching a brow, a victorious smile playing at the corners of her mouth, as if she was quite certain he’d come to propose to Catherine, since he hadn’t had the chance to do so at the Midsummer Ball.
Raphe and Gabriel exchanged panicked looks, both stricken with the same sense of impending doom at the very same moment. Even as they exchanged that look, silently communicating, wondering what they should do, Lord D’Asti spoke, and neither of the twins could do anything to stop it.
“I realise that you hoped for a betrothal between Lady Catherine and myself, Your Grace, but I’ve come to inform you that no such betrothal is possible. I am betrothed to be married to Lady Eugenia Calthorpe. I wanted to be the one to inform you of the betrothal and deliver my sincerest apologies for any disappointed hopes on Lady Catherine’s part.”
The Duchess’ mouth fell open in shock and her face turned purple with anger. She started to speak, but Gabriel reached over and gently gripped her forearm, shaking his head.
“Why don’t I take you to lie down for a while, mother. This is such a shock for you.”
“I am truly sorry.” Lord D’Asti rose and bowed, his face ashen and his dark eyes sincere.
Lady Catherine stood, offering him an easy smile and a graceful curtsey. Her green eyes danced with something that bordered on mischief.
“I assure you, Lord D’Asti, there are no disappointed hopes to concern yourself about on my part. My mother, on the other hand, may be another matter entirely. Shall I walk you out?”
“Not alone you won’t,” Raphe grumbled, watching his sister like a hawk.
“Of course not,” Catherine scoffed, openly rolling her eyes at Raphe. “We can walk Lord D’Asti out together.”
In that moment, Raphe was absolutely certain that Catherine was up to something. She was taking the entire situation with D’Asti far too well, almost as if she was relieved, and that was much too suspicious for his taste. He watched Catherine’s every move as she slipped her arm through Count D’Asti’s and gave his forearm a friendly, reassuring pat.
“Are you sure my betrothal to Lady Eugenia has not wounded you… that you do not feel misled?”
D’Asti frowned at Catherine, and she shook her head, laughing softly.
“Despite what my mother thinks, we would never have suited, and I am not at all upset about the turn of events with you being betrothed to Lady Eugenia. As a matter of fact, I could not be more thrilled for the two of you, Lord D’Asti. I wish you every happiness.”
“And what about your mother? Her Grace seemed very upset indeed.”
“Mother likes to make plans, and she does not like it when other people interfere with those plans.” Catherine grimaced and shrugged. “There is little to be done about that, I’m afraid. She will simply have to get over it… eventually.”
They paused by the door and Lord D’Asti stepped away from Catherine and bowed deeply.
“Thank you for being so understanding, Lady Catherine. I will not soon forget your graciousness.”
The moment the door closed behind Lord D’Asti, an ear-splitting shriek rang out from their mother’s bedroom.
“I demand to know how this happened, and I demand to know this very instant!”
CHAPTER4
Catherine made a move,as if to bolt for the library, perhaps intending to pretend she hadn’t heard her mother’s displeased screech, but Raphe caught her by the back of her dress and clicked his tongue.
“Oh no you don’t.” Raphe’s voice was quiet but steady and it brooked no argument. “I don’t know what you’re up to, Catherine, or why you were so relieved to hear that Lord D’Asti has found himself betrothed to someone else, but I have a feeling that — whatever you think you’re playing at — Mother is not going to like it, and I am going to take this moment to remind you that it is not wise to cross a woman like her, even if you are her daughter.”
Catherine muttered something so obscene it made Raphe go pale, and he had to wonder where she’d even heard such language. He was not, however, fool enough to release the grip he had on her dress.
“Come along. We had better go and get this over with now. The longer you avoid it, the worse it will be.”
“I would rather be shipped off to America than face her right now.”
“Do not joke about such things, Catherine.” Raphe propelled her up the stairs ahead of him, and into their mother’s room.
The Duchess was in her bed, with the covers pulled up to her chin, Gabriel perched by her side, and her eyes were suspiciously puffy, as if she’d actually been crying, which made Catherine grimace.
