* * *
Lady Catherine Stewart stood stock-still,shamelessly eavesdropping on the two self-proclaimed wallflowers hovering by the refreshment table. She could hardly help it, especially since they were discussing her beloved older brother, the Duke of Elkington.
She had expected, of course, to hear the two of them both longing for Raphe to ask them to dance, much the same way that every other single girl in the ballroom did, so the course of their conversation caught Catherine very much off-guard. She nearly choked on her orgeat when the rather plump blonde declared that she felt sorry for the poor Duke.
Catherine had never heard anyone speak as candidly as that young lady. More than that, the girl was the first one that Catherine had ever heard to have any concern at all for her brother’s wants and feelings. It was utterly refreshing, to say the least.
With a sly smile, Lady Catherine placed her now-empty glass on a passing footman’s tray and determinedly wound her way through the crowded ballroom to Raphe’s side, where he’d just signed his name on the black-haired girl’s dance card, to appease their mother. Catherine looped her arm through Raphe’s and offered the girl a bright smile.
“I beg your pardon, but I have need of my brother for a moment.” Without waiting for a response, Catherine all but dragged Raphe away from their sweet but far-too-meddlesome mother, tugging insistently on his arm until they were in a quiet alcove well away from everyone else in the ballroom, and most certainly out of earshot of their mother and the waiting young lady whose gaze had never once left Raphe, despite Catherine dragging him away. “I know you do not appreciate being meddled with, brother, which is half the reason I just dragged you away from Mama.”
Raphe cocked one of his thick, dark eyebrows at her.
“And the other half?”
Catherine bit her lip for a second and tried not to look guilty.
“Based on what I just had the absolute pleasure of overhearing at the refreshment table, I came to tell you that I think you should ask the blonde girl, who is currently trying her best to melt into the woodwork and make herself invisible, to dance.”
Raphe’s gaze flicked around the ballroom until he spotted the girl Catherine was referring to, then he turned his attention back to his sister with a frown.
“She looks as if she’s trying her hardest not to be noticed at all. Why should I not respect those wishes, Catherine?”
Catherine grinned at her brother and patted him on the cheek, a glint of mischief dancing in her green eyes.
“That, my dear brother, is for me to know and you to discover for yourself. Just promise me that you’ll do it. Ask her to dance.”
Raphe frowned harder, narrowing his piercing blue eyes at Catherine suspiciously.
“Are you trying to force me to make a scene to distract Mother from trying to throw you at Lord D’Asti again? What do you have against the man, anyway? He seems a perfectly decent fellow.”
Catherine huffed a sigh and rolled her eyes, praying that her brother did not see a visible blush in her heating cheeks.
“I am simply not interested in Lord D’Asti, perfectly decent fellow or not. And I’m not trying to force you to make a scene. Just… trust me and ask the girl to dance.”
Raphe crossed his arms and eyed his younger sister, his suspicion growing with every moment that passed.
“You are behaving even more strangely than you usually do, Catherine, and that is saying something. What are you up to? You aren’t trying to play some kind of cruel joke on the poor girl, are you?”
His gaze snapped back to the voluptuous blonde across the room from them. She kept her gaze determinedly averted from everyone who passed her by, her attention mostly on the other girl she was speaking with as the two hovered together, well away from the dance floor. The pair seemed perfectly happy to be wallflowers, from what Raphe could see.
“It most certainly is not a cruel joke!” Catherine snapped, planting her hands on her hips as she glared up at him. “Are you going to ask her to dance or not?”
* * *
Raphe staredat his sister’s retreating back, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. What on Earth was she up to?
After a moment, his gaze drifted to the young lady whom Catherine had instructed him to dance with. She was short, nearly half a head shorter than every other eligible young woman in the room, as a matter of fact. The young lady also had golden curls; a cherubic, round face, and a distinctly curvy body to go along with it. All she was missing to complete the angelic picture was a set of lily-white wings sprouting out of her back.
The girl looked nice enough, but he saw no reason to give in and go along with whatever Catherine was trying to achieve. She might mistake his acquiescence as Raphe giving her leave to meddle in his affairs, and he simply couldn’t have that. Their mother was quite meddlesome enough without Catherine’s help.
Shaking his head in an effort to clear away his errant thoughts, Raphe clasped his hands behind his back and strode over to re-join his mother and her latest thinly veiled attempt at a match for him, Lady Camilla Fitzjames. Neither of them noticed him approaching, which afforded him the chance to overhear what they were saying. Raphe knew it was ungentlemanly of him to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t seem to resist, no matter what he told himself.
“I would be ashamed to be seen in public if I weighed as much as she does.” Lady Camilla sniffed, jerking her pointy chin in the direction of the blonde Catherine had just told him to dance with.
Raphe went stone still at that, his shoulders stiffening. He stared at his mother’s back, holding his breath as he waited to see how she would respond. Her posture went rigid, and she gave a haughty sniff.
“It may be common practice elsewhere in society to mock people for their physical appearance, but I can assure you of one thing, Lady Camilla — we most certainly do not abide that sort of abominable snobbery here at Elkington Hall.”
