Catherine’s shoulders squared as her blue eyes glanced over the many faces in attendance of the well-decorated lawns and stairways, looking for him before she caught herself. What did it matter? Even if he was here, her only purpose was to prove to him that she would not be so easily broken. She would not allow him to intimidate her. If he was allowed to use them in their darkest hour, then she was simply returning the favor for her mother’s sake.
Nothing more, nothing less.
At least, that was what she was going to continue to tell herself.
“Lady Thompson! Lady Catherine! You made it!” Richard’s charming voice was filled with the brightness of his disarming smile as he moved to greet Arabella happily. Catherine lingered a moment a step lower than her mother as she allowed herself the indulgence of properly looking at Richard’s tall frame.
The cut of his clothes was form-fitting, down to the green of his waistcoat and the soft yellow of the pocket square peeking out from his breast pocket. She glanced down to her own gown. She had refused the new dress at the modiste. She had chosen to wear an older one…how had he known that she would choose to wear green and yellow? Had he matched her on purpose? It certainly seemed too well-timed to be a coincidence.
Arabella air-kissed the sides of his face and seemed to excitedly hop into the building, searching for her friends. Catherine could not protect her mother from everything, and simply allowed her to go. Her gaze flicked up to Richard as she ascended the final step. Something about the warmth and clear invitation in his open smile had the knot in her stomach twisting and tingling in the strangest of sensations.
“You…look…” Richard’s voice tightened, and his words trailed off.
Heat flamed her face in spite of her better judgment as Richard offered her, his arm to escort her into the house. He was meant to stay and continue to greet the rest of his esteemed guests who stood in line behind him, but he looked at her like she was the only person who even existed. The whispers coming from the bodies behind her fell utterly silent as she slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow and allowed herself to be escorted inside.
“This changes nothing,” she muttered loud enough for only him to hear. “It does not mean that I like you. I am only here for my mother.”
“For now, perhaps.” He smiled as he placed his hand on top of hers. “Though, the evening is still young.”
She glanced up to look at him, but he was already staring down at her. The warmth of his hand on hers sent a shudder through her. Why did he have to be so handsome? It was no wonder that he had the reputation that he had, when his voice sounded the way it did.
“I am glad that you have chosen to come, though,” Richard whispered as he leaned in closer to her ear. It was far too intimate a gesture. If there were not so many eyes on them, she would have attempted to lean away. Instead, gooseflesh rippled down her spine from the unexpected contact. “I hope to make it worth your while, and not just for your mother.”
“I want nothing from you,” Catherine insisted as he led her through the crowds of whispering, gawking people and swallowed the instinct to cower. She forced herself to stand tall as she was guided toward the dance floor. “Apart, perhaps, from knowing what your endgame is here.”
Richard grabbed each of them a glass of wine and offered her one. “I do not suppose that you have happened to spot my father since your arrival?”
“Obviously not,” Catherine retorted. She was more than happy to avoid the duke for as long as physically possible. She took the glass of wine and sniffed it delicately. Her favorite. She tried not to show her surprise. Another thing he could not have possibly known.
“Well, perhaps it will bring you some satisfaction.” Richard inclined his head in the direction of his father, and she could not help but to track his gaze. Across the ballroom, she spotted him as if people moved out of his direct gaze on purpose so that Catherine might see the look of pure fire on the duke’s face. It was only a flicker of an expression before it faded away into a schooled mask of indifference.
It was enough.
Something fluttered in her chest at the sight of the duke’s rage at her presence. It was precisely what she had needed. Perhaps Lord Richard had not been lying to her after all. Perhaps he truly did have something to gain from this arrangement; for what other reason would he have to displease his father so completely?
For the first time in many, many days…Catherine smiled.
Chapter 8
Wallingham Place
Despite the reputation that he knew that he had, Richard could not remember the last time that he was captivated by the presence of a woman as wholly as he was the moment that Catherine smiled. It was as if she had managed to steal and channel all of the light in the whole room and wield it herself.
It was not a happy expression, despite its charm. It was a sinister, devilishly pleased thing that only further proved just how fiery her temper could be. As if that had ever truly been in question in the first place. He had absolutely made the right choice in inviting her here tonight. His own personal satisfaction at enraging his father came second to the look of dark joy on her beautiful features.
“Perhaps if you share a dance with me, we can cause the blood vessel in his temple to burst with indignation?” Richard offered. It was only part of the reason that he wished to dance this waltz with her. He would not put it past his father to tell the string quartet never to play the waltz again once he saw what his son intended to do, but mainly, he just wished to have an excuse to touch her. He wanted a reason that he could continue to be near to her.
“I suppose that one dance would not hurt.”
“Not us, anyway.” Richard grinned as he took her glass and set them both on a side table. His hand skimmed over her waist for only a moment as he shifted the way he escorted her to place a hand behind her shoulders to guide her toward the dance floor.
Even just the small brush of his fingertips against her bare skin was more exciting than he anticipated. Her skin was impossibly soft. For a moment, he lingered on the nape of her neck and the way her slender bone structure tapered upward to the dark updo of her raven hair and the delicate pearls pinned there.
“I am warning you now, though, that if I happen to step on your toes during our dance, I am not going to be sorry that I have done it. So, you had best prepare yourself for that,” Catherine warned him dryly.
“Perhaps that is what I deserve, I shall grant you that. Though I am an excellent dancer, so you might not even get the opportunity.”
“Are you doubting me?” Catherine questioned as she held his gaze and moved into position for the start of their dance.
