“On the subject of instruction,” he said, gesturing towards Catherine, “Miss Aster is my sister’s tutor and chaperone in all society matters. Lady Langley, Lady Trilling, and Lady Toller, this is Miss Aster.”
At the word “chaperone,” he saw the ladies’ eyes grow dull, but they nodded politely. Catherine did a pitch-perfect curtsey, just humble enough to come off as a paid companion, but one familiar with high society.Excellent, he thought. He didn’t want them examining Catherine too closely.
“Lady Trilling,” he said, having prepared for a potentially adverse reaction to his next step. He hadn’t planned to ask so quickly upon introductions, but he heard them strike up the waltz. His request would be somewhat irregular, but he was hoping to carry it off due to his rank and through alluding to Henrietta’s instruction. “Would you mind chaperoning Lady Henrietta while Miss Aster and I dance?”
Even beneath her mask, he saw Catherine reel back. He hadn’t warned her. He knew she would have never agreed. Henrietta frowned, clearly not happy to be left with the old women. His sister would have to be patient. He could see Catherine wanted to refuse—but she couldn’t without drawing attention to herself.
Lady Trilling and her companions looked surprised.
“We promised my sister we would show her how the waltz is done at an actual ball,” he said in his most winning manner. “It’s the next best thing to practicing right here and now—which of course I would never allow.”
Lady Trilling bowed and murmured, “Of course, Your Grace,” clearly confused but not attempting to question such an oddity. He held out his arm to Catherine.
“Miss Aster?”
Catherine took his arm, having no other choice.
“Only one glass of champagne, Retta,” he said to his sister, who scowled at him. “We’ll only be gone for a moment.”
Once they were out of earshot, Catherine said to him, under her breath, “What are you thinking? We can’twaltz. Do you have any notion how odd this looks?”
Already, she was in his arms, and they were moving in time.
“I do. But I had to make it up to you.”
“By having me recognized?”
“No. The ball at Tremberley—and how it ended. I wanted to dance with you again.”
He felt her relax in his arms. She said nothing, but he knew he had won the argument. Instead, he focused on her, how amazing she felt, and how every time they came together, he lost his breath a little. She was, of course, excellent at waltzing. She met his eyes and he could see in their blue-black depths, behind the mask, that she was not angry any longer.
The next time he pulled her in close, almost at the end of the song, he said, “One day, very soon I hope, we will dance in front of all of society and you will be my duchess. One day, everyone here will know you are mine.”
*
Catherine’s heart poundedunder her gown. She hadn’t waltzed in years, and she thanked God that Lady Wethersby had hired a tutor who had taught her so well that the steps were second nature. She had been furious with John when he had asked her to dance in front of Lady Trilling, who shouldn’t be tempted to study her any more closely than necessary. And yet as she danced with him arm in arm, she felt her anger dissolve.
When he promised that one day everyone would know that she was his, her anger was completely forgotten.
Of course, it shouldn’t surprise her—they were engaged, after all—but she loved that he wanted to claim her, when she had been so neglected by this world.
And, as they danced, every touch made her thrill for what they would share later in bed.
Her body mourned the slowing of the music and that they would have to go back, for now, to pretending they were mere acquaintances. He offered his arm as they headed back across the ballroom to rejoin Henrietta.
Except, when they started making their way over to Henrietta, Catherine saw that she was no longer standing beside the matrons.
Lady Trilling and the two other ladies still stood in the same spot, now speaking to an older, stooped gentleman, who Catherine recognized from her childhood as the Marquess of Barton.
“Where is Henrietta?” Catherine asked John as they approached.
“I don’t know, but we’ll find out.”
He kept his voice even, but she could tell he was nervous.
As they approached, Lady Trilling turned as if to alert Henrietta. She frowned when she saw the girl was gone.
“Your Grace,” she said, looking alarmed, “Lady Henrietta was just here, but it appears that she may have…wandered off.”
