“That’s good,” Catherine says quickly. “It’s always nice when there’s mutual regard in a potential match.”
MissRaught’s eyes brighten. “Was there anyone you danced with tonight with whom you think you could have a spark?”
This is what she was sent in to ask. Catherine could demur, could play it safe. But where’s the fun in that?
“Well, Mr.Dean is surely quite handsome,” she says, withholding a laugh when MissRaught’s face goes scarlet.
“He’s courting Lady Rosalie,” she says loudly, glancing at the door to the cloakroom. “Surely... surely hemusthave said.”
“We didn’t say much to each other,” Catherine admits. She got her answer, no need to antagonize the poor woman. “And a single dance doesn’t mean anything.”
“It was the first dance, though,” MissRaught says, her words not quite a whisper, her eyes darting back to the door again. “That canmeanthings here, MissPine.”
“Oh, well, I suppose I’ll keep that in mind,” Catherine says. “I appreciate you looking out for me.”
MissRaught’s face drains of color and Catherine feels a pang of remorse. It’s not MissRaught’s fault that she’s rather bad at subterfuge.
Thankfully, the door to the cloakroom opens, interrupting whatever further questions MissRaught might have tried to stumble through. Though the figure entering doesn’t put Catherine any more at ease.
Because here is Lady Rosalie, up close, in person, and thoroughly, stunningly intimidating. Her cheeks are a bit flushed, her dark brown hair beginning to go frizzy with the humidity of the ballroom. And her eyes, oh, her eyes are simply dazzling at this distance. The whole effect is awe-inspiring. Which is quite a feat at five feet tall.
“I worried you’d gotten locked in the water closet,” Lady Rosalie says to Miss Raught. Her voice is low and rich, not at all what Catherine expected.
MissRaught looks flustered and glances at Catherine as if they’ve been caught somehow. Which is absurd; Lady Rosalie was clearly listening at the door.
“She actually saved me from that fate,” Catherine says, her voice only a little tight.
Lady Rosalie looks over and meets her eyes. Catherine wonders if her face has gone as flushed as MissRaught’s was a minute ago. There’s just something about Lady Rosalie that seems to make one a bit unbalanced, a bit stunned.
“How heroic of MissRaught,” Lady Rosalie says.
“Lady Rosalie, this is MissCatherine Pine,” MissRaught says hurriedly. “We were just talking about this being her first ball. She says Bath has been an adjustment, but that she’s enjoyed her dances.”
It comes out rapid-fire, but Lady Rosalie doesn’t look surprised by the delivery. Catherine wonders if MissRaught is always this flustered around Lady Rosalie.
Catherine can hardly blame her if she is. When Lady Rosalie looks Catherine up and down, it sends a shiver of something other than cold down Catherine’s spine. The sensation isn’t wholly unpleasant, but it’s foreign, and makes her want to blush too.
But she doesn’t want to appear unsure or discombobulated. She can’t show weakness here. Clearly, she stood up well enough to MissRaught’s interrogation, or she doubts Lady Rosalie would have approached her.
“We do a lot of dancing in Bath. I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity to dance much more as the season progresses,” Lady Rosalie says, her voice even.
“I certainly hope so,” Catherine agrees. “Do you like to dance, Lady Rosalie? I didn’t see you on the floor, though Miss Raught and Miss Linet danced a fair few.”
Catherine feels a little thrill at the way Lady Rosalie’s eyes narrow just a touch at the insinuation.
“She was dancing with Mr.Dean when I came to the cloakroom,” MissRaught says loudly.
Lady Rosalie closes her eyes for a moment. Catherine’s touched a nerve just by existing somehow. Thrown what she imagines is a well-oiled social machine all out of whack, and now Lady Rosalie must repair it.
“Mr.Dean and I did dance,” Lady Rosalie agrees, giving MissRaught a very tight smile before meeting Catherine’s gaze again. “And he told me you are a talented dancer yourself.”
“Oh,” Catherine says, surprised. “Well, that’s kind of him. I wasn’t entirely sure of the steps.”
“No one else noticed,” Lady Rosalie says.
No one except Lady Rosalie, apparently. “Oh, well, that’s good. Dancing is not my forte,” Catherine says humbly, wanting to put her at ease.
“And what is your forte?”
