“Pine, Pine. Yes,” Lord Dean agrees, shaking Father’s hand. “I recall visiting a lake once that was well stocked.”
“Our fish are always plentiful,” Father says, glancing at Catherine and her mother in surprise before smiling at Lord Dean. “May I escort you in?”
And off they go, leaving Catherine, Mother, and Mr.Dean at the door. They stand for a moment in an awkward silence. Mr.Dean opens his mouth, as if he might offer some excuse, but then shuts it, moving instead to Catherine’s side.
She feels his hand at her elbow, a clear request to take her arm—to standwithher as they greet the rising tide of guests. Without so much as a word, an apology, an explanation for his father’s behavior.
She wants to push him away, but she can’t, not yet. She can’t publicly snub him. Not until Mother and Lady Tisend have had it out.
So she pushes down her anger and moves her elbow, allowing Mr.Dean to slip his hand through its crook, linking their arms together. She glances up at Mother, but she looks perfectly composed and unaffected. She’s even smiling.
How can she be— Catherine turns to the line of mothers waiting for entry. They’re all tittering. Mr.Dean is standing beside her,withher, to greet the guests. Damn. It’s almost as big a statement as a proposal would be.
God willing, this will be the worst of it.
They greet what seems like a never-ending slew of guests, curtsying and smiling. All of them give Catherine significant looks that make her blood slowly fizz.
“Did you buy that lovely dress at Madame Florent’s shop?”
Catherine turns, surprised, and looks up at Mr.Dean. “I did.”
“It’s quite fetching. The lace is very intricate.” He almost looks... animated.
Like nothing even happened.
“Thank you,” she says. She turns back to greet the next guest, unsettled.
“I heard there’s to be a shipment of books in to Mr.Weston’s shop next week. Thought you ought to know.”
Catherine turns to Mr.Dean again, finding him smiling down at her. “Oh, that’s lovely,” she says. She can’t wait to tell Rosalie and Amalie and Henrietta. Assuming they’ll still be able to spend time together after tonight.
“What are you reading right now?”
Catherine blinks, working hard to hide her complete bemusement. He’s choosing now to take an interest? To care, even a little?
“I’ve been busy with planning for this tea,” she says, hoping it dissuades him.
“Entirely fair. What are you hoping to read next?”
It’s somehow even less surprising that he can’t take a hint.
“I’ve three or four titles. I’m not sure I could pick just one,” she says, glancing at Mother, but she’s entirely engrossed in greeting guests and not any help at all.
As she looks back at Mr.Dean, she finally spots Amalie and Henrietta on the stairs. They wave and Catherine nearly wilts with relief. Reinforcements are coming. She just needs to stand her ground and—
“Shall we head inside to get some refreshment?”
She could scowl. “Oh, I shouldn’t leave Mother to—”
“Go, go,” Mother says easily. “We shouldn’t keep Mr.Dean from mingling.”
And so she finds herself back in the tearoom, Mr. Dean squiring her around, and decidedly not heading toward the refreshments along the back wall. She could use a glass of champagne.
“Ah, Mr.Duncan,” Mr.Dean says, bringing Catherine over to a circle of young men.
She recognizes Mr.Fortes and Mr.Rile, of course, but the rest are a mystery. She curtsies and then stands there while they talk of hunting and fishing and cards. She could chime in. She’s an excellent whist player, especially if she and Father are on a team. But she doesn’t want to draw any attention to herself.
As long as she’s over here with the men, she’s safe from any spontaneous proposals. Though it could just be a matter of time. Father’s talking to a younger couple across the room, distracted, and Lord Dean keeps glancing at them, as if he’s waiting for something.
