There’s a crack in the façade, a dimming in her eyes. It’s momentary, before that practiced smile snaps back into place. But it makes Catherine wonder. Can she tease out the woman she was dancing with earlier?
“Who among your traveling party would you leave behind to make it more adventurous?” Catherine asks casually.
“My father,” Lady Rosalie replies immediately. Her eyes widen a fraction and she glances at Catherine.
“Oh? I would have thought him very adventurous,” Catherine admits, glancing back at the lively pair of Tisends still greeting guests at the door. The earl seems most affable.
“You haven’t seen him at a museum,” Lady Rosalie mutters.
Catherine stifles a surprised giggle. “My father’s much the same.”
That makes Lady Rosalie smile. They turn together and look out at the room.
Catherine feels a prickle of anxiety work its way up the back of her neck. She has to perform in front of all of these people. Bythe way Lady Rosalie stiffens beside her, Catherine figures she’s thinking the same. Catherine decides to try to poke her again, get her smiling. Or, rather, put her off-kilter so she doesn’t play as well, she thinks, spotting her mother and father making their way up the center aisle toward them.
Behind them, a woman and a man, both dressed rather ostentatiously with a lot of gold trim, walk with their noses in the air.
“Who are they?” Catherine asks.
Lady Rosalie doesn’t need to look at her to know. “Mr. and Mrs.Fairwinter.”
Catherine watches Lady Rosalie’s reaction, the way her jaw tightens, as though she might like to laugh at their haughty looks.
“I bet he could make a stuffed woolly mammoth long for death with a lecture on ancient trees.”
Lady Rosalie lets out a loud snort. Catherine can’t help but grin as people turn to look at them. Lady Rosalie coughs into the crook of her elbow, shrugging politely at the onlookers before looking over at Catherine, eyes narrowed.
“What? He could!” Catherine insists.
Lady Rosalie’s frowning at her, but her eyes are alight with mirth.
Lady Tisend appears at their side, followed by Lady Rosalie’s friends MissHenrietta Raught and the taller, sharper MissAmalie Linet. Lady Rosalie’s cheeky regard vanishes, and Catherine watches, impressed, as her shoulders roll back, and all at once she’sLady Rosalie, imperious and in control once more.
Mr.Dean and Mr.Sholle are at the back of the group, and Catherine wonders for a moment if she should try to find a way to—
But Lady Rosalie’s already guiding Catherine far down therow to her waiting parents. Catherine sits carefully beside her mother, watching in frustrated amusement as Lady Rosalie directs her friends the same way. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Sholle ends up on Catherine’s left, with Miss Raught, Miss Linet, Mr. Fortes, and Mr. Rile seated between Catherine and Lady Rosalie. She’s even put Mr. Dean on her other side, as if Catherine could somehow reach him through five other people.
Catherine would be more upset, but she realizes her mother is sitting ramrod straight beside her.
“How are you?” Catherine whispers.
Mother glances at her for a moment, eyes a little wide and harried. “I am perfectly well,” she says stiffly.
“That Sir Walter Jones has such stories,” Father says, leaning around Mother with a grin. “We’ll have to have them over for tea.”
“Sir Walter Jones?” Catherine asks.
“Lord Tisend’s brother-in-law. Just arrived with Tisend’s younger sister for the rest of the season. Lady Jones is a laugh and a half,” he adds at a whisper. “Isn’t she?”
Mother doesn’t say anything, just jerks her head. The musicians are assembling on the dais in front of them, and everyone around them has sat down.
Catherine glances down the row, noting MissRaught and MissLinet speaking animatedly to their beaus, while Lady Rosalie and Mr.Dean sit facing the musicians, not talking.
Lady Rosalie glances over at her and Catherine sits back quickly as the musicians take the stage and begin their performance.
Mr. Dean is squandering the moment. Catherine’s not sure now if stealing him away would be a triumph, or if she’d ultimately be doing Lady Rosalie a favor. Lady Rosalie is as dazzling as the soprano on stage. Mr. Dean is simply... mortal, in every way.
All too soon, the professional performance comes to a close. The musicians and singers sumptuously dressed in powdered wigs and Georgian gowns take their bows. Then Monsieur Claude and a porter are moving the pianoforte up to the front of the little stage.
