Philippa frowned. “We cannot even set about making him properly jealous, as my brother has appointed himself your protective spaniel.”
Katerina chuckled at the image.
“I am not sure jealousy is the way to proceed,” Katherine replied.
“Well,” Clarissa replied, “I was certain that flaunting our friendship all over town would—”
“Clarissa!” Katherine exclaimed.
Clarissa flashed her a guilty glance. “Did you honestly think we were unaware of your troubles?”
Katherine reluctantly shook her head no.
“And who knows better than I do that the marquess is proud enough to cut off his nose to spite his face.”
“Brummell intends to come to my soiree tonight,” Philippa said thoughtfully. “If there were some way we could let Bromton know…”
“Yes,” Clarissa snapped her fingers. “Bromton loathes a scandal. We just have to find a way to get word, and he’d come running to your side, if only to prevent a misstep.”
Katherine shook her head no. “I appreciate your help, but stratagems are what landed me in this quandary in the first place.” She sighed. “I wish Bromton were here, but I cannot force him to be other than he is.”
“An imperious wretch?” Philippa suggested.
“A thick-headed fool,” Katerina answered.
A husband too guilt-ridden to come back to his wife.
“Well,” Clarissa sighed, “no stratagems. But that doesn’t mean we cannot have a plan. You can still look devastatingly gorgeous as you dance the night away. How about that green dress the modiste delivered?”
“And whatever else we do,” Phillipa said, “we must force my spaniel brother to sit.”
…
All four ladies danced a quadrille each before they had exhausted Lord Farring. The proceeds of their bet went to Mrs. VanHeldt—Katherine and Clarissa had been sure his stamina would give way after two, while his sister had graciously granted him three. Mrs. VanHeldt guided him out to the balcony, throwing Clarissa and Katherine a wink.
“There is something there,” Clarissa said.
“Aren’t she and Ra—”
Clarissa shrugged. “It would be highly inappropriate of me to ask, don’t you think?
They both smirked.
“Katerina can take care of herself,” Clarissa said. “Do you see him anywhere?”
There was no need to specify who Clarissa meant byhim. They’d assigned a particulartoneto the Marquess of Bromton, one that Katherine felt blended just the right amount of derision, frustration, and, for her part, maddening need. Although she suspected she’d be able to feel Bromton’s presence, Katherine’s gaze skipped through the ballroom, just to be sure.
Once again,hehad not come.
She opened her fan. Concealing her lips with an indolent flutter, she leaned toward Lady Clarissa.
“There appears to be a flaw in your plan,” she said under her breath.
“Flaw,” Clarissa scoffed. “What flaw?”
“I am feeling less and less like dancing.”
“Oh,” Clarissa said airily, “thatflaw. I refuse to admit defeat. The night is young.” She tapped her own fan against her cheek. “It’s a wonder he hasn’t figured out his wrong. Men can be so disappointingly obtuse.” She flashed Katherine a glance. “Take, for instance, your brother.”
