Kate remembered Robert’s warning about his friend, but it only served to make her rebellious. Would Robert be just a little jealous to find Southmore had been here? “This is the way of things?”
“Oh yes, my lady. I have seen it done many times.”
She was sure that Lord Southmore didn’t wish her to look regal. “Have him come up, Brigitte.”
Shortly afterward, the elegant man, dressed in peach satin, entered the room, and came to kiss her hand. “Lady St. Malin.”
How civil he was. And quite attractive, she hadn’t noticed that before. She suspected a man such as he would never give a woman a moment’s heartache. “Lord Southmore.”
Southmore stood behind Kate as Brigitte opened the box containing patches. “Now let me see. One here, I think.” He leaned forward and traced her cheekbone with a feather light touch. “And one at the very corner of your mouth, to highlight one of your best features.” He brushed beneath her bottom lip with the tips of his fingers before withdrawing his hand.
Kate wanted to giggle but refrained because Southmore appeared quite serious. “Thank you, my lord. You have an eye for it.”Perhaps he’d had a good deal of practice, she thought wryly.
Southmore’s gaze moved over her, the warm light in his gray eyes failing to match his impersonal tone. “Now for the hair.” He turned to study her waiting gown. “An excellent choice. That lovely shade of green will pay homage to your eyes. Silk gardenias are perfect.”
Brigitte began to tuck the flowers into Kate’s hair.
“Superb,” Lord Southmore said. “Now, for the jewels, I recommend—”
“Emeralds,” a sharp voice came from the doorway.
In the mirror, Kate’s gaze flew to the door. Robert entered, a muscle twitching in his jaw. She drew in a breath at his steely expression but lifted her chin and held his gaze.
Southmore bowed. “St. Malin. You are just in time for the gown.”
“So I see,” Robert said through his teeth.
Kate hurried behind the painted screen. She slipped off the wrap. Brigitte helped her step into the gown, then her deft fingers worked at the pins and hooks.
Brigitte smoothed a silk ruffle. “There, my lady,” she said in a hushed voice, her eyes filled with excitement.
Kate stepped out to face the two men.
“Perfect. I was right about the color enhancing your eyes,” Southmore said, a mocking smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Wouldn’t you agree, St. Malin?”
Robert’s eyes narrowed, and he didn’t answer. He opened a velvet box. She expected the diamonds, but he drew from it an exquisite emerald necklace. The deep green stones, set in a bed of diamonds, looked like pretty spring flowers. He tossed the box to the maid and clasped the necklace around Kate’s throat.
His fingers touching the nape of her neck caused her to tremble. She anxiously watched his face in the mirror. Robert looked as if he would prefer to throttle her rather than adorn her with jewels. She bit her lip, determined not to allow him to spoil the evening. “Thank you, St. Malin.” The use of his title, although strange on her tongue, caused his eyes to widen. She saw that she’d penetrated his indifference at least, but it failed to please her. “Another beautiful necklace. I declare you spoil me.” She turned to Southmore. “And my thanks to you, my lord, for your skillful artistry.”
Lord Southmore bowed. “A pleasure.”
She took her gloves and reticule from Brigitte. “Shall we go, gentlemen?”
Robert turned to Southmore. “May I offer you a lift?”
Southmore bowed. “Thank you, St. Malin.”
They were so scrupulously polite with each other it got on Kate’s nerves. But the tension in the coach grew thick enough to cut with a knife, and little was said beyond inanities. Kate sat beside Robert, but he held his body away from her and gazed out the window.
Lord Southmore on the other hand seemed entirely relaxed as he smiled at her. After they descended from the carriage, Kate found herself comparing the two men. Robert’s shoulders were squarer and his was the more powerful build. Southmore was a very tall man and of a slimmer build. Robert had a kind of smoldering intensity he kept under guard. Southmore was cool, he treated life and women lightly, she suspected. She found she did not warm to him as she sensed beneath the charming surface lay a cold heart.
In the ballroom, the orchestra tuned their instruments, and a minuet was announced. When the music began, Robert partnered Kate. Over their heads, sparkling chandeliers hung from a ceiling painted with frolicking cherubs. Robert barely looked at her, performing the steps with cool precision. When the dance ended, Kate made an effort to amuse him, longing for him to smile. She curtsied low and fluttered her fan like a merry lady. “Thank you, my lord. You dance divinely.”
He glowered at her. “Don’t do that Kate.”
Crushed, she widened her eyes. “Do what?”
“Don’t cheapen yourself by acting the flirt.”
She looked at him openmouthed, struggling to understand him. “Many women here act that way.”
“Not you. It doesn’t suit you.”
Robert bowed and he excused himself. She sadly watched him walk toward the gaming room. She obviously had no clue what he wanted, but it didn’t appear to be her.
*
Robert settled himselfat a faro table and tried to concentrate on his cards. He had been unkind to Kate again and disliked himself for it. His adult life up to now had been ordered, and he’d avoided confrontation of any sort. Even putting up with friends he didn’t much care for rather than telling them to go to the devil. But now he struggled with see-sawing emotions quite beyond his control, and he had no idea how to come to grips with his new situation. It wouldn’t have killed him to have remained to explain to Kate that he had come to value her naturalness and her honesty. That he didn’t want to see her change. He feared it was inevitable. He just couldn’t bear to witness it.
He rose from the table, excused himself, and returned purposefully to the ballroom. He intended to make amends, or at least apologize for his rudeness. But he paused at the door. Southmore’s head bowed over Kate’s as they danced, and she smiled up at him. Robert turned on his heel and left the ballroom. Ridiculous to think every eye had been on him, but many were, some curious, some compassionate, and it filled him with a blood-thirsty rage. Not directed at Kate, but at his so-called friend Southmore. He suspected the man intended to snatch Kate from under his nose given the chance. The man’s blatant treachery robbed him of breath, when he’d always put such store by his friends.
