Did he have any idea how that gaze affected her?
The question was silly. Katherine went to great lengths to ensure he never saw just how much she loved gazing into his eyes. And much more. But at two and thirty, she knew better than to flirt openly with any gentleman—let alone such an eligible one. Nothing scared a man more than to have a plain spinster throw herself at him. Especially one who was five years his senior.
Be his friend. Be patient. Surely he would see the truth for himself with time. It wasn’t as though only beautiful people ever found love. Plenty of plain-faced people secured adoring spouses, and such an attraction didn’t happen in an instant. He already counted her a good friend, and with time, something more might grow from that platonic affection.
The others continued to gab, but Katherine stood there, watching Mr. Archer smile. At her. All while she attempted to keep her heart from beating out of her chest.
Be his friend. Be patient. But like all good advice, it was easier said than done.
Chapter 2
An arm slid through Katherine’s, giving her a start—but not half as strong as she felt when her mother said, “Here you all are, my dear children.”
The lady’s hold on her arm was like a vise, and Katherine struggled to keep her expression impassive as her jaw clenched. Yet another prayer for patience flitted through her heart.
“And Mr. Archer,” said Mama, batting her lashes. “So lovely to see you.”
“I fear I do not know any Mr. Archer, madam. But I am quite pleased to meet you this fine evening,” said Mr. Archer, sweeping into another gallant bow before brandishing his pistols once more. “However, I am very sorry to announce that I am here to rob you…”
Though he hid it well, Mr. Archer’s voice faltered as he tried to discern the lady’s costume. Feathers in her hair bobbed around her, looking all the more ridiculous for the pink confection of a dress she’d chosen for tonight. The mask was gilded and painted until it looked like a golden garden, but that gave no hint as to what the lady’s intention had been for her costume.
Mr. Archer’s gaze darted to Katherine, and she mouthed, “Love.”
For all that Rosanna had chosen to be the Grecian embodiment of the sentiment, Mama had decided upon a far more direct route, yet her execution made it far more obscure.
“You look fetching tonight, Mrs. Leigh,” he said, his gaze darting between her and her mother. All the while, Katherine continued to mouth the word to him.
“Would you say youloveher costume?” asked Katherine.
Mr. Archer straightened and nodded. “Ah, yes. Of course, I would. Brilliant interpretation of love.”
Mama beamed, reaching out with a fan to jab Mr. Archer. “I knew you would understand. Can you believe no one else has been able to guess it?”
“I cannot, madam. The rest of the party’s wits are lacking,” he answered with utter gravity, though when he hazarded a glance at Katherine, Mr. Archer’s eyes shone with a silent laugh, and she fought to keep it from showing in her expression as well.
Giving him another jab (which was hard enough to make Katherine wince at the sight, though Mr. Archer made no show of displeasure), Mama gave him a narrowed look. “A gentleman of your age and situation ought not to be standing about like a lout, sir. Tell me you intend to stand up with our dear Katherine.”
Years of practice ensured that her heart didn’t show in her face, but it sank to her toes like a lead weight, sending her stomach into a fit of indigestion. Thankfully, Katherine’s blushes hardly showed or her cheeks would be as pink as Mama’s ridiculous gown, but her eyes shot away from Mr. Archer, unable to look at his reaction.
Of course, she longed to see pleasure there, but Katherine knew too well that shock or horror was more likely to be present—as it was on her siblings’ faces. She only hoped theirs was due to Mama’s social faux pas and not the idea of their sister standing up with Mr. Archer.
Benjamin let out a halting chuckle. “Really, Mother. You are being far too direct.”
“Rubbish,” said Mama, flicking her fan at her boy as though to brush away his words. “Mr. Archer is a dear friend of the family, and there is nothing untoward about him standing up with our dear Katherine or my entreating him to do so.”
As Mr. Archer was the only gentleman who ever asked to stand up with Katherine, she had supposed he would do so tonight as well—if Mama didn’t make him so uncomfortable that he avoided the whole lot of Leighs tonight.
“Mama, leave him be,” whispered Katherine.
But rather than answering in kind, Mama scoffed and replied with enough volume that everyone in their circle could hear. “Don’t be missish, Katherine. You do nothing to encourage the gentlemen to approach, so I must do something on your behalf.”
Curse Francis for marrying and leaving Mama with nothing to do but fret over her sole unmarried daughter. At least when the youngest Leigh had been about, the lady’s attention was divided. Really, it had been focused entirely on Francis, for Mama had long despaired over Katherine. However, in the six years since that felicitous occasion, Katherine had become the sole recipient of Mama’s matrimonial endeavors.
One might believe that being well past thirty would’ve deterred the lady’s efforts, but one would be wrong.
Turning her attention back to the gentleman in their little circle, Mama jabbed him once more with her fan and said, “As a gentleman, you must agree, Mr. Archer. What man wants a bespectacled bride who dresses dowdily and refuses anything more than a cursory attempt to style her hair? You’ve seen Katherine at enough of these functions to know that it has done nothing for her but label her a wallflower and spinster. If I demur in my duty, she will never marry, and what sort of mother would do such a thing?”
“You do your daughter a disservice, Mrs. Leigh.” Mr. Archer’s words forced Katherine’s gaze to his, but his attention was fixed on Mama. Though much of his face was obscured by his mask and costume, Katherine saw the signs of his displeasure in the corners of his lips, and she could well imagine the furrow in his brow. “A gentleman of sense wants a wife of substance and not merely an ornament to hang on his arm—”
