But that wasn’t her main concern. She needed to know when he’d return to town so she could speak to the man. She wanted to look him in the eye and have him reassure her that he’d never reveal her secret. She needed to see his face when he said it so she could judge whether or not he was lying to her. And to be perfectly honest with herself, she simply missed seeing the man.
Elizabeth’s eyes suddenly gleamed. “I know,” she crowed. “How silly of me. I’m in possession of a prime piece of news. But you really must keep it to yourself. Last night, one of the Gibson girls ran away with a footman. Can you imagine? They are on their way to Gretna Green even now.”
“No!” Catherine’s eyes widened in shock and her hand flew to her mouth. “How did you find out?”
“One of their servants told one of our kitchen maids, who passed it on to my personal maid,” she rattled off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Her parents are trying to keep it quiet, but you know that will never last. Things like that always leak out. There’s at least one elopement every season. Some girls get these silly, romantic ideas in their heads, and then they dash off, certain that they can live on love alone. When she’s raising his babies with no servants of her own, she’ll have the cold comfort of knowing that they had a daring race to Gretna Green to start their marriage.”
“You sound quite harsh. Surely her parents won’t cut her off...” But they probably would. At least, publicly.
“Uh-oh. Lord Stansbury is headed directly toward us,” Elizabeth said as she indicated the man bearing down on them.
Catherine glanced away from the earl, barely suppressing her grimace of distaste.
“Good evening, ladies,” he murmured as he joined them. He glanced at Elizabeth. “I believe your mother is looking for you, Lady Elizabeth.” His eyes flickered away from her, immediately drawn to Catherine... or rather, to her cleavage.
Catherine felt her face turn bright red.
“Oh?” Elizabeth craned her neck to look over his shoulder. “How odd, since she doesn’t appear to notice me from where she sits. She’s quite engrossed in her conversation.” Her voice held a note of sarcasm, which Stansbury ignored. He was much more interested in staring at the teardrop pearl nestled just above Catherine’s cleavage.
At least, Catherine hoped it was the pearl that caught his attention. She slid her fan up to block his gaze, fanning her heated face.
“Would you like me to escort you to her side?” Stansbury’s voice held a note of irritation as he glanced at Elizabeth.
“That won’t be necessary, Lord Stansbury,” Elizabeth said in a huff. “Since I can see my mother, I’m quite certain I can navigate the length of the room to join her.” Her chilling tone was again lost on Stansbury. He’d already shifted his weight to attain a better view of Catherine’s cleavage. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and then gave Catherine a pitying look as she stalked across the room to her mother.
“Lady Catherine, would you care to take a turn around the room with me?” He held out his arm.
Not really. She’d done her best to avoid him all evening, and she was loath to link arms with the man. When she didn’t respond quickly enough, he simply snatched her hand in his and tucked it into the crook of his arm, holding it firmly in place.
Catherine tried to pull her hand free, but he had it trapped against his body, and she couldn’t disentangle it without making a scene.
What an odious man. She could see a faint, grayish layer of grime on the white collar of his shirt. Couldn’t he manage to wear clean clothes when attending a dinner at the home of the Duchess of Linsley?
Perhaps if she engaged him in conversation, he’d stop ogling her. When she caught the stale scent of dried perspiration under a veneer of cologne, she remembered yet another reason she’d always tried to avoid the man.
Catherine turned her face away from him. She tried to ignore his presence by watching some of the other groups of people around the room. Fortunately, she managed to catch the eye of Lady Linsley and throw her a pleading look. The duchess was with another guest, but a flicker of understanding passed between them. Thank goodness. Her hostess would soon rescue her from this awkward situation.
Stansbury cleared his throat. The urgency he’d shown while trying to separate her from Elizabeth had faded. It was as though he couldn’t decide how to proceed.
He cleared his throat again and opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it.
The man’s behavior was decidedly odd. He glanced around the room, his eyes flitting from group to group. It dawned on Catherine that he was waiting to speak because he didn’t want to be overheard.
Stansbury cleared his throat for a third time.
“Lord Stansbury, are you well? Should I ask someone to bring you something to drink?”
“You’re most kind, but no, I don’t require anything.” Stansbury remained silent as they moved toward the far end of the room. When they had moved far enough away from the rest of the guests to guarantee a measure of privacy, he cleared his throat again, but this time he spoke.
“Lady Catherine, it has come to my attention that a certain woman of my acquaintance has become embroiled in a difficult situation, and I fear that it could be her undoing.” He glanced sidelong at her, examining her face.
“It sounds like a delicate situation,” she said noncommittally, wondering why he would confide in her this way. Could he be referring to the Gibson girl? Perhaps she’d been the girl he’d been pursuing.
“Yes. Delicate,” he seemed perturbed with her, but she was at a loss to why. “This young lady,” he stressed the word, “has been perpetrating the sort of charade that could bring shame to her entire family.” He regarded her more pointedly.
Catherine glanced away as a tingling of foreboding traveled up her spine. He couldn’t know anything about Gray, could he?
Stansbury peered at her as the corner of his mouth twitched. “I hope you understand the gravity of the situation.”
His satisfied tone chilled Catherine. He seemed to believe he had the upper hand. Surely he couldn’t know. He didn’t even fence. How else could anyone find out?
Unless Huntley said something.
Her breathing became shallow, and she had to force her tight lips to move. “I don’t believe I understand you. Perhaps you could be more specific.” She held her breath as she waited for his reply, but realized that his beady little eyes watched her, judging her reaction to his words. She forced herself to breathe evenly and remain calm.
“I believe you know of whom I speak. I will say just one more word on the subject of the young lady in question,” he drew out the moment, visibly enjoying the power he wielded over her.
“Fencing,” he said succinctly.
Her footsteps faltered and her heart gave a single strong thump before it began to beat more heavily in her chest.
How could he possibly know? How could she have been discovered? It had to be Huntley, didn’t it?
She tried to remember if she’d noticed anyone watching her the last time she’d been to Bernini’s. The night had been foggy, so someone could have followed her and she never would have noticed. And the next morning she’d been intent upon making it home before daylight. If someone had recognized her, would she have seen them?
“I... what do you intend to do about this?” She couldn’t quite catch her breath. The meal of lamb sat heavy in her stomach.
“That will be entirely up to the young lady.” He gave her a pointed look. “I feel it’s my obligation, no, my duty, to provide every assistance possible. Her family name is already slightly tarnished due to her father’s activities. If word of this were to spread, her reputation would be in tatters, and her sister’s chances for a decent marriage would be ruined as well.” He paused to let his words sink in. “My plan is simple. I’ll offer my hand in marriage and use my good name to shield her from any repercussions that might arise.”
Marriage? This could not be happening. The sheer absurdity of his suggestion pulled her
back from the brink of hopelessness. A sense of calm washed over her, and oddly, she found herself on much firmer ground.
“I can see that you’ve puzzled out this solution quite carefully,” Catherine said, looking at him levelly, “but how can you be so certain that she’ll agree to your plan?”
Stansbury’s head snapped back, and then he squinted at her. Her change in demeanor seemed to take him by surprise.
Catherine smirked in satisfaction. Odious man.
“How could she not?” he asked, confused. “What other choice does she have?”
“The young lady must already have a plan for a situation such as this, don’t you think?” Catherine paused, letting her words sink in for a moment. “You may intend to submit your proposal to this young woman with her best interests at heart.” Ha. As if that could be true. “But she may not choose to accept your offer. There are many other alternatives available to her. And after all, what proof is there that she’s involved in any sort of inappropriate behavior?”
Catherine watched him from the corner of her eye. He could produce no evidence. It didn’t exist. Unless someone were to catch her “in the act,” he could provide no proof to support his claim about her secret life.
“Nevertheless,” he said, looking at her slyly, “the arbiters of propriety need no proof in their scandals. The merest hint of improper behavior would be enough to ruin her.” His smirk was triumphant. “She has no alternative but to accept my offer.”
What a sniveling little man. At that moment, Catherine wished she held a sword in her hand— a real sword with a sharp, piercing tip. More than anything, she wanted to call him out.
With a flash of blazing anger, she jerked her arm free of his and stepped back. Loathing flooded her, and she seared him with a look of scorn.
Stansbury hesitated and then tried to recapture her wrist. She quickly snatched it behind her back, wiping it against her dress to rid herself of the oily sensation he’d left on her skin.
She opened her mouth to retort, but stopped short as she noted their hostess bearing down on them with some speed. The woman must have witnessed the scene and was hurrying to defuse the situation before they drew any unwanted attention. Catherine composed herself and faced Lady Linsley with a relieved smile.
“My dear Lady Catherine,” said the duchess, “I so enjoy hearing you at the piano, but it has been an age since I last heard you play. Would you be so kind as to indulge me this evening?”
“It would be my pleasure, Your Grace. Is there anything in particular you’d like to hear?”
“Something light, I think,” Lady Linsley said, her voice soft and melodious. She provided a soothing counterpoint to Stansbury’s unpleasant tones. “Do you happen to know anything from Rigoletto? I plan to attend when it opens at Covent Garden, and I would so enjoy hearing that particular piece... is it ‘La donna e mobile’?”
“‘La donna e mobile,’ eh?” cackled the earl. “‘Woman is fickle.’ How fitting.” The venomous look he shot Catherine was triumphant.
Lady Linsley pierced him with a quelling look. “Then one must assume you missed the irony of the song, since in the opera, it’s the duke who is inconstant and fickle and the woman who gives her life to protect him.” She then turned her back to the man, focusing her attention on Catherine.
Catherine grinned in delight at the duchess’s verbal counter to the earl’s clumsy thrust. It was like watching an expert fencer flick aside the sword of an amateur. The duchess was adept at the subtleties involved in society’s social sparring. “I’m slightly acquainted with the piece,” Catherine said. “Do you have the sheet music?”
“I believe it’s still on the music stand.” She took Catherine’s arm and led her toward the piano, pointedly ignoring Stansbury. “My grandniece was attempting to play it, but she’s still young, and the piece is beyond her skill.”
Lady Linsley glanced back at the earl, and Catherine followed her gaze. He stood fuming from the humiliation. “Watch that one, my dear. I remember him as a boy, and he was always sneaky and self-serving.”
“Yes, ma’am, I believe you have the right of it,” she replied, with thinly veiled disdain.
28 - Villainous Thoughts
Stansbury glowered at Catherine as Lady Linsley escorted her to the piano. He seethed at the high-handed way in which the duchess had dismissed him.
What abominable timing.
That Kensington chit was irritatingly self-assured for a woman. Perhaps it came from her abominable penchant for fencing. Her pursuit of it must have warped her into an unnatural sort of woman.
He’d enjoy bringing her to heel. A bit of retraining was all the wench needed. In fact, the more he considered it, the more he warmed to the idea.
He’d certainly given her a scare. He chuckled to himself until he noticed the odd looks he drew from some of the other guests.
Catherine’s response dispelled his remaining doubts regarding the truth of the matter. He smirked as he remembered her stunned expression when he mentioned the word “fencing.” Wasn’t it fortuitous that the very night Huntley managed to evade his grasp, he’d ensnared Catherine instead?
Perhaps his luck was changing. He preferred marrying Catherine to forcing Huntley into helping him generate funds. He’d never been entirely confident in his ability to bend Huntley to his will. But Catherine? She’d be easy to manipulate. He knew exactly where to strike.
It would only take a few moments alone with her. He grinned. His powers of persuasion could be quite convincing once he knew the right incentive to offer.
Or the right amount of force to use. Lady Catherine was much more vulnerable than she realized. Much more vulnerable, indeed.
29 - House Plans
“Wentworth!” Huntley shouted. He was standing in the morning room, frustrated at not being able to locate his friend. The man had an uncanny ability to disappear.
“Blast it, I’m right here! Stop shouting, it’s a terrible habit.”
Huntley spun around and found Wentworth just entering through the doorway leading to the garden.
“Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“I was looking at your new gardens. They’re spectacular, but in a bit of disrepair. Your gardeners will be busy.”
“My staff from town keeps grumbling about the interior. They’re all looking forward to returning to London this evening. I need to find servants to take care of this estate. That’s what I wanted to discuss with you.”
“You want my help selecting your staff?” Wentworth looked appalled at the thought.
Huntley laughed. “Perhaps I could turn the entire project over to you.”
“I’ll certainly get it completed quickly. The first person who applies for each position can have it.” He plopped onto the chaise longue. “I’ll let you sort it all out later.”
“Perhaps not, then. I’d rather not have to replace everyone in a month or so when they don’t work out.”
“Then do as my mother used to say. Find the best housekeeper and butler available, and then let them find people to fill the remaining positions.”
“Excellent advice,” Huntley said, jerking his head up. “See, you were helpful. That should save me quite a bit of time. I have representatives from three agencies arriving today to look over the estate and help me staff it, and I’m afraid the meetings will delay my departure to the ball. There’s no reason for you to stay, however, since I’ll be busy with the interviews. Shall I meet you there later this evening?”
“Sounds like a perfect plan.”
30 - Dance Card
“Good evening, m’lady. May I help you dress for the ball?” Simpson’s pinched face and tight smile showed her anxiety. There wasn’t much time left to prepare. That was Catherine’s fault. She’d hidden herself away while she read Jane Eyre again.
With a grimace, Catherine nodded, and Simpson helped her slip into her dress. The low-cut gown of light-blue satin had an even paler blue layer of gauz
e overlaying it, and the bodice was embellished with an ornate pattern of freshwater pearls. The fabric slithered against her skin as it slipped down her body.
Upon catching sight of herself in the mirror as her head emerged from the masses of fabric, Catherine was startled. The dress befitted a water nymph. The little pearls gave the impression of waves cresting on a clear blue ocean. Her pale face gave her pause. She didn’t look like herself. The face she saw in the mirror looked wooden— something more befitting a ship’s prow than a sea nymph.
She didn’t want to attend this ball. Charles still hadn’t arrived home, and her problems weighed heavily upon her.
Simpson fastened the row of tiny buttons up the back of the gown. Selecting a necklace from the jewelry box atop her dresser, Catherine picked up a thick, multi-strand cluster of freshwater pearls and fastened it around her neck. As a final flourish, Simpson placed a pair of pearl clips in Catherine’s hair.
“I forgot to tell you, m’lady. Lord Spencer returned not long ago,” Simpson commented. “He plans to attend the ball this evening with you and Lady Kensington.”
Relief swept through Catherine. Thank goodness, Charles is home. “That’s wonderful news.”
Looking in the mirror, Catherine pinched her cheeks to bring out some color. She smiled at her reflection, but the change in her expression did little to disguise her weariness. Perhaps she’d be able to sleep soundly once she spoke with Charles.
When she arrived downstairs, her mother and Charles were already standing there, ready for the ball.
“Welcome home, Charles,” she said, lightly kissing his cheek. Dressed in a formal evening coat with a black waistcoat and tie, he looked trim and elegant. His normally unruly hair was tamed for the occasion, and Catherine wondered how long it would take before an errant strand would break free.
The drive to the Duke of Norfolk’s home was brief. When they rounded the bend on the cobblestone street, the house appeared at the top of a small rise. It was a grand building, set apart from the others by both its location and its substantial size. Whereas the other buildings on the street were only dimly lit, the duke’s abode appeared to sparkle with thousands of lights shining through its many windows. Kensington House was large, but it was nothing when compared to this enormous ducal residence.
Lady Catherine's Secret: A Secrets and Seduction book Page 17