by Lucy Muir
Also communicating by gesture, Catherine accepted the Cavalier as her partner and accompanied him onto the floor. The excellence of the Cavalier’s dancing verified her identification of her partner, and when her handsome cavalier guided their steps outdoors after the dance, Catherine went along willingly. The warm late summer night air enveloped them as they strolled along the walks illuminated with the coloured glass lanterns, some hanging in trees and shrubberies, others on the ground. Her cavalier held her arm close, drawing her so near she could feel the warmth and strength of his body. Catherine felt a thrill of excitement and her heart began to beat rapidly.
The cavalier made a sudden turn to the right, and Catherine found they had entered Ellsworth Hall’s shrubbery maze. Even here there were many lanterns, but Catherine noticed that some had either gone out or had been put out by guests desiring greater privacy, and the walk became darker the deeper into the maze they ventured. Deeper and deeper they ventured into the maze until they rounded a turn which opened into a larger area where a bench invited. They sank onto the bench of one accord, Catherine remembering the first night she had sat on a bench with Lord Edgecombe. Surely he must remember it as well and would try to kiss her again, Catherine thought with racing heart—and this time she would allow it.
The Cavalier ran the back of his fingertips lightly down Catherine’s neck to her breasts. Then, bending forward and tilting his head so their lips could meet despite their masks, he touched his lips to hers. Catherine felt a thrill of excitement. His lips tasted hers gently, and then without warning he pulled her close to his body and his mouth pressed hard upon hers, causing her to gasp involuntarily. His teeth gently caught her lower lip as she gasped, and then released it, his mouth increasingly demanding. Catherine felt a sudden sinking sensation in her stomach and pressed closer to the Cavalier, her heart beating so rapidly and loudly she felt certain it must be audible. Then she was lying back on the bench, the cavalier on top of her, holding her as though he desired to melt into her body. Catherine yearned for him to do just that and a sob broke out from deep in her throat. Suddenly, the Cavalier sat up and, taking Catherine’s hand, pulled her to a sitting position as well. Breathing heavily, abashed at what had just occurred, Catherine stared at her feet. Why had Lord Edgecombe stopped? Was it from disgust? Did he think her too easily persuaded from her virtue?
As though he read her thoughts and wished to reassure her, the cavalier once again ran his fingers over her breasts with a light touch. He then took her hand, and, pressing it, drew Catherine up from the bench. Taking her arm, he escorted Catherine back to her aunt in silence, where he left her with a bow.
“Where have you been sister?” Judith demanded in her most queenly manner. “The set ended minutes ago.”
“It is close in here with all the guests and candles and my cavalier escorted me onto the terrace for a breath of fresh air,” Catherine replied.
Her sister-in-law looked at Catherine’s flushed face with suspicion, but was prevented from questioning her more closely by the arrival of a Greek noble who asked Judith to partner him in the next set.
“This next dance is the supper dance,” Lady Manning commented as Judith took the floor with the Greek noble. “I suspect it will not be long before your brother returns from the card rooms, but he will find his queen promised to another.”
Catherine waited anxiously, hoping her Cavalier would return to request her hand for the supper dance before another guest requested her company. Unless, she worried, her lack of inhibition in returning his caresses had indeed given him a disgust of her. Relief coursed through her as, a moment later, she spied the cavalier walking toward her across the floor.
“My lady Cavalier, will you grant me the honour of this dance and allow me to take you in to supper afterward?” he inquired, speaking in an unnaturally deep voice.
Catherine accepted with a relieved smile. After the set ended, she accompanied her cavalier into the supper room where laughter and jests abounded as the gentleman took seats at the table and removed their masks, revealing their identity. The women still retained theirs, as they would until midnight, and used their advantage to encourage those gentlemen for whom they had a preference. The Cavalier seated Catherine with a flourish, sat down next to her, and, facing her, removed his mask.
“Why, Lord Edgecombe, I did not know you,” Catherine exclaimed, as was customary, but her eyes sparkled through the mask eye slits as her tone conveyed the opposite.
As she filled her plate with luxuries such as quail’s eggs and pheasant from the dishes that lay near at hand, Catherine glanced about the room at the other unmasked gentlemen, checking to see if her guessed identities matched the faces behind the masks. The sultan was indeed Mr. Ellsworth, as she had expected, and the chimney sweep was Squire Turner. She had wrongly guessed the Greek noble to be Mr. Stillington-Fyfe; he turned out to be Mr. Stone. Lord Woodforde she did not see anywhere, and she wondered if he had even come. The daring Adam had not returned, and Catherine suspected his identity was not to be revealed.
“Has the evening met your expectations, Lady Cavalier?” Lord Edgecombe asked as he helped himself from a bowl of pickled plums.
“Yes, it has been quite enjoyable,” Catherine replied, hoping her word choice would convey that she was not angered with him over the kiss. “And has it met yours, Lord Edgecombe?”
“Mine as well,” he replied. “I have had a most agreeable evening’s dancing, and, moreover, won considerable at whist. Playing masked added a new element to the game, and the play was most stimulating.”
Ah! That explained why she had not seen the marquess earlier, Catherine thought, relieved it had been due to cards and not to interest in other ladies.
When the meal was over, Lord Edgecombe returned Catherine to Lady Manning and Lord Trevor. The remainder of the masquerade passed in a blur, Catherine’s thoughts ever returning to the kiss in the maze. Judith commented upon Catherine’s abstraction, recommending an early return home, which Catherine, seeing Lord Edgecombe had returned to the card room, did not oppose.
Catherine lay awake long after her maid helped her undress and get into bed, reliving the kiss over and over in her mind. Surely now Lord Edgecombe would make an offer, she thought. Surely, in all conscience, he must! Warm anticipatory sensations curled through her body as she imagined his coming the next day to speak to her father, and the kiss that must surely follow his audience and acceptance from her. For accept him she would, despite the cautions from Lord Woodforde, Lady Manning, and Sarah. They did not know; they had no knowledge of the kiss.
But when at last Catherine drifted to sleep, her unconscious peopled her dreams with dozens of masked ladies who laughed as they dallied with a handsome cavalier.
A sudden flood of sunlight pulled Catherine from a deep sleep as the maid drew back the bedchamber curtains.
“You asked me to wake you at ten, miss,” Flora said apologetically as Catherine yawned and stretched. “Which gown shall I lay out?”
Slowly the nighttime mists cleared from Catherine’s mind. The masquerade. Lord Edgecombe. The kiss. Suddenly cheerful, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. “The pink silk,” she said to her maid, thinking to herself that she must dress with care, for surely Lord Edgecombe would come today to ask for her hand.
Six hours later, still clad in the light pink gown she had selected to emphasize her fair coloring, Catherine was no longer as sanguine. She had waited in the drawing for most of the day, but now, dinner past and twilight soon to approach, there had still been no sign of the marquess nor any other caller.
“Sister, would you ring for a tisane?” Judith, lying prone on the drawing room sofa, asked Catherine. “I am not accustomed to such dissipation as we took part in last night, and am quite overcome. And order a light repast to be served in my chamber for my supper this evening. I cannot face sitting up for another meal.”
Biting her tongue to prevent a sharp retort, Catherine rang for the footman and rela
yed Judith’s orders.
“Would you be a dear and fetch my silk shawl from our bedchamber?” Judith asked next. “I do not know where the maid has gotten to and I feel an afternoon chill.”
Realizing she would be pressed to fetch and carry for Judith as long as she remained in the same room, Catherine found the shawl for her sister-in-law and then escaped into the small drawing room, where she sought to calm her spirits by playing upon her harp. But she had barely reached the third page of a sonata by Hayden when her nephews and niece, lured by the sound of the instrument, swarmed into the room and began banging a discordant accompaniment on the spinet. Abandoning the room to the mercies of the children, Catherine took refuge in the walled garden, remembering to take William a treat of fruit and carrot.
“William! William!” she called, kneeling on the ground and stretching out her right hand with the carrot. “Come, I have a treat for you.”
The hare hopped forward, delicately taking the carrot from her hand. As was now his custom, William stayed next to her kneeling figure until he had finished it. When another treat was not forthcoming, he glanced up at her with a questioning look and then, quite deliberately, took the fabric of her skirt between his teeth and jerked. When a treat was still not forthcoming, he jerked again, harder. Delighted with this advance in his trust, Catherine rewarded William by holding out another carrot.
A knock sounded on the locked door as William munched his second carrot, causing him to run with it to his place of hiding behind the hollyhocks.
“Aunt Catherine, Mother sent me to find you. She said to tell you the marquess has come,” her nephew John called.
Lord Edgecombe was here at last! Catherine stood and brushed off her skirts before exiting the garden, carefully pulling the door to and locking it while her oldest nephew watched.
“I want to go in there,” he proclaimed in a whine.
“Not now,” Catherine said firmly, checking the door to be certain she had secured it well.
“What is in that garden? Is that where you keep the dirty old hare Mother told me you have? I want to see.”
“No,” Catherine answered shortly as she hurried down the hall. She stopped before the hall glass for a quick check of her appearance, and, satisfied, entered the main drawing room. Her face fell when she saw Lord Woodforde standing before the fireplace, his left arm resting on the mantelpiece as he spoke to Judith.
“Good afternoon Lord Woodforde,” Catherine said with a curtsey, hiding her disappointment.
“Miss Trevor,” Lord Woodforde replied, taking his arm from the mantelpiece and giving her an elegant bow. “I trust you are recovered from the dissipation of the Ellsworth’s masquerade?”
“I am, thank you, my lord. And you, did you not attend? I did not see you.”
“That is the point of a masquerade, is it not, to disguise one’s identity?” Lord Woodforde asked with a smile.
“Miss Trevor, would you do me the favour of accompanying me to your father’s library?” Woodforde added. “I wish your assistance in finding a particular volume and Lord Trevor is not available.”
Understanding immediately that Lord Woodforde wished to speak to her in privacy, Catherine acquiesced.
“Lord Edgecombe,” James announced from the doorway.
The Marquess of Edgecombe entered the drawing room with his customary assurance and grace, acknowledging greetings with aplomb. He then turned to Catherine.
“Miss Trevor, would you do me honour of walking with me in your garden? I wish to speak to you.”
Catherine hesitated. By rights she should excuse herself from going with Lord Edgecombe until she spoke to Lord Woodforde, but she could not allow this moment to slip away from her!
“Of course, Lord Edgecombe. Allow me a moment to fetch a hat and I shall join you in the hall,” she said with an apologetic glance at Lord Woodforde, who stared at her impassively.
Catherine hastened to her bedchamber where she asked her maid to trade the red ribbon for a pink on her favorite shepherdess hat, quickly tied it on, accepted a fringed India silk shawl around her shoulders, and hurried down to meet Lord Edgecombe in the entrance hall.
“Miss Trevor,” the marquess began as they walked down the graveled path together, “I have but just come from a discussion with your father, Lord Trevor. I have asked his permission to pay you my addresses, and he has given his approval.”
The marquess stopped and took Catherine’s hands between his. “Miss Trevor, will you do me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage?”
The moment had arrived, just as she had dreamed! Catherine’s heart began to race.
“Lord Edgecombe, you do me great honour. I am most pleased to accept.”
Lord Edgecombe pressed her hands between his, and bent to give her a kiss on her cheek. “My dear!” he exclaimed softly, and then, retaining her hands in his, took a step back and surveyed the picture Catherine presented in her pink silk gown, India shawl, and shepherdess hat.
“I must have your portrait done soon to add to the gallery at Edgecombe Place. Vigee-Lebrun, I think,” he said after a moment’s consideration. “Another might choose Gainsborough or Reynolds, but only Vigee-Lebrun would be able to capture the clarity of line in your face and the play of light and shadow in the folds of your dress.”
Taking Catherine’s arm once again, Lord Edgecombe continued down the path. “There will be settlements to work out, and the banns must be called, but I am hopeful we may wed in November. I shall look forward to sharing my home with you, Miss Trevor. I have many fine collections at Edgecombe Place that I know you will appreciate. And we must discuss which roses you will like to bring to add to my gardens.”
Catherine felt a disappointing sense of anticlimax at the marquess’ prosaic words. Somehow she had expected the moment would be more fraught with emotion—that he would kiss her again as he had the night before, or declare his undying love. Instead, Lord Edgecombe was almost businesslike in manner. She scolded herself silently. What could she expect here at Rosemont walking the paths in the fading sunlight? Romance was for moonlight and privacy.
They had returned to the steps before the front entrance, and Lord Edgecombe stopped, turning to face Catherine. “I shall take my leave of you here, Miss Trevor. There is much to be done and I am sure you will wish to share your news with your family.”
“Of course, Lord Edgecombe,” Catherine replied, hiding her disappointment. She had hoped that she might make her announcement in his company and that he would stay to supper, after which they might have had some time alone together. “Shall I see you again soon?”
“I shall come to dinner tomorrow, if I may,” Lord Edgecombe replied. “Until tomorrow, my dear,” he said with a second chaste kiss upon her cheek.
Catherine returned to the main drawing room to find her sister-in-law still reclining on the sofa and Lady Manning reading a letter.
“Where is Lord Woodforde?”
“Woodforde left shortly after you went outside with the Marquess of Edgecombe,” Judith replied. “I must say, sister, it was extraordinarily ill-mannered of you to leave with Edgecombe before you had finished attending to Lord Woodforde’s request.”
Catherine ignored the sharp prick from her conscience that told her that in this case her sister had the right of it. Moreover, she felt deflated, having hoped to make her announcement to Lord Woodforde at the same time as her family.
“I am sorry you find me deficient in my manners, sister, but I hope you will forgive me when I tell you my news.”
“What is that?” Judith asked uninterestedly.
“The Marquess of Edgecombe has made me an offer and I have accepted.”
Judith sat bolt upright upon the sofa. “Sister! The Marquess of Edgecombe! Why, he must have forty thousand a year! And I have heard that Edgecombe Place is unmatched in beauty. You must invite us for the holidays. When is the wedding to be?”
“Lord Edgecombe hopes this November. There are settlements to be worked out, a
nd the banns must be called, of course.”
“Well, Catherine, I suppose I must congratulate you on achieving your goal,” Lady Manning said quietly. “I hope you may be happy in this marriage.”
“You sound as though you do not approve, Lady Manning,” Judith inserted. “Why, Catherine has made a great conquest—and at nine-and-twenty!” she said in wonder, launching into more encomiums on the marquess.
Catherine’s brother, returned from a day’s fishing, was equally impressed. “I must congratulate you, Catherine. Edgecombe is a first-rate sportsman. Has the finest beagles in the county. Must persuade him to allow me the pick of his prize bitch’s next litter, sister.”
Lord Trevor, when Catherine spoke to him in his library that evening, was less enthusiastic. “If this is the marriage you wish I shall not oppose you, daughter. In truth, I can have no reason to refuse my consent based on my knowledge of Lord Edgecombe’s income and character. But I have always thought you might make a different choice.” He stopped a moment, stared out through the library windows over Rosemont’s lands toward Woodforde Park, and then spoke again. “Are you certain you would not prefer to make a match of it with Woodforde? Such a marriage would allow you to remain in the vicinity. Your old father shall miss you if you choose to leave the county.”
Catherine’s heart contracted. She had not thought of her father’s loneliness should she marry and leave home. “I have no doubt Lord Edgecombe will be willing to travel to Rosemont frequently,” she assured him. “Why, I should not have met him had he not traveled here for several months’ stay!