‘What were you thinking Catherine? Gadding about the shire with no proper chaperone and so improperly dressed, and don’t feed your Mama with any more of your Banbury tales, for I will not believe it. You have been riding astride again, don’t deny it. Why else those offensive garments. Would you have a husband think you are not a maid? Oh if this gets out...
Your father waits below even now, welcoming our guests alone and he will deal with you in the morning. You have done it this time my girl, he will surely see that you must be dealt with severely this time. When I relay to him how you skulked in here, so attired that anyone seeing you would have thought you had no propriety, none at all. Your reputation will be in ruins if you have been spied by anyone of our acquaintance. Oh yes, he will see that if you are to make any kind of a match you must be curbed, he simply must put an end to such shenanigans this time.’
‘Oh, hush Mama. You worry incessantly and without cause. See I am all ready now, and I was not seen and furthermore my reputation is in the rudest of health, I promise you. As to making a match, I have no intention of doing any such thing, you must content yourself with seeing one daughter in that much aspired to state, for I will not be sold to any man!’
‘Ready, ready!’
Her mother’s voice was getting shriller by the moment.
‘If you think you are ready to join with our company tonight, with your face all burnt red by the elements and your toilet hardly complete, then that only serves to illustrate just how wild and untutored in propriety you have become. I will see to it that you are sent away to a place where you will learn how to comport yourself in polite society. There are schools, even for a chit of your age, I know there are. Dorothea, will take you to Bath to begin with and from there you can be transported to a suitable establishment for well bred young ladies,’
‘Yes yes Mama, but for now let us not keep Papa and our guests waiting any longer, look here is Dorothea so we may make one entrance of it and keep tongues from wagging. What could be more natural that we three keep company together as often as we can while dearest Dorothea is in our midst?’
Whereupon the wayward Catherine took her sister’s arm laughing and as they followed their still preaching Mama it took all Dorothea’s strength of will not to join her irascible sister in giggling at poor Mama’s discomfiture.
‘Kate you are too much, poor Mama.’ She whispered.
‘It was as much as I could do to keep her from fainting once she found you had absconded yet again, and tonight of all nights. You know she expects a certain young man to offer for you this evening.’
‘Well there will be little point in it, if George Stanleyson does make me an offer he and Mama will be sorely disappointed, for I will not accept him Dorothea, I promise you I will not. Not he or any other and I cannot be made to.’
Dorothea refrained from answering, she had failed many times to get her sister to understand that no well bred young lady would be allowed to flaunt the laws of society in such a way. Catherine would find out soon enough that she would not be able to use her wiles on Papa to such an extent that he would allow her to refuse to marry. Once a suitable husband was found, little Catherine would find Papa made of stone, and wed she would be come what may.
Mama turned as they reached the summer room doorway.
‘Your face is still so red, so unrefined Catherine, and your eyes are almost wild, pray keep them lowered until you have regained control of your emotions. Now come along girls we must make the best of it.’
And so they made their entrance. Catherine keeping her eyes lowered, more to keep from meeting her father’s disapproving eyes than for propriety. While her mother and sister strived to portray a calm that neither of them felt.
Half an hour after they had left Lord Alex Tremayne accompanied his host back into the company of the ladies, his face carefully composed to hide the grim nature of their discourse. He did give Calthorpe his due, the man was a master at hiding his feelings. Not for one moment did he falter, though pale he was the perfect host. He introduced his unexpected guest as an old friend. He placed him at dinner between his eldest daughter and her husband. As instructed he seated his youngest and most precious daughter Catherine opposite the dark stranger and he informed his wife quietly that Lord Tremayne had requested Catherine’s hand in marriage and that he had agreed. It was time Catherine was wed, and this afternoon’s escapade had made his choice of husband for her easier. It was clear she was in need of a strong hand and Alex Tremayne was certainly that. No announcement would be made until Catherine had been informed in the morning. Alex watched as Lady Calthorpe sat in stunned silence. Then slowly as she began to realize just how advantageous a match had been arranged for her youngest daughter, her eyes brightened and she smiled tentatively across the table at her future son-in-law, before turning to continue a conversation with the gentleman on her right.
Seated beside Dorothea and opposite Catherine, Alex was well placed to compare the sisters. Both pretty, Dorothea was a typical English rose, plump, with her father’s light brown curls and fair skin, blushed with pink. Both sisters had inherited their mothers deep violet eyes, but there the resemblance ended. For Catherine was tiny and slender, with long black hair, neatly swept upwards now into a decorous style becoming a young lady of quality, but Alex could still see it in his minds eye, falling in a heavy swathe of silk around her shoulders. Her slightly slanted violet eyes dominated the perfect oval of her face, which was set off by her tip-tilted little nose and a tempting mouth. Her skin was beyond pale, almost translucent and he was willing to bet the only time those high cheekbones coloured would be in agitation. He was also willing to bet that this was something that happened frequently. Everything about Miss Catherine Calthorpe spoke of an intelligence and energy that were the probable the cause of her obvious penchant for impropriety.
Was the gypsy her lover? If so then it looked like a tempestuous affair and an affair he would soon put a stop to he thought as a familiar feeling surged through him. It was an emotion he was accustomed to, the urge to jealously guard what was his. An age-old trait that had ensured the Tremayne family had kept safe what was theirs for centuries. Soon this little chit would find out in no uncertain terms that she now belonged to a new master, a master that would brook no defiance.
Catherine felt almost vindicated when they found that there was only one guest with Papa, and furthermore after the briefest of introductions he and Papa retired to the study to speak of business. Slowly the others arrived and she did her best to be a model daughter. She stayed by Mama’s side, greeting each new arrival with propriety and altogether behaving as if nothing at all was amiss. Until finally Papa and his austere guest re-joined the company and they went in to dine.
‘Papa is so pale. I think he must be sickening for something.’ She whispered to her sister as they made their way in to dinner.
‘Have you thought Kate that your behaviour today might be the cause of his worry?’ Her mother chipped in, having overheard the remark.
Catherine had the grace to blush, which vexed her Mama even more. Such white skin was surely to be prized but Catherine had no idea how coarse the flushed reddening of her features was, making it seem that she was not composed as a young lady of good breeding should be.
“What blessed relief, to be seated at last and some way down the table and away from Mama’s censorious gaze.” Catherine thought to herself as she took her place at dinner. “And better still George Stanleyson is seated quite a way down the table so I will not be obliged to speak to him either. Make an offer indeed. I will soon put him straight on that, but best not make a scene at dinner.”
Still the company was too wearisome. She was seated between two of the neighborhoods most respectable dowagers, so not much bright conversation there and opposite was Papa’s dour looking acquaintance. True Dorothea sat beside him with her new husband Charles on her other side. They could always be relied upon to enliven any conversation. It would have to do, and at least there w
ould be music after dinner and dancing too. So she began to discreetly examine the stranger seated opposite her, Mama would disapprove of her interest but Catherine was determined to find out all she could about him, for he was so very different to those young men of her acquaintance. Outwardly he seemed to be the same, but some instinct in Catherine sensed that under that elegant exterior he was a very different man. She sensed something. It gave her a funny feeling inside. She was almost trembling, how could that be? Was she sensing some danger that he brought with him? Papa was certainly pale, and Mama was eying the stranger oddly now, and though she had smiled at him, it was an oddly thoughtful smile.
From under lowered lids she noted him with increasing interest as she sipped her soup. How old was he? It was difficult to tell, five and thirty at least she estimated, and so was he wed? If so where was Lady Tremayne? What kind of wife would he have chosen? That thought made her blush. He was taller than most of the men in the room and even seated the breadth of his shoulders in his elegantly cut coat seemed huge. She noticed his hands, long fingered, well shaped, not white and plump like the hands of the young men she knew. They were browned from the sun and she felt a stirring to reach over and feel if that taut brown skin was as firm and smooth as it looked. That thought unsettled her even more and she concentrated on her meal for some time to recover her composure.
When she looked up it was to find him watching her with a look both piercing and speculative at the same time. His eyes were steely grey set in a lean face, high cheekbones bisected by an aristocratic nose and a well shaped mouth should have made him handsome, but Catherine somehow felt the word was inadequate, as if he would find it laughable that the word be used to describe him, preferring to be judged instead by his character and actions. Catherine seemed to know somehow that he considered himself a man of good moral character, but she also sensed something more, something powerful that emanated from him.
“Your adventures have made you too fanciful Kate, and he is too impudent to stare so.” She derided herself and him before deciding to study the black haired, enigmatic stranger no more, and giving her attention to the conversation of the dowager to her right made the best effort she could to ignore him for the rest of the meal.
As the meal progressed she found it more and more difficult not to let her features show how wearisome she was finding the conversation of the lady dowagers. They had engaged her in a detailed exploration of the merits and de-merits of purchasing one’s dress muslins and lace from local tradesmen for some fifteen minutes past. Lady Wentworth to her left was all in favour of using the tradespersons in the nearby town, while Lady Bucksby to her right held that one could only avail oneself of the best quality fabrics by patronizing the London establishments. As the conversation continued Catherine found herself, despite her earlier resolve, unable to resist letting her attention wander to the conversation across the dinner table. Dorothea it seemed was enjoying a much more enlivening discourse.
‘Oh sir, I am sure you are quite mistaken, I am quite convinced that you will find the resolve of the young ladies here today, to adhere to all the rules of propriety as strong, or even stronger, than that of the ladies of the court. Why we would not dream of behaving with any impropriety, in country society it would not be tolerated. Of this I am quite certain.’
Then catching her sister’s eye.
‘Come Catherine,’ she implored. ‘Help me defend our country society from Sir Alex’ shocking accusations. Why, if he is to be believed, our country maids defy the rules of propriety with vulgar regularity, while our London cousins behave impeccably at all times. Surely you agree we must disabuse him of such preposterous notions immediately?’
Catherine could not decide if she was happy to have her attention drawn away from the dreary dowagers or annoyed at having to pay even the slightest attention to the disturbing gentleman opposite, and in consequence her reply was shorter than she might have otherwise intended.
‘This is indeed a severe and impudent accusation, what can you mean by it? Come sir you must explain yourself.’
She was rewarded not only with the attention of those guests within earshot, but also with an almost knowing look from the gentleman in question that made her think, just for one mad, fleeting moment that he must know of her escapade. Then she realized he was just playing devils advocate, as some men were, she supposed, wont to do.
‘I assure you no such slight to this or any other country society was intended,’ he began, and Catherine could clearly hear the amusement in his voice.
‘I was merely pointing out that here in the country you are fortunate to have many more occupations and interests than town society can offer and that this might, for some, prove to be a temptation to relax those rules of society that exist to prevent impropriety. I would certainly never suggest that any such breaching of etiquette exists or that any such improprieties are to be found. My intent was more to congratulate country society on its strength of character in resolutely upholding the high moral standards I see about me.’
Oh the impertinence of the man, and again something in his manner, or the very direct way he held her gaze gave Catherine the feeling he was letting her know that he was aware of her recent adventures. Luckily she was saved from having to find some retort to his glib explanation by the end of dinner and the company leaving the table to remove to the hall where the rest of the evening’s entertainment would take place.
Alex followed the company from the room. This was proving to be highly diverting, he had the chit wondering if he knew of her afternoons diversions, he could see it in her eyes. He resolved to keep the pressure on. The sooner she knew he was aware of her tricks the better, it would serve him well in the morning when she was to be apprised of her betrothal. Let her know from the outset that he would brook no defiance.
He found a vantage point from where he could easily survey the room. Miss Calthorpe was standing deep in conversation with her sister and a young woman he had not been introduced to. From here her figure was easily studied. She was almost too slight, he preferred a little roundness in a woman, still no matter, she was comely enough and his pleasure in the marriage bed was not the aim of this venture, though of course it was something to be contemplated.
He was surprised how much the knowledge of her probable impure state irked him. Deflowering maidens had never held much appeal for him, so why bemoan the loss of something he did not wish to take? But strangely the thought of her with the gypsy did more than irk, it sent waves of something akin to rage through him. Though she was not his yet, he felt she had belonged to him for all time, felt it with every bone in his body. He shrugged, it was immaterial, tomorrow she would know that within the week she would be his. Time to ruffle her pretty feathers just a little more, he thought as he strolled nonchalantly across the room.
The music had begun and Catherine was beginning to relax and enjoy the evening. The disturbing Lord Tremayne was nowhere to be seen and the dancing would begin in a moment or two. All she had to do was avoid him and of course George Stanleyson, he would have to be made to see that there was no point in speaking to her father, for she had no intention of accepting him. The best way to do that she decided was to keep herself from his company and pay as much attention to the other young men in the room as she could. So deep in that particular train of thought was she, that she failed to see Lord Alex approaching and fairly jumped out of her skin when he appeared at her side.
‘I startled you mistress, my apologies.’
His voice was just right for him she found herself thinking, deep and velvet smooth with a hint of something harder, but before she had time to reply he spoke again sending a chill through her.
‘I trust you will honour me with the first dance Miss Calthorpe?’
She couldn’t believe it. It had to be deliberate after the unfinished conversation at the table. By asking her to dance the first dance he was making her chose to dance with him or not at all. It was a strict rule of society that if a maid re
fused to dance with the first man who asked her then she could not dance that night with anyone else without impropriety. “Oh hateful man” she thought and then redirected that thought, for how could he know she did not want to dance with him? But he did know, of this she was somehow sure, and when she looked up, it was there in the wry smile that played about his mouth and the amused glint in his eye.
He took advantage of her silent hesitancy to lean forward and whisper in her ear.
‘You hesitate mistress, not afraid to stand up with me surely?’
‘I shall be happy to oblige sir.’ Catherine said quickly and took his proffered arm just as the music for a waltz began.
She faltered then, and he felt the tremor in the tiny hand on his arm. In the shocked deep violet eyes that held his he saw her realization that she had committed herself to dancing in his arms. Then, with amusement, he witnessed them flood with relief as the mode of her escape popped into her head and she stepped back.
‘I regret I must disappoint you my lord for I do not have permission to dance a waltz, if you will excuse me...’
Before she could move away Alex moved forward and took her arm.
‘Rest assured mistress, you need not concern yourself, I have already ascertained that your Mama does not object.’
Before she could protest any further he slipped his left hand around her delightfully tiny waist and swung her out onto the dance floor.
She was like thistledown in his arms and the scent of violets that emanated from her seemed completely appropriate. It was sweet but a little astringent at the same time and seemed to echo the colour of her eyes. She held herself stiffly, as if intent on making sure he knew she was displeased. So to push her just a little more he leant down and whispered in her ear.
‘What irks you mistress? I assure you I will do my utmost not to tread upon your dainty toes.’
Vengeful Lord, Defiant Lady. Page 2