by Joan Wolf
Edmund began to laugh. “Did you see his face as we were sitting there?”
Catriona giggled. “He looked like a stuffed fish.”
“A flounder, I thought,” Edmund got out, and then they both were sobbing with laughter, hanging onto the balcony railings to keep standing up. “Oh, God,” said Edmund, trying to sober up.
“L-louisa looked l-like . ..” Catriona began, and Edmund finished for her. “A 1-lemon sole.” And they were both off again.
There was a stop behind them, and both turned to see Lord Wareham standing there. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” he said stiffly to the still hysterical Edmund. “I was looking for Miss MacIan. I have this dance.”
“H-here she is,” said Edmund unsteadily.
“Not flounder,” said Catriona suddenly. “Trout.” And the two of them were shaken by another gale of hilarity.
Finally Lord Wareham’s silent outrage registered on Edmund. “I do beg your pardon, Wareham,” he managed. “Go along and have your dance, Catriona.”
“Yes,” said Catriona. She wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. “Sorry, my lord.” She moved toward him, and as she did so the music stopped. “Oh, dear, I’m afraid the dance is over. I’m so sorry.” She cast a brief look at his stiff face and choked. Behind her she could hear Edmund ostentatiously begin to cough. Her lips trembled.
“There you are, Miss MacIan,” came the voice of the Marquis of Hampton. “I believe this is my dance.”
Catriona could feel the change in Edmund. Without looking at him, she said, “Yes, it is,” put her hand on the marquis’s arm, and made a hasty exit toward the dance floor.
* * * *
The dance with Lord Hampton was the last one of the evening, and as he stood on the pavement in front of Mrs. Mason-Burgley’s house, the marquis was joined by Lord Wareham. This in itself was an unusual circumstance, and the marquis glanced at him in great surprise as the young earl fell into step with him.
“An extraordinary evening,” said Lord Wareham stiffly. “Miss MacIan’s actions do credit to her warm heart, of course, but one could hope that her guardian would guide her along a wiser course.”
“Burford, do you mean?” asked the marquis.
“Yes. Of course, he has always been a little odd himself. He may understand the intricacies of the solar system, but he is not so well versed in the intricacies of social niceties. Still, I would have thought even he would have the sense to stop his cousin from actions that could very easily damage her own standing.”
“Far from curbing her, I should say rather he aided and abetted her,” remarked the marquis.
“He certainly did!” Lord Wareham’s full indignation broke loose. “Then he took her out on the balcony during my dance, and when I went to claim her they were both out there laughing like—like lunatics.”
“Burford?” said the marquis.
“He was hanging onto the railing,” said Lord Wareham disapprovingly. “Extremely undignified.”
“And unexpected,” murmured Lord Hampton. “I begin to think Miss MacIan was right when she said that most people do not know the duke. He appears to have unexpected depths.”
“He was damn rude.” Lord Wareham was now looking sulky. “So was Miss MacIan. And that isn’t like her at all. She is usually--angelic.”
The marquis’s blue eyes began to glint in the way that Catriona admired. “I don’t think I should call her an angel, Wareham,” he said. “Hell-raiser might be a better term.”
Lord Wareham made an indignant sound and stalked off into the night.
All the way home in the coach Catriona was forced to listen to Lady Dawley expatiating on her rash behavior. Her ladyship got no encouragement from her companions, however, for Edmund merely repeated that he was proud of Catriona and Margaret called her brave and generous.
“Brave and generous, perhaps,” said Lady Dawley, “but hardly wise.”
“Well, I hope I’m never wise if it means I must act like a hypocrite and a fraud,” Catriona said vigorously.
“Speaking of wisdom,” said Edmund, and the three women stiffened at the note in his voice, “I thought I told you it was not wise to encourage Hampton. You danced with him twice tonight.”
For the second time that night Catriona lost her temper. It was outrageous of Edmund, she thought, to insist on marrying her off and not even to let her make her own choice. And he was not being fair to the marquis, which— though she didn’t think of this at the moment— was quite unlike him.
“I fail to see why Lord Hampton should be such a pariah, Edmund,” she said hotly. “He is in the same situation as Louisa. I daresay there isn’t a man in London who doesn’t keep a mistress”—she glared at his shadowy figure seated across from her in the darkness of the coach—”present company included.” There was a stifled sound from Margaret, but Catriona swept on unheeding, “Yet you are all ready to act as if he were the only man in the world who went around seducing females. At least he’s honest! He doesn’t pretend to be what he’s not. And he’s not trying to seduce me. He’s my friend. He likes me. And I like him. I like him a great deal better than all the stuffed fish that you approve of. He’s—he’s real. He’s one of the few real people I’ve met in London.”
There was a moment of frozen silence. Then Edmund said frigidly, “Have you quite finished?”
She sat back against the squabs. Her heart was hammering. She thought everyone in the coach must hear it. “Yes, I have.”
“Good,” said Edmund, “because I think we have all of us had quite enough of your puerile philosophy.” The coach came to a halt in front of Burford House, and Edmund opened the door before the footman could get to it and jumped out. “I’m going for a walk,” he said savagely and stalked off into the darkness.
Both Lady Dawley and Meg regarded Catriona with a mixture of awe and fear. “You shouldn’t have spoken to Edmund like that, Kate,” murmured Lady Dawley at last.
“I’m glad I did,” Catriona returned, unrepentent. “Everything I said was perfectly true. Edmund is nothing but a—a whited sepulcher!”
Her defiance did not last for very long, however, and once she got into bed, the tears began to slide down her cheeks. She felt very alone and very miserable. She cried herself to sleep.
Chapter Sixteen
The following day the Marquis of Hampton received a note from the Duke of Burford asking him to call at Burford House later in the morning. The marquis complied with the request and presented himself in Grosvenor Square at precisely eleven-thirty. He was shown into the library, where the duke awaited him.
“Please be seated, Hampton,” said Edmund civilly and watched the other man in silence as he settled himself in a leather armchair. There was no denying that the marquis was a good-looking specimen. His thick, curly brown hair was well cut. He had good features and very blue eyes. He was as tall as Edmund.
“I want to talk to you about my cousin Catriona,” the duke said without further preamble. “I am concerned about the attention you are paying to her.”
"1 am paying her no more attention than half a dozen other men,” the marquis pointed out reasonably.
“Those half-dozen men do not have your reputation.”
The marquis looked sardonic. “No. They are more discreet.”
Edmund leaned back in his chair. “That is what Catriona said.”
The marquis’s surprise was genuine. “She did?”
“Yes. In fact she compared your case to Louisa Worthing’s.”
A look of disgust crossed the marquis’s handsome face, and Edmund laughed. “I perfectly appreciate your feelings, Hampton. Louisa Worthing is a most unworthy female.”
“She has been saying the most malicious things about your cousin ever since she came to town. Do you know that?”
“Yes. And so does Catriona.” Edmund looked gravely at the man seated across the desk from him. “But Catriona does not have a mean bone in her body. She has some failings, but unkindness is not one of them.�
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The marquis returned Edmund’s look measuringly. “And what are her faults then, Your Grace?”
“She does not foresee consequences.” Edmund’s gaze did not falter. “And she is not properly aware of her own power of provocation. She follows the impulse of her own warm heart and doesn’t understand where that may lead her. I am very concerned, Hampton, about your setting her up as your latest flirt. It won’t do her reputation any good, but that is not so important as the likelihood that she is going to get hurt. And I am telling you now that I will not allow that to happen.”
“She is not my latest flirt,” said the marquis slowly. “I don’t flirt with seventeen-year-olds.”
“Then may I ask what you are doing?” said Edmund in a voice the marquis had never heard before.
His head jerked up a little, and he stared into the duke’s dark eyes. There was a controlled force about the man that was distinctly unnerving. “Actually,” said the marquis, and his own voice sounded strange now, “I want to marry her.”
There was a flicker of some emotion in the dark-gray eyes, and then a shutter seemed to come down. “So,” said Edmund softly. “And Catriona?”
“I don’t know. I think she likes me but I haven’t mentioned marriage.”
“She does like you.” Edmund’s face was expressionless. “She told me so last night.”
“Did she?” The marquis raised an eyebrow. “Were you telling her to stay away from me?”
“Yes. If you were in my position, Hampton, you would have done the same.”
The marquis smiled a little crookedly. “I suppose I should. But the situation has changed, I believe.”
“Yes. So it seems.” Edmund regarded him for a long minute in silence, and finally the marquis got to his feet.
“Look, Burford, I perfectly understand all the objections that are going through your mind. A man with my past, my reputation, has no business wanting to marry a girl just out of the schoolroom. I know that, and dammit it’s true. But Kate is no ordinary schoolroom miss, and you know it.” He turned around and faced Edmund. “She wouldn’t be happy with a boy, Burford. Or with a cold fish like Wareham. I think she would be happy with me.” He took a few steps closer to the desk. “When first I met her I saw what every other man in town saw. But there is far more to Kate than just that extraordinary magnetism. There isn’t another woman in the world who would have done what she did last night for Louisa Worthing.”
“No,” said Edmund. “There isn’t.”
“I am a rich man, Burford. And the title is good value even if its owner is a bit tarnished. I don’t care about her parents or about her dowry. All I want is Kate.”
For the first time in the interview Edmund was not looking at the marquis. He laid his flawless hands on the desk top and regarded them intently. “I think perhaps you are right, that you could make Catriona happy.”
“I love her, you see,” said the marquis quietly.
Edmund looked preoccupied. “Yes, I do see.” He stood up. “Well, that will be all then, Hampton. I presume you would prefer to speak to Catriona yourself.”
“Yes, I should.”
“She is not at home now, but you may call back at two this afternoon^ You’ll find her in.”
Edmund began to move some papers on his desk, as if he were anxious to get back to work. The marquis glanced at the neat pile of mathematical calculations. “Well, I won’t keep you any longer, Burford. We’ll speak again after I get Kate’s consent.”
The beautiful, long-fingered hands stilled on the paper. “You seem very certain of her,” said Edmund.
“Do I?” The marquis’s eyes were on Edmund’s hands. “Well, I’m not. In some ways, and contrary to appearances, Kate is not at all easy to know. I have no idea really what she’ll say.” He nodded abruptly. “Good day, Burford.”
“Good day.” Edmund’s eyes were inscrutable as he watched the door close behind the marquis’s broad-shouldered back. Then he picked up the paper he had ostentatiously been working on and tore it, again and again, with a violence that was all the more frightening because it was so controlled.
* * * *
Catriona had gone with Margaret and Lady Dawley to Hookham’s library. When they returned to Grosvenor Square, there was a phaeton being walked up and down in front of the house. Margaret grew very flushed, and Catriona and Lady Dawley glanced at her ‘inquiringly.
“Do you know who that phaeton belongs to, Meg?” asked her ladyship.
“I believe—that is, it might be Mr. Halley’s,” said Margaret a little breathlessly. “He said he was going to call on Edmund this morning.”
Catriona smiled. “Meg, how wonderful.” She squeezed her cousin’s arm with warm affection.
“Do you think Edmund will approve of him?” Margaret asked Lady Dawley anxiously.
“Certainly. He is an unexceptional young man,” said Lady Dawley, who had already checked him out thoroughly.
As they moved toward the staircase, the library door opened, and Edmund appeared on the threshold. “Meg,” he said gently, “would you come into the library for a few minutes, please?”
“Yes, of course, Edmund.” Margaret threw a brief look at Catriona and got an encouraging smile in return. Then she disappeared into the library, and Edmund closed the door. He had not looked at Catriona.
Forty-five minutes later Margaret knocked on Catriona’s door. Her cheeks were flushed a pale rose, and she looked extremely pretty. “I’m engaged,” she said to Catriona and smiled radiantly.
“Meg, I’m so happy for you.” Catriona embraced her tall cousin warmly. “How lucky you are to be marrying the man you love.” She hoped her envy did not show in her voice.
“Yes, I know.” Margaret laughed. “What would I have done if Edmund had refused?”
Eloped, of course, said Catriona practically. “And successfully, not like Louisa Worthing. How stupid she was to get caught.”
Margaret was gazing at Catriona in horror. “You don’t mean that, Kate.”
Catriona looked surprised. “Of course I mean it. If I were going to elope with the man I loved, I should take very good care no one could find me. Louisa stupidly stayed on the main road.”
“But Kate, it would take days to get to Scotland by any other route.”
“So?”
Margaret suddenly laughed. “How like you, Kate. You wouldn’t care, would you?”
“Of course not. I’d take care to get myself good and compromised. Then they would have to let me marry.”
“It will be much easier if Edmund approves your choice,” advised Margaret, still laughing.
Catriona turned to look out the window. “Yes,” she said over her shoulder. “It would, wouldn’t it?”
Chapter Seventeen
Catriona was curled up on the window seat in her bedroom, reading the book she had borrowed from Hookham’s library that morning, when one of the housemaids appeared to inform her the duke wished to see her in the morning room. Catriona’s mouth went dry. He was going to speak to her about her outburst last night. She had a sudden cowardly impulse to say she was sick and couldn’t come. She didn’t want to fight with Edmund any more. But instead she rose and went to inspect herself in the mirror before she went downstairs.
Her hair was smooth and shining, her apricot walking dress relatively unwrinkled. She straightened her shoulders and walked out the door and down the stairs. All of the fiery defiance of last night was gone. She would apologize, she thought. She had said terrible things to him. She could not bear Edmund to be angry with her.
She pushed open the morning room door a little.
“Come in, Catriona,” said Edmund.
Catriona stepped into the room, and her eyes widened as she saw the Marquis of Hampton. “My—my lord,” she said uncertainly.
“Lord Hampton has something he wishes to say to you, Catriona.” Edmund’s voice seemed to be coming from very far away. “I’ll be in the library,” he said to the marquis, and then he was
gone, closing the door and leaving her alone with the marquis.
There was a moment of silence, and then Lord Hampton said, “Don’t look so startled, Kate. I have something to ask you, and your cousin has given me permission to see you alone.”
Catriona stared at him blankly. “Last night he was angry because I danced with you twice.”
“Yes, I know.” The marquis crossed the room and took her hands in his. “Kate,” he said softly, “I know I have led a very wicked life. All those mistresses and so forth.”
Catriona’s eyes gleamed. “Dozens,” she said.
“Yes, well, I’ve called a halt to all that. That is, I will call a halt to it.” He drew her closer to him. “If only you will promise to marry me,” he finished.
Catriona’s head was tipped far back to look into his face. He was deadly serious, she recognized that. She was suddenly a little frightened that she had brought him to this point so quickly. She had scarcely crooked her finger. She bit her lip. “Are you quite certain you want to marry me, my lord?”
His firm, well-cut mouth curved slightly. “I am quite, quite certain,” he assured her.
“And Edmund—Edmund has given his approval?”
“He even went so far as to say he believed I could make you happy.” He cupped her face between his hands. “And I will make you happy, Kate. I promise you I will.”
Catriona closed her eyes and felt his mouth come down on hers. It was far from the chaste kiss she was certain Margaret and Mr. Halley had exchanged, but Catriona, far from objecting, clung to him. After a few minutes he moved her to the sofa and began to kiss her again. Catriona responded to him passionately. She would blot Edmund out of her mind, she thought. She would forget him in the arms of the marquis. She would make herself forget him.
“Christ, Kate.” The marquis’s voice sounded strangely husky. He put her away from him. Catriona was surprised to notice that he was trembling. “Your cousin said you don’t fully recognize your own power of provocation. He was right.”
Catriona drew a little away from him. “I don’t even know your name,” she said after a minute.
