by Shana Galen
Her husband ran a hand through his hair, and she knew the answer.
“I am only asking,” she said, glancing down at her menu, trying to appear absorbed, “because I took the liberty of approaching several stationers myself. None of the gentlemen I spoke to can accommodate us until next week.”
Catherine glanced up at Valentine. Her father would have berated her for impertinence and interfering, but Catherine felt only mildly worried that Quint would react the same. She knew in the logical part of her mind that he would not. But the primal, instinctual part of her brain—that part that had cowered in fear and fought for survival since birth—still kept its wary vigil.
As expected, Quint only frowned at her pronouncement. “That won’t do.” He paced away and then turned back. “I have an idea.”
Now it was Catherine’s turn to frown.
“Perhaps we can write them by hand. You ladies are always perfecting your handwriting, are you not? Perhaps handwritten invitations would be more…personal.”
Catherine blinked. “Handwritten invitations? How many guests are you inviting?”
“Ah, good question.” He tapped his tailcoat, first the right pocket and then the left. Finally, he extracted several papers from his waistcoat. “Here is the guest list. I believe the total number of guests is about”—he flipped through one, two, three, four—she lost count—“four hundred.”
He handed the list to Catherine and tapped his fingers on the table in front of her.
Josie gasped and Maddie looked as though she would choke. Ashley spoke for all of them. “If you think we are going to handwrite four hundred invitations and then hand address them, you are mad.” She popped the last piece of cake in her mouth and crossed her arms.
“Very well, then I shall find a stationer,” Valentine said.
Ashley snorted. “Best of luck to you.”
Catherine watched Valentine clench his jaw. She moved back slightly, but he put a hand on her shoulder, reassuring her. She was not even certain he realized he did it.
“Thank you for your support.”
With Quint’s warm hand on her shoulder, Catherine glanced down at the list, running her eyes over the endless columns of names. Valentine’s guest list included the most powerful, most prestigious men and women in the country. The air at the ball would indeed be rarefied.
She began to feel ill. Her head swam, and she had to remind herself to take a shaky breath. It was not only that the most powerful, most awe-inspiring members of the English government would be attending a ball that she planned that made her nervous. The sheer number of people who would be in attendance gave her greater pause. As hostess, she would never be able to escape if she began to feel overwhelmed. And just looking at the list overwhelmed her.
She clasped her hands on the table and forced her mind to focus on one detail at a time. She would not think of that night until it was upon her. Gradually, her heartbeat slowed.
Perusing the list one last time, Catherine tried to focus on the names of people she knew. Her cousins and aunts and uncles would be there. They would support her.
She flipped another page then, and one entry jumped out at her. She leaned closer and read it again.
Miss Elizabeth Fullbright
Her head shot up. “What is this?” she said, jabbing the paper.
Valentine looked down at her and frowned. “The guest list. I told you.”
“No.” She slapped the list down. “What is this?” She sliced at the offending name with her finger.
Valentine took the pages and peered at them. “That is your sister.” He handed the pages to her, and she handed them right back. Valentine’s face darkened, but Catherine did not inch back. She was not scared of him. And today, she was too tired to feel much of anything but exhaustion.
“Why is Lizzy on the list?” Maddie said, rising, and moving protectively toward Catherine. Catherine doubted Maddie was actually worried Valentine would strike her, but she appreciated the support nonetheless. Still she kept her gaze locked with Valentine.
“She is on the list because she should be,” Valentine replied, not turning away from Catherine. “In fact, I should have invited your father and mother. It will seem strange that they are not in attendance.” He looked at Catherine, his hand cupping her chin briefly. “But I know that would be too hard for you.”
Maddie had reached her side. “And it won’t be hard on her to have Lizzy there? You were betrothed, after all.”
Valentine shrugged. “All of that is in the past now.”
Catherine’s jaw dropped. All of it was in the past? Had he forgotten how he’d felt when he discovered that her father had drugged him and then tricked him into marriage? She had certainly not forgotten how she had felt when she’d awakened in the middle of the night to find her father selling her to a brute she had never even seen before.
“You seem an unusually forgiving man,” Maddie was saying. “But do you not think it will be even slightly awkward to bring your wife and your betrothed together in such a public forum?”
“Elizabeth is no longer my betrothed.”
“Fortunate man,” Josie grumbled.
Valentine looked as though he would protest and then glanced at Catherine and seemed to think better of it. Catherine’s heart sank. No matter what he said now, she had seen the truth in his eyes just then. He obviously did not think himself fortunate. She felt her heart swell into her throat. Even after all they had shared, he was still in love with Elizabeth. And now she would be at the ball, and Catherine knew she would lose him. Lizzy always got what she wanted.
Valentine adjusted his cravat. “Elizabeth is a sweet and lovely girl. There’s no need to impugn her character or punish her for the sins of her father.”
“A sweet and lovely girl?” Josie gasped. She glanced at her cousins. “Does he know Lizzy?”
Catherine rolled her eyes. “He knows her. Just not very well. But, in truth, the real issue is not mended family relations, is it, Lord Valentine?”
“Don’t start this again,” he said.
And then, as Catherine watched, he turned his back on her and marched out of the dining room. Catherine stared after him, then looked at her cousins incredulously.
Ashley shook her head. “Just like a man. He said his piece and walked away.”
“I wouldn’t put up with that,” Josie agreed. “Who does he think he is?”
“He is Lord Valentine,” Mr. Meeps interjected. “Soon to be a Cabinet minister.”
“Well, he’s also my husband,” Catherine said, turning on her heel to follow. “And I’m the one who has to live with him.”
“Be gentle,” Maddie called after her. Catherine raised her hand and marched after her husband. He was striding determinedly toward his study.
Catherine swerved to avoid a servant carrying a stack of table covers. “Valentine!” She increased her pace to catch up with him, but he did not look around. His back stiffened, and he marched on.
“Valentine!” she said, practically stepping on his heels. “I want to talk to you. Now.”
She grabbed his arm and was pulled along with him. He opened the door to his study and froze. Inside, piled on every available surface was china. The pattern was quite pretty—Catherine had chosen it herself—white with pink roses along the edges, but it did nothing to complement the décor of the masculine study.
Valentine went very still, and his arm flexed under Catherine’s fingers. “What is all this?” He gestured to the plates stacked in twelve piles, three or four feet high on his desk. There were bowls on his chair and more on the leather couch. Beside the bowls the servants had placed cups and saucers. The larger platters and serving bowls littered the floor, stacked carefully, their dainty designs daring any man to try and walk among them.
“I had nowhere to put the china we rented,” Catherine said. “The drawing room is full of the extra furniture. Oops.” She pulled him aside to make way for the servant carrying the table linens. “Here are the
tablecloths and napkins.”
The servants moved around them and set the linen on the edge of the rug just inside the door to the study. Quint stared after him, narrow-eyed. Then he turned on Catherine.
“How am I supposed to get inside and work? My desk is covered, and I can’t concentrate in this chaos.”
Catherine pulled him aside as another man loaded with table linens approached. “You will manage. I want to talk about the guest list.”
He sighed and pulled her farther back, away from another troop of men and women carrying an endless supply of china and tablecloths. “Catie,” he said softly, and Catherine’s heart leaped in her chest. Why did he have to call her that? And why use that tone? Did he know the effect it had on her? Every time she heard it she thought of their nights together, his arms around her, his mouth on her, his whispered endearments as he’d plunged inside her.
She closed her eyes and tried to close her heart.
“Catie,” he said again, “I know there’s no love lost between you and your sister, but perhaps this night is a chance to let bygones be bygones.”
“Quint.” She put her hand on his arm, and he looked down, seeming surprised at her gesture and her words. It was probably the first time she had ever voiced his given name. “You have a good heart. You see the best in people. I admire that.”
And she did. From the beginning, he had seen the best in her, and he saw the best in her sister. It was a good trait for a man to possess. She loved him for it, though he would probably never feel the same for her. He did care for her. How was she to convince him that his faith in her sister was misplaced without ruining the small faith he had in her?
Finally, she continued, “But my sister and my father, they are not like you. I don’t trust them to come to this ball with honorable intentions.”
“I have not invited your father—”
“Do you think that will matter?” she asked. “He will come.”
“He’ll never get past the door. I will be sure the footmen know to refuse him entrance. I won’t let him near you again, Catie.” He caressed her jaw with one finger, and Catherine sighed. How was she to fight against such tenderness?
Catherine bit her lip and tried to concentrate. “Quint, you don’t know my father and sister as I do. They will—”
He reached out, taking her by the waist and drawing her to him. Catherine stiffened, intent on continuing her argument, but finally she went.
“Sweetling, you are good to worry, but there’s no need. I was short with you earlier. I’m sorry.”
He brushed a loose tendril of hair away from her face and then pulled her into a small alcove in the wall, away from the eyes of the servants.
“You are doing a wonderful job with the preparations. I should have told you so before. I should have been here to help you. But you know that everything I do is for both of us. This Cabinet position is not just for me, it’s for you as well.”
Catherine raised a brow. “It’s for me as well?”
“Yes, it will mean more prestige for you, more money for us, you’ll be admired and copied, and your invitations will be sought after.”
Catherine shook her head and took Valentine’s face in her hands. It was rough with stubble that he had not had time to shave in a day or so. She ran the pads of her fingers over it. “But I don’t want any of that, Quint. I don’t want to be copied or admired. I just want to be with you.”
His eyes widened in surprise, and a slow smile spread over his features. “So you do care for me?” he whispered. “I wondered. I-I hoped.”
She frowned. Had she said too much? Shown too much of her heart? He hadn’t said he cared for her, but she, too, had hoped.
She cleared her throat and went on, trusting that she said the right words. “Of course, I care for you.” She tried to keep her tone light. “But all this Cabinet position has done so far has taken you away from me. Can’t we forget all this and go back to the country? We were happy there.”
He took her by the shoulders. “We’ll be happy here. I’ll make you happy. In a few days, I’ll have the position, and I won’t have so many functions to attend. And after the session, we’ll have all the time in the world to spend together. Believe me, one day you will thank me for this.”
Catherine did not believe him, not at all, so she let her hands drop. He caught them, leaned forward, and kissed her gently on the mouth. She realized that she missed his kisses. Those gentle ministrations she had been so afraid of at first had come to mean more to her than she would have ever believed. Why couldn’t he forget all the politics and balls and just love her?
He stepped away as another servant barreled toward them, arms piled to his chin with linens.
“I’m going to my room to get some work done,” he said. “I’ll come down later to check on you.”
She nodded, dejected at yet another of his escapes. “What about the stationers?” she asked.
“Right.”
She tried not to frown. He’d already forgotten.
“I’ll have Meeps take care of it,” he said as he walked away. “He can be quite helpful.”
She sighed. Perhaps she should have married Meeps. Quint gave his assistant so many of his personal duties that Catherine figured eventually she’d go to bed and find the little man there, too.
She trudged back to the dining room to find her three cousins still fighting over vellum. Now even Ashley had an opinion. Catherine, fed up with the whole thing, strode to that end of the table, picked up a random sheet—ivory with a gold border—and handed it to a Meeps. “This is the one. Take it to the stationer.”
Meeps took the paper and looked at it, then her. “But, madam, I do not know—”
Catherine narrowed her eyes.
“Yes, madam.” Meeps hurried to do her bidding.
Catherine turned back to her cousins and saw Maddie and Ashley gaping at her.
“But we’d decided that one was all wrong,” Maddie said.
“Actually I rather liked it,” Josie chimed in. She was the only one of the girls smiling.
“Did you even look at it?” Ashley crossed her arms, full of indignation.
“What does it matter?” Catherine said. “No one will remember the invitation. After the ball, everyone will be talking about what a fool I am.”
Maddie, always her supporter, put an arm around her waist. “We’ve already talked about this. You’ll be fine. One of us will be beside you at all times. You’ll take deep breaths and get lots of air, and if it gets too overwhelming, we’ll say you have an important matter to attend to and sweep you away for a few moments.”
“You have to have confidence in yourself,” Josie said, taking her other side. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. The assembly rooms are huge. You won’t feel trapped.”
“I suppose Valentine won the battle of the guest list,” Ashley said, as usual seeing right through to Catherine’s real dilemma.
“He’s such a good man that he can’t imagine anyone else isn’t,” Catherine told them. “He has the best intentions.”
“Misguided intentions,” Josie spat.
“And now you have to deal with her,” Maddie said.
“But not alone.” Josie waved her arms expansively. “We’ll be right beside you. Lizzy’s no match for any of us. We’ll keep her from doing anything horrible.”
“I know you will,” Catherine said with a weak smile.
“If you know that, then why do you still look so sad?” Maddie asked.
“You’re hurt that he still can’t see who your sister really is,” Ashley said suddenly.
Catherine shook her head, but Ashley put a hand on Catherine’s arm. Ashley always saw too much.
“You think, given the chance, that he’d trade you for her. He won’t, Catie. You said yourself that he is a good man.”
“I’m tired.” Catherine drew away. “I need to get some rest.”
Josie grabbed her arm before she could turn away. “Wait a moment. We are you
r cousins. Don’t try to avoid us.” She looked closely at Catherine’s face. “Are you in love with him?” This last was whispered as though it were a mortal sin.
Catherine refuted it without thinking. “Of course I’m not in love with him.”
“You’re lying,” Josie said. “You love him.”
“Is that true?” Ashley demanded.
“She said it wasn’t.” Maddie at least defended her. “She didn’t even want to marry the man, she would never fall in love with him. She’s a founding member of the Spinsters’ Club.”
“That was a child’s game,” Josie said, still staring at Catherine. “She’s in love with him. I know the signs.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Maddie said.
“I’m not! I know the signs of love and pining, and she’s got all of them.”
“No, I don’t,” Catherine said.
“Oh, yes, you do,” Josie countered. “Look at you, you’re moping around all day, but when Valentine walks in the room your face lights up. And you’re even hosting this ball for him, and you hate balls. If that isn’t love, then what is?”
“How do you know so much about it?” Catherine asked. “Are we about to lose another member of our club?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Josie turned away.
Ashley grabbed her shoulder. “You had better not be in love, Josephine Linet Hale.”
“I’m not!”
“But there’s a man, isn’t there? You’re not telling us everything.”
“Stop harassing me. We’re trying to help Catherine.”
Catherine was perfectly happy with the attention off her for once, but when the three girls’ eyes swung back to her, she quickly changed course. “I think we’re all tired and ready for bed. Let’s start again with all this in the morning.”
“You’re avoiding us,” Ashley accused.
“Of course she’s avoiding us,” Maddie said, “but she has a point. Let’s give it a rest for tonight. We’ll be back in the morning for more preparations. I think your dress will be here by then, and I can’t wait to see it!”
Chapter 21
