by Shana Galen
Edmund Fullbright fingered the white vellum with the gold border between fingers grubby with sweat and tobacco. He’d taken the invitation from his younger daughter’s hands, though the chit had been loath to allow him to see it.
He’d slapped her and told her not to show her worthless face to him for the rest of the night. He could still see the surprise in her bright blue eyes. She wasn’t used to being slapped, but since Catherine had left, the little bitch had developed an attitude he didn’t care for.
Perhaps she’d always had it, but it galled him now more than ever. She was going to end up worthless. Her sister had been married over a month and was hosting a grand ball with her husband, who would soon be a hoity-toity government official.
What had Elizabeth done except preen and simper and waste his money? Had she secured the hand of a duke or one of those foreign princes? No.
In fact, last week he’d taken her to a ball and found her in an empty room, locked in an embrace with a lowly baronet. The man had had his hands all over his daughter. Little whore.
Edmund sipped his gin and leaned back in his desk chair. And now this. Now she’d been invited to her sister’s fancy ball, and she hadn’t wanted him to know. Of course he hadn’t been invited. No, Lady Goddamn Valentine hadn’t seen fit to invite him or her own mother. That was gratitude for you.
After all he’d done for her. She wouldn’t even be Lady Goddamn Valentine if not for him. But did she appreciate all he’d done for her? And it was exactly like her to turn into an ungrateful little wretch just when his money problems had come to a boil. He needed money, and Catherine owed him.
Fullbright picked up the pretty little invitation once again. Perhaps it was time his daughter was reminded to whom she was indebted.
Chapter 22
Quint decided that he hadn’t given his wife quite enough credit. She had not wanted to have this ball. She had protested every step of the way, and there were recent days when he was inclined to see the whole thing her way. He liked organization and consistency, and she’d turned his entire life, not to mention his study, upside down.
The house had been a mess. Their lives had been a mess, and yet he had enjoyed seeing her work. He loved watching her rise to this challenge, watching her put aside uncertainty and hesitation and become the confident, self-assured woman he knew she could be.
He took his gloves from his valet and pulled them on. The ball was going to be superb. He had supervised the final preparations only this afternoon, and the assembly rooms where the event was to be held had looked absolutely stunning. Standing there, watching as the last touches were put in place, Quint knew that no duke’s daughter could have done better.
Now, he could not wait to see Fairfax’s face when he finally had to acknowledge that Quint was a formidable foe in the Cabinet race. Even more, Quint hoped to be on the receiving end of Fairfax’s congratulatory handshake when the prime minister offered Quint, and not his rival, the position.
Quint knew he deserved the situation. He had sweated and worked harder for this than ever before. If all went well tonight—and he knew it would—then there was no reason the Cabinet post would not be his.
Quint took one last look in his cheval mirror, trying to imagine himself as a Cabinet minister. He could imagine it very easily. And once that happened, he would make up all the lost hours and all the sacrifices to Catherine. He would win back her affections and do everything in his power to make her happy. In the last few days, he had wanted many times to tell her how much he cared for her, but there just never seemed a right time. He knew she thought he still harbored feelings for her sister, but Quint never thought of the girl. He only had eyes for Catherine. If his wife only realized how often he thought of her.
After tonight, there would be no doubt. He thought he already knew how she felt. Her words that day he had come home to find all of the china stacked in his study had reassured him. She’d said she missed him, that she cared about being with him. Those words had gripped his heart and held it.
She loved him. He was sure of it.
He wanted all those things, too. And he wanted to make her happy. He would make her happy as soon as he secured the Cabinet post. Once he was a minister, he would make all of this up to her.
He smiled at his reflection and turned to his valet. “Very good, Dorsey. That will be all.”
Dorsey inclined his head, and Quint crossed through the dressing room to knock on his wife’s door. She opened it herself and he, expecting her lady’s maid, stepped back in surprise.
Or maybe the surprise was from seeing the goddess before him. He had never thought of her as a striking woman. That was not the word that came to mind when his thoughts turned to her.
Kind, proud, courageous, determined: Those were the words that described his Catherine. Now he had to add breathtaking. Simply put, her beauty was not even a matter of debate but a given fact. As he gazed at her now, all thought, all reason was sucked out of him.
She wore a gown with a low, square neck in black velvet trimmed with silver cord. The velvet was heavy and gleamed, but not as richly as her hair. That was the next treasure he discovered. Her hair was pulled back from her face in an elaborate coil that twisted and turned and wound about itself until he was lost trying to follow the style. But he noted how heavy it was and that his fingers itched to feel that weight and to stroke the expanse of her neck just beneath.
He let out a breath, and murmured, “You look lovely, Catie. Truly. You take my breath away.”
Modest as always, she ducked her head. Then he noticed that part of the shimmer in her ebony crown was from black pearls dotted throughout the shining mass. They were also wrapped about her neck in both short and long, lustrous strands. He reached out and touched one strand at her throat.
“They are only borrowed,” she said. “My aunt Ellen lent them to me.”
“They suit you,” Quint said, moving his finger to trace the olive skin over her collarbone. “I will have to buy you a set myself.” He touched the small pearl drop earrings and then brushed the skin of her cheek. Rather than tensing, as he was used to her doing, she leaned into him and closed her eyes.
Quint’s blood fired hot. He had a quick and ardent vision of her naked with only the pearls clustered in her ample cleavage. And now that he was thinking of it, he noted that the low neckline gave him more than enough opportunity to observe that perfect cleavage. Quint frowned.
“Are you wearing a shawl with that?”
“No, why?” She looked down at her gown. “I thought you said I looked lovely.”
“You do, but there is perhaps a bit too much of you showing.”
Her face turned pink, then red, then burgundy. “I see-I-Maddie said the neckline was appropriate. She said it is higher than what most of the ladies wear, but if it looks ill—”
Quint realized his error and made a hasty retreat. “No, it looks well. Very well. Too well.” He gave her his best rakish grin, which was rusty from disuse. “I am sure your cousin is right. I had just not expected to see you looking quite so alluring. After tonight I fear I will rarely have you all to myself.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “You may have me anytime you like. I worry that you no longer want me.” She glanced down at the floor, and Quint saw her shuffle her feet, clad in elegant Roman sandals that matched her gown.
He took her chin between two fingers and nudged her face up. “Now who speaks nonsense? I’m standing right here, thinking what a fortunate man I am to have such a beautiful, accomplished wife.” And he meant it. How the hell had he not seen this all along? Why had he ever wasted time doubting her? He should have been cherishing her, loving her all along.
“All eyes will be on you at the ball,” he whispered. “I will be the envy of every man tonight.”
Her eyes, which had been shining as they looked into his, dropped again, her long black lashes screening her honey hazel eyes from view. Once again, Quint knew he had said the wrong thing, but this time he was not sure why. “I kn
ow you are still apprehensive about tonight,” he said, venturing a guess, “but I assure you all will go well. It will be an evening no one will forget.”
Catherine met his eyes again. “I’m sure you are right.”
When they entered the ballroom, still an hour or so before most guests would begin arriving, Catherine understood what Quint had meant when he said his breath had been taken away. As she looked at the assembly room in awe, she felt the same. It was the loveliest room she could ever have imagined. Actually, it was lovelier than she had imagined. Everything from the tablecloths and overlays, the flowers, the potted plants, and the white Greek columns draped with white silk were directly out of her own imagination. She had dreamed them all, put them on paper, and then—with the help of her cousins—made her dream a reality.
Lord, she had no idea it would look as good as it did. A footman finished lighting the last of the chandeliers, and as the other servants raised it to the ceiling, even more of her creation glittered into view.
She crossed the marble floor, pausing beneath one of the draped columns. Beside it, she felt so insignificant, as though all of her problems were nothing compared with the heavy problems of the world—problems her husband dealt with daily. Perhaps she was selfish to expect him to put aside those weighty concerns for someone as insignificant as she and her little needs.
Then she reached out and touched the column, pushing it so that it tipped slightly. It was light, made from some insubstantial material that the decorator—a man who worked as a set designer for theater productions—had convinced her to use.
The column reminded her that concerns that might seem weighty to some were often nothing more than illusions. Power. Position. Taxes and treaties. How could any of those possibly be as important as love?
She was afraid her husband had forgotten that. He had obviously known the rule at one time. She remembered the way the country villagers had looked at him with admiration and esteem. She remembered him taking care of the lady in her bare hovel. Quint was a man who cared deeply for others. She had thought he cared for her.
Or perhaps she was wrong, and he had never cared for her at all. Perhaps she had imagined the tenderness and the care he had shown when they’d made love. Perhaps that was one of his politician’s tricks.
The guests would be arriving soon, and Catherine crossed the room to make a last check on the dinner preparations. Per her instructions, tables and chairs had been placed in a small room adjacent to the ballroom. At the back of the room were three large tables swathed in white silk with gold overlays. The china was already out, as were several platters of fruit. The rest of the sumptuous fare would not be set out until later, but perhaps she should check to make sure everything was as it should be.
She glanced at her small watch and saw that the first guests would arrive in less than twenty minutes. If she checked on the food now, she would be late in receiving them. It was a tempting escape. If she were overseeing preparations, she would not have to face the crowds and the crush of guests.
She closed her eyes, and once again the suffocating fear piled down on her. She remembered what it had been like to crouch in that closet as a little girl. She remembered the fear and the horror and the loathing she’d felt. Not for her father, but for herself because she was so afraid. She was pitiful.
She jerked her head up and opened her eyes. No more. She was not pitiful. She was breathtaking and capable and hostess of what would surely be the ball of the Season. And Quint had faith in her.
Her father no longer had power over her. He was a weak man; she saw that now. He made himself feel big by hurting her and her mother. But he could not hurt her anymore. She wouldn’t allow it.
Catherine straightened her shoulders and marched back into the ballroom. She needed to do this, finally to put childhood fears and ghosts behind her. With a smile, she quickened her step. Maddie, Josie, and Ashley were coming up the stairs—Catherine could not see them yet, but she could hear their voices.
One by one, they came into view, each more exquisite than the last. First was Josephine. Her auburn hair was twisted and secured with small combs so that it curled about her head like a crown of fire. She wore a dark green satin gown that complemented her green eyes and made them appear huge in her pixie face.
Behind Josephine was Madeleine. She wore white. The gown had a low neck that showed the ample curve of her bosom and made her waist appear tiny. Her hair had been pulled away from her face, but the heavy mass of it flowed in chestnut curls down her back.
And then there was Ashley. She had always been the acknowledged beauty of the group, and tonight she lived up to her title. Like Josephine, she wore green, but her gown was the green of the sea before a storm. It matched her sea-green eyes and set off her pale porcelain skin. Her blond hair was secured in the most elegant of styles, and like Catherine, jewels dripped from her curls. But no simple pearls for Ashley. She was never so understated. Her hair glimmered and sparkled with small diamonds.
Catherine had come to a complete stop as her cousins ascended the stairs, and now she said, “I don’t remember inviting any royalty. You three look like princesses.”
Ashley smiled and dropped a curtsey, and Maddie looked embarrassed.
Josie scowled. “If this is what it feels like to be a princess, I pity their majesties. I’ve been pushed and pulled in every direction today. These stays are so tight I can barely breathe, and a hairpin is digging into my scalp.” She reached for her coiffure, but Maddie swatted her hand away.
“Don’t touch. You’ll ruin it before the ball even begins.”
“Look at you,” Ashley said, making a wide circle around Catherine. “Catherine Anne Fullbright, I had no idea this was underneath all those drab gowns you always wore. The black velvet suits you.”
“And so do Mama’s pearls.” Maddie clasped her hands together. “She’s going to weep with joy when she sees you.”
Josie pulled a handkerchief from her bosom. “Don’t you dare start.” She handed it to Maddie, who used it to dab her eyes.
Ashley finally ceased her perusal and stopped before Catherine. “What happened when Valentine saw you? Did he ravish you?”
“What kind of question is that?” Catherine felt her cheeks color and wished that, for once, she could be as brazen as Ashley.
“The kind of question we virgins ask. We may be maidens, but that doesn’t mean we’re not curious.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Nothing?” Josie cried. “He just grunted and held out his arm?”
“No, he said”—Catherine thought back, her skin warming with pleasure as she remembered—“he said I looked lovely.”
“That’s all?” Even proper Maddie seemed disappointed.
Catherine glanced about her, made sure Quint was not in sight, and continued, “He said that I took his breath away.”
Her three cousins beamed. “That’s so romantic,” Maddie said.
“It would have been more romantic if he’d ravished her.”
“Ashley, shh. You can’t say things like that,” Catherine chided. “You’re going to get a reputation.”
Ashley shrugged. “What do I care? But I promise to be on my best behavior tonight. Look, there’s the man of the hour.”
Catherine turned to see Quint coming up the stairs. His smile was pinched and tight, and she could tell immediately by the way he held his shoulders that he was apprehensive. Her first impulse was to rush to him and reassure him that all was ready, but the sight of him in his evening attire always undid her, especially when he looked as he did tonight.
He wore the requisite dark blue tailcoat and breeches, the snowy white cravat, waistcoat, and white gloves. But his hair had been cut so that it no longer brushed his collar. It was short and neat in the back, the only untamed section the wave that fell over his forehead. He pushed it back, and then his mahogany brown eyes found her.
She knew the moment they did because his entire expression changed. He relaxed, a
nd his smile became more genuine. Her own body reacted instantly. Her pulse fired, and she had the urge to go to him. He needed her, and she wanted to be there to help him.
Now and always.
“Catie, there you are. Are you ready to receive our guests? The footmen tell me the first couples have arrived.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” She lifted her skirts and went to him quickly. As she passed her cousins, Josie caught her arm.
“Take a deep breath and remember to keep breathing. Everything is going to be perfect.”
“I know.” Catherine smiled. She felt absolutely no fear, only the warmth of love and acceptance. She took Quint’s outstretched hand. “Ready?” he asked.
“I couldn’t be more so.”
Quint and Catherine descended the stairs together, a little family. She had never before been part of a family so much as the scapegoat. She had never felt as though she belonged in the drawing rooms of the ton. The only time she felt at ease was with her cousins, but since marrying Quint even their childhood club was closed to her.
She couldn’t explain why, but being at Quint’s side made her feel more a part of anything than she ever had. She felt right with him. She felt that she belonged, that she was where she was supposed to be.
And then he led her to the entryway, the door opened, and the footman admitted the first guests.
Chapter 23
Quint had been a bulwark beside her in the receiving line, and he’d stayed beside her for much of the night. When he was not beside her, one of her cousins was. Finally, Catherine had shooed Maddie and Josie away, insisting they dance and enjoy themselves. She was doing fine and wanted a moment to check on everything.
With a smile on her face, she glided into the dining room to make sure the servants had replenished the fare. It made her nervous to walk among so many people. There were reporters from all the papers, politicians, and what seemed like the entire ton in attendance. And all were staring at her.
