by Bree Wolf
Could it be true? Or was she deceiving herself again?
Shaking his head, he smiled. “It seems so simple, and yet, I don’t think I could do it.”
“Try.”
As her fingers stilled and the melody evaporated into the tall-ceilinged room, he lifted his head and stared at her. For a moment, she thought he would refuse as his eyes held doubt and the hint of a self-conscious smile played on his lips. However, as his eyes continued to hold hers, the expression on his face changed. It grew softer, and all doubt fell from him. Still holding her gaze, he inhaled deeply and as he did so he shifted in his seat and his knee brushed against hers.
Catherine held her breath, and a tantalising shiver shook her frame and made her hands tremble.
For the merest wisp of a moment, his eyes dropped from hers and down to…her lips?…before he forced them back up. Then he swallowed, and before his hands could reach for her, they drifted toward the long row of smooth keys. “Show me,” he whispered, his eyes now fixed on the instrument.
A hint of disappointment filled Catherine’s chest, and yet, a tantalising hope tickled the corners of her soul. Clearing her throat, she faced the pianoforte and showed him how to place his fingers on the keys.
He did as she instructed, and yet, the sound that echoed through the room was far from pleasant. Looking at her with a sheepish grin, he laughed, “Maybe you should put a hat on that protects your ears.”
Joining in his laughter, Catherine showed him once more, moving her fingers slowly so that he could observe them more closely.
Again, he tried, and again, the result was disastrous.
Catherine sighed with delight as William’s face turned a slightly darker shade of red. His eyes, however, sparkled with mischievous enjoyment, and his hands immediately reached for the instrument once more.
As they both shook with laughter, William continued to play, slightly cringing under the unpleasant notes. “I have to admit this is quite entertaining,” he chuckled, and his fingers once again slipped and hit a wrong note.
Catherine flinched, and he glanced at her apologetically.
“Here, let me show you,” she said and gently placed his fingers on the keys. “This is your centre. From here, you move left and right, but slowly.” As she looked up, she found him staring down at her, his glance shifting back and forth between her face and her fingers on his hand. He drew in a shaky breath, and as he exhaled, his breath tickled the side of her face.
Catherine swallowed and lifted her head, meeting his eyes without hesitation.
For a long moment, he looked at her, his gaze searching her face as though hoping to find something that would spark a memory. A hint of frustration came to his eyes then, and Catherine’s heart sank.
However, before she could scoot away on the bench, his face hardened, and determination shone in his eyes. His hand reached up and cupped the side of her face as his eyes drifted down to touch her lips.
Surprised, Catherine held her breath.
In that moment, the front door closed, and familiar voices drifted through the open door into the parlour.
Instantly, William froze.
As footsteps echoed closer, he blinked and his hand fell from her face, leaving it cold and unprotected. Then he jumped to his feet, his face flustered, and turned to greet his brother as well as…his wife.
“Will! Christine! How are you?” Wesley greeted them, a wide smile on his lips and a calculating gaze in his eyes. Hugging his brother, he stepped aside and Christine came into view. Standing in the doorway, she glanced almost shyly at them before her eyes once more travelled to the ground. “Go and greet your wife,” Wesley said, giving his brother a pat on the back.
Before he walked off, William’s eyes met hers for a hint of a moment, and Catherine thought to see a hint of anguish. Did he truly feel something for her? Of course, he did. She chided her own insecurities. The past fortnight had proved that he cared for her. But did he love her?
“I feel as though I do not need to ask,” Wesley chuckled, an amused gleam in his eyes as he watched her face, then glanced at his brother’s receding back. “You both look quite smitten.”
Shaking her head, Catherine sighed. “Sometimes I believe so, too, but then…” She trailed off, uncertain how to express the fear that lived in her heart. “He is the one who asked for his wife’s return,” she said, a hint of anger in her voice. “He might care for me, but…”
“He believes you to be his sister-in-law,” Wesley counselled. “Even if he’s realised that he loves you, do you believe he would declare his feelings knowing the scandal that would cause and the pain it would bring?” Shaking his head, Wesley looked at her. “Have faith and help him see that his future lies with you.”
Nodding, Catherine swallowed as she glanced past Wesley’s shoulder, uncertain if she wanted to hear the conversation between her husband and her sister.
***
That night over supper, William found himself comparing the two women in his life: his wife seated to his right, with his brother on her other side, and his sister-in-law sitting one chair down from his mother.
Deep down, William had hoped that the feelings he had developed for Christine could somehow be transferred to her sister, to his wife. After all, everyone kept telling him how much he had been in love with her, and after spending a fortnight in his sister-in-law’s company, hearing stories about his wife, he had figured that the emotions he felt were not truly meant for Christine, but for his wife instead.
Unfortunately, the more time he spent with his wife, the more did William realise that he had been fooling himself.
Although his wife was a truly beautiful woman, he knew that the deafening hammering of his heart had nothing to with the way her eyes met his on occasion or the way her lips curled into a delighted smile. A part of him was confused that her sadness seemed to have vanished, replaced by a hint of relief as though restraints had suddenly fallen from her. She chatted animatedly with his brother as well as his mother and only occasionally grew quiet when she found him, William, looking at her.
When he had first greeted her a few hours ago, William had felt a stab of disappointment upon meeting her eyes. The way they had looked into his had not spoken of a deeper bond, of knowledge shared in confidence or emotions barely held in check. And for a moment, his feet had almost turned on their heels, carrying him back to Christine’s side.
William couldn’t help himself, but he felt as though he belonged with her. How could he be so wrong?
“I cannot wait for the Season to begin,” his wife trilled next to him, her eyes sparkling with delight. “I need a completely new wardrobe, for these days I feel as though I have nothing to wear.”
Wesley chuckled as he glanced at her. “If only that were true.”
While his wife smirked at his brother, clearly not offended in the least, their mother’s face lost all colour. “Wesley!” she chided. “Please refrain from such crude remarks at my table.”
His brother cleared his throat, and a tinge of red decorated his cheeks. “I apologise, Mother.” Then he focused his attention on his plate.
Frowning, William tried not to be too obvious as he glanced from his wife to his brother. If he didn’t know it to be impossible, he’d be convinced that there was something between them. Were there more severe consequences from his accident after all? Was he no longer capable of reading other people’s feelings? Much less his own? Could there be another explanation for the mess he found himself in?
“At least, Lord Hampton’s Christmas Ball will provide some entertainment,” his wife said. “I wonder who will be in attendance.”
Again, Wesley chuckled. “Who always is.”
His wife huffed. “May I remind you that this is my first opportunity to attend? In case you have forgotten, I did not grow up here.”
William frowned at the strange sharpness in her tone while his brother merely looked delighted with her little outburst.
“The Duke and D
uchess of Kensington will attend,” his mother answered as she gently set down her cutlery. “I spoke to the duchess a month ago, and she said they would attend.”
“Will,” his brother said, “I’ve written to Robert and Charles and asked them to come. I thought it might help you to see them again, and they don’t live far from here.”
His mother huffed. “That boy is a disgrace to his family. His brother ought to have inherited the title.” Shaking her head, she tsked. “It’s a pity that nothing can be done about these things.”
“It is indeed, Mother,” Wesley agreed. However, once his mother turned to speak to Christine, a grin spread over his face and he winked at William. “I do believe she considers herself lucky,” he whispered, “that you were born first.”
William smiled.
“I heard that,” their mother announced. “I may be old but I am not deaf, and I would ask you to watch your manners.” Once more shaking her head at them, she turned back to Christine.
After exchanging another smirk with his brother, William’s eyes, too, were drawn to the quiet woman seated by his mother’s side. She had barely spoken a word all evening, and her demeanour seemed rather distraught.
William’s heart ached as he saw the sorrow in her eyes, and he couldn’t help but remember the moment they had shared in the parlour. Heat flooded his cheeks as he recalled the soft touch of her fingers, the way her eyes had gazed into his own and her breath had come in short gaps as though she had been touched by that moment as much as him. Had she? Could it be possible?
William sighed. Even if, there was no future for them.
“We need to make a quick choice,” his wife said as her eyes travelled to him. To his shame, William did not have the faintest idea what she was talking about. “Thank goodness, we have our own seamstress in the house,” she sighed in delight, “or we’d never have everything ready in time. We’ll pick the masks first and then match the evening wear to them.”
“Masks?” William croaked, temporarily confused.
His brother frowned. “Surely you remember that. After all, the earl’s Christmas Ball has been a masque ball these past ten years.”
“Yes, of course,” William agreed, relieved that no one had noticed his inattention. “Why do you not choose the masks?” he asked his wife. “My choice would probably not be well-received.”
“Gladly,” his wife confirmed, her eyes sparkling with excitement before she closed them for a moment. “I cannot wait to dance the night away.”
William stopped. “Dancing,” he whispered, then froze as he found all eyes watching him. Clearing his throat, he straightened in his chair.
“Is something wrong?” his mother asked.
William shook his head. “I was simply wondering,” he admitted, “with everything that I’ve forgotten, do I remember how to dance?”
His wife and his brother chuckled while a soft smile came to Christine’s lovely face.
“Do not worry, Dear,” his wife promised, “we’ll practise. How about tomorrow?” She glanced at his brother as well as her sister, and when no one objected, she rejoiced. “How wonderful! Finally something to do!”
Chapter Nine − Dance Practice
A quick knock on the door roused Catherine from her gloomy thoughts. Once again, she found herself standing by the windows opening out into the gardens, staring at the heaps of snow; a view that had always brought joy to her heart but now only served as a reminder of what she had lost in a matter of a few short weeks.
Before she could even turn toward the door, much less utter a reply, it was thrown open and her sister barged in. “I came to speak to you before our dance rehearsal,” she said, walking up to Catherine with a hint of concern in her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you last night, but there was just so much to take care of before the ball, and then I was so exhausted I couldn’t have kept my eyes open.” Reaching for Catherine’s hands, Christine met her eyes, the expression on her face gentle. “How did everything go? Does he remember anything?”
Sighing, Catherine shook her head, and her sister’s hands squeezed hers in comfort. “If he does, he didn’t tell me.”
“And he asked for me to return?” Christine asked, a quizzical frown drawing down her brows. “I admit when I read your letter, I was rather surprised.”
“As was I,” Catherine admitted, unable to keep a note of desperation out of her voice. “Oh, Christine, I don’t know what to do!” As tears began to brim in her eyes, she shook her head. “I did everything I could to remind him of me, of us, but now, I feel that it is hopeless.”
“Don’t say that!” her sister insisted, her eyes determined as she squared her shoulders. “Always remember that men are easily confused. Maybe switching places was too much of a challenge for Will after all. However, since it is too late for regrets, we need to see this through.”
“Why?” Catherine sobbed. “What benefit could possibly come of this?”
A mischievous smile came to her sister’s face. “He basically asked for a dancing rehearsal.”
Catherine frowned. Had he? As far as she could remember, he had merely pointed out that he felt uncertain about his own dancing skills. And even if, why would that make her sister’s face glow with glee?
“Do you not understand?” Eyes wide, Christine shook her head at her sister. “He wants to dance with you.”
“He does?” Catherine croaked.
“Why else would he suggest that?” She sighed at Catherine’s inability to see the obvious. “I’ve seen you dance many times, and it always seemed as though the two of you drifted off to another world as soon as you were in each other’s arms.” A grin came to her face before it was chased away by a hint of discontent. “I cannot believe I didn’t think of it. Of course, the two of you have to dance. That’s the solution.”
As much as Catherine wanted to believe her sister, she could not allow herself to hope as freely as she had in the beginning. “But as his wife, you’ll be the one dancing with him?”
“Oh, pish!” With a wave of her hand, Christine dismissed her sister’s concern. “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something. After all Wes is here, too.”
Staring at her sister, Catherine felt like crawling into bed and never showing her face anywhere again. “I don’t know, Christine. What if you are the one he truly wants to dance with? He asked me to send for your return. Why would he have done so, if−”
“Out of a sense of duty, of course!” Placing her hands on her sister’s shoulders, Christine looked into her eyes. “He believes me to be his wife and you to be his sister-in-law. So, naturally, any feelings he develops towards you must be greatly unsettling for him. He is probably disturbed by what he feels and does not know how to handle it.”
At her sister’s words, Catherine’s eyes had grown wide. “But if that is the case, then we must tell him! I cannot bear the thought of him feeling−”
“Not yet!” her sister insisted. “Although he is most definitely starting to feel something for you, telling him now might chase him away. We should wait until he has lost his heart to you completely. Then, nothing will ever be able to sway him from you side.” Looping her arm through Catherine’s, Christine pulled her toward the door. “Let’s go. We are to meet them in the ballroom.”
“The ballroom?” Catherine echoed as her sister dragged her out the door.
“Yes!” Her face aglow, Christine nodded. “With only two couples dancing, it’ll almost be as though we’re alone. The two of you won’t even know we’re there. I promise!”
Finding herself once again doubting her sister’s insane ideas, Catherine, nonetheless, followed her down the stairs and into the ballroom. She could only hope that her husband would not be disappointed when Christine came up with a ridiculous excuse for why he should be dancing with his sister-in-law.
***
Finding his mother seated at the pianoforte that had been brought into the large ballroom, William frowned at his brother. “I’m not certain
that this is a good idea.”
“Believe me, it is,” Wesley objected, and a huge grin came to his face as the door suddenly opened and the two sisters walked into the large room. Striding toward them, Wesley bowed to each with a hint of formality in his bearing but a roguish grin on his face as though all of this was an elaborate joke.
Once again, William found himself wondering at his brother’s strange behaviour. If he didn’t know any better, he would fancy him in love.
After a few whispered words, the three of them came walking over, and William felt as though he was the only one ignorant of a shared secret.
Squaring his shoulders, he greeted his wife as well as his sister-in-law. Although their eyes had the same colour, Christine’s shone in such startling jade green that William was at a loss for words. Fortunately, his wife saved him from an embarrassing moment as she strode forward and took over control of their dance practise, issuing commands left and right.
Before he knew what was happening, William found himself standing up with his wife for a country dance. His eyes, however, frequently travelled to her sister as she danced with his brother. Again and again, he reminded himself that his attentions were inappropriate. His heart, body and soul, however, strongly disagreed and greatly outnumbered his conscience.
To his great relief, he found that he had not forgotten the steps to any of the dances his wife had them rehearse, which to his great shame gave him ample opportunity to gaze upon her sister. By the end of the cotillion, William wanted to kick himself for his inattention toward the woman he had married…once upon a time.
“Wesley!” his wife suddenly snapped, and William’s head spun around.
With narrowed eyes, she stormed toward his brother, a hint of disapproval on her face. “Wesley Everett, you are unbelievable!” Glancing at her sister, she gestured toward the floor, and William frowned as he had no idea what was happening. “My sister’s poor feet! How can you be such a clumsy oaf?” Sighing, she shook her head at him while he looked rather sheepish. Then she turned on her heel and stepped toward William.
