Lady Catherine's Secret: A Secrets and Seduction book (24 page)

Perhaps his luck was changing. He preferred marrying Catherine to forcing Huntley into helping him generate funds. He’d never been entirely confident in his ability to bend Huntley to his will. But Catherine? She’d be easy to manipulate. He knew exactly where to strike.

It would only take a few moments alone with her. He grinned. His powers of persuasion could be quite convincing once he knew the right incentive to offer.

Or the right amount of force to use. Lady Catherine was much more vulnerable than she realized. Much more vulnerable, indeed.

29 - House Plans

“Wentworth!” Huntley shouted. He was standing in the morning room, frustrated at not being able to locate his friend. The man had an uncanny ability to disappear.

“Blast it, I’m right here! Stop shouting, it’s a terrible habit.”

Huntley spun around and found Wentworth just entering through the doorway leading to the garden.

“Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“I was looking at your new gardens. They’re spectacular, but in a bit of disrepair. Your gardeners will be busy.”

“My staff from town keeps grumbling about the interior. They’re all looking forward to returning to London this evening. I need to find servants to take care of this estate. That’s what I wanted to discuss with you.”

“You want my help selecting your staff?” Wentworth looked appalled at the thought.

Huntley laughed. “Perhaps I could turn the entire project over to you.”

“I’ll certainly get it completed quickly. The first person who applies for each position can have it.” He plopped onto the chaise longue. “I’ll let you sort it all out later.”

“Perhaps not, then. I’d rather not have to replace everyone in a month or so when they don’t work out.”

“Then do as my mother used to say. Find the best housekeeper and butler available, and then let them find people to fill the remaining positions.”

“Excellent advice,” Huntley said, jerking his head up. “See, you
were
helpful. That should save me quite a bit of time. I have representatives from three agencies arriving today to look over the estate and help me staff it, and I’m afraid the meetings will delay my departure to the ball. There’s no reason for you to stay, however, since I’ll be busy with the interviews. Shall I meet you there later this evening?”

“Sounds like a perfect plan.”

30 - Dance Card

“Good evening, m’lady. May I help you dress for the ball?” Simpson’s pinched face and tight smile showed her anxiety. There wasn’t much time left to prepare. That was Catherine’s fault. She’d hidden herself away while she read
Jane Eyre
again.

With a grimace, Catherine nodded, and Simpson helped her slip into her dress. The low-cut gown of light-blue satin had an even paler blue layer of gauze overlaying it, and the bodice was embellished with an ornate pattern of freshwater pearls. The fabric slithered against her skin as it slipped down her body.

Upon catching sight of herself in the mirror as her head emerged from the masses of fabric, Catherine was startled. The dress befitted a water nymph. The little pearls gave the impression of waves cresting on a clear blue ocean. Her pale face gave her pause. She didn’t look like herself. The face she saw in the mirror looked wooden— something more befitting a ship’s prow than a sea nymph.

She didn’t want to attend this ball. Charles still hadn’t arrived home, and her problems weighed heavily upon her.

Simpson fastened the row of tiny buttons up the back of the gown. Selecting a necklace from the jewelry box atop her dresser, Catherine picked up a thick, multi-strand cluster of freshwater pearls and fastened it around her neck. As a final flourish, Simpson placed a pair of pearl clips in Catherine’s hair.

“I forgot to tell you, m’lady. Lord Spencer returned not long ago,” Simpson commented. “He plans to attend the ball this evening with you and Lady Kensington.”

Relief swept through Catherine.
Thank goodness, Charles is home.
“That’s wonderful news.”

Looking in the mirror, Catherine pinched her cheeks to bring out some color. She smiled at her reflection, but the change in her expression did little to disguise her weariness. Perhaps she’d be able to sleep soundly once she spoke with Charles.

When she arrived downstairs, her mother and Charles were already standing there, ready for the ball.

“Welcome home, Charles,” she said, lightly kissing his cheek. Dressed in a formal evening coat with a black waistcoat and tie, he looked trim and elegant. His normally unruly hair was tamed for the occasion, and Catherine wondered how long it would take before an errant strand would break free.

The drive to the Duke of Norfolk’s home was brief. When they rounded the bend on the cobblestone street, the house appeared at the top of a small rise. It was a grand building, set apart from the others by both its location and its substantial size. Whereas the other buildings on the street were only dimly lit, the duke’s abode appeared to sparkle with thousands of lights shining through its many windows. Kensington House was large, but it was nothing when compared to this enormous ducal residence.

Carriages waited in a long line to drop off passengers. A strolling group of musicians wandering along the front walkway heightened the festive mood by entertaining the guests who were waiting to enter.

Once inside, Charles deposited the two ladies with the maid in the ladies’ dressing room. There, they divested themselves of their cloaks and took a moment to check their reflections before rejoining Charles in the main foyer.

“I have your dance programs,” he said, holding up the two small booklets with silk tasseled cords hanging from them. He held open the loop of cord and helped his mother slide it onto her left wrist, then did the same for Catherine.

Catherine glanced at the newest group of guests as they arrived. Their faces glowed with anticipation. This should be one of the most entertaining balls of the season.

Upon entering the ballroom, Catherine stayed close to her brother as the trio found themselves swept into the crush of people. Charles guided them through the crowded room toward a pair of empty chairs. Mother settled into one of them and consulted her dance card.

“Charles, dear, please escort your sister to the floor for the first dance. It’s a quadrille, and I so enjoy seeing you dance together. It reminds me of watching you practice when you were children.”

As they moved onto the dance floor, Charles leaned down to murmur in her ear. “Do you remember how we danced only as long as someone was watching us? As soon as we were alone, we’d grab Father’s foils and masks from the cabinet and start fencing.” His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled down at her.

Fencing. The thought of it sent a painful jolt of regret through her, causing her mask of serenity to slip. She tried to push down the unwanted emotion. It had no place here, in this glittering ballroom.

“Yes, I remember,” she replied briefly, wishing she’d already confided in him. He couldn’t know how his comment tormented her.

He shot her a quizzical look, but as they reached the dance floor, they separated to take their positions for the quadrille. Watching her brother as they weaved in and out of the intricate dance pattern, she began to relax. As always, she enjoyed the quadrille, and her brother was an excellent partner who never missed a step.

When they were done, Charles escorted her back to her chair. Catherine’s steps faltered when she recognized both Lord Stansbury and M LeCompte sitting with her mother, deep in conversation.

Stansbury was the last person she wanted to see sitting in a cozy little cluster with her mother and that rumor-monger LeCompte. She was tempted to turn around, but LeCompte looked up at that moment, catching sight of her.

“Ah,
mademoiselle
,” LeCompte said, springing to his feet to greet her, “how delightful to see you here this evening. I was hoping you would do me the honor of joining me for this dance?” He smiled politely, awaiting her reply.

“Of course. It would be my pleasure,” Catherine replied, taking the arm he extended to her.

“May I, too, request the pleasure of a dance, Lady Catherine?” interjected Stansbury. He had not risen to his feet as quickly as LeCompte, and was in a half-standing, half-bowing position as he spoke. “Perhaps for the next waltz,” he suggested, “since you’re otherwise engaged for the current dance.”

He’d trapped her. By making the request in front of an audience, he’d ensured she wouldn’t reject it, as doing so would make a scene. Even so, she would have said no if not for LeCompte’s keen eyes watching the entire exchange. She didn’t want the Frenchman to read too much into her dislike of the earl. LeCompte’s avid curiosity would have him searching for an explanation for such an extreme breach of etiquette.

Annoyed with Stansbury’s manipulation of the situation, she still managed to give LeCompte a serene smile as they departed for the dance floor. Stansbury’s satisfied smirk only served to increase her irritation, and she watched him as he drifted back into the crowd. She had the sneaking suspicion that he’d planned the entire encounter to force her into dancing with him.

After the schottische ended, Catherine rejoined her mother only to find two more men waiting, and both reserved dances. She wished she could relax and enjoy herself, but she couldn’t with the specter of a dance with Stansbury looming.

The evening wore on, and judging by the crush of people, the ball was a huge success. Catherine noticed some people sought relief from the crowd by slipping away into an adjoining room or out into the gardens.

As the appointed time for the dreaded waltz drew near, her most recent dance partner, Lord Watters, pushed his way through the crowd in order to return her to her mother’s side. It had become more and more difficult to move through the crowded ballroom as the evening progressed and new guests continued to arrive. As a cluster of people shifted, Catherine’s hand slipped from Lord Watters’s arm. She tried to recover her grip, but another group of guests pushed past her, separating her from her escort. He disappeared, seemingly swallowed up by the revelers.

Craning her neck, Catherine stood on her toes, searching for either Lord Watters or her mother, but she couldn’t see over the heads of the people surrounding her. She tried to get her bearings in the large, square room, but couldn’t tell which way to go. All four walls looked identical from her poor vantage point, and she’d lost all sense of direction after swirling around on the dance floor.

If only the musicians would begin to play, she’d be able to get her bearings based on their location. Unfortunately, they were taking a break between dances.

“Lady Catherine, may I be of assistance?” a man said as he took her elbow. She looked up to see the solicitous face of Lord Wentworth. He made a most unlikely savior, but a savior nonetheless.

She scrutinized his face, but could find no sign that he knew about her alter ego. “Thank you, Lord Wentworth. I’m trying to find my way back to my mother, and I seem to have lost my escort, Lord Watters.”

“How very careless of the gentleman,” he said, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. “He seems a bit cavalier with his responsibilities.” Wentworth peered over the top of the crowd. “I see your mother and Lord Spencer just ahead. Right this way.” Wentworth led her through the press of people.

“What happened to Lord Watters?” Mother raised her eyebrows upon seeing Catherine return with a different escort.

“Lost, Lady Kensington. I fear he was swallowed up by the crowd. He may not surface for hours.” Wentworth’s light banter brought a smile to Mother’s face. “The ball is becoming so crowded that it will be difficult for anyone to find their dance partners.” He edged in front of the two ladies to protect them from the buffeting of the crowd.

Catherine looked at him curiously. He was being quite courteous. She’d never seen this side of him before. Perhaps she’d misjudged him. “I haven’t seen you at any events recently, Lord Wentworth. I trust all is well?” Catherine asked.

“Why, yes. Everything is splendid. My friend, Lord Huntley, acquired a new estate, and I’ve been assisting him while he makes plans to renovate it. I only returned to town this afternoon. The Norfolk Ball is touted as one of the premier events of the season, and I didn’t want to miss it.” A grin brightened his face as he looked around. “I can see from the turnout that it’s a huge success.” He grimaced as he received an accidental elbow to the ribs from a passing guest. “Perhaps a bit too successful.”

“Lord Huntley has a new residence? How wonderful for him.” Mother nodded her approval. She did admirably well at feigning ignorance of the news. It had frequently been a topic of conversation at many events they’d attended, and Mother had been quite curious about it.

“His renovations on the main house will be extensive. He plans to update it with the most recent advances in plumbing and the like.” Wentworth cocked his head to one side. “The place is spectacular, but it will require a great deal of work to make it more comfortable. It’s lacking in some modern fundamentals. Huntley certainly has his work cut out for him, but he’s a determined fellow. I have no doubt that he’s up to the task.” Catherine noticed that he nodded a greeting to someone she couldn’t see.