Bluestocking Bride (10 page)

Catherine had a particular reason for wishing to look her best that evening, for Norton had intimated that
Rutherston
would be at the ball, and she intended that he should recognize how much he had lost by his insulting behavior.

But as she surveyed herself in the looking glass before the carriage arrived to convey them to St! James Square, she realized that her wish was bound to be in vain. Her new gown of ivory silk over pale peach chemise, fastened under the bosom with matching peach ribbons, made her appear as pretty as she was ever likely to be, but all the ministrations of Becky and Agnes could not make her a diamond of.
the
first water. Nor was the fine ivory lace that modestly covered the depression between her breasts at all in the style of the lovely creature who had hung on
Rutherston's
arm. What Catherine did not realize, since familiarity had dulled her appreciation, was that the mellow autumn tints of her hair and complexion gave her that distinction that turns a pretty woman into a Beauty.

She drew on her long white gloves and picked up her reticule, determined to put
Rutherston
out of her mind. This was her first London ball and there was many a young gentleman who would be pleased to have the pretty and charming Catherine Harland hang on his sleeve.

As they entered the ballroom to the sounds of the orchestra, Lady Margaret settled herself comfortably beside the other dowagers and waved her nieces away telling them that they should make themselves known to their many acquaintances and find their own entertainment On this advice, Catherine and Lucy turned back to survey the room. The music had stopped, and Catherine looked with open-mouthed appreciation at the splendor before her. It was the gentlemen who held her attention. Beautiful women she had expected to see, but not the fops and dandies who strutted like peacocks from group to group, wearing their fine plumage as if they had been birds of paradise, with more jewels at their throats than the ladies they escorted. She became aware that one of the dandies, whom she had been gazing at unabashed, had raised his quizzing glass to return her stare. She inclined her head gravely in a polite bow and turned away lest her mirth be detected. Her eyes, sparkling with merriment, sought her sister, who had moved slightly apart to converse with two gentlemen, and as one of them broke away, Catherine found herself looking into the appraising gaze of the Marquis of
Rutherston
. He came to her side instantly and raised her gloved hand to his lips.

Catherine had tried to prepare herself to meet this moment with equanimity, but when she looked into
Rutherston's
eyes, her heart turned over. It irritated her beyond measure to think that she had fallen in love with a man of his low morals, but she composed herself to speak and behave with a modicum of courtesy.

"Catherine!" His voice was vibrant with pleasure. "How pleased I am to see you. I would talk with you away from this crush. Will you walk with me?"

Catherine laid her hand upon the proffered arm and allowed herself to be led through the doors to the spacious corridor where several couples were promenading.

"How beautiful you are." His gaze lingered on every part of her person. "I have never seen you look so lovely." The smile he gave her was the one he reserved to melt the hardest of female hearts. Catherine returned a wintry smile.

"Naturally, my lord," she responded dryly. "How could it be
otherwise.
But it is Madame Celeste who deserves your compliment. It is one of her creations I am wearing." She would make him see that she was impervious to his charm.

"So modest, Miss Harland?"

"So insincere, Lord
Rutherston
?"

Rutherston
was charmed. "Are we embarking on another contest?" he asked quizzically.

"No! We are mismatched, my lord," she snapped
shrewishly
, then, conscious of her momentary slip and the interested gaze of a number of spectators nearby, she softened her words with her best disarming smile. "We play by different rules. There is no sport in that."

"Indeed? I think that we make a perfect match
ing." He gave her a speaking look. "And I am prepared to play by your rules." He bowed to some passing acquaintances,
then
turned to survey her, a small smile of complacency flickering at the corner of his mouth. Catherine noted it sourly and had the strongest desire to wipe the smirk from his face.

"The only contest I am prepared to enter with you, my lord, is with dueling pistols at ten paces." She noted with satisfaction that the smile had vanished from
Rutherston's
face, to be replaced by a glowering frown.

"And would your honor be satisfied then, Catherine? In any event, you must know, I could never harm you."

"Such chivalry, my lord?
I can scarcely believe it in you. But I should not be as obliging as you."

"And am I never to be forgiven?" he demanded testily, stopping in his tracks to face her.

"Do you want to rouse the suspicions of the whole world against us?" she hissed at him, routing him with his own words. "Let us walk on, my lord."

"Catherine, my' name is Richard."

"And my name, my lord, is Miss Harland."

"I see! Then I am not forgiven?"

"My memory is at fault. You must tell me what it is I have to forgive."

Rutherston
saw his chance of disabusing the overconfident young woman at his side of the notion that she could outmatch him in a game of wits.

"It would give me the greatest pleasure, Miss Harland, to recall every moment of that encounter. Are you sure you wish me to continue? Say the word, and I shall oblige you."

Catherine's false smile masked a snarl. "I know that your chivalry would not be long-lived, sir."

"Richard!" trilled a voice close to Catherine's ear.

She felt
Rutherston's
arm tense imperceptibly beneath her hand, and Catherine looked curiously at the owner of the voice that had caused a ripple in
Rutherston's
cool exterior. She recognized Lady Harriet, the
deb
acclaimed as the Incomparable, a nonpareil in beauty who was highly conscious of everything that was owed to her. She had been out for a couple of Seasons and had all the young blades, and not a few of those who should have known better, scurrying for her favors. It was rumored that Lady Harriet had set her sights high—on nothing less than an earl. A marquis, of course, would be even better.

A pair of hostile eyes raked Catherine from head to toe, and she instantly withdrew her hand from
Rutherston's
arm as if it had suddenly scalded her. The martial glint in the lady's eyes was not lost on Catherine, nor the proprietary air as Lady Harriet dismissed her with a slight nod of the head before devoting her full attention to
Rutherston
.

Catherine moved apart to converse with Lady Harriet's escort. She could hear
Rutherston's
glib tongue begin his extravagant flatteries, and Lady Harriet accepted them as her due. Catherine was disgusted.

It did not take Catherine long to engage the young man's interest, although his lover-like glance was frequently cast in the direction of the golden-haired goddess. Sisterly knowledge of a brother of aspiring Corinthian tastes gave Catherine an advantage, and she soon coaxed Mr. Sinclair to wax eloquently on the merits of Tattersall's, the neckties he favored, and the various sporting vehicles that were
all the
crack.

It was with something of a start that she heard
Rutherston
address her and invite her to join in a conversation that the Incomparable had but a few minutes before insinuated was to be a private tête-à-tête.

"Miss Harland, I beg you, rescue me from Lady Harriet's undeserved encomium. She exaggerates my equestrian ability. I have admitted to being fair, and only fair in the saddle. As one who has a more intimate knowledge of my prowess in the field, what say you?"

"Oh la, sir, you dissemble," tittered the beauty hanging on his arm, not at all pleased to have Catherine addressed in such familiar terms. "You are quite without equal, isn't that so, Mr. Sinclair?" she appealed to her erstwhile escort, pointedly excluding Catherine.

Mr. Sinclair was compelled to honesty and declared that it was universally acknowledged that his lordship was a
Nonsuch
without equal, drove to an inch, and had the honor of being a member of the Four Horse Club—an indisputable distinction.

"Well, Miss Harland? What say you?" demanded
Rutherston
, the smirk of complacency twitching his lips.

Catherine was conscious that he was enjoying himself hugely at her expense, and a look of devilment fleetingly lit up her face. She turned to Lady Harriet, her eyes rounded in disbelief.

"You wish me to contradict the noble Lord
Rutherston
? That, Lady Harriet, I cannot do. No, no, you will not dissuade me. It would be beyond my power, beyond my understanding, beyond anything. Besides," she went on sarcastically, "I would never wish to lay the charge of false modesty at Lord
Rutherston's
door."

Catherine was immensely pleased with herself, thinking that she had delivered a leveler to floor the marquis, but when she looked triumphantly into his face she was chagrined to see that he was grinning at her in the most appreciative way.

"Of course, one would not wish to contradict Lord
Rutherston
," began the Beauty in some doubt, "but in this
case . . ."

"No, no!" intoned Catherine seriously. "It would be
an impertinence
. We must respect the assessment of so noble a lord."

Rutherston
thought it politic to intervene at that moment and he whisked Catherine away with the excuse that he had solicited her hand for the next dance, which was just about to begin.

As he led her to their place in the set he inclined his head and murmured, "May I hold you to that, Miss Harland? It would please me excessively if you would show me even a little respect."

"You are mistaken, my lord," she returned sweetly. "I have the greatest respect for you. Only a fool underestimates an enemy."

Their eyes held, and Catherine could not look away. She thought she had angered him.

"You are wrong, Catherine." His voice was gentle, caressing, coaxing. "I would be your friend, if you will let me, and much more to you than a friend."

Catherine, for once, was speechless.

At the end of the dance, he requested that she introduce him to Lady Margaret and she had no option but to obey. Her aunt was highly gratified, and when
Rutherston
asked permission to lead Catherine in to supper, Lady
Henderly
could refuse him nothing.

Catherine was affronted at his confidence that she would so easily fall in with his wishes. Her wishes were never to be consulted!

As she danced away the evening waiting till he should claim her, she observed that he danced every dance, and she never once caught him looking in her direction. She set herself resolutely to forget him and to give her full attention to her partners, but although they were all pleasant young men, she found their conversation flat and predictable.

Then he was standing before her, resplendent in dark coat and beige breeches, the restraint in his dress proclaiming, in Catherine's eyes, the man of good taste.

As he held out his arm to escort her in to supper, Catherine was uncomfortably aware of the intensity of his scrutiny, and she could not bring herself to look into his eyes. She recalled the circumstances in the grounds of
Ardo
House when she had summarily refused the offer of his arm, and she was deeply embarrassed. She could feel the warmth of his arm under the fabric of his coat, and her hand trembled.

"Do you think I shall take advantage of you in the middle of a crowded ballroom?" he intoned sotto voce in her ear.

"But you have, my lord. You have taken advantage of me at every turn. You and my aunt have, between you, contrived this situation. It was not to me that you applied for this privilege. My wishes are never consulted." She smiled at him archly to sweeten the astringent words.

"And do you mind, Catherine?" His lips were smiling, but Catherine was conscious that the mockery had left his eyes.

"Why should I mind?" she asked playfully. "No doubt my being with one of your consequence has added to my own consequence."

She knew that her answer had not pleased him, for his manner became aloof, and when she tried to retrieve herself by remarking on various inconsequential subjects, he would not be drawn. Catherine wondered how such a mild piece of frivolity as she had uttered should give him so much offense, when her earlier blatant reproofs had formerly afforded him amusement.

His manner and conversation during supper could not be faulted, but she knew that he had set her at a distance, and she was disappointed.