Lady Catherine's Secret: A Secrets and Seduction book (9 page)

“Ah, Catherine, I’m so glad you and your mother were able to join us this evening,” said Lady Wilmot. “You look lovely. That color becomes you.”

Judging by the number of compliments she’d gathered this evening, she should wear pink more often— or not, if she planned to avoid marriage as long as possible.

Lady Wilmot turned back to Lord Huntley. “You already met my daughter, the Lady Elizabeth Greville,” she said, indicating her daughter with a slight tip of her head, “but I don’t believe that you have been properly introduced to her dear friend.” Her gaze shifted to Catherine. “Lord Huntley, I’d like to introduce you to the Lady Catherine Williams. Lady Catherine, this is Daniel Kennedy, the Marquess of Huntley. Lord Huntley, I believe that you may have been acquainted with Lady Catherine’s late grandfather, the Earl of Kensington.”

“Lady Catherine, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I can see a family resemblance. I think it’s the eyes.” He gently took her hand as she offered it to him, and then widened his eyes in surprise. “You have a firm grip for such a delicate-looking young lady.” He slightly lifted his eyebrow again as he stared down into her eyes.

In a moment of
déjà vu
, she felt like a mouse under the gaze of a predator. This was all too reminiscent of their introduction last night. She could only hope he wasn’t experiencing the same feeling.

But what could she do?

Struck by inspiration, Catherine fluttered her lashes and let her posture melt, wanting him to see someone quite different from the brash, bold boy he’d met last night. She couldn’t overdo it, of course. Not with Lady Wilmot and Elizabeth standing right next to her. But a stuttering, tongue-tied girl would be unlikely to arouse their suspicions.

“I, uh, I... needlepoint,” she finally said in a flustered voice. It wasn’t hard to add that little waver with those piercing blue eyes assessing her. “Perhaps that accounts for the strength of my grip. Do you enjoy needlepoint, Lord Huntley?” She gave a slight gasp of embarrassment, her fingertips flying to her lips. “I mean... that is, I meant to say, do you enjoy
looking
at needlepoint?”

His intense expression morphed first into one of confusion, only to be replaced by one of amusement as he recognized her state of “panic.”

She gave Lady Wilmot a desperate look, pretending to need her help in extricating herself from this bit of social quicksand, and then ducked her head in embarrassment. Lady Wilmot obligingly came to Catherine’s rescue.

“Look, my dear. Your mother is searching for you. I just saw her scanning the crowd. Why don’t you join her? And Lord Huntley, have you met Monsieur Francois LeCompte?” She rested her hand on Lord Huntley’s arm, guiding him toward the man posing by the fireplace. “I believe you share a particular interest with him. He is quite an accomplished fencer.”

Catherine could see her mother from across the room, engaged in a conversation with her friends and clearly
not
looking for her daughter. Catherine shot Lady Wilmot a look of gratitude and then avoided Elizabeth’s eyes as she scurried off to join her mother.

She glanced back at Lord Huntley and twiddled her fingers at him in a good-bye.

That should do it.

9 - She Sauntered?

Huntley watched as Lady Catherine sauntered away from him.

Saunter. That definitely described her movement across the room. He furrowed his brow and pondered the sudden change in the girl who, just moments before, had tripped over her own feet and then had been tongue-tied with embarrassment. How intriguing.

He always enjoyed solving a good puzzle.

Lady Wilmot led him toward another gentleman, but he soon managed to extricate himself from the conversation. He’d come here to meet the marriageable ladies, not to be quizzed by some gossip-monger.

Tonight, however, events refused to proceed as he hoped. He found himself pinned down with another of the gentlemen who professed to dislike “trade,” but then spent his time pumping Daniel for private information regarding his shipping business.

He noted with pleasure that Lady Wilmot’s large, gracious home included a piano in the next room. He began devising a plan to tempt Wentworth into performing an impromptu concert after dinner. The man loved to sing, and doing so always improved his mood immensely. Daniel would try anything to get Wentworth to stop grumbling about his plan for finding a wife.

He smiled when Lady Wilmot returned to his side.

“Lord Huntley, would you escort me to the dining room? I have a special spot reserved for you to my right, and I’m looking forward to a lively chat.”

He kept his smile pinned in place as he offered his arm to the good lady. So much for talking to someone marriageable during dinner.

10 - Santa Lucia

It was with not some small measure of relief that Catherine discovered Lord Huntley would be seated to the right of Lady Wilmot, far from her own position mid-table. She found herself opposite the incorrigible Monsieur LeCompte.

“Last night, I was speaking with Lord Watters at the opera,” M LeCompte said. “Are you acquainted with him?” At her brief nod, he smiled. “He is such a droll young man. He was quite enchanted with the soprano. Someone should warn him to be more careful. Sopranos can be quite difficult,
non
? They can be annoyingly dedicated to their craft. They often view members of society as troublesome, but necessary, nuisances. He must not let himself become too attached to the young woman.
N’est pas?”

If he only knew. Watters already had a reputation for falling in love in an instant and then falling out of love just as quickly. She paused as she tried to find something positive to say about him, and latched onto her favorite attribute. “He’s a kind man,” she stated with confidence, “but I don’t believe he’ll bother the soprano for long. It is unfortunate, but he’s become known for his quixotic attachments to various young ladies.”

LeCompte’s eyes lit up at this news. Clearly, he enjoyed learning about the foibles of other gentlemen. “How is it that a young lady such as you would come to know these things?”

“He has never been circumspect when discussing his enthrallment with certain performers at the opera or the ballet. It would be difficult to remain unaware of his interests.”

M LeCompte looked slightly deflated, and Catherine realized that, for him, it was not as interesting to know about something that was already common knowledge. He changed the subject, trying to find something more scandalous to discuss.

Catherine was amazed by the man’s detailed knowledge of the shortcomings of so many members of society. He had only been in town for a few months. She noted, thankfully, that he didn’t mention the name of her brother among his litany of scandals.

Throughout dinner, she cast an occasional glance down the table, but Lord Huntley seemed engrossed in his conversation with Lady Wilmot. When she looked once again, she caught him observing her. Catherine’s stomach clenched. Why was he looking at her in that assessing manner?

She quickly glanced back at M LeCompte and tittered in a silly way at something mildly funny he said. When she surreptitiously glanced back at the marquess again, she saw that his attention had returned to Lady Wilmot.

“
Le marquis
is said to be searching for a bride,” LeCompte said.

The comment startled her, and she couldn’t think of anything innocuous to say in reply. LeCompte must have seen her look down the table at Huntley and drawn the wrong conclusion.

LeCompte watched the man openly for a moment before sipping his wine. “Is it true he has a checkered past? His father is said to have been quite mad and to have forgotten that he even had a son, which left the boy all but orphaned, since his mother died in childbirth. The household servants raised him, which probably accounts for his rough manners.” He narrowed his eyes and frowned as he gazed down the table at Huntley. “At least the man has money. It may be difficult for him to find a bride, despite his wealth. Rumors of bad blood have a way of keeping brides at bay. Nobody wants to risk having a grandchild who suffers from melancholy.” He clicked his tongue. “At least he has the Midas touch. Every business endeavor he enters into is fruitful.”

“I hadn’t heard about his parents. That’s quite sad. Such a childhood must have been difficult for him.” She glanced back down the table at Huntley, noting his perfect posture and graceful movements. Why would LeCompte say he had rough manners? Huntley certainly looked the consummate gentleman, despite his neglected upbringing. One would never guess his childhood had been grimmer than most. What must it have been like to have no family to care for you? Mother dead, father mad? He probably hadn’t had any siblings, either, she mused.

Catherine pulled herself up short with a sort of mental shake. What was she doing, imagining Lord Huntley’s childhood? Was she mad?

Well, perhaps ‘mad’ was a poor choice of words when contemplating Huntley, but really, she shouldn’t be mooning about the man. She needed to avoid him.

Throughout the remainder of the meal, Catherine tossed a few surreptitious glances down the table, but she never caught Huntley looking at her again. Still, the man’s presence presented an enormous risk. She needed to convince Mother to leave early.

As she rose to exit the dining room, she glanced back one last time and was surprised to see Lord Huntley’s gaze upon her again. She scurried through the doorway, eager to put some distance between them.

§

Catherine joined her mother, Elizabeth, and the other ladies in the drawing room. Not all of the gentlemen seemed inclined to linger over glasses of port, and a few of them soon began to rejoin the group.

"There's Lady Cecilia,” Elizabeth said. “Remember the jewel theft I mentioned? They belonged to her mother."

"And they were recovered?" Mother asked.

"Yes, but not before her fiancé, Mr. Montlake, was accused of the theft. Lady Cecilia refused to believe he was guilty, even when Mr. Montlake was discovered with a necklace in his pocket. The real thief deposited it there! Lady Cecilia insisted it wasn't in his character to do something so immoral. He was too honorable "

"Such devotion,” Mother murmured. “And he was innocent all along?"

“Oh yes,” Elizabeth said, with a sharp nod that caused her black curls to bounce. “They caught the real thief.” She tucked a strand that had been brushing against her cheek behind her ear. “He’s in prison now, and Lady Cecilia was free to marry to Mr. Montlake."

"I'd love to meet her,” Catherine said.

"I hoped you’d say so,” Elizabeth said. “You'll get along marvelously. I already like her ever so much."

As they crossed the room toward the couple, Catherine glanced back toward the door leading to the dining room, but she didn’t see any sign of Lord Huntley.

Lady Cecilia's eyes seemed to light up as they approached. "Lady Elizabeth. It was so kind of you to invite us this evening."

"I’m pleased you could come. Have you settled into your new home in Maidenhead yet?" Elizabeth asked.

"Oh, yes, and we love it there. Of course, London still holds its attractions for us."

"Please allow me to introduce you to Lady Kensington and her daughter, Lady Catherine Williams,” Elizabeth said. “And ladies, this is Lady Cecilia Montlake." She glanced up as an attractive gentleman joined them. "And this is her husband, Mr. Montlake."

"I'm delighted to make your acquaintance," Catherine said, and her mother murmured her agreement.

“Lady Elizabeth has been quite generous in her attention to us,” Cecilia said. “She has made our entry into society that much easier.”

“She’s a wonderful friend.” Catherine slid her gloved fingers around Elizabeth’s. “You couldn’t have a better champion.”

Before Catherine could say more, two gentlemen joined them. “Mr. Montlake,” one of them said. “I was hoping I’d get a chance to speak with you.”

Catherine’s mother took that moment to pull her to one side for a private word. “You seemed to be having a pleasant conversation with Monsieur LeCompte,” her mother observed. “I noticed you laughing. He must have been quite entertaining.”

“Yes, but you should be careful of him,” she replied, keeping her voice low. “He’s a dangerous rumor-monger and seems to enjoy sharing everything he knows.” Catherine smiled as she remembered some of the more colorful stories he had shared.

“Hmmm... thank you for the warning, dear.” She had a calculating gleam in her eye. “I think, however, that I might try to engage him in conversation. I need to keep abreast of the most recent gossip.”

Catherine looked at her curiously for a moment, and then realization dawned on her. Of course. Mother wanted to know if any rumors regarding Charles had reached London.

“I don’t see LeCompte,” Mother said. She peered around the room, trying to spot the Frenchman, but instead her gaze fell on the marquess. Catherine’s stomach fell. She recognized the look in her mother’s eyes.

“There he is.” Mother’s voice came out in a sharp whisper.