Page 38
Story: Flowers & Thorns
Catherine worked at including the twins in all her activities and was always certain they were introduced to every gentleman she met.
She kept them busy and active, so busy they had no opportunity to notice how much time Susannah and the Captain were spending alone together.
It was ironic, too, that with their circles of friends and suitors increasing, they began to see the values of those gentlemen who early in the season came to call.
It appeared that Dahlia was showing a marked preference for Sir Richard Chartrist, a quiet-spoken man of impeccable manners and taste who desired political involvement.
Iris still hoped for the Earl of Soothcoor to evince interest in her, but she’d begun to flirt with other gentlemen, such as Mr. Peter Howlitch and Mr. Dabernathy.
If by morning Catherine’s pillow was often damp, Bethie never told anyone.
Lady Orrick watched for the odd moments in repose when her niece’s determinedly cheerful expression would sag.
Not even the long-looked-for good news announcing her mother’s betrothal to Squire Leftwich raised much of a response from Catherine.
Her only comment was predictable. Now she could go home.
Penelope shrewdly surmised that Catherine’s former masquerade was nothing to the lie she currently lived.
But there wasn’t anything Penelope could do.
Phlegmatically, she began to wonder how many of her beautiful china pieces would be destroyed by the time she’d paid her debt, and also if it was in the spirit of the wager for her to consider packing up her collection of figurines and relegating them to the attic until afterward.
Regretfully, she knew it wasn’t. By the day of the ball, Penelope experienced a strong desire to throttle the Marquis, and so she told his friend, the Earl of Soothcoor.
“Aye, I know what you’re saying. I’ve been experiencing similar thoughts.”
“I’ve never seen him consider anyone but himself before, so I thought he held Catherine in some affection.
I couldn’t think of any other reason for his behavior.
But now he’s so cold and formal. Catherine told me his attentions were merely to fulfill an obligation to Sir Eugene, but frankly, I didn’t believe her. ”
“Donna believe it either,” the Earl growled.
Penelope looked at him in surprise.
Soothcoor scrutinized Lady Orrick, his eyes narrowing. “Are you saying the lassie holds some affection for him?"
"Some! The silly pea goose has fallen in love with him! However, she is determined not to show it.”
The Earl’s lips twisted downward, and he ruefully shook his head. “It’s the same for him, the clod head.”
“He is? He does? Then why the—the?—”
“Coldness?” Soothcoor asked, readily understanding her disjointed speech. “He says he’s too old for her and claims she considers him an uncle. Won’t believe otherwise, and I’ve tried.”
Lady Orrick’s mouth opened and closed several times before she was able to speak. “But that’s ridiculous!” She grabbed the Earl’s arm. “Soothcoor, we have to do something!"
"I’ve a mind to agree with you, but I canna think what that something should be.”
“You don’t suppose you could make him jealous, could you?”
“Me! I’m not a man to be leg-shackled, and well he knows it.”
“Or thinks he knows it. The most hard-bitten bachelor can suffer a reversal of feelings and become smitten with some lady’s charms.”
“Not me,” the Earl said firmly, attempting to back away, but Lady Orrick still held his arm fast.
“Only listen to me. You said one of Stefton’s complaints was that he was too old for Catherine. You are older than he. If you don’t seem to mind the age difference…”
“And I wouldna if I were a marrying man,” interposed the Earl.
“There, see? Dance with Catherine, take her down to dinner and just be seen to spend time with her and no other lady. Catherine would welcome your company, you know, for she knows you’re not one of those fortune hunters that are swarming around her.
Then at some time later, casually remark to Stefton of your interest. Meanwhile, I’ll put the bug in his ear that she has decided to accept the first creditable offer she receives.
And by creditable, I mean any gentleman who is not a gazetted fortune hunter.
I believe you fall into that category nicely. ”
The Earl frowned. “I canna like it.”
“But you’ll do it, won’t you?” Penelope urged, squeezing his arm.
“Aye,” he said heavily, “I’ll do it, though I tell you I think it a daft scheme.”
Lady Orrick released her grip on his arm and clapped her hands. Soothcoor surreptitiously massaged his forearm, which she’d held tightly, and adopted the expression of the long-suffering male.
“It will work, my lord,” she said breezily. “It has to,” she finished in a whisper as the Earl bowed to her and strolled off in Catherine’s direction.
“The little wren’s new popularity will make it difficult to draw her aside for private conversation,” observed Lady Welville. “Now that her wealth is known, you’d best beware lest another unscrupulous character plans as you do.”
“That I don’t fear. They will first try to win her affections,” Kirkson said offhandedly as he scanned the room. “But you are right; engaging her in conversation without at least five hangers-on will be difficult. Nonetheless, I’m sure you’re up to the task.”
“Me!”
“Certainly. You stand a far better chance than I do."
"That is certainly true. What did you do to set her back up against you?”
He turned a tight-lipped smile toward her. “I importuned her for favors she wasn’t inclined to grant.” He shrugged. “I was drunk at the time.”
“And typically lacking in finesse,” suggested Panthea drily.
He ignored her. “Well, will you do it? Draw her into private conversation in some empty anteroom. I’ll follow you, discreetly, of course. Afterward, we’ll spirit her out of here. You did bring the laudanum, I trust?”
Panthea smiled slightly. “Of course. Where will you take her?”
“Ah, that I won’t tell you, my pet. It’s safer that way.”
“You’re certain Stefton does not care for her?”
Kirkson spread his hands wide. “It is, as you said, merely a ruse.”
Panthea pursed her lips for a moment, then nodded in agreement. “All right. But if Stefton blames me, I’ll kill you.”
“My dear Panthea, so full of doubts!” Kirkson chuckled.
She looked daggers at him, then slipped away among the crowd in the large room.
“I can’t thank you enough for bringing Sir Eugene to see me and explaining Catherine’s behavior. The poor child, what a twisted path she has trod. I’m glad to see her settling down,” Lady Penelope told Stefton later that evening.
The Marquis, his arms crossed over his chest and his chin tucked into his cravat, stared across the room at Catherine, more beautiful than he could have imagined.
The touches of green and gold in the gown she wore gave it, and her, a richness in appearance that proclaimed the truth of her wealth.
And now, there she sat on a sofa, like a queen on her throne, surrounded by admiring suitors, most of whom Stefton knew to be without a feather to fly with.
At least Soothcoor was one of their number.
He would keep some of the worst of the hungry hounds at bay, and so he told Lady Orrick.
“Yes, I think you’re correct. And they do complement each other, too,” she said complacently.
The Marquis shifted his attention from Catherine to Lady Orrick. “I would not set your sights on Soothcoor if I were you. He is a confirmed bachelor,” he said humorously.
“Umm,” returned Penelope noncommittally. She sighed. “But I think I’ll keep hoping, for you should know that Catherine has stated that since she must marry, she will accept the first offer that is creditable.”
“Creditable?”
“Why, yes, you know, not a man who desperately needs a rich wife. Someone like Mr. Dabernathy. She says all she requires is a modest competence of at least five hundred pounds per year to recommend a gentleman. Oh, and he must not be known to be a gamester.”
“Five hundred pounds! Has she windmills in her head?” he asked thunderously.
He jerked his attention back to Catherine, his arms falling to his sides.
He watched her turn her head upward to look at Soothcoor, laughing at something he said.
In the back of his head, it struck him as odd that his dour friend could cause anyone to laugh.
But he allowed the idea to slide away, his thoughts on Catherine’s matrimonial considerations.
“No, I don’t think so,” Penelope said. “She merely is feeling remorseful for being a trial to everyone, and for some reason, is apathetic concerning whom she marries. By her behavior one would think she had suffered some disappointment in love! I don’t know and try as I may, I cannot get the child to confide in me,” she said blithely with a patent disregard for the truth.
“Look, Captain Chilberlain has arrived! I must go and see what news he brings. I’ll tell you a secret.
He rode down to Portsmouth today to ask my brother Glendon for Susannah’s hand in marriage.
By his expression, I’ll wager he has it!
Alicia will be furious!” She gleefully scurried across the room.
The Marquis of Stefton scarcely heard her, for his attention was centered on Catherine, as it had been the entire evening despite his efforts to the contrary.
He was no better than a lovesick puppy, he thought disgustedly.
He watched a little byplay where Catherine accepted an invitation to dance from some gentleman quite unknown to him.
The rest of the gentlemen in her circle pretended to be devastated.
The Earl of Soothcoor looked up to note the Marquis intently watching the group. His eyes narrowed. Judging by Stefton’s expression, perhaps Lady Orrick’s little plan was not bacon-brained after all. Now might be a good time to enact his part, he decided, leisurely crossing the room.
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