Page 2 of The Lady (Daughters of Dishonour #3)

“I—” Again Flora searched her mind for something to say, something clever that might impress Caton, but nothing occurred to her.

Flora’s mind, normally sharp, was drawing a blank.

The trouble was that for the last two months she had spent her time amongst the beau monde , surrounded by ladies, gentlemen, dandies and charmers.

It had been very enjoyable. But it had not prepared her for the reality of a devastatingly handsome doctor, who just happened to be baseborn.

Music from the organ swelled, and there was an excited outbreak of voices, and Flora realised the brides had arrived.

Margot and Elsie were about to walk down the aisle.

All around them, the congregation rose to their feet as Flora watched the two women walk down the aisle escorted by their father, Vicar Arthur Keating.

Margot was dressed in a pastel shade of rose, her gown overlaid with silver netting, a small handmade lace trim decorating the top of her bust line and the edge of her sleeves.

It was a beautiful gown that suited the taller woman well, emphasising her elegance and grace.

Her dark hair was dotted through with pearls, and in her free hand she held a blooming bouquet of roses and lilies.

An air of quiet serenity issued forth from her as she walked towards her groom.

Elsie was likewise lovely. Far smaller and elfin-like in appearance, she had embraced this image as she drifted forward.

She wore a soft butter-yellow gown. Her dress glimmered in the daylight, shot through with a bright golden thread.

Her hair was decorated with tiny yellow flowers and rosebuds.

She held tightly a bunch of yellow tulips, sweet Williams and another tangle of purple wildflowers Flora could not name.

A giggle escaped from Elsie’s mouth as she drew closer to Kit, and Flora saw that her brother had to hide his own returning grin at her excited reaction.

As the music settled, the congregation settled down in their seats as the brides’ father took his seat as well.

Unable to resist, Flora clutched her hands together, excitement at the romance, surging through her. The handsome doctor momentarily forgotten.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, we are here today to witness the marriage of…”

“It was beautiful,” Mrs. Bowley declared with true pride in her voice, and Flora could not find herself disagreeing. Admittedly, she had not been to any weddings before, but it was gratifying to hear an expert like Mrs. Bowley approved.

“I quite agree.” Mrs. Keating smiled. The older woman, the mother of the brides, looked encouragingly at Flora. “Did you enjoy it, my lady?”

“It was very nice,” Flora said. She was finding it a little hard to focus.

Doctor Caton was standing next to them, his handsome face held in a pleasing smile as he looked around the group of women. Desperately, a gnawing pit of nerves in her stomach, Flora tried to think of something to say that would grab and hold Doctor Caton’s attention.

Could she faint? Fall into his arms? Surely as a doctor he would have to leap to her rescue. Wasn’t there something so heroic about a physician? It was nice she was in love with one. In the future after their own wedding, they would laugh at how they met at another one.

Throughout the ceremony, she had managed to keep an eye on Doctor Caton. He was sat next to her, so it had not been hard, and now at any moment, he would depart and leave her.

In fact, he opened his mouth and started to say, “Excuse me?—”

“It must be nice to finally have a wedding in your family?” Flora asked, her emphasis falling on the wrong word as she forced herself to speak before he left the group.

As her question lingered, she realised it was the very last thing she meant to say.

As soon as the words were spoken, she saw that Doctor Caton would take this question as a personal affront on his own legitimacy. Of all the stupid, silly, childish…

“I believe everyone enjoys a wedding, my lady. Excuse me. I see Langley is calling me.” Caton bowed and departed, and Flora wished to crawl into the nearest cupboard and hide, but she couldn’t. Instead, she looked at the two remaining women and said in a subdued voice, “Both brides were lovely.”

“I understand you helped them choose something suitable to wear,” Mrs. Keating said.

Flora nodded, trying to brighten. “I did.” Happy memories of picking out materials rushed through her.

She was about to launch into a reminiscence of the modistes, recounting all the elements that the mother of the brides might like, but then she saw both Langley and Doctor Caton slip out of the grand parlour.

Flora suddenly knew she had to follow them.

There was a need to change the doctor’s opinion of her. “Please excuse me, madam.”

Darting after the departing men, Flora hurried through the earl’s house, down the long corridor, after his lordship and the doctor.

She had some vague notion of apologising.

She heard a door click and realised they had walked into Langley’s study.

Flora crept forward, uncertain of what to do next.

She could hardly go and knock on the door, and ask Langley if she might come in.

“Congratulations,” she heard Doctor Caton say as she paused by the doorway, listening intently to their conversation.

“And you swore it would never happen,” came Langley’s languid response.

“In fairness, I only said that because you swore to it, all the time.” Caton said.

“Mistakes do happen. Errors in judgement so to speak. And I did not know Margot then, or I would never have made such a pronouncement.”

“Is this your way of telling me that I should not have attended your wedding? That you suddenly wish to grease your way amongst the ton ?”

“Hell, no.” Langley said. “I am delighted to have you present. You know this. As one of my family you should be here.”

“Mother will never forgive you for inviting me.”

Flora shifted on her feet, knowing she should move away but also conscious that this might be one of the last times she could hear Caton. When, after all, might she get another chance?

Their voices dropped, and Flora thought she caught one of them curse, although she could not swear to who. Then she was certain Caton laughed and said quite clearly, closer to the door than Flora would like, “You wish to go to the Highlands for your honeymoon?”

“That is what my wife wishes. As a respectable married man of the beau monde, I am entirely at my wife’s disposal.”

“You’ve certainly married into a wide and expansive family.”

“Indeed, the young Lady Flora seemed transfixed by you.”

Hot, vivid embarrassment pulsed through Flora as she heard her reaction described by Langley, with such knowing amusement in the earl’s tone that she cringed.

Her interest in the doctor—she thought she’d managed to hide it carefully throughout the day.

But instead, she had signposted it so clearly, even the man’s brother on his own wedding day, had noticed her desires.

She should run and hide, and yet she clung to the faint hope that Doctor Caton might come to her rescue.

“She is just a child.”

“Girls of her age are married, at least amongst the ton .”

“In that case, I will leave the chit to one of the numerous gentlemen who do not mind having a foolish wife.” Doctor Caton said, his dismissive statement fairly breaking Flora’s heart.

Forcing herself to take a series of steps away from the study, one footfall after another as she replayed what the doctor had said about her—dismissing her, belittling her, and how he could never possibly care for someone like her.

When she pushed her way back into the grand parlour, amongst the swirling happy wedding guests, her resentment curdled away, and Flora was entirely sworn to vengeance.

Flora snatched up a glass of nearby champagne and raised a toast to her new promise: Doctor Caton, you will rue the day you said that about me.