Page 39 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

“But why are you looking so serious, Catherine? And where is your husband?” Jemima asked, scanning the ballroom. “When I heard that the two of you were here, I thought you had worked some sort of miracle on your Hugh, but now he has vanished. Has he lost himself in the refreshments room already, like Father?”

“What did you hear?” Catherine demanded quickly and saw the surprise in Jemima’s eyes at her suddenly urgent tone.

“Why, only that the Duke and Duchess of Redbridge had unexpectedly arrived and that people suppose Lady Tarleton had been keeping their attendance a secret. No one knew at all until you turned up, apparently. Were you intending to make a big, dramatic entrance?”

“Well, no. I wanted only to accustom the ton to seeing us out together. As for Hugh’s motive…” Catherine could only shrug before returning to her thread.

“But you’re sure you haven’t heard anything else, Jemima? About me or Hugh?”

“What should I have heard?” Jemima asked. “You’re acting very oddly, Catherine. Has it been very hard moving into a new home? I know that I shall dread it when my turn comes, even though I long to be the mistress of my own house—Oh, look, there’s Hugh over there, by the doors to the conservatory.”

Catherine followed Jemima’s gaze and saw Hugh standing by the doors to the dimly lit conservatory, in the half-shadows. He was talking intently to a veiled woman in a silvery gown. She was tall and elegant with a fine figure, but her features weren’t visible from this distance.

“Who is that?” Jemima wondered aloud, squinting. “They seem to know one another well.”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Catherine said, her heart beating madly. “Perhaps an old family friend. I’ve met no one yet beyond Hugh’s relatives.”

“Then let’s go over to them and introduce ourselves to the lady,” Jemima suggested artlessly, linking her arm with her sister’s. “I should like to know his friends, too. He is my brother now, after all.”

Turning her head towards the sound of a whisper, Catherine became conscious that there were several people observing her as she watched Hugh. Her face began to grow hot with the realization that the mysterious veiled lady was likely the very person those awful women in the retiring room had been talking about.

His “other woman.”

“I cannot!” she whispered tersely, really wanting to turn around and run out of the ballroom. “I do not know if he would want it.”

“I can’t see why not. You are his wife, after all.”

Jemima tried to drag her along, but Catherine stood rooted to the spot, sensing the whispers around her growing louder.

“What a beautiful dress, Miss Jemima!” a kindly but authoritative voice said suddenly beside them. “I’ve been admiring it all night. But I’m surprised you’re not dancing. Aren’t reels your favorite?”

Jemima bobbed a curtsey and smiled at their hostess. “I was engaged for this dance, but then I saw my sister and lost track of myself. Unfortunately, I expect my partner has found a less forgetful young lady to take my place, by now.”

A young man in a military uniform nearby cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Not at all, Miss Jemima. I simply did not want to interrupt your family reunion. I would welcome your hand in this dance or any other you choose to bestow.”

Lady Tarleton laughed and put Jemima’s hand into that of the young man.

“I saw poor Captain Wadsworth hovering and took pity on him,” she admitted. “Go and enjoy your reel. I shall keep Her Grace company.”

Jemima turned her golden smile fully on the rather flushed young man and extended her hand for him to lead her to the dancefloor.

For once, it seemed to Catherine that her sister’s smile might actually be meant for her partner rather than simply an expression of her delight in dancing. She must ask Jemima about this Captain Wadsworth later…

But now, it was Lady Tarleton who monopolized Catherine’s attention. A stern glance from their hostess had dispersed the nearby whisperers.

Lady Tarleton looked directly towards Hugh and his veiled companion. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. If I had been made aware of your attendance earlier, I would have better organized my guest list. It is never a pleasant thing for a lady to come face to face with her husband’s past unexpectedly, is it?”

“I suppose not,” Catherine forced herself to say, lost but reluctant to show the full extent of her ignorance.

“Still, Lady Brightling is very much his past, and you are very much his present and future. I advise you not to lose sight of that, Your Grace.”

Lady Tarleton squeezed Catherine’s forearm gently and then moved on to resolve some other awkwardness or make some introduction elsewhere.

Resolutely, Catherine began to walk towards the conservatory. But before she got within ten steps of Hugh and his companion, the veiled woman had nodded her head and walked away in the direction of the gardens. Hugh’s eyes followed her out into the night.

“Who was that woman?” Catherine asked sharply.

“No one,” Hugh said shortly, appearing startled by her sudden appearance.

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