Page 33 of The Taming of the Duke
“I wasn’t hungry.” Catherine said.
“She wanted to know if you were joining the dancing tonight. She’s waiting for you now, in the hall.”
Dancing—the last thing she wanted to do.
Catherine climbed off the bed and rubbed her eyes.
“Are you unwell, miss?” the maid asked. “Shall I send for a doctor?”
“No, thank you.” Catherine forced a smile. “I was merely a little tired from this morning’s excursion. Did you say Lady Hardwick’s waiting for me?”
“She wondered if you might like some assistance, miss, perhaps with your hair, seeing as you brought no maid with you.”
Catherine flinched. Was Papa’s inability to afford a maid for her the subject of servants’ gossip?
“Shall I fix your hair, miss?” the maid asked. “I’ve a ribbon that’ll set off the color of your hair just right, see?” She held up a bright green ribbon.
Catherine wanted nothing less than to join the company or cover herself in frippery. But, neither did she want to be the subject of gossip, which she would be if she remained hidden in her chamber.Shehad done nothing to be ashamed of. The duke—Daxton—had behaved abominably. Why should she hide? Let him see her and suffer discomfort—assuming he had a conscience.
Daxton…
“Here, miss—sit yourself down.”
The maid’s merry chatter returned Catherine to the present, and she sat while the maid brushed her hair, then proceeded to pin it up and secure it with the ribbon.
“There!” the maid cried. “You’ll be the prettiest woman in the room tonight.”
Catherine turned her head from one side to the other. She had to admit that the ribbon looked rather fetching. She smiled at the maid’s refection.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll tell your mistress that she’s fortunate to have such a talented lady’s maid.”
The maid bobbed a curtsey.
“You’re welcome, miss.”
Catherine rose and exited her chamber. As she descended the staircase, strains of music could be heard through one of the doors, and she fought the urge to flee. Before her courage failed, Lady Hardwick appeared at the foot of the stairs.
“There you are!” she cried. “I was most anxious when I didn’t see you at dinner. I hope you didn’t think it an imposition that I sent Betsy to tend to you.”
“Of course not,” Catherine said. “It was most kind.”
“And—you’re well?”
Catherine nodded.
“Good! The evening wouldn’t be the same without you. And, you’ve been missed.”
“Blanche will fare very well without her older sister getting in her way,” Catherine said.
“I wasn’t referring to your sister,” Lady Hardwick said. “One of our more distinguished guests was looking distinctly out of sorts tonight.”
Catherine looked away.
“You’re not curious to know who?” Lady Hardwick slipped her arm through Catherine’s. “No matter. There’s plenty of young men eager to dance.”
She led Catherine into the ballroom, then she excused herself and joined her husband. Lord Hardwick took his wife’s hand, and the two of them smiled at each other—the perfect picture of marital bliss.
A number of couples were already dancing, moving in unison across the dance floor. Catherine spotted her sister with Lord Horton. Blanche’s expression was filled with joy, and Horton had eyes for none but Blanche—eyes that conveyed the purest devotion.
