Promise Me Heaven by Connie Brockway

with a studied casualness and friendly disregard that challenged his playacting ability. And she had always seemed comfortable with that.
    She did not suspect the tightening in his loins when she appeared in some new gown, the constriction of his lungs as she laughed at his feeble sallies. He did nothing, he would swear it, nothing to give her a clue as to his true feelings. His hunger was well disguised. He was good at this. He had, after all, made a career of it. And if he was a stranger to unsatisfied longing, by God, he would learn that role too, rather than frighten her.

Chapter 10
     

    A young man, unrecognizable under assorted bandboxes, cartons, and wrapped parcels, groaned and dropped his burden on the bed then beat a hasty retreat, pausing only to wink at Fielding. She beamed even as she muttered, “Well, I never!” and set to work untying the strings that held the packages.
    “Oh, milady!” she cooed, hauling out a pretty confection of lace and satin. “I never seen such a beauteous thing! Swear to Gawd, I haven’t. A chemise, ain’t it?”
    Cat looked at the garment without interest and nodded. Immediately Fielding was solicitous.
    “Hurts awful, does it? Perhaps we just ought to have the local leech look at it? Or maybe take a restorative in the seawater? I heard that Lady Renville—”
    “No, Fielding. My ankle is fine,” Cat said dispiritedly.
    “It’s brave you are, milady.”
    At this, Cat finally smiled. “On the contrary, Fielding. I am the rankest coward.”
    “Coward? Who’s a coward?” Hecuba asked from the adjoining suite. She appeared a second later, just as Fielding pulled up a dress of silver muslin and indigo tambour work.
    “How very fetching!” Hecuba breathed.
    She lifted her chin at Fielding, who was staring at her in amazement. “I meant but to say, ’tis a pretty piece of workmanship though entirely unsuitable as garb.” Hecuba darted a glance at Cat, continuing casually, “Though were one to wish to draw attention to oneself, this would do the trick. What other snares of the devil have you secreted in there, Fielding?”
    Needing no further encouragement, Fielding proceeded to rend packages with enthusiastic fervor. But Hecuba’s sharp gaze remained focused on Cat’s unnaturally still figure.
    “Fielding, take these dresses down to the laundry and have them pressed immediately. And don’t you dare show your pert face up here without them. If you aspire to being a lady’s maid, personally supervising your lady’s gowns is of the utmost importance.”
    “Yes, mum.” Fielding dutifully gathered an armful of brilliant-colored silks, satins, muslins, and lace.
    As soon as she had left, Hecuba took a seat beside her great-niece. “It’s Montrose, isn’t it?”
    “I don’t know what you are talking about,” came the quavering reply.
    “Fustian! I may not approve of the conduct of your generation, but that does not mean I have turned blind. I have seen this coming for days.”
    Cat turned toward Hecuba. “Seen what coming for days?”
    “Your infatuation, Cat. Don’t bother denying it.” Hecuba held up her hand. “What else could it be? Off you traipse, unchaperoned, with one of the beau monde’s most notorious blades—very foolish, most unwise—only to return hours later in the arms of a now thoroughly perplexed rake, your face a brown study.
    “What has happened to our two cozy coconspirators?” Hecuba asked. “I will tell you! For I once had a… a friend who entered into a similar ‘platonic’ liaison with just such a man. She, too, finally succumbed to a one-sided infatuation.”
    “What happened to her?” Cat asked.
    “Well, she didn’t sit about in a consumptive stupor waiting for him to come up to scratch. She was proud. She quickly ascertained the uselessness—and unattractiveness—of pining and set her sights on other, more appreciative suitors!”
    “Oh, Aunt Hecuba!” Cat covered the older woman’s hands with her own. “I am so