that? I do beg your pardon, then, for I never meant to offend you.”
“One should never trifle with a lady’s sensibilities, my lord,” she advised primly, adding, “and you are very free with my name tonight, sir.”
He laughed again. “Nonsense! And for your information, I am accounted an expert in my affairs with the gentle sex.”
“Ah, yes,” she returned sagely, “your bits of muslin, birds of paradise, opera dancers”.
“Catheryn!”
She dimpled at his warning tone, and he gave it up, changing the subject abruptly. When the music stopped he grinned, speaking in an undertone. “If it affords you any satisfaction, little witch, I accomplished all I’d hoped by dancing with you. I thank you most sincerely.”
Lady Dambroke looked a bit flustered when he restored a glowing Catheryn to her side, but his easy smile reassured her. “I’m glad you were able to get back in time, Dambroke,” she said with a searching look. “I have just been telling Letty,” indicating the plump, be spangled matron at her side, “that poor Tiffany was taken ill and … and …”
“And is devastated to miss the Assembly, ma’am,” said his lordship, stepping into the breech with aplomb. “How do you do, Lady Mearing? She has taken to her bed, Mama, and should be much improved within a day or two.” He soon took his leave, retiring after a dance or two more to the card room, where he lingered until Lady Dambroke sent to inform him that they were ready to leave.
Next morning Catheryn slept late and, by the time she had dressed, it was nearly noon. Mary informed her that Tiffany was still in her bedchamber and had just ordered breakfast, suggesting that she might enjoy Catheryn’s company. Catheryn agreed with a sinking feeling, for she preferred her meals unaccompanied by tragedy scenes.
Tiffany was sitting on the bed with her knees tucked up when she entered, and eyed her a bit warily. “Have you come to scold me, too?” she asked with a sullen look. Her eyes were red from weeping and had deep purple circles under them.
“No, of course not,” Catheryn replied cheerfully. “I’ve come to have breakfast with you.”
“Oh.”
This response not being particularly encouraging, Catheryn determined to get over the heavy ground as quickly as possible. She settled into the comfortable silk chair. “Whatever possessed you, Tiffany?”
“I knew you meant to scold.”
“Don’t be nonsensical. It’s not my business to scold you. Besides, I’m sure Dambroke has done a thorough job of it.”
“Oh, Catheryn, the things he said!” Tears welled up in her eyes. “He was furious. He said … he said I …” The tears spilled over as her voice broke.
Catheryn had come prepared and handed her a cambric handkerchief, saying practically, “Well, of course he was angry, Tiffany. What else could you expect?”
“I never meant him to know!” Tiffany wailed. “He was supposed to spend the evening with Tony—Captain Varling—and I only did it because I was angry that he wouldn’t let me have the new gown. I knew Mama wouldn’t tell him.”
“But surely someone else would have done so!”
“They never did before.” Catheryn’s mouth dropped open with astonishment. “Oh, I never did it so much before, nor with such a neckline—only a bit here and there to make a skirt hang properly.” Tiffany’s words were punctuated with sobs and hiccoughs, but under Catheryn’s steady serenity and lack of overt sympathy, she began to control herself. “I suppose I overdid it last night, but I only damped the petticoat, not the dress itself. It was daring, I-I know, but it really wasn’t so bad when we left. I was as amazed as anything when Richard m-made me look at myself in the long glass. It was ever so much worse than I thought!” She choked back another sob.
Catheryn chuckled. “What a peagoose you are, to be sure. By the time we reached Almack’s, you idiotish child, the damp from your petticoat had
“One should never trifle with a lady’s sensibilities, my lord,” she advised primly, adding, “and you are very free with my name tonight, sir.”
He laughed again. “Nonsense! And for your information, I am accounted an expert in my affairs with the gentle sex.”
“Ah, yes,” she returned sagely, “your bits of muslin, birds of paradise, opera dancers”.
“Catheryn!”
She dimpled at his warning tone, and he gave it up, changing the subject abruptly. When the music stopped he grinned, speaking in an undertone. “If it affords you any satisfaction, little witch, I accomplished all I’d hoped by dancing with you. I thank you most sincerely.”
Lady Dambroke looked a bit flustered when he restored a glowing Catheryn to her side, but his easy smile reassured her. “I’m glad you were able to get back in time, Dambroke,” she said with a searching look. “I have just been telling Letty,” indicating the plump, be spangled matron at her side, “that poor Tiffany was taken ill and … and …”
“And is devastated to miss the Assembly, ma’am,” said his lordship, stepping into the breech with aplomb. “How do you do, Lady Mearing? She has taken to her bed, Mama, and should be much improved within a day or two.” He soon took his leave, retiring after a dance or two more to the card room, where he lingered until Lady Dambroke sent to inform him that they were ready to leave.
Next morning Catheryn slept late and, by the time she had dressed, it was nearly noon. Mary informed her that Tiffany was still in her bedchamber and had just ordered breakfast, suggesting that she might enjoy Catheryn’s company. Catheryn agreed with a sinking feeling, for she preferred her meals unaccompanied by tragedy scenes.
Tiffany was sitting on the bed with her knees tucked up when she entered, and eyed her a bit warily. “Have you come to scold me, too?” she asked with a sullen look. Her eyes were red from weeping and had deep purple circles under them.
“No, of course not,” Catheryn replied cheerfully. “I’ve come to have breakfast with you.”
“Oh.”
This response not being particularly encouraging, Catheryn determined to get over the heavy ground as quickly as possible. She settled into the comfortable silk chair. “Whatever possessed you, Tiffany?”
“I knew you meant to scold.”
“Don’t be nonsensical. It’s not my business to scold you. Besides, I’m sure Dambroke has done a thorough job of it.”
“Oh, Catheryn, the things he said!” Tears welled up in her eyes. “He was furious. He said … he said I …” The tears spilled over as her voice broke.
Catheryn had come prepared and handed her a cambric handkerchief, saying practically, “Well, of course he was angry, Tiffany. What else could you expect?”
“I never meant him to know!” Tiffany wailed. “He was supposed to spend the evening with Tony—Captain Varling—and I only did it because I was angry that he wouldn’t let me have the new gown. I knew Mama wouldn’t tell him.”
“But surely someone else would have done so!”
“They never did before.” Catheryn’s mouth dropped open with astonishment. “Oh, I never did it so much before, nor with such a neckline—only a bit here and there to make a skirt hang properly.” Tiffany’s words were punctuated with sobs and hiccoughs, but under Catheryn’s steady serenity and lack of overt sympathy, she began to control herself. “I suppose I overdid it last night, but I only damped the petticoat, not the dress itself. It was daring, I-I know, but it really wasn’t so bad when we left. I was as amazed as anything when Richard m-made me look at myself in the long glass. It was ever so much worse than I thought!” She choked back another sob.
Catheryn chuckled. “What a peagoose you are, to be sure. By the time we reached Almack’s, you idiotish child, the damp from your petticoat had
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