Page 28 of Duke of Destruction
The duke’s attention returned to her. “Oh, yes,” he said. “She is. I think she’s looking forward to it and dreading it in equal measure.”
“Such is the way with young girls,” Catherine reassured him. “I spent nearly all of my youth in London and I still found the idea of formally entering Society daunting. It all turned out just fine, though.”
This last bit, she supposed, was subject to debate. She hadn’t, after all, gotten married, and that was the clear goal of any debutante.
But for all his flaws, the Duke of Wilds was too polite to mention it. They spent the rest of the walk having the easy sort of nothing chatter that was so often traded in theton, though Catherine could not shake the impression that the duke was assessing her carefully.
Well. He would have to try harder thanthat. Her poised mask was firmly in place.
She found, however, that keeping that mask fixed was harder today than it usually was; by the time they reached the village, she felt the itchy need to get away. She was relieved beyond measure when the duke excused himself to go speak to some of the other guests.
For a blissful moment, Catherine was alone, even though she was just on the fringes of the crowd from the house party. Sheshouldfollow Ariadne, she knew.
But…
But her sister was still chatting amiably with Lady Margaret, and they’d been joined by a few of the other young ladies—and their mothers, Catherine noted, including several who were known to be observant and diligent chaperones.
And it would be good for Ari to be out in the world in a safe, controlled way, without one of her siblings hovering over her, wouldn’t it? The poor thing was too sheltered; it was doubtless part of why she was so anxious in Society.
The logic was perhaps tenuous, but it convinced Catherine.
Besides, the village was the perfect setting to indulge in her riskiest vice…
Catherine was gone before anyone even thought to look for her.
“Good afternoon, my lady,” greeted the barmaid, sounding faintly surprised to have someone like Catherine appear in the dim recesses of the local pub.
Catherine laughed airily. “You flatter me,” she said to the woman, who appeared about Ariadne’s age. “It’s just miss. Miss Felicia Pettigrew.”
Catherine had stolen the alter ego from a frankly tawdry novel she’d once confiscated from Jason…and promptly read herself. It was a safe name to use, as she doubted most publicans and their wives read cheap, salacious London publications.
Besides, it had served her well.
The woman visibly relaxed at the false name, pleased to have someone who was perhaps the daughter of a well-to-do merchant or barrister in her establishment. Catherine had learned, through trial and error, that serving folks were far more pleased to see non-aristocrats during these little excursions of hers.
Besides, it simply made more sense. No proper lady would ever eat in apub,would she?Alone?
It was unthinkable.
Which was just the way Catherine liked it.
“’A course, Miss Pettigrew,” the woman said, her polite smile spreading into something more genuine. “What can I get you today?”
“A portion of whatever you’re serving for lunch,” Catherine requested. “And a pint of ale.”
The woman gave her an approving nod, then retreated behind the bar to fetch the food, giving a small child an affectionate pat as she went. Likely the owner’s wife, then, Catherine realized, and the child’s mother, despite her young age.
Catherine relaxed a little further at this reminder that she was far from the world she normally inhabited.
She had started doing this a few years ago, when the pressure of her own Seasons, of raising Ariadne and Jason, and of doing everything she could to make sure nobody ever saw the cracks, became simply…too much. She’d felt certain that she was about to explode, to simply pop like one of those aerostatic balloons if they were overfilled with hot air.
She hadn’tmeantto find herself wandering the streets of Bloomsbury, the fringes where things were not quite fashionable but not quite not fashionable, either. It had just…happened. One day, she’d gone out to the garden, desperately needing fresh air, and then suddenly it had been night. And she had only barely recognized her location.
She’d ducked into a nearby tavern, seeking light and shelter while she gathered herself…
And she’d found a whole new world.
Nobody had recognized her. They’d noticed the quality of her clothing, to be certain, but the establishment had been upscale enough that this had attracted nothing more than some faintly curious glances. The proprietor had offered her a drink, which she’d accepted.
