Page 57 of A Game with the Rakish Duke
“Your Grace,” she returned in an odd voice. “It was very kind of the Dowager Duchess to invite us.”
There was an awkward pause. Lady Afferton tapped one foot, staring into the crowd as if she were seeking someone. Or as if she were already bored with the conversation and seeking an escape.
Catherine stared at her. She really wasn’t imagining it. Lady Affertonalwaysacted this way around her. It was the strangest thing.
“I am having a tea party next week,” Catherine said abruptly. “I would very much like you to come, Lady Afferton. It is about time that we spent more time getting to know one another. Oh, please, say that you will.”
Lady Afferton looked surprised. Catherine was a little surprised as well. She hadn’t been planning a tea party at all, but sheneeded an excuse to bridge the gap between them, and a tea party seemed the ideal way. It was still formal, but it was intimate. Lady Afferton would have no choice but to talk with her. Catherine gave her a dazzling smile.
“Oh, I am so busy next week, Your Grace,” Lady Afferton replied, stony-faced. “I am afraid it will probably not be possible.”
Catherine’s smile faded a little. “But you do not even know which day yet, Lady Afferton. Surely, you are not elsewhere engagedeverysingle day?”
“I am afraid I am,” Lady Afferton insisted in a tight voice. “I am terribly sorry. I do apologize.”
“I see,” Catherine murmured, her heart flipping. She knew when she was being dismissed. “Well, I will send you the invitation anyway in case you have a cancellation. Or in case you change your mind.”
“Your Grace is very kind,” Lady Afferton said, inclining her head, her eyes darting around the room. “I am sure I do not deserve such thoughtfulness.”
Catherine smiled uncertainly, glancing sideways at Patrick, who had followed her. Her friend looked uncomfortable, his gaze flicking between her and his wife. Beatrice had also joined them, smiling brightly, seemingly oblivious to the icy atmosphere between the two ladies.
At that moment, Beatrice and the Dowager Countess of Afferton appeared on the sidelines. Catherine turned towards the old lady.
The Dowager Countess curtseyed in a perfunctory way, her eyes cold. She had never particularly liked Catherine and had never been afraid of showing it.
Beatrice had told Catherine that her mother thought her far too spirited and independent for a lady, and perhaps a bad influence on her daughter. Catherine, for her part, had never particularly cared. She didn’t like the old lady much either.
“Lady Afferton,” she greeted, raising her chin. “How good of you to attend.”
“Your Grace.” Old Lady Afferton inclined her head in a frosty way, her eyes flickering over Catherine, making no secret of her disdain for her.
Her eyes lingered on Catherine’s gown a little longer than was necessary.
“What an…interestinggown, Your Grace,” she commented, her lip curling, and she fanned herself. “Are you not a trifle cold in it?”
“Not at all,” Catherine replied, raising her chin higher and meeting the lady’s eyes. “In fact, it isverycomfortable, My Lady.”
The Dowager Countess frowned, looking a bit disgusted, then turned her attention to her daughter, ignoring Catherine entirely. “You must come with me now, Beatrice,” she commanded in an impatient voice. “I wish to introduce you to someone important.”
“Who is it, Mama?” Beatrice looked cornered. “I am talking…”
“You have been talking long enough,” her mother said, looking even more disgusted. “The time for frivolity is over. There is serious business to attend to. I wish you to make the acquaintance of Lord Carruthers.”
Beatrice’s eyes widened. “Lord Carruthers? But… why? Is he not the gentleman that served alongside Papa in the army?”
Her mother nodded, looking even more impatient. “Yes, he is. He is a widower now and looking for a new wife. Come along.”
“Mama.” Beatrice’s voice was faint. “He is old enough to be my own father.”
Old Lady Afferton rolled her eyes. “You are too sensitive, Beatrice! Such things are of little importance. What is more important is your social standing when you marry. Have I taught you nothing?”
Beatrice sighed heavily, looking miserable.
Catherine’s heart went out to her friend. The Dowager Countess was always trying to play matchmaker, lining up old, wealthy, titled gentlemen for her daughter, not caring in the slightest that Beatrice had no desire to marry for fortune or title.
Beatrice was an impossible romantic. But old Lady Afferton didn’t seem to care for her daughter’s feelings in the slightest.
“Come along,” old Lady Afferton ordered imperiously, firmly gripping Beatrice’s arm this time. “I will not ask you again.”
