Page 22 of What's a Duke Got to Do With It
His gaze drifted to Bridling, who was still looking closely at himself in the glass. Which, of course, caused his thoughts to drift to that man’s sister. Miss Bridling was Sebastian’s salvation. Yet he was not ignorant of the fact that she had never asked to be sacrificed on the altar of both of their fathers’ greed, his for money and hers for power. He would do everything he could to make certain she was not unhappy, that she did not regret her life.
Though as they left his room and made their way below stairs, and he was met with the sight of Miss Denby in her outdated pink gown and simply pinned hair that somehow made her even lovelier than the high society miss she’d been before, he knew that he would not be so lucky.
Perhaps it had been seeing the duke again that had made Katrina completely forget the confrontation with the woman outside the Quayside Circulating Library just two days ago. And perhaps it had been her constant determination to not notice his presence at Seacliff, all while being pathetically aware of him, that had caused her to forget that the dinner tonight at Danesford was the first true event she was to attend since Lord Landon’s death, a fairly sizable gathering of some of the more notable members of Synne society. Maybe if she had remembered, she might have been prepared for what happened upon her arrival. Even so, she wasn’t certain it would have hurt any less.
Extricating herself from Lady Tesh’s side as that woman made the necessary introductions of the duke and Mr. Bridling to the milling guests, she hurried to Honoria. Her friend embraced her, kissing her on the cheek. Which should not have been all that unusual. They were uncommonly close, after all. But Honoria’s hug was a touch longer and tighter than usual. It only took Katrina a moment to find out what was different about tonight.
“Now, don’t panic,” Honoria murmured with a stiff smile. She took hold of Katrina’s suddenly cold hands, pulling her to a settee off to the side of the massive drawing room.
“Oh, God,” Katrina moaned as dread coursed through her. Though her friend’s expression was pleasant if strained, the look in her eyes could only be described as a healthy mix of fury and regret. “What now?”
Honoria took a deep, steadying breath before saying, her voice trembling, “My father has refused to come.”
Katrina blinked. Whatever she had expected her friend to say, it certainly wasn’t that. “I see.”
Which she didn’t, not in the least. Blessedly her friend understood that and set about explaining, though with the furthest thing from pleasure imaginable.
“It seems he thought it a prudent message to send to his congregation that he would not socialize with… such a scandalous female.”
A ringing started up in Katrina’s ears. She had always liked Honoria’s father. The vicar had seemed a good man, who had not only taken on the complete care of his own two daughters after his wife’s untimely death, but also his two nieces as well when his brother and that man’s wife had died. And he had always treated Katrina with, if not friendliness, then at least respect.
Now, however…
“I am so sorry, Katrina,” her friend whispered, tightening her grip on Katrina’s fingers. “I told him he was being an old fool, that I could not believe he could go so completely against the teachings of that book he reveres so much. But he would not listen to me.”
“It’s all right,” Katrina responded. But it was a mechanical response, sounding as if it was said by someone else, and from a great distance. Dear God, the vicar was willing to anger not only Lady Tesh, but also the Dukes of Dane and Buckley and their wives as well with such a snub? That it was aimed at her notwithstanding, Katrina was well versed in society, and knew that such an action would be seen as an insult to every titled person present. He must hate her very much to invite their wrath.
Bronwyn approached just then, the worry and anger on her face a mirror to Honoria’s. “Have you told her?” she asked as she sat on Katrina’s other side.
“Yes,” Honoria answered, frowning at Katrina. “Though she does appear awfully pale, doesn’t she?”
“It’s to be expected,” Bronwyn murmured, placing an arm about Katrina’s shoulders, which Katrina suspected was as much to keep her from falling to the floor as it was to show solidarity with her. “Katrina, dear, are you well? Should I tell Lady Tesh you wish to return home?”
Before Katrina could answer, however, Honoria spoke up, her voice sharp. “She most certainly shall not retreat. She will stay right where she is and hold her head high. And we shall be right there beside her.”
“I rather think that decision should be up to Katrina,” Bronwyn gritted.
“And her decision shall be to stay.”
“You are still speaking for her.”
“If you think I am going to allow her to turn tail and flee,” Honoria snapped, “you have got another think coming.”
“Please,” Katrina managed, her voice reed thin but strong enough to silence both women, “don’t fight. It’s all right, Bronwyn. I shall stay.” She gave them a sickly smile. “I would rather be here with the both of you than alone in my room thinking anyway.”
Bronwyn, however, did not look the least convinced. “If you’re certain.”
“I am,” Katrina replied, with much more conviction than she felt. “Now, let us join the others so we don’t cause any talk.”
Or any more talk than was already being had. As they rose and crossed the room, Katrina was painfully aware of more than one eye following her, as well as the hiss of whispered conversation. And it was not due to her outdated gown, either, though she had just added some embroidered roses at the hem to camouflage a small tear. No, these gazes and whispers were decidedly nonfriendly in nature, fairly burning her back as she passed.
Finally they reached the small party at the far end of the room. Lenora, Duchess of Dane, smiled reassuringly at Katrina as she sidled up to Lady Tesh’s side. Which, of course, meant that the young duchess was aware of the vicar’s stance. Katrina’s cheeks burned.
“Katrina, dear,” she said, “I was just telling Lady Tesh that you must bring Mouse for a visit. Our Charlotte adores him, you know.”
“That is because she is two, and more than happy to terrorize anything larger than her,” her husband, Peter, said with a sly smile for Lady Tesh. “I rather think she gets that from my dear aunt.”
“She is lucky to get such a trait from me,” Lady Tesh replied archly to her nephew. “You don’t want anyone walking over her.”
