Page 46 of The Earl's Forbidden Governess
But before he could say more, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the spell. They sprang apart as Emily came bounding around the corner.
“Edward! Miss Winslow! There you are. I have been looking everywhere for you both.”
Edward cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “What is it, Emily?”
“I have had the most wonderful idea for the dinner party,” Emily said excitedly. “I want to have a musical performance after dinner. Miss Winslow, you play the piano beautifully. Would you consider performing for our guests?”
Catherine’s face paled. “Oh, I... I’m not sure that would be appropriate, Lady Emily. I am just a governess, after all.”
“Nonsense,” Emily insisted. “You should not sell yourself short. You… you could have been a famous pianist, I think. People will love it. Please? You must play for us!”
Edward felt caught between his sister’s enthusiasm and Catherine’s discomfort. “If Miss Winslow is uncomfortable with the idea, we should not press her, Emily,” he said at last.
But Emily was not to be deterred. She ignored her brother, turning instead to Catherine with a pleading gaze. “Please, Miss Winslow? It would mean so much to me.”
Catherine looked between the siblings, her resolve visibly weakening. Finally, she nodded. “If you truly wish it, Lady Emily, I would be honored.”
Emily clapped her hands in delight. Edward, however, turned his gaze to the ground and a frown appeared between his brows. The thought of Catherine performing for their guests, for Isabella, filled him with a strange discomfort.
He was not quite sure why. Neither Catherine nor Emily seemed to notice his apprehension, however. Instead, they were quickly drawn into lively chatter about the party, and he made his way to the study slowly—wishing that he could slow down the time before it came.
That, of course, was not possible. The evening of the dinner party arrived all too quickly. Edward found himself pacing in his study, his nerves on edge. The guests would be arriving soon, including Isabella. Edward was far from prepared to admit how he truly felt about this.
A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “Come in,” he called out firmly, looking up when the door opened.
It was Catherine who entered, looking lovely in a simple blue gown. “My Lord,” she said, her eyes downcast. “Lady Emily asked me to inform you that the first guests have arrived.”
Edward nodded, his throat suddenly dry. There was so much that he wanted to say to her—but for the past few days, they had ignored the note she had found as though it did not exist. Did she still think of it? He shook his head quickly to rid himself of his thoughts. “Thank you, Miss Winslow. Will you... will you still be performing this evening?”
Catherine’s eyes met his, a flash of nervousness visible before she masked it. “Yes, My Lord. I promised Lady Emily, after all.”
Edward took a step closer to her, drawn by an invisible force. “Catherine,” he said softly, “I... I want you to know that you do not have to do this if you are uncomfortable. I can make your excuses to Emily.”
Catherine’s expression softened slightly, and Edward’s heart skipped a beat. “Thank you, My Lord,” she said, her voice forcefully light. “But I will be fine. It is just a simple performance, after all.”
Edward reached out, gently taking her hand in his. “I am certain you will be wonderful,” he murmured. “Just as you always are.”
Their eyes met and his heart raced at this. “Catherine,” he started. “I want you to know, I…”
The moment was broken by Isabella’s voice ringing out from the hallway. “Edward! Darling, where are you hiding?”
Catherine flinched, pulling her hand away. “If you will excuse me, My Lord,” she whispered, slipping out of the room before Lady Isabella could enter.
“Edward, darling,” Isabella spoke lightly. “How rude of you to keep your guests waiting! Come—we must attend to the guests at once.”
Edward merely nodded with a stiff smile before he led Isabella to the dining room where the dinner party was in full swing, filled with the chatter of the ton and the clink of crystal. Edward found his gaze constantly drawn to Catherine, who sat at the far end of the table, quiet and withdrawn.
Isabella, who had quickly taken the seat to his right, leaned in close. “Darling,” she purred, her voice carrying just far enough for Catherine to hear, “I do hope you are not regretting your decision to include the help in our little soirée. It must be so overwhelming for her, poor thing.”
Edward frowned, opening his mouth to retort, but Catherine beat him to it. “Not at all, Lady Isabella,” she said, hervoice calm and clear. “I find the conversation most illuminating. In fact, I was just discussing the latest developments in France with Lord Ashbury. His insights are quite fascinating.”
Isabella’s eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, Emily chimed in. “Oh yes! Miss Winslow is ever so knowledgeable about world affairs. She has been teaching me all about the political climate in Europe.”
Edward could not help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Pride swelled in his chest—though he did not want to explore whether it was aimed at Catherine’s composure or Emily’s fierce loyalty.
As the evening wore on, Edward found himself growing increasingly agitated. Isabella’s simpering laughs grated on his nerves, while Catherine’s quiet dignity drew him like a moth to a flame.
Finally, it was time for Catherine’s performance. As she made her way to the piano, Edward held his breath. She looked pale but determined as she settled onto the bench.
