Page 23 of Seducing an Earl under the Mistletoe
Then, in his flurry to clean up the mess, he noticed a letter with a familiar scrawl. His entire body froze. He could barely breathe. The room was starting to swirl around him, but he knew it was not the drink.
No. It was the letter. It was the handwriting. And it belonged to none other than James.
Chapter 9
Back in Brighton, days later, Catherine and Virginie were eagerly anticipating the return of their brother. In the meantime, they found themselves at a charming tea shop in town, joined by Amaury. Catherine, playing the role of the chaperone, observed their interactions carefully.
Her initial impression of the young man left much to be desired. He struck her as a vain and egocentric person who cared mostly about superficial things and how they affected the opinion of others.
However, on this particular day, it was as if this was a completely different Amaury. He sounded charming and sincere, making an obvious and genuine effort to impress not only Virginie, but Catherine as well. He engaged them in witty conversation, displaying a genuine interest in their thoughts and opinions.
Somehow, they ended up conversing about balls, and Catherine was surprised to hear him say the following.
“One cannot help but be captivated by the intricate dance of society during these balls,” he began, slowly sipping his tea as he spoke. “Each ball is just a stage where one is required to perform one’s roles and share in the refined choreography of conversation. It is merely a show. I attend it for the same reason most of us do, sheer commitment. But I much prefer these situations, where one can actually express one’s mind freely.”
Catherine was caught off guard by his comment. Was his behavior during the ball merely a show for the public? Everyone he knew was there. Was he playing a role, as he himself put it? Catherine was not certain, but at the same time, she knew that a man like that was not to be trusted, especially not with her sister.
She turned to Virginie, whose eyes were sparkling with enthusiasm as she spoke. “Oh, but I love balls, the waltzes, and quadrilles. Isn’t it a reflection of society’s elegance and order?”
Amaury smiled. “You can dance anywhere, Virginie. That is the beauty of it.” He paused, reaching for her hand across the table they were all seated at. “But the most beautiful part is dancing with you.”
Virginie smiled, feeling obviously overwhelmed. Catherine knew that her sister was madly in love with this young man. The only thing Catherine didn’t know was whether this man was worthy of that love.
“Also, seeing that the role of women is rapidly changing in the world we know,” he added, glancing at Catherine. “Wouldn’t you think so?”
“It is a delicate balance, Conte Barrault,” Catherine replied courteously. “Women are embracing education and seeking a voice in social matters, yet the constraints of tradition still weigh upon us.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Traditions are a cornerstone of our society, but a change is needed, a harmonious blend of the old and new.”
This was not the Amaury she met at the ball. Catherine was certain of that. Maybe he also lived under someone’s thumb, someone who forced him to behave differently when in public, and they were only now seeing his true colors. For the sake of her sister, Catherine hoped it was so.
“Change is inevitable,” Catherine nodded.
“And women are at the forefront,” he confirmed. “That is why it is such a pleasure to be in the company of two such intelligent women who have much to offer as contributions to this societal transformation.”
For a moment, Catherine feared that he might know something about her, something not even her sister knew. But there was no chance of that happening. A moment later, Amaury’s attention was focused on Virginie again, and the two of them were exchanging loving glances, while talking about the latest book Virginie had read.
Catherine, while maintaining her wariness, began to appreciate his sincerity and intellect, hoping this conversation was a testament to the depth of his character.
“Oh, I love a good romance,” Virginie gushed. “I love all the attention to detail a writer gives to the readers, almost like I’m reading a story that really happened.”
“Only, it is rarely a story from real life,” Catherine interfered. “Romances like the ones in novels are…rare, to say the least.”
Amaury then turned his attention to her again. “What about your own romantic pursuits, Lady Catherine? Do you find yourself entertained by the affairs of the heart?”
Before Catherine could respond, Virginie interjected with a playful grin. “Oh, you must forgive my sister, Conte Barrault. She is far too absorbed in her books to pay any heed to the matters of the heart. I fear she is destined to become a confirmed spinster.”
Despite her usual resilience at such conclusions, Catherine felt a pang of hurt. She valued her own independence and literary pursuits, both hidden and public ones, but her sister’s words stung more than she was willing to admit. Something had shifted in her way of thinking, and she knew it had something to do with Arthur. Refusing to allow her mind to linger any longer on this man, she stood up, pushing back her chair.
“If you will excuse me,” she said calmly, but inside, her thoughts were a torrent of emotion. “I need some fresh air.”
Before either of them could ask for more clarification on this, she left the tea shop and made her way to the boardwalk, needing a moment alone. The gentle sea breeze helped calm her racing thoughts. She took deep breaths, collecting her composure and reminding herself she shouldn’t let her sister’s words affect her so greatly. Usually, such words had little to no effect on her. But this time, it was different. What was it that changed?
As she stood by the railing, gazing out at the sea, she reflected on her aspirations and desires. Marriage was not the path she had envisioned for herself, but the idea of never finding love did weigh on her from time to time. Now, fate had dealt her a set of cards she never expected to have. What on earth was she supposed to do with them?
At that moment, she noticed a familiar coach drive past and come to a stop in front of her. She blinked in disbelief as Marcus and Arthur stepped out. She hugged her brother tenderly, while the kiss that Arthur bestowed upon her hand lingered in her mind and on the surface of her skin for far longer than it ought to have.
***
