Page 34 of Seducing an Earl under the Mistletoe
She didn’t say anything at first. She merely smiled in a way that old ladies did when they knew more than they were willing to let on. And everyone knew that Lady Fontwell was a woman with a keen eye for social intricacies.
“Lord Rinder, I hope you haven’t forgotten that you owe a dance to Lady Catherine,” she reminded him.
Confusion furrowed Arthur’s brow as he looked at her with a smile. “You let nothing slip through the cracks of social memory, do you, Lady Fontwell?” he asked with a playful note in his voice, much to her delight.
“One only hopes I do,” she said almost mischievously. “For you see, I have eyes and ears everywhere.”
He was certain that much was true. Her comment left him to contemplate the vast lines of connections that wove the fabric of society and where one’s place was in it. However, he knew that there was no point in dwelling on matters such as this one.
“Perhaps now is your chance, young man,” she urged, gesturing in Catherine’s direction. She was standing with her sister as they both gazed at the ballroom, watching other people dance.
“You are right,” he smiled, nodding.
Summoning his resolve, he made his way to Catherine, seeking to honor the commitment he had made, and not only that but to satisfy the wishes of his heart, for he wanted to hold her in his arms, even if that meant only for a dance.
She noticed him immediately, her eyes widening. “Arthur,” she gushed. “We lost both Father and Marcus in the crowd.”
“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I am keeping an eye on your brother.”
He pointed somewhere ahead of them, where Marcus was chatting away with an acquaintance.
“As for your father, I cannot say I know where he is,” he admitted.
“We are just worried about Marcus,” Virginie said in a whisper.
“I know,” Arthur tried to pacify them both. “I’ve spoken to him, and it seems that everything is under control…as much as it can be.”
“That is what we are afraid of,” Catherine nodded with a sigh. “But it is something he must fight on his own. We can only be there as support.”
“As we are,” he assured her. “But seeing that he doesn’t need us for the time being, perhaps I could have the pleasure of this dance?” he inquired, offering her his hand.
“Of course,” she agreed immediately, her eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and warmth.
As the music enveloped them and they commenced their dance, Arthur found himself enchanted by the ethereal grace of her movements.
In Catherine’s arms, he experienced a kind of aliveness he had seldom known before—a connection that transcended the superficiality of social engagements. It was as if, in that fleeting moment, they existed in a world of their own, a world where the pressures and expectations of society faded into the background.
As the waltz swirled them around the ballroom, Arthur found himself navigating not just the graceful dance steps but also the intricate dance of his emotions and choices. Amid the graceful whirl of the dance, Arthur couldn’t escape the weight of his own conscience.
He could feel Margot’s eyes upon him, her smile hinting at thoughts he dreaded. The prospect of being viewed as if he were considering Catherine as a mere distraction, a dalliance, turned his stomach. He realized, in that moment, that Cate held a place in his heart that transcended such trivial intentions.
With each step of the dance, Arthur wrestled with his emotions, grappling with the swirling conflict between desire, obligation, and moral compass. He cherished Catherine deeply, more than he could put into words.
She was not someone he could treat lightly. He wondered whether it was fair to her to continue with their arrangement, for this would mean that their attachment would also entail compromising her morals. That was the last thing he wanted her to commit.
“Have you read the scandal sheet?” he suddenly heard her say, as if she were able to read his mind.
He sighed, feeling his lips dry up. “Of course. Who hasn’t?”
She seemed to hesitate, then she asked. “Is it true?”
“You mean, is it true whether Margot and I kissed right there, on my brother’s grave?”
When he said it out loud, it sounded even more horrible. He wanted to plant a facer to whoever wrote that despicable article. But instead, he had to swallow his rage and keep himself composed.
“Nothing happened, Catherine. Please, believe that,” he told her, feeling a certain amount of loyalty towards Margot, but at the same time, he didn’t want Catherine to think that there was even a morsel of truth in that damn article. “We were there at the same time, stumbling onto each other. And I suppose in her moment of vulnerability, she tried to kiss me.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “Then…she must have feelings for you.”
