Page 1 of A Duke's Scandalous Obsession
Chapter 1
Lady Catherine Stanhope looked like a vision of grace and refinement at the opulent ballroom of Lord and Lady Chatham’s lavish residence, but she certainly didn’t feel like it. In fact, she felt exactly the opposite, as if every single lady present knew how to behave in polite society, but her.
That had a little to do with her being just a mere debutante, newly out in society, and a lot to do with her simply being herself, a shy little wallflower. The fact that her brother, Lord Reginald Stanhope, the Earl of Somerset, was by her side, seemed to help a little, but she knew that she could not very well remain his shadow for the entire duration of the evening’s festivities.
Catherine believed she was ready for this. She had repeated that statement several times in the sanctity of her bedchamber as she stared at her reflection in the looking glass, but the hurried beating of her heart assured her that she was not. All that assurance in front of the looking glass, all that repetition of how do you do’s and other meaningless niceties people were forced to exchange on such occasions, did not help either.
The grandeur of this occasion seemed to overwhelm her, her demure features adorned with a rosy blush as she navigated through the thick ocean of elegantly clad guests, who were all beaming with pride and importance at being there.
For a moment, she contemplated excusing herself with a headache or any such other frivolous excuse ladies tend to resort to and simply ending the evening’s torture right then and there. But she had promised her brother she would endure the entire evening, and it was a promise she intended to keep.
Determined to at least alleviate her unease, her brother Reginald, a stately figure in his own right, leaned closer to her, whispering in her ear.
“See that gentleman over there with the impeccably waxed moustache?” he asked softly, and she nodded in response, looking in the direction of the aforementioned gentleman, who would absent-mindedly rub the edges of his moustache with his fingers as he spoke. “Rumor has it he practices his bowing techniques in front of the mirror every morning. Quite the dedication to elegance, I must say.”
Catherine could understand that feeling very well. She also couldn’t help but chuckle so loudly that a nearby group of young ladies turned to her with a look of disapproval. Catherine immediately turned grave. She had forgotten one of the most important rules of being a prim and proper lady.
She was never to laugh so openly as to show too much of her teeth or to be overheard by those not intended to listen. That was her firstfaux pasof the evening, and she was certain that there would be many more to come.
Although she herself was dressed impeccably in a resplendent gown of silk and lace, and her auburn curls were delicately arranged, secured with a pearl-encrusted comb, Catherine couldn’t help but feel somewhat inadequate to them, almost as if there was no room for her in their world. Truth be told, it was not a world she wanted to be a part of, anyway.
“Pay no heed, Cate,” Reginald gently tugged her by the elbow, making her focus on him once again. As always, he could easily sense her discomfort, and he always knew the cause of it. “Those ladies live for drama. Floral drama.”
“Floral drama?” Catherine wondered, already on the verge of another chuckle, which she managed to suppress this time.
“Mhm,” Reginald nodded importantly, taking a sip from his glass, only to continue a moment later. “They spend hours discussing the language of flowers and its intricate nuances. I once overheard them debating the symbolism of a daisy versus a tulip, and neither could be convinced of the supremacy of the other.”
Catherine giggled softly as the tension in her shoulders eased. Thatdidsound like a silly thing to argue about indeed. “A secret society of petal enthusiasts. Your insights really make this ball far more interesting, dear Reggie.”
And far less intimidating,but she kept this part to herself.
“Oh, but I’m not done,” Reginald replied, looking around in search for his next verbal victim. “How about the afficionados of cucumber sandwiches over there?”
“The what?” Catherine almost released a chuckle through her nose, a crime punishable by yet another scornful look. Fortunately, she remained a lady in every sense of the word, dictated by the ton, and the chuckle died inside of her. She wondered how many of those little glimmers of joy died inside of her, never to see the light of day just because the ton deemed them inappropriate. It seemed like a downright shame, in her humble opinion.
“You heard me right,” Reginald nodded importantly. “I’ve heard that they formed a clandestine society dedicated to the delicate art of sandwich critique. One bite, and they can discern the quality of the entire soiree.”
Strangely enough, he was right. Two gentlemen were nibbling on cucumber sandwiches, frowning, then nodding, as they exchanged notes. It was possible that they weren’t talking about cucumbers or sandwiches at all, but Catherine found that believing that made her feel even more comfortable at the ball, where she felt she didn’t belong.
“And her?” She dared to point barely noticeably at a lady with an extravagant feathered hat. To be quite honest, she was certain that she was not the only one asking about her. Reginald quicklylooked in that direction and his eyes widened with mischief, seeing an opportunity to hone his skills.
“Now, that hat is a masterpiece in avian architecture.”
“Quite so,” Catherine was unable to suppress her chuckle, but she turned towards Reginald, focusing on him, while he himself cast casual glances behind her, taking a closer, more introspective look at the lady in question.
“The birds in the garden must have been exchanging fashion tips with her. Quite the trendsetter, isn’t she?” he pointed out, lifting his eyebrow amusedly as he spoke.
Catherine couldn’t help but feel grateful to her brother, not only for being there, but also for his witty observations, which seemed to transform the ball into a delightful spectacle that they could share together. She could always rely on him to make any occasion more bearable.
In fact, she could rely on him for anything she needed. He was her brother, her friend, her confidant, but most importantly, he was the only family she had, the only one she could turn to in an hour of need, knowing that he would be there for her no matter what. That feeling always eased her mind, especially in situations such as that one.
As Catherine was slowly starting to find her place in this hustle and bustle, Lady Chatham, their gracious host, approached them with a warm smile and outstretched arms.
“Lady Catherine, Lord Reginald,” she greeted them, touching both their shoulders as she stopped before them. “It is such a pleasure to have you in our midst this evening. I trust the evening finds you well?”
Despite the woman’s considerable frame, she somehow managed to carry herself with regal grace, the soft curves of her figure hinting at a life well-enjoyed. The sound of her laughter, rich and infectious, always made her a welcome guest at any ball and in any home.
This evening, she was adorned in a glorious gown that shimmered with opulent fabrics and intricate lace. Her bejeweled fingers and neck sparkled in the light, each gem a testament to her station in society.
