Page 28 of A Night of Desire with a Duke
"Oh, the usual wild tales. Some say he killed a man in a duel. Others that he was involved in espionage during the war. My personal favourite is that he fell in love with an unsuitable woman and his father banished him."
"How romantic," Catherine said weakly.
"Romance aside, he'll have every matchmaking mama in London throwing their daughters at him. Poor fellow." Pemberton paused. "You'll be attending the ball, I assume?"
"My aunt has invitations."
"Excellent! Then I hope I might claim the first waltz? That is, unless you're saving it for the Duke himself?"
His tone was light, but Catherine sensed genuine concern beneath it.
"I would be honoured to waltz with you, Lord Pemberton. I have no interest in joining the masses pursuing the Duke."
His face brightened considerably. "I'm delighted to hear it. Shall we ride tomorrow? Hyde Park at five?"
***
The ride in Hyde Park was an education in society's response to the ducal death. Everyone was discussing it, despite the impropriety of gossip about such a recent bereavement.
Catherine, mounted on a gentle mare from her aunt's stable, rode beside Lord Pemberton, trying not to wince as the movement aggravated her still-tender muscles.
"That's the Duchess of Ravensfield," Pemberton said quietly, indicating an imposing woman in deepest mourning in a black-lacquered barouche. "She doesn't look particularly grief-stricken, does she?"
Indeed, the Duchess appeared perfectly composed, acknowledging acquaintances with regal nods as if her husband hadn't just died two days ago.
"Are you quite well, Lady Catherine?" Pemberton asked with concern. "You seem uncomfortable."
"Just out of practice," she managed. "It's been some time since I've ridden."
"We can return if you'd prefer."
"No, I'm enjoying myself greatly."
Miss Ponsonby approached on her pretty grey mare, elegant in a deep green riding habit.
"Lady Catherine! Lord Pemberton! Have you heard? The Ravensfield ball is definitely going forward. My mother thinks it's shocking, but she's procured invitations anyway."
"As has all of London, I imagine," Pemberton said dryly.
"Well, naturally. When will we have another chance to see the mysterious Duke? They say he's quite changed from his wild youth—all stern and military now." She looked at Catherine slyly. "As an earl's daughter, you'll be quite the competition for those of us of lower rank. The Duke will surely notice you."
"I have no intention of competing for anyone's notice," Catherine replied coolly.
"No? How refreshing. Though I suppose with Lord Pemberton so attentive, you needn't look higher." Her smile was sharp. "After all, a bird in the hand, as they say."
After she left, Pemberton apologized. "Miss Ponsonby can be rather..."
"Calculating?"
"I was going to say determined, but yes." He paused. "Lady Catherine, I hope you know that my interest in you has nothing to do with your rank. I find you... refreshing. Genuine. So many ladies of the ton are concerned only with titles and fortunes."
"You're very kind, Lord Pemberton."
"I'm very sincere. I hope, over time, you might come to return my regard."
Catherine felt a pang of guilt. He was a good man, offering her exactly what she should want. "I value your friendship greatly, my lord."
"Friendship is an excellent beginning," he said warmly.
