Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Too soon, the evening of the Midsummer Ball arrived. Edward stood at the foot of the staircase, waiting for his sister and her governess, and it felt as though his cravat was threatening to constrict his airway.

This constriction only seemed to intensify when Catherine appeared at the top of the staircase next to his sister. Though he vaguely registered that Emily looked far too grown, his attention was drawn to Catherine—who again, looked like a vision in blue: doing justice to his mother’s gown like no one else could.

“Ladies,” he spoke through dry lips. “You… you do look quite lovely.”

A grin appeared on Emily’s face as she rushed down the stairs, still keeping a bit of her typical youthful clumsiness.

“Oh, Edward,” she exclaimed, her eyes shining with delight. “Is this real? Am I truly going to the Midsummer Ball? With you and Miss Winslow? I can hardly believe it!”

Edward flashed his sister a grin.

“Yes,” he said patiently, his tone filled with affection. “But I must remind you, Emily, not to call Miss Winslow by that title this evening. She is our cousin, Lady Catherine.”

“Right,” Emily said, though a faint frown appeared between her brows. “But Edward, may I ask why we are pretending?”

“Well, little one,” he explained, glancing at Catherine who had descended the stairs gracefully and stood a few steps away from them. “Miss Winslow has never attended a ball before and I figured since you have not either, she could be there to help me keep an eye on you—and of course it is more of a reason to keep me out of the social circle.”

He winked at her playfully and Emily shook her head with a laugh. “Oh, Edward. You are incorrigible, dear brother,” she laughed. “But I must admit that I am glad Miss Winslow… I mean… cousin Catherine… is attending too. I do feel rather… nervous.”

“Nervous?” Edward looked at Emily worriedly. “If you would rather not go…”

“Oh, do not be ridiculous,” his sister interrupted him in a way only she could. “I want to go—I am looking forward to it. It is just all rather… intimidating.”

Edward was silent for a long while, then he nodded in understanding. “Yes. Your first ball is quite an event—but we will be there with you, won’t we… cousin Catherine?”

He finally looked up at Catherine directly, as opposed to the subtle glances he had allowed himself. A blush rose to her cheeks, only serving to make her look even more beautiful, and his heart skipped a beat.

“Yes,” Catherine said now, turning her gaze from him and focusing it on Emily. “We will be there with you every step of the way,” she explained kindly. This seemed to calm Emily, who grinned a bit brighter.

“Thank you,” she whispered before looking at Edward with wide eyes. “But Edward… do I look alright?”

Edward nodded slowly though as he spoke, his gaze found Catherine once more. “You look beautiful,” he spoke, his eyes resting on Catherine’s blushing face. “Like a true lady.”

Emily beamed at this, not having noticed his traveling gaze. Edward clapped his hands together in an attempt to rid him of the ridiculous thoughts about Catherine’s beauty that swirled in his head.

“Come,” he insisted, holding out an arm for each woman. “The carriage is waiting.”

Emily spoke incessantly as they walked down the cobblestone pathway to the waiting carriage, though Edward hardly heard his sister’s babbling. Instead, he was transfixed by the warmth of Catherine’s arm that was looped through his, the floral smell that radiated from her, the soft brush of her curves against his body as they walked.

He hesitated when they reached the carriage, and he turned to look at her. For a second, the universe lay wide open in her eyes, and he could see the apprehension, the fear—but also the desire. Then she lowered her lashes, and it was gone.

He held his hand out to her and helped her into the carriage. His fingers curled around hers for a second longer than what was permissible, and then they were seated in the carriage. Somehow, he landed next to her—with Emily seated across from her. He could feel the warmth of Catherine’s soft thigh brushing against his and he swallowed, looking down at his hands.

What he wouldn’t give to feel the creamy expanse of her thighs without the material of her dress as a barrier between them. He wanted to tear away all barriers, feel her body pressed against him, taste her skin and see her trembling in his arms.

He turned his head quickly to look out of the carriage. He had no idea where these thoughts suddenly came from, but he knew without doubt that he had to end them at once.

He could not afford to desire any woman—least of all the governess hired to teach his sister.

Luckily for him, Blackwell Manor was not too far from his own estate. He was relieved when they arrived, and quick to disembark the carriage. He held his hand out to help them off—his heart twinging with concern when he took note of the absolute elation on his sister’s face.

Catherine seemed to share his concern, her eyes finding his as she came to a standstill next to him.

“It will be alright,” she whispered—so softly that he was not entirely certain that he had truly heard it at all.

Beside them, Emily practically vibrated with excitement as her gaze darted from one spectacle to another.

“Oh, Edward, is it not wonderful?” she breathed as she squeezed his arm. “I can hardly believe that we are truly here.”

Despite his doubts, Edward managed a tight smile—for his sister’s benefit. “Indeed,” he murmured. Wonderful, however, was far from how he would describe it. As they made their way to the grand mansion doors, he could feel the weight of curious stares and hushed whispers following the trio as they walked.

Edward was all too aware of Catherine’s gloved hand resting lightly in the crook of his elbow and he looked down at her. “Shall we?”

She nodded, her face pale. “Yes, My Lord,” she whispered. “I… I suppose we should.”

Edward flashed her a stiff smile before leading the two women into the ballroom. The buzz of conversation dimmed momentarily as curious heads turned to observe the three newcomers. Edward felt a muscle jump in his jaw at the scrutiny. Still, he managed to force himself to maintain a neutral expression.

His shoulders stiffened when he recognized the couple hurrying toward them and he leaned a bit closer to Catherine.

“Those are our hosts,” he managed to whisper before they stood in front of them.

“Lord Blackwell. Lady Blackwell,” he said, nodding politely. “Please accept my gratitude for the invitation. My sister Emily.” He gestured to Emily, who bowed her head, before he raised his hand in Catherine’s direction. “And may I present my cousin, Lady Catherine Montague? She is visiting from the north.”

He could see Catherine’s hands trembling as she gathered her skirt to curtsy—though she played the part of lady very well.

Edward’s attention drifted toward the crowd, his heart beating heavily in his chest. Was the unseen threat here, in this room with them right now?

He barely registered the conversation taking place next to him, responding only with noncommittal murmurs when his name was mentioned.

Luckily the hosts did not remain with them too long, soon making their way toward some other guests. Edward wasted no time before leading his sister and Catherine to a corner of the ballroom—though of course, another couple stopped them on their way.

“Lord Wessex,” the man spoke, a jovial smile about his lips. “What a surprise! And with such lovely ladies by your side.”

Edward nodded stiffly. “Lord Boldwood,” he said simply, his lips tight. “My sister, Lady Emily and my cousin—Lady Catherine.”

He managed to dodge the man’s small talk too and he led the women to a more secluded part of the ballroom. Throughout, he was painfully aware of Catherine beside him; the way her soft skin brushed against him, and the way the blue dress clung to her curves in all the right places.

Emily, for her part, seemed to be in her element. Her eyes darted from one group of people to the next, liveliness radiating from her.

“Excuse me, my lady,” a smooth voice spoke, and Edward narrowed his eyes at the man, whose attention was seemingly captivated by Emily. “But may I have this dance?”

Emily’s gaze fell upon her brother at once, and only when he nodded did she allow the man to lead her onto the dance floor. His heart tightened with concern as he watched his sister gracefully move across the dancefloor.

“She will be alright,” Catherine spoke beside him, her voice low. “Do not look so utterly concerned.”

Edward simply nodded, his hand searching for a glass of wine. He brought it to his lips quickly, his eyes following his sister’s trek across the dancefloor.

It was near the end of the dance when he suddenly realized that Catherine was no longer at his side. Worry flared in his chest as he scanned the room, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he finally spotted her.

She was engaged in an animated conversation with two young women. Without a single thought as to how it may look, Edward bolted forward—a dark frown between his brows. As he drew closer, he could hear the women’s excited voices drift toward them.

“Oh, Miss Winslow, we have missed you so terribly,” one was saying, her eyes shining with delight.

“Hush, Charlotte,” the other one admonished. “You must call her Lady Catherine here, remember?”

Edward felt as though he had had a bucket of ice water doused upon his head. These women knew Catherine—they knew her true identity. Fear gripped at his heart. Was this all an elaborate setup? Had Catherine been sent to spy on him, to infiltrate his household under the guise of governess? Had he been wrong to trust her?

“Ladies,” Catherine spoke as he caught her eye, her voice deceptively calm. “If you will excuse me. I believe I see my cousin seeking my attention.”

She turned smoothly, meeting him halfway—her face a paragon of composure, though he could see the tension set in her shoulders.

“My Lord,” she spoke as his hand moved to grip her wrist. “Perhaps we should step outside for some air.”

His gaze flickered to the dancefloor, where Emily was turning in another young gentleman’s arms.

“Right,” Edward muttered, his fingers like steel around her wrist as he led her through the French doors and into the garden. He did not stop until they reached a secluded spot near a fountain—hidden from view of the other partygoers by a row of meticulously trimmed hedges.

The second they were alone, Edward rounded on Catherine—his eyes blazing with fury. “Who are they?” he demanded, his voice low. “How do they know you and what do they know about me, about my family?”

“My Lord,” Catherine responded, her voice soft. “If you will allow me to explain…”

“Explain?” he burst out, his voice shaking with anger. “Explain what? Tell me, Miss Winslow, are you a spy? Were you sent to gather information on the reclusive Earl of Wessex?”

“My Lord,” she spoke again, shaking her head. “Please, listen to me. I would never betray you. They are my previous charges. Charlotte and Sophia Ashdown. I was their governess before coming to Wessex Manor.”

Edward’s eyes narrowed into narrow slits. “And you expect me to believe that you happened to run into them?”

“No, My Lord,” she explained calmly. “They told me about the ball, and I knew they would be here. I thought I mentioned it. I am sorry.”

“Swear that you will never betray me,” Edward said now, his gaze fixed on her. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I will never betray you or Lady Emily,” Catherine said at once. “I swear it.”

She licked her lips lightly at that, and without as much as a second thought, he surged forward—capturing her lips in a possessive kiss. Catherine gasped against his mouth, her body tensing in surprise before it melted into him. Her hands fisted in the lapels of his coat as she returned the kiss with equal fervor.

Edward’s hands found Catherine’s waist and he pulled her flush against him as he deepened the kiss. She tasted of champagne and something uniquely her—a sweetness that intoxicated him entirely. All thoughts of propriety fled in the face of his overwhelming desire, as her body melted against his.