Promise Me Heaven (24 page)

“Thomas—”

“No. Cat has elected you as best fitting her designs. You’d be a bigger fool than I if you turned your back on such a gift. Marry her, Strand. Marry her now, and take her out of Paris. Tonight. It isn’t safe to stay.”

“I cannot.” Strand’s mobile face was fixed.

“Why? You needn’t fear I will spend the rest of my days littering the halls of your family manse, languishing heartfelt sighs each time the lady passes. Too embarrassing for everyone involved. Cat would probably stir me up an emetic should I indulge myself thus. No, I will take myself out of her scope until I can attend her with the most passionate disinterest.”

“I would,” Strand said. “It doesn’t particularly please me to acknowledge it, but I would marry her. It seems I am forced to acknowledge that at heart I am an overindulged child. Because, having grown accustomed to thinking of Lady Cat as being mine for the asking, I am most discomforted to find that which I took for granted is, after all, no sure thing.

“There is nothing so sweet to the juvenile mind than that which might be denied. And so, in hindsight, Lady Cat is not merely a comely chit who dresses well. She is a paragon of womanhood. Her wit is sharper, her intellect keener, her beauty more stunning… all because it might be refused me. Or perhaps I simply see her more clearly. Or perhaps you see her most clearly, and I have borrowed your eyes. I cannot say. But I would marry her. If I could.”

In the charged silence, the door once more opened silently on well-oiled hinges and Jack Seward entered, his light frame clothed in a military uniform.

“I’d thought you would be gone by now,” Seward said in surprise.

Strand did not answer him, addressing Thomas instead. “I cannot. His Majesty’s intrigues, once more, take precedence over my own. I am sent south.”

“Why?” Thomas demanded.

“Napoleon has escaped from Elba,” Seward said. “Already there are blockades being set up in some of the outlying villages. He is accumulating an army with each step he takes.”

Thomas wheeled on Strand. “And you would have left her here?”

Strand’s chin snapped up. “I have admitted to some unpleasant traits. Ignoring my obligations is not one of them. Seward will accompany Lady Catherine to Dieppe.”

“I am afraid that is impossible,” Seward said. “I have arranged her passage on a packet to Brighton, but I cannot escort her to Dieppe to meet it. Napoleon is reported to have mustered nearly seven thousand men. I cannot leave Paris.”

“Bloody hell,” growled Thomas.

“You’d best leave now, Strand, while the roads south are still open,” Seward said, the alarm in his voice adding impetus to his words.

“I understand.” Strand turned. “I would have found some way of guaranteeing her safe conduct, Thomas. I swear it.”

“I know. Safe journey, Strand.”

A smile of relief and amusement broke over Strand’s features, returning them to their more accustomed expression of careless charm.

“After you see her home, you can always come back and play,” Strand suggested, and then was gone.

Seward paused before following him out. “The packet leaves in four days. I don’t know when there will be another.”

“Confound it, Catherine!” Hecuba sat down on the bed beside her great-niece. “I’d thought you were over these self-indulgent histrionics. Of all the dratted times to come down with a case of weeps!”

Cat answered by burying her face deeper into the pillow. Hecuba scowled at Fielding, hovering ineffectually at the foot of the bed.

“Go away, Fielding. All that compassionate fluttering is only encouraging the gel. Go fold my dresses or flirt with the doorman, or… oh, just go!” Fielding bobbed a curtsey and fled.

“Now,” Hecuba said, reaching out a beringed, veined hand to stroke the silky tangle of Cat’s hair, “tell me what this is about. And none of your gulping disclaimers this time, m’girl. I spent a fortnight listening to you muffle your sobs—and a bad job you made of it, too—and I’ve no patience left. Now, out with it!”

Cat lifted her face. Her tears had streaked her cheeks with little rivulets of gummy face powder. The skin beneath was splotched red. Her eyes were wounded, stricken.

Hecuba paused in divesting her bodice of the wads of stuffed cotton, “bust improvers,” she had lately begun using in order to augment her figure and sighed. “It’s Thomas Montrose, ain’t it?”

Cat’s lower lip trembled.

“I knew he was trouble the instant I laid eyes on him. Far too dangerous-looking. The sort who excites the reckless quality in a woman, makes her want to take a peek at the black side of her nature, to embrace the untamed impulses which…” Hecuba’s eyes had glazed over in enthralled speculation. She dragged herself back to the matter at hand. “Whatever happened in Brighton, Catherine?”

“He… he… I can’t say!”

“Did that scoundrel take advantage of you while you were under his care? That blackguard! There are rules that all men, no matter how base, must attend to, and to take advantage of a young, chaste girl—”

“He didn’t take advantage of
me
!” Cat wailed.

“Oh.” Hecuba withdrew the last piece of padding from her gown leaving the bodice to hang limply on her withered chest. “And is
that
the problem?”

Cat thrust her head back under the down-filled pillow.

“Oh.”

The word spurred an instant reaction from Cat. She bolted upright, her eyes flashing. “I wouldn’t want him. He’s depraved.”

Incredibly, Hecuba smiled. “I would have said Thomas Montrose capable of a good many things, but depravity isn’t one of them.”

“But he is!”

“Tell me.”

“I saw him, Aunt Hecuba. The night of the Regent’s fete. After he escorted you back to the hotel… he arranged an assignation with that… that… French…”

“Whore?”

“Yes.”

“And how do you know this, Catherine?”

“Because I saw them.”

Hecuba lifted a brow in question.

“I went to his room. To thank him for helping you.”

“Such manners! Prompt, as well as pretty,” Hecuba murmured sardonically.

“ ’Tis true! His door swung ajar when I started to knock on it, and I just looked in. That woman was twined about him, and he was naked to the waist. She was kissing his naked chest, and his head was thrown back! Oh God! He opened his eyes and saw me in the mirror.”

“Oh dear. And what happened next?”

“Next? I ran back to my room, of course.”

“And Thomas?”

“He came in the morning and thundered at the door. I couldn’t face him.”

“Could you have misconstrued the situation?”

Even though Cat’s face was puffed and tears still trickled from the corners of her eyes, her mouth twisted in caustic disbelief.

“I am still unconvinced,” Hecuba said in reply to the volumes Cat’s expression spoke. “I have always felt Thomas held you in no little esteem. He has always been most careful of you. Far more so than you, a sheltered, unwed woman, could ever hope to realize. To have him so blatantly—well, it just don’t fit. Unless… Catherine, you weren’t
toying
with him, were you?”

“I don’t understand,” Cat said, but her eyes refused to meet Hecuba’s.

“Catherine, a man has certain physical urges at which he is at the mercy of. Certain women do, too. When those urges have been provoked, it is only natural to seek the means of relieving them. If those who initially provoked those urges are unavailable for whatever reason, they naturally seek an alternative. Do I make myself clear?”

“No.”

Hecuba pressed her lips together, muttered something under her breath then burst out, “Cat, if you teased the poor man into physical pain, he might have sought a willing piece of flesh to act as a substitute for that which societal and ethical codes forbade him.
You
.”

“Oh,” Cat said, then, after a moment’s consideration, added, “But that doesn’t make what he did right.”

“We aren’t talking
right
, Catherine. We are talking expedient! Believe me, when the itch is upon you, a self-encouraging clap on the back ain’t going to scratch it! My advice to you is to simply ignore the whole episode.”

A fresh battery of tears spilled from Cat’s eyes.

“What now?”

“I can’t ignore the whole thing! Not two hours ago, I told him that I had taken lovers!”

“Oh, Cat!
Lovers?
Whatever possessed you? Don’t answer. I already know. And how did Thomas react?”

“Oh, Aunt Hecuba, he looked disgusted! I could see it. He might as well have shouted out that I lied. And then he just turned and walked away.”

“Well, at least someone managed to keep their head.”

“I wanted so to impress him with my sophistication. I wanted to prove to him he was not the only one who was attractive. All I succeeded in doing was making myself look like a complete idiot.”

“Thank God your mother will be here in two days. She will know what to do.”

Immediately, Cat’s face filled with remorse. “I didn’t mean to burden you, Aunt Hecuba. I know what to do. I set out to become a sophisticated woman, but have forgotten the practical aspects of my lessons. One must accept what one has no power to change. I cannot erase that French whore from Thomas’s history, but I needn’t align myself with her ilk. I shall apologize to Thomas on the morrow. Even if it kills me.”

Hecuba regarded her in wide-eyed wonder. “Catherine, you really are the most sensible woman I have ever known.”

“Thank you.”

“But pragmatism is not always satisfying. Sometimes, Catherine, we must allow ourselves to fly in the face of convention. We must embrace the opportunities with which we are presented in order to find fulfillment. I will not say happiness—I know your views on that emotion—but I must say love. If I ever had the chance to try once more for love, I would take it. I swear I would. And I would expect nothing less from you.

“Cat, I have had a long history with that emotion or its approximations. Sometimes I have experienced something illusively near it, once in a very great while the wonderfully, painfully real thing. For a time I had forgotten that whatever the cost even the mere chance of loving and being loved is worth everything we own or are or aspire to be. Don’t let practical considerations rob you of it. I won’t.” Hecuba spoke the last words like a vow. Then, as surprised with herself as Cat obviously was, she leaned down and placed her cool, papery-thin cheek next to Cat’s hot, damp one.

She kissed Cat, wrapping her arms around her young body and hugging her tightly.

“For all my brave words, I am still a bit of a coward,” Hecuba whispered, releasing her. She stood up, collecting the pieces of padding that littered the wrinkled counterpane.

“Your mother will be here in a few days and all will be well. And really, Catherine, leave off the bawling, do. It makes your nose run.”

Chapter 21

C
at woke with a very cold nose. She burrowed under the cashmere blankets Fielding had heaped on her and squinted out from beneath the piles. It had to be very early. The brocade drapes were still shut against the tall windows; only a faint ghostly light illuminated its outline in the dark room. It was odd no maid had arrived to stir the coals in the hearth to life, chasing the predawn chill from the dismal room. Odder still, Fielding was not up fomenting some new scheme to glamorize Great-Aunt Hecuba.

Over the last few months, Fielding’s allegiance had become fixed on the elderly duchess with a fierce, unexpected loyalty. With Hecuba’s reentry into the world of fashion, Fielding’s latent talent as a lady’s maid had achieved full expression. She worried, fretted, and stewed over the tiniest detail of Hecuba’s toilette. It wasn’t that Fielding ignored Cat. It was merely that “gilding the lily ain’t never so challenging as forcing a bloom on old wood.”

Finding it impossible to fall back asleep, Cat dropped her feet onto the cold floor. Wrapping a blanket about her shoulders, she went to ask Fielding to fetch her a cup of chocolate. She tapped lightly on the door adjoining their suites, glanced over at the clock on the mantel. It was nine. Far past time for Fielding to be up and about. Frowning, Cat rapped harder until finally, in concern, she opened the door.