"The heat can be overwhelming," Miss Worthing said, though she didn't look overwhelmed in the slightest. She looked like a cat who'd spotted an unguarded dish of cream. "Your Grace, might I have a word? About the charity committee my mother is organizing?"
It was transparent, but social convention meant James could hardly refuse without being unconscionably rude. He glanced at Catherine, something unreadable in his expression, then allowed Miss Worthing to draw him slightly away.
Which left Catherine with Pemberton. Dear, sweet, oblivious Pemberton, who was looking at her with such genuine concern that she felt like an absolute villain.
"Catherine," he said softly, using her given name as he did only in private moments, "are you truly well? You've seemed distracted lately."
"I'm perfectly well," she lied.
"Is it the Duke?" he asked suddenly, surprising her. "I've noticed he seems to unsettle you."
Oh, if only he knew how much.
"The Duke is nothing to me," she said, the words tasting like ash.
"Good," Pemberton said, relief evident. "Because I must tell you, there are rumours about him. They say he was involved with a married woman before he left for the military. Some say he killed a man over her."
"Gossip," Catherine said dismissively, though her heart was racing.
"Perhaps. But a man who would pursue a married woman... well, it speaks to his character, doesn't it?"
Catherine wanted to laugh. Or cry. Possibly both. If only Pemberton knew that the Duke's character had been revealed to her in the most intimate way possible, and that... far from being shocked, she'd begged for more.
"People change," she said carefully.
"Do they? I'm not so certain. A rake remains a rake, whatever title he inherits."
Chapter 7
From across the terrace, she could hear Miss Worthing's tinkling laugh at something James had said. Catherine glanced over to see the girl had maneuvered herself quite close to him, her hand resting on his arm as she spoke animatedly about something that apparently required a great deal of gesturing with her fan.
James, for his part, looked like a man calculating how much rudeness he could get away with before it became social suicide. His gaze found Catherine's across the distance, and for a moment, Miss Worthing might as well have not existed.
"Lady Catherine," Pemberton said suddenly, drawing her attention back. "I wonder if I might speak plainly?"
Oh no. Catherine recognized that tone. It was the "I'm about to say something significant" tone that usually preceded either a declaration or a proposal.
"Lord Pemberton..."
"Please, let me speak." He took her hand, and Catherine was too surprised to pull away. "These past weeks, getting to know you, have been the happiest of my life. You're everything a man could want—beautiful, intelligent, witty. You have the bearing of an earl's daughter but none of the haughtiness that often comes with rank."
"Lord Pemberton, please..."
"I know it's perhaps too soon for a formal declaration," he continued, apparently determined to get through his speech, "but I want you to know my intentions. I plan to court you properly, with an aim toward marriage. My mother adores you already, and I... well, I find myself quite utterly charmed."
Catherine felt as if the terrace had suddenly tilted. She was aware of James watching them, of the way his body had gone completely still even as Miss Worthing continued chattering.
"That's very flattering," she managed.
"It's not meant to be flattery. It's meant to be truth." Pemberton squeezed her hand gently. "I don't need an answer now. I just wanted you to know where my heart lies, so you might consider whether yours might, in time, be persuaded to lie similarly."
It was a lovely speech. Romantic, sincere, everything a young lady should want to hear from a handsome, wealthy, titled gentleman who would make a perfectly wonderful husband.
But Catherine wanted to throw herself off the terrace.
"I... I need to think," she said weakly.
"Of course. Take all the time you need." He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her gloved knuckles. "I'm a patient man, Catherine. I can wait."
