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“Hmph.” Aunt Ophelia looked her up and down, then turned her gaze on Aidan, her nose wrinkling. “Well, I see you’ve finally located your bullocks, young man.”
Kate blinked in shock, while Aidan seemed frozen, his lips parted.
Aunt Ophelia turned her eyes back to Kate. “Good news for you, I suppose. Would’ve been a disappointment otherwise.”
“Um . . .”
Lady York merely smiled and patted the woman’s hand. “Oh, Aunt Ophelia. You do go on so. Come, let’s get you a glass of lemonade.”
“I can get my own lemonade,” the woman muttered, shuffling off the same way she’d come. Apparently she’d completed her mission.
“Aidan,” Kate whispered.
“Don’t bother asking me,” he answered back. “I suspect she may be a spy.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I have no idea.”
Lady York grabbed both her hands. “Katherine, you must tell me all about the East. What was it like to live in the jungle? How did you—?”
“Mother,” Aidan said loudly, glancing around to be sure no one had heard. “Come. I believe I hear the music starting. Would you honor me with the first dance on your special day?”
“Oh, do you see?” the baroness crowed to Kate. “Do you see how sweet he is now?”
“Yes,” Kate laughed. “I think he’s nearly tame.”
“Exactly.”
Aidan aimed a look at Kate that promised retribution, but he asked, “Will you be all right?” under his breath.
Kate took another deep breath. “I think I shall.”
It was a small party, by Aidan’s account, but it seemed overwhelming for Kate. Lucy had already been led off to dance by an old man in a dashing red cravat, so Kate wandered through the party, trying to take it all in. Laughter swirled through the air, tripping, dancing along the currents, spinning around her. Women trilled and giggled and tittered. Men chuckled and huffed and guffawed. Some of it was bitter, hardened by sarcasm, but most sounded good-natured. Kate let it all wash over her.
“Mrs. Gallow!” a friendly voice called. Kate turned to see a beautiful woman with strawberry blond hair. “Marissa?” she asked in shock. “I mean, I apologize. . . . It’s Mrs. Bertrand now, isn’t it?”
“Oh, nonsense.” Kate was enveloped in another hug, though this one was not quite so melodramatic. “Call me Marissa. I’m determined that we shall be sisters, after all. Has Aidan asked yet?”
“I . . . It’s . . .”
Marissa waved a dismissive hand. “All in good time. Believe me, I was in no rush to marry myself. Men are such moody creatures, are they not? Funny that we are considered the delicate sex when they are so obviously inferior in strength of mind. Oh, hullo, darling.”
Her husband, a great hulk of a man, offered an ironic smile through the introductions, but he graciously excused himself a moment later. “I wanted to meet Mrs. Gallow, but I now fear I’ve already overheard more than I meant to.”
“Oh, I wasn’t speaking of you,” Marissa said.
“We’ll discuss that later, dearest wife,” he said with such a warm warning in his tone that Kate blushed to hear it. “And endeavor to decide who is the weaker sex.”
“I shall win that argument.”
“Or you shall enjoy losing,” he said.
Marissa wore a wicked smile as she watched him leave, but she was serious again when she turned back to Kate. “You look well.”
“As do you,” Kate offered with complete honesty. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman.”
“Thank you, but . . .” She waved a hand. “I really mean that you look well. I’m sure you were . . . I can’t imagine. . . .”
