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Lady Ashford’s ball was indeed a crush, and Felton gazed at the glittering, ignorant peers impassively while wondering if they knew—or cared—about the many people who had sacrificed their lives so they could throw soirées like this one.
“Oh, isn’t it glorious, brother?” Catherine swooned as they descended the steps to the massive ballroom.
Felton cast a cocked eyebrow to her; for a woman who had been utterly disconsolate the day before, she was beaming brighter than the light reflecting off the chandelier’s cut crystals. Resplendent in a gown of shimmering dove-grey silk ornamented with silver trefoils and matching hair ornaments and fan; Catherine had transformed into an elegant, mysterious fae creature.
Dressed in his intimidating military apparel, Felton was sure that he looked as inviting as a thunderstorm with his dark suit, hair, and stern expression.
“Remember,” Felton said as he guided her to the seats. “Find a friend of yours, or two, and make it known thatyouwere the one who broke the engagement.
“I know,” Catherine said while waving to a few women. “And don’t forget to enjoy yourself as well. You cannot be such a stuffed-shirt all the while.”
“My happiness and future are not the ones on the line,” Felton replied pointedly. “Yours is.”
Catherine twisted her fan open, “I’ll be fine; go ahead, mingle.”
“I’ll have a glass of punch,” Felton said, “And then, I will be back for your first dance. Try to get that engagement into the conversation as quickly as possible. We do not know when his Duke will appear, and when he does, half the room should already know that you are not the party to blame.”
His sister’s lips flattened, “Will you just allow me to do what I do best?”
Felton’s eyes narrowed a little, but he nodded and walked away. Catherine might be a bit flighty, but he had to trust her with her handling her reputation. A scandal as enormous as being rejected by a Duke would surely dissuade any other suitor and warp her in a bow with spinster stitched all over it.
He found the refreshment table and quickly downed a glass of water. He was not going to let spirits muddle his concentration and discernment. Striding back to the dance-floor, he stopped when someone called his name.
Pivoting on his heel, Felton felt a smile tug at his mouth—it was Lord Camden, Rawden Hind, a friend of his from Oxford, his slim figure dressed in embroidered velvet. But at the same, his attention latched onto a man entering the room and who was immediately surrounded by a circle of women— mothers and widows Felton assumed—who no doubt wished to gain his attention for their daughters.
Darkly-haired, handsome, and reeked of wealth—Felton did not have to assume; he knew who the man was—the bloody Duke of Ayles had arrived.
“Gale,” Rawden stuck out his hand, “Welcome home, Captain.”
“Thank you, Hind,” Felton nodded tersely. “If you do not mind, I’ll have to speak with you later on this evening. I have to attend to my sister for a moment.”
Dark brows darted into Rawden’s straw-coloured hair, “The lovely Lady Catherine is here? I missed your announcement.”
Over Rawden’s shoulder, Felton spotted a young woman, tall and red-headed, lingering in the Duke’s shadow. She did not look to be one of his admirers but instead seemed impassive as if nothing or anyone in the room was interesting to her.
Hadn’t Mother said that the Duke has a sister? Could it be her?
A swift judgment call had him uttering, “Why, yes. Would you like to meet her again?”
“I certainly would,”Rawden tugged at his sleeves.
“By the by,” Felton asked, “That Lady with the Duke. Do you know who she is?”
“That’s Lady Esther Harewood, his sister,” Rawden titled his chin at her. “Unload your cannons, Gale; His Grace only wants thecrème-de-la-crèmefor her. She is nigh untouchable.”
Perfect. So this is how the score will be even.
Nodding, Felton led him to where Catherine was sitting. As he approached, he saw that her back was extraordinarily stiff and heard her laugh that was a touch too brittle. Indeed, she had seen the Duke’s entrance as well.
“Catherine,” he greeted lightly, “Pardon the interruption, but may I reintroduce Lord Camden, Rawden Hinds; Hinds, my sister, Lady Catherine Gale.”
Delicately extending her hand, Catherine said, “Pleased to see you again, My Lord.”
“As am I,” Rawden replied, bowing over her hand.
“And he had asked for your first dance,” Felton added.
“I—” Rawden nearly asked, but with Felton’s encouraging gaze, adjusted his words, “I have, but he stressed that you have a deciding say.”
The call for the first dance and Catherine nodded quickly, “I would love to be your partner, My Lord.”
When the two went off to the dance-floor, Felton went to the sidelines and spotted the Duke’s sister as she went off to the dance-floor with a Lord. She still looked bored with the proceedings, and Felton’s jaw clenched; she was probably as lofty and arrogant as her brother and thought other people were disposable.
The more he stood and watched, was the more he grew irritated. Her impassiveness irked him, and her smile was a counterfeit as the golf damask on the walls. Her brother was in a corner, speaking to a lady who looked ready to melt into a puddle at his feet—one who, Felton was sure—the Duke would lead on and reject as he had done Catherine.
This family had to be taught a lesson…and he was going to be the one to do it.
