“Therefore,” Lady Ann continued, picking up where Catherine had left off, “we would not expect him to simply behave as he always used to do, in going to speak to anyone he wanted and showing no sense of hindrance. He knows full well that there might be someone present who wishes to steal his life from him.”
Lady Haddington and Lady Bentham drew near to them, a smile on each face that did not reach their eyes.
“No expressions of concern,” Lady Bentham warned as Catherine tried to smile back. “We need not let anyone know that we have any anxiety over Lord Rutherford’s whereabouts.”
Lady Haddington looked toward Catherine, her expression one of calm contentment which, in itself, seemed to quieten Catherine’s angst.
“When did you last see him, Lady Catherine?”
“Before I stepped out with Lord Nottingham,” she answered quietly, giving in to the urge to look over her shoulder to where Lord Nottingham was now dancing with Lady Serena. Lady Serena’s eyes caught hers for a moment, but Catherine quickly averted her gaze.
Lady Paxton’s eyes flared. “Then that means Lord Nottingham can have nothing to do with his evident disappearance,” she said, and Catherine nodded fervently. “What should we do?”
Catherine pressed her lips together, looking all around at the numerous guests and feeling her stomach tighten. Was she going to discover him again, blood pouring from his side, his life ebbing from him?
“We should spread out,” Lady Ann said decisively, surprising Catherine with her resoluteness. “Let us meet near the door in a few minutes, in the hope that one of us will have Lord Rutherford with us.”
No one said a word, but they all moved away at once, two at a time as they walked together. Lady Ann fell into step with Catherine, her arm linked through her sister’s as they walked together. She said nothing, leaving Catherine’s thoughts to tumble wildly one after the other. Her breathing quickened, her heart in her throat as she looked from left to right, trying to spot him in the crowd.
“Do not worry, Catherine.” Lady Ann’s voice was calm, but Catherine could feel nothing but panic. “He will be present here.”
“He may very well not be,” Catherine replied hoarsely. “What if he—”
A sudden scream had her frozen to the spot. Her hand flew to her mouth as all around them, the crowd fell silent, each head turning toward where the sound had come from. Something within Catherine told her that the sound had something to do with Lord Rutherford.
Tentatively, she took a few steps forward, her legs wobbling. Lady Ann, beside her, was also clearly alarmed, her hand now pressed onto Catherine’s arm as they walked slowly forward.
“It… it is not him.”
Catherine stared at the scene before them, seeing a young lady she did not know and Lord Swiftson, with whom she was acquainted, helping the young lady to her feet. Behind the lady lay another gentleman, sprawled out across the floor, a broken glass shattered by his hand. She might have thought that it was Lord Rutherford, save for the fact that this gentleman was dark-haired, whereas she knew Lord Rutherford to be fair-haired. Her chest loosened and she leaned forward a little, trying to catch her breath.
“It is not Lord Rutherford,” she wheezed, turning to Ann, who was, to her surprise, frowning darkly. “Ann, there need not be any concern now. It is not Lord Rutherford.”
Lady Ann’s lips twisted. “You do not think…” Her brows lowered all the more, her eyes still on the man on the floor. “You do not think that this has happened in order to distract the ton from what else could be going on?”
It took Catherine a moment to understand what her sister meant. When she did, the realization ran like a cold wind over her skin, making her breath hitch and her eyes flare with horror. “A distraction,” she whispered as Lady Ann nodded. “Oh, what are we to do?” Frantically, she turned around, beginning to push through the crowd, only for Lady Ann to grasp her hand tightly.
“No.”
Catherine whirled around, looking at Ann in disbelief. “No?” She flung out one hand toward the lady and the prone gentleman still on the floor. “What do you mean?”
Lady Ann leaned close, her voice low. “If this is a distraction, then we have no other choice but to remain here and wait until the gentleman has awoken so that we might speak to him.”
Everything in Catherine rebelled, even though her mind knew that what Lady Ann said was very wise and precisely what they ought to do. “But Lord Rutherford—”
“Will be found by someone else within The Shadows,” Lady Ann said patiently, looking at the gentleman on the floor. “Come now, Catherine, you must be wise. Think carefully instead of going with what your heart tells you to do.”
Catherine blinked rapidly, trying to slow her breathing and forcing herself to think about what her sister had said. She had to be careful and considerate. She could not simply react.
“Come now,” Lady Ann continued, seeing the gentleman on the floor beginning to stir. “We must speak to him the moment he is on his feet. No doubt, someone has said something to him, encouraging him to make such a scene.”
“And we must discover who has done so,” Catherine finished, feeling a little more resolute, a little more in control of herself. “You are right, Ann. I am sorry I lost my senses for a moment.”
Ann let a knowing smile cross her face, her hand loosening on Catherine’s arm. “I have heard it happens when one’s emotions are involved with a gentleman,” she said, lifting one eyebrow. “I shall not hold it against you.”
Catherine opened her mouth to protest, to say that she had nothing but dislike for Lord Rutherford, only to close it again as her sister pulled her toward the gentleman now picking himself up off the floor. There was no time to make any sort of argument or to throw back her sister’s assertions. She would have time to do so later, because certainly, such statements were ridiculous. At least, she considered as Lady Ann stepped in front of the gentleman, she thought they were nothing less than preposterous. Were they not?
9
It had been foolish of him to step away from the other Shadows. And yet, for a reason he could not explain, Stephen had felt a sense of irritation when Lady Catherine had gone out onto the dance floor with Lord Nottingham. He had stood for a few seconds watching her, before turning around, struggling to contain what he felt, finding it almost impossible to understand what it was that was within his heart.
It just so happened that, within his line of sight, there appeared the beautiful Miss Hyde. Her eyes lingered on his, her coy smile tugging him toward her, as though he were completely unable to resist her. The ache in his heart had to be ignored in some way, he told himself; besides which, he would not be long. Just a few moments of conversation, Stephen told himself, moving quickly toward her and seeing how her eyes lit up as he approached. His chest puffed with pride at her response to him, feeling that same old flood of self-assurance run right through him.
“Miss Hyde.” He bowed low, looking up to see her fluttering her eyelashes at him.
Do you dislike that I will not bat my eyelashes at you?
The sound of Lady Catherine’s voice echoed in his mind, pulling away the pleasure that had come with unexpectedly being in Miss Hyde’s company. Miss Hyde had always been overly delighted with his presence, practically melting into him—as much as she dared—whereas Lady Catherine had always stood like a block of ice before him, her eyes sharp and hard. She mocked the ladies who treated him as though he were some sort of wonderous gentleman whose consideration of them was almost too great a blessing to bear. Lady Catherine was the only one who saw him just as he was and who called out his selfishness and arrogance for what they were.