One, two, three . . .
The noise and the heat from the crowd in the Beauforts’ ballroom seemed to press in on her. She tried to gulp air and could not.
Four, five, six . . .
Her heart began to pound, and her throat closed up. She had to escape. Ever since she’d been a small child, she’d had a fear of loud noises and tight places. The night her cousins had rescued her from the closet under the stairs had not been her last confinement there. And her father, whether sober, drunk, or depressed at having lost at dice, always found her pitiful cries amusing.
But she could not cry here and now. She had to get out. She had to have space and air to breathe. Edmund Fullbright would not be pleased if she escaped back onto the veranda at the first opportunity. Her only hope was that he would be not be sober enough to know anything a half an hour from now. She’d smelled the alcohol on him, and it penetrated his every pore. Soon, he would be too drunk even to remember her name. Catherine was counting on that fact as she squeezed through the room and into the foyer.
By the time she made it through the crush, she was perspiring and pulling in short, panicked breaths. She felt dizzy, and her chest was constricting, and just when she feared she would pass out, she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder.
“Catie, are you well? Oh, no. You’re not. Quick. Sit down.”
She was led to a chair against the wall and encouraged to take deep breaths. A footman was sent running for a glass of wine, and then that was thrust under her nose as well. She drank a small sip, then looked up to see Josephine standing over her.
Josie bore the closest resemblance to the picture of a pixie that Catherine had ever seen. With her cropped auburn hair, pulled back by combs into a wispy crown about her head, her small pointed nose, and her perpetually mischievous smile, Josie looked like trouble.
And she was.
Her only saving grace was her huge, dark green eyes. They were fringed with long, dark lashes, and tilted upward. When Josie wielded her eyes, no one could stay angry at her long.
“All right now?” Josie asked, those green eyes full of concern.
Catherine, her voice still not recovered, nodded.
Josie shook her head. “Why do you do this to yourself, Catie? You hate these things. Why not just stay home?”
Catherine swallowed another portion of wine.
“Now, take a deep breath. There is nothing to fear here. You just need a bit—”
“Of confidence. Yes, that’s what you always say.” Her voice was raspy but strong. Catherine took another sip. “I’m in trouble, Josie. I can’t go back through there, so you shall have to go outside and untie Elizabeth. I left her in the bushes beneath the veranda.”
Josie’s eyes widened. “What?”
“I wanted to keep her away from her fiancé, but as it was, I was almost caught. By him.”
Josie blinked at her, and then erupted into a fit of laughter. “Oh, this is too much. Are you telling me that right now your evil sister is tied up and sitting in the bushes beneath the veranda?”
Catherine nodded.
“And that when you were tying her up, her own fiancé almost caught you?”
“I was climbing back onto the balcony, and Elizabeth was still thrashing around. It’s not a long drop, and he heard her. I think I managed to convince him it was a dog, but what if he goes back out?”
“Who cares? I say we leave her there until morning. Maybe the gardener will find her.”
“Josie, we can’t!”
“The little wretch stole my grandmother’s earrings and won’t give them back. I hope she gets frostbite.”
“Oh, no! It’s not that cold outside, is it?”
Josie smiled and plopped down next to Catherine in the chair. “No. I was joking. Maddie told me about Lord Valentine and Lizzy. How did your thief of a sister manage to win him?”
“Her charm, I’m sure.”
“What charm?” Josie took the glass from Catherine and swallowed its contents. “It’s a tragedy. Lord Valentine is so handsome. I would have thought Lizzy’s betrothed would have two heads and three arms.”
