Like his, her hair was dark, a black her sister compared to mud. But Valentine’s hair was the brown of topaz, the golden brown of rich, aged whiskey, the brown of virgin earth when it’s freshly plowed and gleaming in the early-morning dew.
Catherine blinked. Lord, she couldn’t keep staring at him this way, thinking of him in these terms. If she weren’t careful, she’d start believing herself in love with him. Even though she didn’t intend Lizzy to marry him until after she and Josie had escaped, she knew the wedding would happen eventually. What would not happen— what was not possible or even within the realm of possibility—was that she herself would ever have him. A man like Valentine would never look at a woman like her.
And then he was before her, executing a formal bow. Catherine forced her legs to bend into a curtsey. She opened her mouth and said something, which she hoped was a polite greeting, but Valentine gave no indication he had heard. He stopped in front of her and stared. He stood so long, his gaze so hot and intense, Catherine began to tremble from nerves. Her cousins’ plan was not going to work. He obviously thought she looked hideous. Finally, he barked, “What are you wearing?”
Catherine glanced down at Maddie’s gown, then back into Valentine’s lovely eyes. “A-a gown?”
“Put a shawl over it. It’s practically indecent.” And then he moved on. Catherine watched as he bowed to Elizabeth. While Lizzy’s gown was just as low-cut as her own, Catherine noted that Valentine had no criticism for her. He smiled at Lizzy, his own face turning beautiful when he did. He drew Elizabeth close, into his warmth, and watching them, Catherine felt a painful stab through her heart.
She had never felt a stab of this magnitude before. She knew what it was. She’d experienced it as a child when Elizabeth had been given the cake Catherine had wanted or the doll or had received a kiss from her mother when Catherine had none.
Jealousy.
Catherine wanted to rip out her own heart. Anything but this feeling of covetousness for something that belonged to her sister, especially something as worthless as a man.
Valentine and Elizabeth moved away, but not before Elizabeth turned her head and smirked at Catherine. She always knew when she had something others wanted. The rest of her family moved away as well, and the receiving line dissolved until only Catherine remained.
She knew Valentine and Elizabeth would begin the dancing soon, and she also knew she would have to lure Valentine into dancing with her, but it was going to take every ounce of courage.
“Are you well?” Josie asked, coming to stand beside her. “Are all the people making you ill?”
Catherine shook her head. “No, but I-I don’t want to go through with this.”
“You can do it, Catie,” Josie said immediately. “I know you’re scared, but—”
“That’s not it. Well, that’s part of it. I am scared, but I’m also”—she grasped Josie by the elbow and dragged her into a corner—“I’m jealous!” she whispered.
“Jealous of what?” Josie asked. “Of Elizabeth’s dress? Madeleine’s gowns are the highest quality. I swear you are as pretty as Elizabeth. In fact, she pales beside you.”
“No, Josie, I’m not jealous of Elizabeth’s looks. I’m-I’m jealous of . . .” She lowered her voice even further. “I think . . . I mean, I might feel something for . . . oh, it’s Valentine. I want him.”
Josephine threw back her head and laughed. For a moment Catherine thought she truly resembled the popular image of pirates from books and papers. Of course, Josie laughed. The idea of Catherine and a man like Valentine . . .
“Who doesn’t want him, Catie?” Josie said. “He’s terribly handsome.” So Josie wanted him too?
“But, Josie! We’re never going to marry.”
“What? Because I’m never going to marry means I can’t even look at a man? I never will marry, but when I’m rich as a pirate, I plan to have lots of lovers.”
“Oh, Lord.”
“Catie, stop standing here. You and I are going to escape as soon as I find that treasure map. But I need more time. My assignment is to find the map. Yours is to remain unmarried until I do. Now get to it.”
Catherine felt like saluting, but Josie gave her a little push.
Catherine entered the ballroom to the sight of
Elizabeth and Valentine dancing. She felt another pang of jealousy and a sharper stab of uncertainty. They looked so good together—Valentine’s dark hair and eyes beside Elizabeth’s pale blond beauty. Who was she to part them?
One, two, three . . .
Then she caught Elizabeth’s eye. Her younger sister sneered at her, and then Catherine knew it was up to her to save Valentine and herself. Valentine was not the true target.
Catherine waited until Elizabeth was dancing with another man before approaching Lord Valentine. She did so overtly, making sure that Elizabeth saw her. As she moved toward him, crossing the ballroom, she received encouraging waves from her three cousins. He was standing by himself for the first time that evening, and Catherine knew this might be her only opportunity. But when she approached him, he barely glanced at her before looking away again. Still, there was something in his look that made her remember she hadn’t yet donned a shawl. She felt almost naked.
“My lord,” she said, standing beside him, refusing to allow him to make her more nervous than she already was.
“Miss Fullbright.” His voice was cold, and he obviously had no interest in speaking to her.
