Edmund Fullbright fingered the white vellum with the gold border between fingers grubby with sweat and tobacco. He’d taken the invitation from his younger daughter’s hands, though the chit had been loath to allow him to see it.
He’d slapped her and told her not to show her worthless face to him for the rest of the night. He could still see the surprise in her bright blue eyes. She wasn’t used to being slapped, but since Catherine had left, the little bitch had developed an attitude he didn’t care for.
Perhaps she’d always had it, but it galled him now more than ever. She was going to end up worthless. Her sister had been married over a month and was hosting a grand ball with her husband, who would soon be a hoity-toity government official.
What had Elizabeth done except preen and simper and waste his money? Had she secured the hand of a duke or one of those foreign princes? No.
In fact, last week he’d taken her to a ball and found her in an empty room, locked in an embrace with a lowly baronet. The man had had his hands all over his daughter. Little whore.
Edmund sipped his gin and leaned back in his desk chair. And now this. Now she’d been invited to her sister’s fancy ball, and she hadn’t wanted him to know. Of course, he hadn’t been invited. No, Lady Goddamn Valentine hadn’t seen fit to invite him or her own mother. That was gratitude for you.
After all he’d done for her. She wouldn’t even be Lady Goddamn Valentine if not for him. But did she appreciate all he’d done for her? And it was exactly like her to turn into an ungrateful little wretch just when his money problems had come to a boil. He needed money, and Catherine owed him.
Fullbright picked up the pretty little invitation once again. Perhaps it was time his daughter was reminded to whom she was indebted.
Chapter Twenty-two
Quint decided that he hadn’t given his wife quite enough credit. She had not wanted to have this ball. She had protested every step of the way, and there were recent days when he was inclined to see the whole thing her way. He liked organization and consistency, and she’d turned his entire life, not to mention his study, upside down.
The house had been a mess. Their lives had been a mess, and yet he had enjoyed seeing her work. He loved watching her rise to this challenge, watching her put aside uncertainty and hesitation and become the confident, self-assured woman he knew she could be.
He took his gloves from his valet and pulled them on. The ball would be superb. He had supervised the final preparations only this afternoon, and the assembly rooms where the event was to be held looked absolutely stunning. Standing there, watching as the last touches were put in place, Quint knew that no duke’s daughter could have done better.
He could not wait to see Fairfax’s face when he finally had to acknowledge that Quint was a formidable foe in the Cabinet race. Even more, Quint hoped to be on the receiving end of Fairfax’s congratulatory handshake when the prime minister offered Quint, and not his rival, the position.
Quint knew he deserved the situation. He had sweated and worked harder for this than ever before. If all went well tonight—and he knew it would—then there was no reason the Cabinet post would not be his.
Quint took one last look in his cheval mirror, trying to imagine himself as a Cabinet minister. He could imagine it very easily. And once that happened, he would make up all the lost hours and all the sacrifices to Catherine. He would win back her affections and do everything in his power to make her happy. In the last few days, he had wanted many times to tell her how much he cared for her, but there just never seemed a right time. He knew she thought he still harbored feelings for her sister, but Quint never thought of the girl. He only had eyes for Catherine. He wished his wife realized how often he thought of her.
After tonight, there would be no doubt. He thought he already knew how she felt. Her words that day he had come home to find all the china stacked in his study had reassured him. She’d said she missed him, that she cared about being with him. Those words had gripped his heart and held it.
She loved him. He was sure of it.
He wanted all those things, too. And he wanted to make her happy. He would make her happy as soon as he secured the Cabinet post. Once he was a minister, he would make all of this up to her.
He smiled at his reflection and turned to his valet. “Very good, Dorsey. That will be all.”
Dorsey inclined his head, and Quint crossed through the dressing room to knock on his wife’s door. She opened it herself and he, expecting her lady’s maid, stepped back in surprise.
Or maybe the surprise was from seeing the goddess before him. He had never thought of her as a striking woman. That was not the word that came to mind when his thoughts turned to her.
Kind, proud, courageous, determined: Those were the words that described his Catherine. Now he had to add breathtaking. Simply put, her beauty was not even a matter of debate, but a given fact. As he gazed at her now, all thought, all reason was sucked out of him.
She wore a gown with a low, square neck in black velvet trimmed with silver cord. The velvet was heavy and gleamed, but not as richly as her hair. That was the next treasure he discovered. Her hair was pulled back from her face in an elaborate coil that twisted and turned and wound about itself until he was lost trying to follow the style. But he noted how heavy it was and that his fingers itched to feel that weight and to stroke the expanse of her neck just beneath.
He let out a breath, and murmured, “You look lovely, Catie. Truly. You take my breath away.”
Modest as always, she ducked her head. Then he noticed that part of the shimmer in her ebony crown was from black pearls dotted throughout the shining mass. They were also wrapped about her neck in both short and long, lustrous strands. He reached out and touched one strand at her throat.
“They are only borrowed,” she said. “My aunt Ellen lent them to me.”
“They suit you,” Quint said, moving his finger to trace the olive skin over her collarbone. “I will have to buy you a set myself.” He touched the small pearl drop earrings and then brushed the skin of her cheek. Rather than tensing, as he was used to her doing, she leaned into him and closed her eyes.
Quint’s blood fired hot. He had a quick and ardent vision of her naked with only the pearls clustered in her ample cleavage. And now that he was thinking of it, he noted that the low neckline gave him more than enough opportunity to observe that perfect cleavage. Quint frowned.
“Are you wearing a shawl with that?”
“No, why?” She looked down at her gown. “I thought you said I looked lovely.”
