“You do, but there is perhaps a bit too much of you showing.”
Her face turned pink, then red, then burgundy. “I see-I-Maddie said the neckline was appropriate. She said it is higher than what most of the ladies wear, but if it looks ill—”
Quint realized his error and made a hasty retreat. “No, it looks well. Very well. Too well.” He gave her his best rakish grin, which was rusty from disuse. “I am sure your cousin is right. I had just not expected to see you looking quite so alluring. After tonight I fear I will rarely have you all to myself.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “You may have me anytime you like. I worry that you no longer want me.” She glanced down at the floor, and Quint saw her shuffle her feet, clad in elegant Roman sandals that matched her gown.
He took her chin between two fingers and nudged her face up. “Now who speaks nonsense? I’m standing right here, thinking what a fortunate man I am to have such a beautiful, accomplished wife.” And he meant it. How the hell had he not seen this all along? Why had he ever wasted time doubting her? He should have been cherishing her, loving her all along.
“All eyes will be on you at the ball,” he whispered. “I will be the envy of every man tonight.” Her eyes, which had been shining as they looked into his, dropped again, her long black lashes screening her honey hazel eyes from view. Once again, Quint knew he had said the wrong thing, but this time he was not sure why. “I know you are still apprehensive about tonight,” he said, venturing a guess, “but I assure you all will go well. It will be an evening no one will forget.”
Catherine met his eyes again. “I’m sure you are right.”
WHEN THEY ENTERED THE ballroom, still an hour or so before most guests would begin arriving, Catherine understood what Quint had meant when he said his breath had been taken away. As she looked at the assembly room in awe, she felt the same. It was the loveliest room she could ever have imagined. Actually, it was lovelier than she had imagined. Everything from the tablecloths and overlays, the flowers, the potted plants, and the white Greek columns draped with white silk were directly out of her own imagination. She had dreamed them all, put them on paper, and then—with the help of her cousins—made her dream a reality.
Lord, she had no idea it would look as good as it did. A footman finished lighting the last of the chandeliers, and as the other servants raised it to the ceiling, even more of her creation glittered into view.
She crossed the marble floor, pausing beneath one of the draped columns. Beside it, she felt so insignificant, as though all her problems were nothing compared with the heavy problems of the world—problems her husband dealt with daily. Perhaps she was selfish to expect him to put aside those weighty concerns for someone as insignificant as she and her little needs.
Then she reached out and touched the column, pushing it so that it tipped slightly. It was light, made from some insubstantial material that the decorator—a man who worked as a set designer for theater productions—had convinced her to use.
The column reminded her that concerns that might seem weighty to some were often nothing more than illusions. Power. Position. Taxes and treaties. How could any of those possibly be as important as love?
She was afraid her husband had forgotten that. He had obviously known the rule at one time. She remembered the way the country villagers had looked at him with admiration and esteem. She remembered him taking care of the lady in her bare hovel. Quint was a man who cared deeply for others. She had thought he cared for her.
Or perhaps she was wrong, and he had never cared for her at all. Perhaps she had imagined the tenderness and the care he had shown when they’d made love. Perhaps that was one of his politician’s tricks.
The guests would be arriving soon, and Catherine crossed the room to make a last check on the dinner preparations. Per her instructions, tables and chairs had been placed in a small room adjacent to the ballroom. At the back of the room were three large tables swathed in white silk with gold overlays. The china was already out, as were several platters of fruit. The rest of the sumptuous fare would not be set out until later, but perhaps she should check to make sure everything was as it should be.
She glanced at her small watch and saw that the first guests would arrive in less than twenty minutes. If she checked on the food now, she would be late in receiving them. It was a tempting escape. If she were overseeing preparations, she would not have to face the crowds and the crush of guests.
She closed her eyes, and once again the suffocating fear piled down on her. She remembered what it had been like to crouch in that closet as a little girl. She remembered the fear and the horror and the loathing she’d felt. Not for her father, but for herself because she was so afraid. She was pitiful.
She jerked her head up and opened her eyes. No more. She was not pitiful. She was breathtaking and capable and hostess of what would surely be the ball of the Season. And Quint had faith in her.
Her father no longer had power over her. He was a weak man; she saw that now. He made himself feel big by hurting her and her mother. But he could not hurt her anymore. She wouldn’t allow it.
Catherine straightened her shoulders and marched back into the ballroom. She needed to do this, finally to put childhood fears and ghosts behind her. With a smile, she quickened her step. Maddie, Josie, and Ashley were coming up the stairs—Catherine could not see them yet, but she could hear their voices.
One by one, they came into view, each more exquisite than the last. First was Josephine. Her auburn hair was twisted and secured with small combs so that it curled about her head like a crown of fire. She wore a dark green satin gown that complemented her green eyes and made them appear huge in her pixie face.
Behind Josephine was Madeleine. She wore white. The gown had a low neck that showed the ample curve of her bosom and made her waist appear tiny. Her hair had been pulled away from her face, but the heavy mass of it flowed in chestnut curls down her back.
And then there was Ashley. She had always been the acknowledged beauty of the group, and tonight she lived up to her title. Like Josephine, she wore green, but her gown was the green of the sea before a storm. It matched her sea-green eyes and set off her pale porcelain skin. Her blond hair was secured in the most elegant of styles, and like Catherine, jewels dripped from her curls. But no simple pearls for Ashley. She was never so understated. Her hair glimmered and sparkled with small diamonds.
Catherine had come to a complete stop as her cousins ascended the stairs, and now she said, “I don’t remember inviting any royalty. You three look like princesses.”
Ashley smiled and dropped a curtsey, and Maddie looked embarrassed.
Josie scowled. “If this is what it feels like to be a princess, I pity their majesties. I’ve been pushed and pulled in every direction today. These stays are so tight I can barely breathe, and a hairpin is digging into my scalp.” She reached for her coiffure, but Maddie swatted her hand away.
“Don’t touch. You’ll ruin it before the ball even begins.”
“Look at you,” Ashley said, making a wide circle around Catherine. “Catherine Anne Fullbright, I had no idea this was underneath all those drab gowns you always wore. The black velvet suits you.”
“And so do Mama’s pearls.” Maddie clasped her hands together. “She’s will weep with joy when she sees you.”
Josie pulled a handkerchief from her bosom. “Don’t you dare start.” She handed it to Maddie, who used it to dab her eyes.
