“Out of breath, dear sister?”
Catherine opened her eyes and stared into cornflower blue ones. Lizzy.
No, not Lizzy. Not now. Catherine just needed a moment to collect herself, and then she’d be able to take anything Lizzy threw at her.
Catie straightened and shook her head, praying for courage. “Elizabeth, how good to see you.”
“Liar. You’re no more pleased to see me than I am you.” Elizabeth crossed her arms and cocked her blond head so that her curls bounced. “You stole my husband.”
Catherine shook her head. “No, that’s not true. Father—”
“You stole him, and you’ll pay for making a fool of me.”
“Lizzy, you know I would never do that. Besides, you’ve always said nothing less than a prince would do for you.”
Elizabeth reached out and snatched Catherine’s arm, digging her nails in deep. “He was mine, and I will have him back.”
Fear stabbed Catherine’s lungs. She knew Lizzy would do what she said. Lizzy always got what she wanted. Had she ever thought she could hold Quint when her sister wanted him? But she wouldn’t give him up without a fight.
“Let go.” The words were low, but Catherine knew she was losing the battle to keep this exchange between the two of them. Soon Lizzy would say or do something to draw the crowd’s attention, and the ball would be ruined. Catherine’s mind raced. She couldn’t allow Lizzy to ruin this for Quint. She had to find a way to remove her sister before it was too late.
“Do you know what everyone is saying about you? They think you’re a whore. They know Quint should have been mine.”
Catherine shook her arm, and said firmly, “Let me go, Elizabeth. This is not the time or place.”
“You would say that.” She dug her nails deeper, and Catie hissed with pain. “You shall go home with Valentine tonight. I have nothing to return to but that hovel. Since you married, I haven’t had a single offer. I’m going to be an old maid.”
“Do not be ridiculous,” Catherine said, finally managing to free her arm. Spots of blood welled up where Elizabeth’s nails had taken hold. “You’re only seventeen. You will have many suitors.”
“I want Valentine.” She swung her arm, sending a stack of china cups onto the floor. Catherine jumped back to avoid the shrapnel, but Elizabeth caught a strand of her hair and held on.
Catherine could hear gasps and whispers as people began to realize what was happening. She closed her eyes, knowing that whatever happened now it was too late. It would look to everyone as though Elizabeth were the wronged one. Quint would hate her. “Elizabeth, let go.”
Elizabeth had her hair tight, and the tears were beginning to sting Catherine’s eyes.
“You ugly whore. I hate you.”
Catherine’s blood boiled. “Not as much”—she wrenched her hair free of Lizzy’s grasp—“as I hate you!” And then she pushed with all her strength.
Lizzy stumbled over a chair, knocking it over, and then was thrown off-balance. She threw an arm out in an attempt to stop from falling into one of the tables, but Catherine hooked a foot under her, and Lizzy went down, landing with a thud on the floor.
“Now, you’ll pay,” Elizabeth hissed, rising to her knees. Catherine knew she had to stop her sister before an even bigger fiasco ensued. She glanced around for something useful but saw nothing other than the punch bowl.
The punch bowl.
Elizabeth was rising to her feet, spewing threats and curses, and Catherine grabbed the bowl and lifted it.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “No!”
But it was too late. Catherine dumped the cold punch over her sister’s head so that the red liquid cascaded over Elizabeth’s head and shoulders, dripping onto the floor. Several guests dashed to get out of the way. Elizabeth looked up, her hair matted to her face. She looked small, like a wet cat.
“I think that’s all the time I have to speak with you tonight, Lizzy,” Catherine said. She signaled to two footmen standing speechless in the corner of the room. “Please escort my sister out. She is no longer welcome here.”
“You bitch!” Elizabeth screamed as the footmen came up on both sides and took her arms. “Valentine was mine!”
Catherine saw the reporter from the Times standing in the doorway. He had his notebook out and was jotting something in it. Oh, Lord. Why did he have to see?
And then she looked past him and saw the prime minister and Quint. Both men looked shocked and slack jawed. Catherine closed her eyes. As she’d feared, she’d ruined everything.
