Before Edward could do so much as utter a word, a vision in silk swept into the room. Lady Isabella Fairfax, Catherine saw at once, was everything that she herself was not: tall and voluptuous, with cascading golden curls and ice-blue eyes. In her presence, Catherine was more aware than ever of her dark hair and petite frame. In fact, she felt even paler than usual.
“Edward, darling,” Isabella practically purred, her gaze fixed solely on the earl, “It has been far too long. Oh, how I have missed you.”
Edward remained frozen for a few seconds, but he seemed to shake himself from his shock at last. “Isabella,” he let out, his voice sounding quite odd. “This... this is quite unexpected.”
Isabella’s laugh tinkled through the library like crystal. “Oh, the best surprises often are, darling,” she said. Then, at last, her gaze landed on Catherine — dismissive and cold. “And who might this be?”
“This... this is Miss Winslow,” Edward said, his voice gruff. “She is Emily’s governess.”
Catherine’s face flushed when Isabella's gaze traveled down her form—from her modest brown dress to her hair, neatly tied in its casual bun.
“Charmed, I am sure,” Isabella said, though her tone suggested she was anything but. “Now, Edward. I have heard the most intriguing rumor... though, I am not quite certain we should discuss personal matters in front of the help.”
Once more, her ice-blue gaze landed on Catherine, who felt her cheeks heating up at once. “I... excuse me, please,” she muttered before rushing out of the library. Once outside, however, she quickly pressed herself against the door, eager to hear the rest of their conversation.
“Now, I must ask… what is this I hear about you attending the Midsummer Ball?” Isabella’s syrupy voice continued. “I must admit, I was rather hurt not to receive an invitation myself... After all, if you are re-entering society, I would expect you to tell me. We were so… close… all those years ago.”
Catherine closed her eyes at this, her heart twinging painfully in her chest. She jumped when Mr. Harper’s voice spoke behind her before she could hear Edward’s answer.
“Are you eavesdropping, Miss Winslow?” Samuel Harper asked, his lip curled in a distasteful manner. “How unbecoming of a... lady.”
Catherine’s face flushed, but she lifted her chin. “I was merely... concerned,” she said, realizing almost at once how weak she sounded, and a deep blush colored her cheeks.
Mr. Harper's eyes narrowed. “I would advise you, Miss Winslow, to get any romantic notions out of your head,” he said firmly. “You will never be able to truly garner the interest of a man like Lord Wessex.”
Catherine could feel her entire body heating up at his words and her eyes widened. “I... I do not know what you mean,” she protested weakly.
“Oh, come now,” Mr. Harper sneered. "I am no fool. I have seen the way you look at him. But make no mistake—you are nothing more than a passing fancy. His lordship was merely entranced for one night because you were wearing his mother's gown and playing at being a lady. Once the novelty wears off, you'll be back to being just another servant.”
Catherine felt as though she had been slapped. “That… it is not true,” she whispered, though she could not deny the slight sliver of doubt that filled her mind.
Mr. Harper pressed on mercilessly. “Mark my words, Miss Winslow. Once Lord Wessex tires of you, you'll be out of a job and all your prospects ruined. Is that what you want? To throw away everything you've worked for over some foolish infatuation?”
Tears pricked at Catherine's eyes, but she blinked them back furiously. How dare he speak to her this way? And yet...wasn’t there a grain of truth to his cruel words? What future could she possibly have with Edward?
But then she thought of Emily's bright smile, of Edward’s rare moments of vulnerability. They had suffered so much, and yet they still found the strength to open their hearts. Suddenly, Catherine felt a surge of protectiveness toward them both.
“You are wrong, Mr. Harper,” she said, her voice stronger now. “Lord Wessex and Lady Emily are not just titles or positions to be managed. They are human beings who have witnessed a horrific tragedy. They deserve compassion and understanding, not cold judgment.”
Mr. Harper’s eyes widened slightly in surprise at her vehement defense.
Catherine continued, her voice rising with passion. “Perhaps you should reacquaint yourself with your own humanity and compassion, Mr. Harper. It might serve you well to remember that we are all equal in the eyes of God, regardless of our stations in life.”
With that, she turned on her heel and strode away, leaving a stunned Mr. Harper in her wake. But as soon as she was out of sight, Catherine's composure crumbled. She hurried to her room, closing the door behind her, and leaning against it as she struggled to catch her breath.
***
Inside the library Edward could hardly believe that it was Isabella who stood in front of him. She looked like she did all those years ago—if anything had changed, she was even more beautiful, more refined. In an instant, he felt as though he was transported back to the days where he still believed in the goodness and beauty of life.
“Oh, Edward,” she spoke, her voice soft and gentle. “I never thought I would see the day when you would be back.”
“I hardly think attending one ball is enough to consider me back in society,” he retorted, and Isabella laughed softly, a vulnerable sound escaping her lips. When she looked up at him, her eyes were wide and glistening with tears.
“When… everything happened as it did,” she said slowly, “I thought that I had lost you for good. Not merely in a sense of courtship, but… as a man, as a friend. We… we were friends even before we courted, were we not?”
Despite himself, Edward felt a rush of familiar affection well up in him.
“We were friends long before we courted, yes,” he agreed, and Isabella laughed delicately.
