God, yes. She’d had a great deal of trouble prying her avid gaze away from them. “I hadn’t particularly noticed, but now that you mention it, yes, I suppose he does have dimples.”
“He seems to have formed a bond with Spencer.”
“Yes. They are working together on some sort of surprise for me.”
“Indeed? What sort of surprise?”
“If I knew, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” Catherine said with a smile, mimicking Mr. Stanton’s earlier words to her. “When Mr. Stanton asked Spencer to accompany him to the village, I thought for certain it would turn into an awkward moment. I was stunned when Spencer accepted. I’d ceased asking him to join me several years ago, as I knew he would only refuse to leave the estate grounds.” A sheepish smile pulled at her lips. “If I weren’t so pleased with Spencer’s change of heart, I’d be irked that Mr. Stanton achieved in a mere twenty-four hours something I’ve been unable to accomplish.”
“Obviously the reason behind your son’s unusual decision rests with Mr. Stanton. Your guest’s presence is clearly having a positive effect on Spencer.”
“Yes.”Unfortunately he wasn’t having an effect only on Spencer.
Genevieve’s gaze searched hers, and all traces of amusement vanished. “He cares for you.”
It felt as if the bottom of her stomach landed on her toes. Adopting a light tone, she said, “Of course he does. He’s my son.”
Genevieve regarded her with a sharp-eyed gaze that made Catherine want to squirm. “I was not talking about your son.”
Catherine arranged her features into what she prayed passed for surprise. “Oh. Well, any ‘caring’ Mr. Stanton might feel toward me is merely a politeness toward his best friend’s sister.”
“You are wrong, Catherine. I cannot fathom how you don’t see it. Are you not aware of the way he looks at you? Believe me when I tell you, there is nothing merely polite about it.”
Heat singed Catherine’s cheeks. “I fear you are in need of spectacles, my dear.”
“I most certainly am not. Has he not told you how he feels about you?”
“As a matter of fact, he has. He thinks I am opinionated and annoying.” And beautiful.
Genevieve laughed. “Oh, yes, he is well and truly caught. Darling, he may think you’re opinionated- which you are, and annoying-which everyone is on occasion, but he still desires you.”
“Pshaw,”she scoffed, attempting her best to ignore the sudden thumping of her heart. Heavens, could Genevieve be right? And if so, why did the notion of Mr. Stanton desiring her speed up her heart rate rather than appall her?
“You may ‘pshaw’ all you wish, but, as you know, I am most experienced in these matters, Catherine. The man is deeply attracted to you. And the fact that you refuse to see what is staring you in the face suggests to me that you care for him as well.”
“I most certainly do not! As I’ve already told you, the man is utterly irritating.”
“But very attractive.”
“Stubborn and opinionated.”
“Something you have in common,” Genevieve said, with a teasing grin.
“Argumentative.”
“But kind to your son.”
That stopped Catherine cold. “Yes,” she agreed softly, feeling decidedly off-balance.
“And I do not believe I have ever seen a more lovely mouth on a man.”
A statement that threw her even further off-balance. An image of Mr. Stanton’s lovely mouth flashed in her mind. His lovely mouth that had brushed so softly against her skin… hadn’t it? It had happened too quickly, occurred so softly. The feel of him pressed behind her had stalled her heart. Rendered her breathless. Shot spears of hot yearning through her that weakened her knees.
And it had all happened in the space of two heartbeats.
Good Lord, what would have happened if they’d had three heartbeats? Or half a dozen?
“Catherine? Are you all right? You look flushed.”
No doubt because she felt as if someone had lit fire to her skirts. Blinking away her errant thoughts, she said, “I’m fine. It’s merely warm standing here in the sun.”
“Then let us go inside and enjoy some tea. Baxter has just baked a fresh batch of scones.”
Hot tea was not at all what she was craving, but seeing that it was much safer than what she feared she was craving, she decided tea was a wise choice.
But while she had a reprieve from Mr. Stanton right now, she faced another cozy evening at home tonight. Sharing a meal and stories and games. Avoid and ignore. Yes, she needed to recall her watchwords. She simply had to avoid and ignore these insane yearnings Mr. Stanton’s presence caused.
But how?
“Tell me,” Genevieve said, as they entered the cottage, “do you and Mr. Stanton plan to attend the Duke of Kelby’s soiree this evening? According to the village gossip, a group of guests arrived this morning from London, so it promises to be an interesting diversion.”
Catherine recalled the invitation among the morning’s correspondence. She had not considered attending, as she did not wish to offer the duke even the slightest encouragement. “I don’t think…”Her voice trailed off as she realized that the soiree provided the perfect opportunity to avoid another cozy evening at home.
She smiled. “I don’t think I’d miss it for the world.”
A gloved hand fisted in the heavy, forest green velvet drapery and pushed the material aside. The village of Little Longstone beyond the window bustled with activity, but the only sound in the room was the ticking of the mantel clock and a slowly exhaled breath of frustration.
Look at those fools, walking about, talking, laughing, shopping, as if they hadn’t a care in the world. As if lives hadn’t been ruined.
But no more would be ruined. I’ll see to it.
The curtain fell back into place.
You managed to survive last time. You won’t survive next time.
Chapter 10
Today’s Modem Woman may well find herself the object of affection of more than one gentleman. This is an enviable position as it is always good to have a choice. If, however, she eventually decides that one must be chosen over the others, the best way to discourage the excess gentlemen is to make it plain her affections are claimed elsewhere.
A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of
Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment
by Charles Brightmore
That evening, Andrew sat across from Lady Catherine in her carriage en route to the Duke of Kelby’s soiree. While he would have preferred another cozy, laughter-filled evening like last night rather than a gathering where God only knew how many men would be vying for Lady Catherine’s attention, he intended to make the most of whatever courting opportunities the night might bring. And if one of those opportunities was the chance to discourage the competition, so much the better. With his impending departure from Little Longstone hanging over his head like a dark cloud of doom, he refused to squander any time.
Just then Lady Catherine smiled at him and bloop went his heart. Dressed in a pale turquoise muslin gown, with matching ribbons woven through her shiny chestnut curls, she stole his breath. By God, he could not wait for the day when he could freely draw her into his arms and kiss her rather than gawk at her from a distance.
Returning her smile, he said, “The color of your gown reminds me of the beautiful, sparkling clear waters of the Mediterranean. You look”-his gaze drifted over her, resting for several seconds on her lips before meeting her eyes once more-“stunning.”
Catherine felt the heat of color bloom on her cheeks. “Thank you.” Her gaze flicked over his dark blue jacket, neatly tied cravat, and cream breeches, and she had to press her lips together to contain a sigh of feminine appreciation. Was it possible for a man to look stunning? One look at her companion told her that clearly it was. “One could say the same about you.”