Part 23 (1/2)
She blinked slightly unfocused eyes. ”Gossip? Oh, good heavens. I'd forgotten. There was no gossip, not really although now . . .”
”What do you mean, no gossip?”
”Well, there was talk, certainly, but it hardly countenanced.”
He appeared baffled. ”Lady Leverham-”
”Lady Leverham,” Cate said tartly, ”is terribly sweet and a bit of a peagoose. She failed to notice that in all the nonsense being said about you, no one actually mentioned me.” She grinned. ”I am an utter n.o.body, it seems. Lady Reynolds does not know my name and couldn't be bothered to come up with a better description than 'tall and blowsy.' ”
”Oh, Cate.”
”It doesn't matter. As long as you speak kindly of me.”
Oh, and he would. Every hour of every day. ”If you only knew-”
”Lord Tregaron?”
”Our peagoose of a hostess requires my presence,” he muttered.
One of her hands fisted tightly in his coat-a precaution that Tregaron found as charming as it was sensible, considering his affliction and the long descent to the turret floor- Cate followed him down the stairs. As expected, Lady Leverham was waiting at the bottom.
”You have dropped your defenses, young man,” she snapped. ”I shall have to send someone up to fetch them.”
”My apologies, madam,” he replied, fighting a smile. ”I have brought the fair maiden from the tower, however.”
”So you have,” the lady conceded. ”That will do. Now come along, both of you. We are lining up for the gavotte.”
”Shall we dance?” Tregaron murmured into Cate's ear.
”Not unless they play a waltz.”
”Splendid woman!” He resisted the urge to waltz her right out the door and back into his bachelor rooms. ”I'll take you home.”
”Oh, no!” she protested. ”I did not mean-”
”I need to speak with your uncles, Cate.”
She blushed fetchingly. ”Oh. Well, then.”
From the corner of his eye as they went, Tregaron got a brief glimpse of a small figure with a bow and arrow. He shook his head at the lengths to which Society went to cast their own little nights of comedy. No doubt Lady Leverham had commandeered a tiger or two to play at being pages to her knightly guests. At least she had not weighed down the unfortunate fellows with chain mail.
Others were not so lucky. He and Cate were nearly out of the ballroom when Lord Leverham caught up, clinking and puffing. ”This arrived for you, sir, not five minutes ago,” he panted, handing out a folded paper.
Tregaron thanked him and took it. ”Well,” he announced after reading the single line, ”they were bound to abandon subtlety sooner or later.”
”What?” Cate demanded as he hustled her down the stairs and into the foyer. ”What is it?”
He sent one of the Leverhams' footmen off to find a hack. ”Do you often pry into private business, my dear?” he asked blandly. Cate promptly looked at her feet.
”No, I ... Well. I think perhaps there is something I ought to tell you.”
”Yes?”
”Well, you see, I ... we ... Oh, bother! You might be so very angry when you hear. You see, I ...”
”Is this perhaps what you are trying to say?”
He gently waved the message in front of her. She s.n.a.t.c.hed it from his hand and read aloud. ”Angus and Ambrose Buchanan did none of the designs for your house. Oh, dear.”
”Don't worry, darling.” Tregaron lifted one of her hands and patted it. ”I have known for quite a long time that you are Buchanan and Buchanan. Ah, here is our transport.”
”How?” she asked as he lifted her into the carriage. ”How?” He gave the direction to the driver.
”How?”
”Ah, Catherine”-he climbed in and settled himself beside her-”How dense do you think I am?”