Chapter 13 - Invigorating Choreography
Catherine stared at her reflection in the mirror. The new dress undeniably suited her. Mistress o’Malley had outdone herself. The flaming copper of the silk contrasted her skin beautifully.
Anne had cinched the stay tight. Her shoulders were forced back by the unyielding cage, shielding her body from the world outside.
The Esclavage her Lady Mother had gifted her with was draped across her chest.
Catherine’s lips twitched when she studied the piece.
Softly shimmering pearls connected to the medallion centred above her cleavage.
The sheer irony of it caused laughter to vibrate inside her chest, scraping her raw from the inside when she swallowed it down.
Catherine pressed a hand to her chest, as if she could calm her racing heart by pushing down on it.
To no avail.
There was no way she could avoid the Viscount tonight. Of course he had claimed her first dance. The young Lady Butler was very aware that this very dance would shape the rumours she’d have to face later.
Her face hardened. The usual gossipmongers wouldn’t find anything remarkable to talk about.
That she’d make sure of.
Nimble fingers briefly touched her face as she gently pinched her cheeks, causing the applied blush to blend a little more naturally with her skin, before she left her suite and started the seemingly endless descent down the stairs and into the ballroom.
Of course her entry had been timed by her dear mother so the bride-to-be would receive utmost attention. Catherine let the fan snap open, coyly concealing her face with it when she entered.
The bright smile she might have been able to conjure only a week back felt stiff on her face today. Her eyes swept the crowd already gathered as she made her way towards her parents, curtsying in impeccable politeness as she greeted the guests of the house.
Of course he was already there.
He weaved through the crowd with a casual, almost lazy elegance.
Moving parallel with herself. He knew how to play the game.
Catherine had to give him that. He wasn’t approaching her at all — he was closing the distance to her parents, and no matter how much she’d delay her own approach, she knew she wouldn’t escape.
Her dear mother would take care of that.
She spoke her greetings — first her parents, then she curtseyed to him. Polite. Stiff. Perhaps even half an inch deeper than necessary.
To her utter satisfaction her voice sounded cool and entirely untouched.
“Viscount o’Donell.”
He offered a most charming smile, his deep voice rumbling when he replied.
“Aidan, my dear Catherine,” he corrected.
Catherine lifted her fan, letting it flutter across her face twice.
“Viscount!” she replied in fake shock. “That’d be Miss Butler for you.”
Her mother honoured her manners with a faint smile.
Aidan recovered quickly and soon was engaged in exchanging pleasantries with both Lord and Lady Butler. He inquired about Lady Butler’s travels. Feigned interest at her belated arrival in Kilkenny. And even asked questions about Catherine’s newborn nephew.
It was unbearable.
He behaved like he had any right to be part of her family.
If gazes could kill, Aidan o’Donell might have been a dead man already.
Catherine knew he was aware of it. Something in his gaze caused her to shiver, the almost invisible lifting of an eyebrow painfully reminding her that no matter her feelings about him — here, under the eyes of every gossip-hungry person of standing in Kilkenny she had to play her part.
The moment went by when the next guests exchanged their welcomes with the Butlers. Catherine politely made space — the event was honouring her mother’s return after all.
The evening drew on and she managed to avoid the Viscount for extended stretches of time.
Until the master of ceremonies announced the first minuets.
While she had been intellectually prepared to endure the honours right after her parents, stepping up to the dance floor to watch them — knowing what was to come — caused her chest to tighten.
The Viscount politely offered her his arm to escort her there.
She knew she couldn’t decline.
Not today.
Her lips pressed against each other briefly.
Not until they’d been married long enough for him to banish her to some half-forgotten estate of his family so they wouldn’t have to put up with each other.
Her own mother was only staying until Catherine was wed. She’d apologised to her daughter already, but Susanne — Catherine’s older sister — needed her assistance with the little heir. And as a newlywed, Catherine’s mind surely would be on other topics than entertaining her Lady Mother.
The music started to play.
Her parents moved in perfect harmony with each other. Nobody watching would have guessed the Lord and Lady barely spent any time with each other.
Catherine’s heart sped up when the Viscount leaned in at a crescendo.
“Miss Butler… I believe I finally understand what troubles you. Pray believe there is less cause for alarm than you suppose.”
Catherine lifted her hands to join the polite applause for a particularly well-performed combination of steps. Her smile locked in place, her sole attention fixed on the minuet, pretending she had not heard him.
A frustrated sound met her ears.
Then his voice again. Faint. Intimate.
His words were designed for her alone.
“You can’t avoid me for the rest of our lives, m’Lady. If you insist on it though, I can do the talking.”
Her jaw clenched, teeth gritting at his bold statement before she graced him with a brilliant smile.
“Don’t you think you talked enough already, Viscount?”
A distinct clearing of a throat interrupted them.
The master of ceremonies jerked his chin, signalling they were expected to take their place.
She looked around for Maisie, handing over her fan with stiff fingers to keep her hands from showing any sign of nervousness.
Their parents ended their dance with an elegant curtsey and a deep bow, making room for their next couple.
“Viscount o’Donell and Miss Butler.”
She approached him with the slow, measured grace the minuet demanded and Catherine sank into a deep curtsy while the Viscount opened with a graceful bow.
She lifted her hand.
His fingers glided against hers like a whisper.
The whisper of their gloves loud in Catherine’s ears when she braced herself, and their gazes locked.
For a brief moment they were very close.
His voice rang out again. Barely louder than a breath.
“So, Miss Butler. Regarding my earlier sentiment… as I said I firmly believe there is less cause for alarm than you believe.”
He swept her into a slow turn.
“Less cause for alarm? Do you refer to the small inconvenience of discovering my future husband conducts himself under two names?”
They parted, and Catherine straightened even more. The music guided them into the next steps and brought them back together.
His hand closed around hers — a gentle squeeze she could tell was meant to encourage her.
“I can hardly blame you for being angry. In truth, I admire the courage you proved with your warning. I confess I was… overcome. I should not have kissed you.”
Another turn. Another curtsy.
His eyes searched her face for a reaction.
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
They circled each other.
“I regret that I permitted it, m’Lord. Though I wonder how long you intend to continue amusing yourself at my expense.”
A flicker of impatience was quickly suppressed again as he re-approached. His hand touched her back, the pressure of it palpable through the confines of bone and fabric armouring her against his touch.
“I assure you I am not amusing myself, Miss Butler.”
Catherine sank deeply into the next curtsy, the motion exaggerated enough for him to register. The smile on her face plastered in place while her voice was barely above a hiss.
“You are not? Then humiliation must have been what you were up to. In either case, you may rest easy. I shall take care that you are never again afforded the opportunity to make a spectacle of me.”
Bowing to her, Aidan’s voice lowered as well.
“I have made no spectacle of you.”
A brief exhale.
“Miss Butler, I struggle to understand the depth of your anger. You believed you had compromised yourself with another man. Yet that man was myself. Surely that must make the matter far less serious than you suppose.”
Her eyes widened.
Anger welled up in the depths of the lively orbs. She caught herself just in time, the brief hesitation before her next move barely visible to the crowd.
Her voice had dropped another couple of degrees.
“My concern was never that I betrayed you.”
Something crossed his eyes. Had she not known better, she might have taken it as confusion.
“I genuinely don’t know what you accuse me of.”
Another turn brought them closer again, the faint tremble too audible in Catherine’s voice when she replied.
“You allowed me to stand before you like a fool while you knew perfectly well who you were.”
She swallowed.
“You let me confess myself to you. You listened while I trusted you with information that could have ruined me — perhaps worse.”
His hand twitched around hers. Clutching her fingers in his so hard it was almost painful. His voice sounded as though she had knocked the breath out of him.
“You believe I contrived all this with malicious intent. Catherine… Miss Butler! I meant no cruelty with it. I just wished to speak with you unburdened.”
He was almost convincing.
The dance was drawing closer to an end, another figure bringing them back together. Hopefully the rouge covered the heat stinging her face.
“Unburdened with the inconvenience of honesty?” she asked, her voice deadly quiet.
He didn’t reply.
When his heels touched before the next bow his voice rang out.
“Without the interference of politics and obligations that make plain conversation nearly impossible in daylight.”
Catherine withdrew her hand from his.
Their gazes locked as if either of them might drop the moment they looked away.
“You invited me to meet a stranger while you were already courting me as my future husband. Pray tell me, my lord, how would you call that if not manipulation?”
The Viscount lingered half a breath too long.
“I had to speak with you, Miss Butler. I—”
Catherine cut him short.
“How obliging of you to explain it so plainly. And here I imagined you required a confidante. Not a mere tool.”
The gap between them might as well have been a chasm.
The last chords of the music brought them back together.
She sank into another curtsy.
“You have been most instructive, my lord. I shall not forget this lesson.”
His jaw clenched briefly. His voice cooled as he gracefully sank into a bow in response.
“I see you think very poorly of me.”
Catherine lifted her gaze to his face, a saccharine smile stretching her lips when her heel found his foot and she deliberately lowered it.
“I think precisely as well of you as your conduct allows, my Lord o’Donell.”
The music ended.
Catherine turned on her heel and made her way toward her chaperone. Her empty hands twitched, then she tugged her fan from Maisie’s hands.
She knew he was following her.
She spun around a last time, the fan snapping open as she covered her face with it.
Her voice was quiet.
She hated the hoarseness underneath the steel she had meant to lace it with.
“You need not trouble yourself to explain further, my lord. I understand you perfectly now.”
A spark appeared in his eyes. His breath deepened, but he didn’t approach any closer. He jerked his head.
“You are mistaken in me, Miss Butler. But this is not the place to prove it.”
Catherine straightened. Her chin lifted in protection of what was left of the pride he had shattered without second thought.
She didn’t bother to excuse herself when she withdrew from his presence.