Gail Whitiker - No Place For An Angel

Catherine lowered her eyes, as much to hide her confusion as to acknowledge the unexpected kindness. What was wrong with her? It had been years since a gentleman’s words had brought colour rushing to her cheeks, but Valbourg had done it several times this evening, and with no effort at all.

She would have to be careful. While he might not approve of her, he nevertheless aroused feelings Catherine thought gone for ever; feelings that had lain dormant since Will’s death. It was unsettling to discover they had simply been...misplaced.

Especially now when she was so close to achieving her goal of regaining custody of her son. To forfeit that now through a careless or unguarded action would be the height of folly and something for which she would never forgive herself.

‘Well, I suppose we should be returning to our guests,’ Lady Mary said to her fiancé.

‘And I shall go and see to the carriage,’ Valbourg said. ‘If you would be good enough to wait here, Miss Jones, I shall make the arrangements and then come back for you. In the interim, please do enjoy some of what Lord Styles brings you. My father really does have one of the finest chefs in London.’

He left with his sister and her fiancé, and moments later, Mr Brinkley returned with the promised glass of wine and Lord Styles with a small plate of food. Catherine was quite sure there was enough on it to feed Mrs Rankin and herself for three days, but smiling her thanks, she took the glass and the plate and sat down at a small table as the room continued to empty and the majority of guests returned to the ballroom. Unfortunately, several of the gentlemen lingered.

‘A delightful performance, Miss Jones,’ Lord Tantemon said. ‘The music is as beautiful as its mistress.’

‘Thank you, my lord,’ Catherine said, avoiding his gaze. Tantemon was one of her more persistent admirers. He had never strayed beyond the bounds of polite behaviour, but neither was he reluctant to make his feelings known.

‘I heard Valbourg say he was going to arrange for a carriage, but mine is already waiting close by,’ he said now. ‘Perhaps you would allow me the pleasure of taking you home.’

‘I say, steady on, Tantemon,’ Lord Styles objected. ‘I brought Miss Jones supper, so I claim the right to take her home.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Styles. This is not a supper dance. Doing one does not entitle you to the other.’

‘I am grateful to both of you for your offers,’ Catherine intervened, ‘but since Lord Valbourg has already gone to the trouble of arranging a carriage, I do not intend to offend him by leaving with someone else.’

‘You are gracious, dear lady, but Valbourg won’t care,’ the ever-dapper Mr Brinkley said. ‘He is only seeing to your welfare because his sister asked him to. I, on the other hand, would welcome the opportunity of spending time alone with you.’ He leaned down and whispered in her ear, ‘My offer still stands. You have but to say the word.’

‘Thank you, Mr Brinkley, but so does the answer I gave when first you made it.’

Catherine heard a guffaw from one of the other gentlemen. ‘I told you you were wasting your time, Brinkley. The lady has better taste than that.’

‘Obviously,’ the barrister snapped. ‘She refused you!’

‘Now, gentlemen, you are unkind to pester Miss Jones in this manner,’ Lord Hugh Nelson said, strolling across the room to join them. ‘Can you not see that the poor girl is trying to eat? I suggest you all go away and leave her alone.’

‘What, so that you can proposition her with no one around to listen?’

‘You malign me, sir,’ the gentleman said, affecting a look of injury. ‘My intentions towards Miss Jones are strictly honourable.’

‘Fustian, you’ve never had an honourable thought in your life,’ Styles said. ‘And standing so close to the Angel, I doubt you’re having one now!’

Ribald laughter followed the inappropriate comment, and knowing it would only get worse, Catherine put down her glass and stood up. ‘Well, gentlemen, if you will excuse me—’

‘Oh, no, sweet angel, you cannot leave yet,’ Lord Tantemon objected. ‘We so seldom have the opportunity of enjoying the pleasure of your company in such a private setting. Surely you would not be so cruel as to deprive us of it now?’

‘I’m afraid she would,’ Valbourg said coldly from the doorway. ‘Miss Jones, are you ready to leave?’

It wasn’t really a question and, grateful for the timeliness of Valbourg’s return, Catherine stood up. ‘I am, my lord.’ She wanted nothing more than to turn her back on every one of the powerful men gathered around her, but aware that she was still performing and that it would not be in her best interests to alienate any of them, she added with forced affability, ‘Though the company is very pleasant, I am exceedingly weary.’

A number of polite objections and expressions of sympathy greeted her remark, but Valbourg merely stepped forward and offered his arm. For a moment, their eyes met...and Catherine’s widened in surprise. He knows. Despite his chilly demeanour, he knows how uncomfortable I am and he is offering me a dignified escape.

Humbly, she placed her hand on his arm, gratitude warring with pride as she lifted her chin and walked out of the room with him. She had no wish to feel indebted to him. Valbourg had made his feelings about her quite clear, both by his attitude and his remarks. But at the moment, his position and authority offered her the protection she needed and for that, Catherine was grateful.

At the top of the staircase, she swept up her skirts and, with one hand on his arm, gracefully began to descend. Heads turned in their direction. Some guests even called out to them, but Valbourg did not stop. He just kept on walking, leading her towards the front door and freedom.

It seemed, however, that her departure was to be delayed further.

‘My apologies, Miss Jones. I thought the carriage would have been here by now,’ Valbourg said after a glance outside assured him that such was not the case. He hesitated, then led her into a small chamber that opened off the hall. ‘If you would be good enough to wait here, I will go and see what is keeping it.’

Catherine nodded, suddenly too weary to do much more. Lily was right. Two performances in one night were exhausting, especially given the emotional overtones of the latter part of the evening. She wasn’t used to dealing with men like Valbourg and having to pretend a lack of interest drew heavily on her emotional reserves. How fortunate that after tonight, she would have no reason to see him again.

The room in which she waited was beautifully decorated. Silk wallpaper festooned with exotic flowers and birds covered the walls, while more birds were painted on the domed ceiling. Catherine walked around, stopping to admire an exquisite tapestry hanging on the far wall when an all-too-familiar voice said, ‘Well, well, what’s this? A beautiful bird trapped in a gilded cage. How...appropriate.’

Catherine turned around, not at all pleased to see one of her more troublesome admirers leaning against the now-closed door. ‘Good evening, Lord Lassiter.’

His eyes widened. ‘You remember me?’

‘How could I not? You made quite an impression when you appeared at my dressing-room door with a diamond the size of Gibraltar dangling from your fingers.’

‘Sadly, it did nothing to tempt you into my bed.’

‘It would have taken a great deal more than a diamond to do that, even if I had been interested,’ Catherine said. ‘Which I was not.’

‘Feisty Miss Jones,’ Lassiter said, pushing away from the door. ‘Still playing hard to get. But I rather like that in a woman. It makes the eventual capitulation all the more exciting, don’t you think?’