"Sometimes I wish I could slap you."
"Believe me, love, it would only encourage me more."
She smiled despite herself and righted her skirts, so she wasn't again flashing her knees to the duke, and then stood on wobbly legs.
"Goodnight, your grace," she said in her haughtiest voice.
"Goodnight, my love."
Rolling her eyes, she walked to the door. He was most definitely foxed, for everyone knew the Devil Duke did not love. He was more likely to jump off the highest balcony in London than admit any sort of emotional attachment.
That really was a pity, considering her heart did a tiny clench when he uttered those sacred words.
"Goodnight," she said again before stepping quietly into the hall.
The next morning, Katherine was slow to rise. By the time she made it down to break her fast, nearly all the guests were already seated and eating.
She took a plate and began to fill it.
As she reached for the toast, a hand slipped beneath hers and took the plate away. "Allow me."
She looked up and nearly fainted dead away. The duke of Paisley began filling her plate with every available dish, all the while glaring at her as if she had suddenly announced that she was fighting for Napoleon.
"Thank you." she said trying to take the plate from his hands.
"What the devil did you do?" he seethed.
"Pardon?"
"You heard me." His Scottish brogue was fighting to break through the words. "Last I left my cousin, he was debauching the better half of London, and after nearly a week in your presence he's… he's… well, look at him."
Perplexed, she looked in the direction Baldwyn pointed. Benedict was sitting at the table, conversing with everyone around him and laughing. Everything looked as it should. Perhaps Paisley was the one with the issue. Was he foxed this early?
She turned back to the Scottish duke. "I have no idea what you're referring to. He's acting perfectly fine." She shrugged and continued piling food onto her plate.
"Fine!" Paisley roared, gaining attention from everyone in the room including Benedict, whose smile very quickly faded as he pushed away from the table, his chair scraping the floor. "Drinking, scowling, prowling, devil take it! Stripping naked in public! Those are the things I come to expect from my cousin, not this… this lightheartedness! I want him back. Give him back."
"Give what back?" Benedict interrupted.
"Good morning, your grace. It seems your cousin would like me to give back your scowl, prowl, drink, and what else? Oh yes, he would prefer if you were naked."
Paisley blushed. "That is not what I meant."
"Wasn't it?" Katherine winked.
"It's just… Benedict." He turned to his cousin. "Why the devil are you so happy? It's as if she's won." At Benedict's sheepish look Paisley cursed fluently. "Don't tell me. Do not tell me. You, you, you…"
"Use your words." Benedict slapped him on the back.
"Y-you are happily marching to the marriage drum! And with her!" He pointed at Katherine. Honestly, was she so bad?
"Yes." Benedict turned to her and grabbed her hand placing a kiss across the knuckles. "Her."
Well, that was nice. With a smug grin, she glanced back to Paisley and lifted an eyebrow.
"I cannot believe this." Paisley shook his head. "I…I…"
"Your grace?" Katherine tilted her head. "You wouldn't be afraid of the same fate, now would you?"
"Ha, ha!" He laughed and slapped his leg. "Now that is absolutely ridic—"
He froze, the words died on his lips. His eyes glazed over, Katherine fought the urge to wave in front of his face. Instead, she looked in the direction that Baldwyn was focused on. Lady Anastasia entered the room, looking much like a fairy princess. That was when Katherine knew. The poor man had already fallen. He just didn't know what to do about it.
"Go." Katherine pushed him. "Tell her she looks pretty."
"What?" he scoffed.
"Try kissing her hand," Benedict offered. "And do attempt to keep the drool from dribbling out of your mouth."
With that, they both pushed him in her direction and sighed in unison.
After a few minutes, Katherine felt Benedict's hand on her back, and then his lips near her ear. "Ice skating?"
"Yes."
A loud commotion at the door interrupted their moment.
Suddenly servants were rushing out of the dining room.
And then running.
Several stopped and began to mumble prayers.
Were they under attack?
Had something happened?
"Hurry!" the butler yelled, then stopped and pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his perspiring face. "It must be perfect!"
A footman quickly opened a flask and gulped its contents. Another began to cry.
What the devil?
And then she heard it.
But she was convinced rather than hearing the familiar female shrieking, Benedict felt her presence.
"Am I too late to join the party?"
The voice was unmistakable. In fact, it seemed the entire room went tight with tension and mumbled under their breath in unison, "Agatha."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Visitation