Paisley burst out laughing; then, at Benedict's piercing gaze, he found his mulled cider even more fascinating than before.
"Please?" Benedict pulled her closer, but at that precise moment her skate caught on a chunk of ice. Her body seemed to hang suspended in the air, her arms flailing at her sides and then with a grimace she fell, but didn't touch the cold hard ice as she thought would happen.
Instead she was in the arms of the duke. Again.
The wrong duke. Paisley.
Mulled cider had spilt all over his clothes, but he didn't seem to care a whit. "Are you well, my lady?"
She gulped and nodded her head. "Yes, apologies. I didn't mean to ruin your cider."
"It's the cup I'm more concerned about." He looked down to the broken mug lying across the ice.
"Sorry." Shaking off the embarrassment of nearly taking another man down with her, Katherine tried to pull away, but Paisley kept his hand firmly grasped around her waist. "On that note, I believe it is time for us to skate." He flashed her a smile and tugged her into the line of graceful skaters.
It felt different holding his hand.
As if they were opposites trying to attract one another. It was warm and comforting but nothing more.
There was no nervousness at being near Paisley, no tension as there was with Benedict.
Perplexed she looked up at his face and squinted, perhaps getting too close, for he suddenly stopped and looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
"Did you hit your head?" he asked politely.
"No." Katherine blushed. "I was merely, er, examining you."
"For?" He lifted an eyebrow.
"Imperfections?" she offered.
"And the consensus?"
"None."
Paisley put a hand to his heart and sighed. "Imagine my relief."
Katherine bit her lip. "I'm terribly sorry. It was rude of me to examine you so closely, it's just that…"
"What?"
They continued skating in circles, lazily falling behind the groups racing around and around.
"I used to have a frightful tender for you."
That stopped him. Perhaps she'd said too much.
"And now?"
"Now?" She lifted an eyebrow amused that his smirk didn't seem the least bit offended or wounded. "Now, I find you perfectly perfect."
"Yet perfectly wrong for you?"
"Absolutely. So glad you understand, Paisley."
He rolled his eyes. "Far be it from you to use any sort of propriety with a man you find so repulsive."
"Not repulsive." Katherine nudged him. "More brotherly than anything."
"Music to every man's ears." He laughed aloud, this time stopping in order to catch his breath. "And dare I guess where your affections lie?"
It was Katherine's turn to blush. But Paisley stopped her, his hand cupping her chin in an intimate yet brotherly fashion. "Do me a favor. Considering you find me perfectly brotherly, take my advice. Tread carefully with my cousin, alright?"
She nodded, and they continued to skate, falling into easy conversation and laughing the entire time.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A Plan Forms
Benedict watched, perplexed how his plan could go so utterly awry. His brilliance was, in fact, not so brilliant when his ploy of being injured left him alone on the bench pouting, and Katherine skating with his cousin.
The same cousin she used to desire.
The more they talked and laughed, the angrier he became until a soft sigh on his left stole his attention.
Lady Anastasia looked quite ill. "Are you unwell, Lady Anastasia?"
She sighed even deeper. "I'm lovely, just lovely," came her dry reply. If he didn't know any better, he would think she was being sarcastic.
He reached out and touched her arm. "You are quite pale." Perhaps she would take the hint and tell him why she looked so troubled. If anything it would take his mind off of shooting his cousin in the arm for touching Katherine.
"Am I?" She slumped. Never had he seen Lady Anastasia slump as if totally defeated. "Perhaps if your grace is recovered enough, might you consider taking a turn with me around the pond? I believe the cold is settling into my bones."
A conundrum. If he skated, Katherine would know he wasn't injured, but anything was better than sitting, so he hobbled along with Lady Anastasia and pasted a smile on his face, though he could have sworn it felt menacing.
What the devil did Baldwyn find so amusing about Katherine? And why was she leaning in toward him like that?
He took Lady Anastasia's outstretched hand into his, and limped while trying to appear a graceful skater, around the outer perimeter of the pond.
"Careful," Lady Anastasia said to his left. "Or you'll fall on your injury." Her smirk told him she didn't believe for one second he was injured.
"What gave me away?"
"You were limping on the other foot not five minutes ago."
Benedict cursed. "Perhaps I have a small desire to be nurtured. Is that so wrong?"
"So even the Devil desires good deeds? Interesting."
Well, when she put it that way…
"How are things progressing with my cousin?" Benedict asked politely.
A blush crept up Lady Anastasia's cheeks as she jerked her attention away from staring at Baldwyn. "I'm afraid, they aren't."