"Don't shout, my dear, I'm sitting right here." Agatha shuddered. "Either way, I've taken care of it for you."
Devil's teeth. Those were words one never wanted to hear from one's insane aunt. The same aunt who thought it stylish to fasten feathers to her lap dog.
Agatha smiled. "I've merely suggested you pay court to their daughter until the Kringle Ball in two weeks' time. If, by then, you've failed in all aspects of intelligent conversation and of course, managed not one smile, which I do think will be a challenge, then the betrothal is off."
Benedict opened his mouth to curse, as well as tell his aunt exactly what he thought about her little deal, but her loud voice cut him off.
"She was found, on top of you, Benedict, at a society function. Have a care for her reputation and at least see this through. Imagine what your mother would say."
With that, Agatha rose to her feet and exited the room. The slamming of the door sounding much like the final nail in his bachelor's coffin. For Agatha, manipulative little thing that she was, knew his weakness. The one weakness he had.
His deceased mother.
"Bloody hell," he muttered and followed Agatha out of the room.
CHAPTER FIVE
Foxed
Katherine wanted to cry, but to waste tears on such a horrid man seemed truly ridiculous. Dabbing at her eyes, considering they were going to turn into watering pots at any minute, she took a deep breath and walked back into the ballroom.
Her father and mother had just spent the past half hour trying to convince her of the smart match with the Duke of Banbury. She had argued until he throat was sore, giving every excuse under the sun, violence not included for obvious reasons, that they were ill-suited for one another.
When, in desperation she finally did mention the accidents that befell the duke every time in her presence, her mother merely asked, "Could you at least try to be less clumsy? Perhaps if you practiced."
"I do not think I understand your meaning," Katherine had said, as dread writhed in her stomach.
"What your mother is trying to say…" Her father cleared his throat and looked off into the distance. "Perhaps if you tried to be more feminine. You know, learned how to properly walk instead of stomping all over the place. Decided not to speak your mind. You know what I'm saying." He cleared his throat again. "Lower your threshold of intelligence so that other fellows don't feel so intimidated, then you would make a good match. The Devil Duke would have to marry you then. He'd have nothing to object to."
"It is I who object to him!" Katherine said through clenched teeth.
"Of course, my dear." Her mother patted her hand. "So what shall we tell him?"
In the end, they had come up with a compromise. If he could win their daughter before the Kringles' ball, they would marry. If not, well, if not then Katherine would still be in a pickle, because by all accounts she was still ruined.
Unless, the Duke of Banbury denied all accusations. But even if he did, people would still stare and wonder what did go on that night.
Her parents left her to make herself presentable, which was quite difficult considering she had a blasted headache, and her ankle hurt. In the end, she only managed to pinch her cheeks and walk out into the ballroom.
And now she was trying not to cry for the third time that night. What she wouldn't give to punch the man in the face. He didn't want her, and it seemed nobody would now that she had been ruined by the very man mamas warned their daughters about.
Who would want a girl that even the Devil chose not to marry?
She took a shaky breath. Lovely first meeting. Tonight she'd had every intention of gaining the attention of the Scottish duke. Now, she was limping, betrothed, and ready to yell at any man who dared cross her path.
"Hullo there! You must be Lady Katherine!" an irritating voice bellowed behind her. Slowly, she turned. A man, a very attractive man, stood not five feet away from her. Cheeky grin in place, he gave a quick bow. "May I steal you for a dance?"
She wanted to say no, she really did, it was on the tip of her tongue, not that the man was disagreeable; he was actually quite handsome, if one liked dark red hair and blue eyes. But, the last thing she wanted was to have a meaningless conversation when she was still trying to keep her eyes from tearing up.
And then, she saw him. Across the room. Lips in a firm line of hatred. Lovely, perhaps he would smite her with his smolder. One could only hope, at least in heaven she wouldn't be betrothed.
"I'd love to," she heard herself say, then glared back at Benedict. His scowl said it all. He actually kicked the floor before disappearing behind another couple.