Tempest(11)
But, one couldn’t marry every girl one liked! He took a step backward and bumped into Byron.
“It’ll be fine,” his friend murmured reassuringly. “You’re not going to run away from that little charmer, are you? She won’t bite.”
“Stop whispering in my ear. I begin to think that you engineered this entire fiasco, including your little speech proposing marriage to Cathy. You knew how I would react!”
“You give me far too much credit, my lord.” A smile touched the corners of Byron’s mouth as he went forward to greet their hostess, who was chatting with Hermann and Theresa Oelrichs.
Adam had no choice but to follow. As they drew near, he heard Hermione Parrish worry aloud about the whereabouts of the Duke of Sunderford.
“I can’t imagine what’s keeping him,” she told Mrs. Oelrichs.
“Have you some special news to cap this little party, Hermione?”
“Let’s just say that we’ll be making a rather momentous announcement.”
Adam took a goblet of champagne from a passing footman and reflected that if Mrs. Parrish looked any more self-satisfied, she would have canary feathers popping from her mouth. “I heard that he’s packing for a journey to Wyoming,” he remarked.
“Lord Raveneau!” Mrs. Oelrichs exclaimed. “How lovely to see you here.”
“His lordship and Mr. Matthews are my invited guests,” said Cathy as she came up behind them and slipped her gloved hand through Adam’s arm. “Aren’t we lucky to have them in Newport?”
“Indeed! Have you seen our cottage, my lord? Rosecliff is a replica of the Grand Trianon at Versailles.” Mrs. Oelrichs paused momentarily for effect, then continued, “I am planning a truly splendid White Ball for next August, and I do hope that you will attend. It will far outshine any other affair Newport has seen!”
While Adam diverted Mrs. Oelrichs with conversation about Versailles, Cathy leaned close to her mother’s ear.
“Won’t you let Lord Raveneau take me in to dinner?”
“For what purpose?” she whispered, still glancing nervously about in search of the duke. “Oh, I suppose so. It can’t do any harm at this point, but you must keep the place on your other side open for the duke when he arrives.”
Before Adam could exchange two words with Cathy, dinner was announced and the assembled two dozen guests went into the Venetian-style dining room. The room was dominated by a ceiling-high chimneypiece of agate and green marble, and two magnificent Venetian murals faced each other above the long dining table. Eight footmen waited to quietly guide the guests to their places.
Once they were seated, Cathy felt oddly shy as she removed her gloves and consulted the menu card lying between their place settings. At last, she dared cast a sidelong glance at Adam. How handsome he was! His winged collar was beautifully starched against his brown, chiseled jaw. Had she ventured completely out of her depth by coaxing him into this betrothal?
“When I was at Oxford,” Adam remarked, “my mother gave me an amusing book about manners for men. My favorite part had to do with moments like these, when a man wonders what to say to his dinner partner. It suggested that one ought to remark upon the table’s floral decorations. Perhaps one might be struck by the colors of the flowers, which would remind one of paintings, which in turn would raise the subject of exhibitions. Have you been to any lately, Miss Parrish?”
She blinked. “You’re teasing me.”
His eyes twinkled. “Not you, but our situation. We’re partners in crime, aren’t we?”
Hermione was watching them from her position at one end of the table. “I cannot imagine what has delayed the Duke of Sunderford!” she exclaimed to her guests.
Something in Adam’s expression made Cathy’s heart soar for a moment. He was relishing the prospect of shocking her mother. Before she could comment, the first course was served, requiring that the guests choose between shrimp bisque and a fresh julienned vegetable soup. From that moment on, there was little chance for Cathy and Adam to converse, for all the other guests were anxious to further their acquaintances with the English viscount.
Wines of every description were consumed and delectable poached salmon was served, drawing sighs of pleasure.
“I don’t suppose that your cook, Madge, would consider moving to Rosecliff?” Mrs. Oelrichs wistfully inquired of Mrs. Parrish.
“She couldn’t be happier in her current situation,” Hermione replied.
Later, when Adam had finished his portion of guinea fowl, he lifted his wineglass, leaned toward Cathy, and whispered, “How is your father going to make the announcement?”
His face was inches from her own, allowing her to breathe in the subtle scent of him. “Father doesn’t know.”
“You’re joking.”
“No. I tried to tell him, but he said he’d rather not know. He did assure me that he would support whatever decision I’d made.” Other guests were glancing over at the sound of her hushed voice, so she added hurriedly, “We’ll have to make the announcement ourselves.”
“We?”
“You, I suppose...”
It was a turning point. Adam knew that he could still extricate himself from this entire coil if he chose to. No one else knew of his rash promises, not even Jules Parrish.
“Adam.” Cathy touched his hand under the table. “Please don’t desert me now.”
Her plaintively whispered words went straight to his heart. When was the last time anyone had needed him as much as she did? The last few years of his life had held little real meaning beyond standing by his mother’s deathbed, but now he had a chance to help someone who was caught in an invisible snare. If he turned his back on her, Hermione would force Cathy to submit to her will, and she might never escape.
Perfectly chilled champagne was being poured and a variety of sweets appeared. Cathy chose the meringues while, down the table, Mrs. Parrish was glaring into space with puckered lips, her thoughts clearly a million miles away. Fearing that Hermione might suddenly go in search of the Duke of Sunderford, Adam stood. All eyes were instantly drawn to him.
“I am woefully uncertain of my manners in your country,” he began, looking at each guest as he spoke, “and I hope that you will excuse any missteps. I am simply honored to be among you tonight, and to be sitting beside the exquisite Miss Parrish. Her father has allowed me to propose the first toast on this very special occasion...”
Cathy was gazing up at him, utterly dazzled, and watched as he turned deliberately to look into her mother’s outraged eyes.
“Will you join me in raising your glasses?” Adam continued. “I ask that you toast my intended bride, Catherine Parrish, and wish us well as we plan our future.”
There were a few soft gasps, then the assembled guests became animated, nodding and smiling and whispering as they drank along with Lord Raveneau. Then, to Cathy’s further shock, her father stood and raised his own glass.
“Here, here!” exclaimed Jules Parrish. “A toast to young love and the happiness of my beloved daughter!”
Hermione had no choice. Looking as if the blood had been drained from her body, she willed her face to smile, her hand to lift her glass, and her lips to drink.
When the other guests bid the Parrishes goodnight, Adam stayed to protect Cathy from her mother. Byron went for a stroll along the sea cliffs as the prospective bridegroom stood with his new fiancée and her parents in the south alcove. The room, lifted from an eighteenth century French chateau, opened off the foyer and was a favorite spot for friends to linger during farewells.
To Cathy’s surprise, Adam held her hand as he met Hermione’s piercing gaze. “I should apologize for proceeding without your consent, Mrs. Parrish, but we really had no choice. If I had asked for Cathy’s hand, you would have refused.”
“Cathy? You call her Cathy? You are very brash, my lord!”
“I am,” he agreed.
“My dear,” Jules said to his wife,” I think that we should surrender to the inevitable and give these young people our blessing. Catherine has a right to seek her own destiny.”
“What a lot of hogwash! Catherine doesn’t know what’s best for her; she never has.”
“The duke doesn’t want to marry me, Mother,” Cathy put in. “If he did, he wouldn’t have dithered for weeks before caving in and asking for my hand. In any event, it doesn’t matter now. Adam and I have announced our engagement before all your friends, and there’s no turning back.”
“Your willfulness will be your undoing!”
“I would rather be undone by my own willfulness than yours, Mother.”
“How could you be so ungrateful? Your brother would never have treated me so shabbily. I have devoted my life to preparing you for this day, and you have repaid me by defying me in front of all my friends. I could have had a stroke and died during your wretched toasts!”
“My dear, why not concede defeat gracefully?” asked Jules. “Be glad that Catherine is marrying a viscount, after all, and not the chauffeur!”
“I have a sick headache.” Hermione pressed a thin-fingered hand to her brow. “I am going to bed.” She glanced back at them. “Not that I expect to get any sleep.”