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?’
‘I couldn’t say.’ Catherine’s smile was cool. ‘I don’t play hard to get because I am not interested in being caught. By you or anyone else.’
‘Really. So you prefer to live alone, scraping by on the pittance you earn on stage rather than being able to enjoy the many pleasures life has to offer.’
‘I enjoy life well enough,’ Catherine said. ‘As I told you at the time, I’ve no need of help from you.’ She wasn’t afraid of Lassiter, but neither did she wish to cause a scene in Lord Alderbury’s house. Pity she hadn’t seen him come in. She could have made a dash for the door—beyond which the sounds of the reception were now decidedly muted. As, no doubt, would be any sounds that might emanate from this room.
‘I fail to see why you persist in playing this ridiculous game, my love,’ Lassiter said, beginning to circle her like a hungry wolf stalking its prey. ‘I am a wealthy man and a generous one. You could have anything you wanted. Jewels, gowns, a carriage at your disposal day or night. All yours simply for the asking.’
‘If I agree to become your mistress.’
‘Of course. One must be prepared to give in order to receive,’ Lassiter said, narrowing the distance between them. ‘And surely giving yourself to me would not be such a hardship. I am not unattractive, nor nearly so old as Crosby, whom I understand you also sent away.’
‘Yes, with the same answer I gave you,’ Catherine said, backing up until she felt the edge of the credenza against her lower back. ‘At least he was gentleman enough to accept my decision.’
‘Only because he found another mistress.’ Lassiter leered at her in a way that made him look even more like a wolf. ‘I, however, have not and I am willing to overlook your earlier error in judgement. So, what do you say? Is it to be your bed tonight...or mine?’
He was so close Catherine could see the network of veins on his nose and smell the staleness of his breath as he opened his mouth, his tongue flicking suggestively, obscenely, over yellowed teeth. ‘Come, sweet angel,’ he murmured, ‘give me but a taste of those honeyed lips.’
He placed his palms against the wall on either side of her head, his body angled in such a way that if Catherine brought her knee up and connected in just the right place, he would drop like a felled tree, giving her the time she needed to bolt for the door. It wouldn’t have been the first time she had employed such methods, but she had learned that success was all in the timing. If she didn’t get it right, she would find herself in an even worse predicament.
She closed her eyes and counted it down in her head. Three...two...one...
Suddenly, there was a muffled curse, a screech, and the weight of Lassiter was gone—but not because of anything Catherine had done. She opened her eyes to see the viscount sprawled on the floor on the other side of the room, while a few feet away, with his legs firmly planted and his arms crossed over his chest, stood Valbourg.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Lassiter demanded. ‘I wasn’t accosting the wench.’
‘Mind your language, Lassiter. There is a lady present.’
‘Lady? She’s no—’
‘Miss Jones, are you unharmed?’ Valbourg interrupted, all the while keeping his eyes on the fallen peer.
Catherine swallowed. The question, like the threat, had been quietly spoken, but there was no mistaking the rage simmering just below the surface. ‘I am. No harm done.’
‘How fortunate for you, my lord,’ Valbourg murmured. ‘Otherwise you would have found yourself in a very unpleasant situation. Now remove yourself from my father’s house before I forget I am a gentleman and give you the thrashing you so richly deserve.’
Lassiter blanched. The threat, all the more dangerous for the silken tone in which it had been uttered, left no room for discussion.
