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position. Tonight you shall see for yourself. Do allow me to have a look
at your gowns. I’ll have a better idea what we should purchase tomorrow.”
    Catherine followed the Duchess through the
bedchamber to the dressing room on the far side. Her meager wardrobe couldn’t
fill a corner of the massive closet.
    “Oh, dear.” Her Grace skimmed through the gowns.
“You shall need more than just a few.”
    “What shall I do about tonight? Do I have anything
suitable to wear?”
    “Tonight? Let me see.” The Duchess returned to the
beginning of the rack for a second look. “This might do.” She pulled out a
light blue gown and held it out for further inspection. “It’s very modest but
it will definitely suffice.”
    Catherine took the dress and draped it over her
arm.
    “It’s time I be on my way.” The Duchess pulled on
her gloves and headed for the door.
    “Thank you for everything, Your Grace.” She trailed
behind the Duchess. “You have been more than kind.”
    “Do not give it another thought, my dear. I shall
see you tomorrow and you can tell me everything that transpired at tonight’s
party. “At the doorway, Her Grace paused and turned back toward Catherine. “I
expect Haverton will have a word with you presently.”
    Presently arrived a half hour later. Catherine
stood at the doorway to the drawing room and had a good, long look at her new
employer.
    Lord Haverton stood with his arms crossed, posture perfect
straight, as if posing for a portrait. His eyes were open wide, staring out the
picture window. He was taller than she had expected. At least he had the
decency to dress properly before meeting with her. He wore a jacket of forest
green over the shirt she had seen him in earlier. Fawn breeches stretched over
the upper part of his long legs and his exquisitely polished top boots were
much to be admired.
    Catherine cleared her throat. “You sent for me, my
lord?”
    The Marquess turned from the window. “Ah, yes—if
you would please be seated, Mrs. Hayes.” He gestured to the sofa for her to sit
but he remained standing.
    “I beg your pardon, but it is Hayward, your
lordship. Miss Hayward,” Catherine corrected and sat as he instructed. How
could he have been so completely wrong regarding her name?
    “Yes, of course it is,” he said, clearly distracted
as he rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “This is dashed
peculiar. My mother has informed me she explained about the particulars, such
as your wages and living arrangements.”
    “Yes, she has.”
    “I believe all there is left to speak to you about
are your duties.” Lord Haverton paced back toward the window. “It has been my
personal observation that most ladies’ chaperones fail in their responsibility to
properly oversee their wards.
    “Thus I find it imperative that I provide a
chaperone for these ladies. That is where you come in. I expect that you should
watch for unseemly behavior. Nothing suspect should transpire between myself
and any lady in my company. There should be no question about the propriety of
our exchange.”
    “I quite understand.”
    “I’m sure you will find my manners exemplary. I’m
afraid I cannot speak as well for the ladies. In some cases, they may prove to
exhibit less than ladylike behavior.”
    “I believe I understand completely, my lord.” If
any other man except this one before her had said he needed a chaperone to ward
off women, Catherine would have disgraced herself by laughing out loud. But in
Lord Haverton’s case she feared what he said could very well be true.
    “Well then, if everything is settled, I am
attending the Trowbridge soiree tonight. I trust you will not keep me waiting?
I wish to leave by eight.”
    “As you say, my lord, eight o’clock.”
    Three hours after her arrival at Moreland Manor,
Catherine had settled in and was partaking of a light supper in the privacy of
her sitting room on the orders of her employer.
    He, Lord Haverton, was not to be seen.