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him! He’d looked incredible in his satin dressing gown, the fabric draping elegantly over his body, dark hairs visible at the base of his strong throat. She’d wondered if the silky-looking hairs covered his chest. But it was the concern in his silvery eyes that had been her undoing.
    She never should have gone to him. Surely he thought her a wanton. But his kisses made her feel so wonderful, like nothing in the world could ever hurt her. What was she going to do?
    Catherine arrived home and hurried up to her bedchamber. When she saw her tear-stained face in her vanity mirror, she was thankful she had told her maid not to wait up. She quickly washed all traces of those shameful tears and got ready for bed. She planned to be fast asleep by the time her father and sister returned.
    Catherine stayed away from the parties for the last week of the Season. It wasn’t only Lord Roberts she was avoiding. She had no desire to see Waltham again and, with the terrible rumors of which Lady Brookdale had spoken, the bashes held no attraction for her. She spent her nights alone in her father’s townhouse and her days at Paul and Michelle’s. They were quite busy writing speeches, what with Parliament set to adjourn shortly. Catherine was only too happy to help, watching little Rose so the child didn’t have to spend her days shut in her nursery.
    One such afternoon she sat crossed-legged on the floor of the parlor, playing with the toddler. Rose had golden-red curls, big blue eyes, and a charming personality. She was also willful and very vocal. Catherine smiled as her niece told her dolls precisely what she wished them to do. The little girl’s chatter sent any dark thoughts fleeing from her mind, and Catherine hugged Rose to her and cradled her in her lap.
    She caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye and lifted her head to see Lord Roberts standing in the doorway. Her silly heart skipped a beat and she swallowed.
    “Hello, Catherine,” he said stiffly.
    She winced at his chilly tone. “Hello, Lord Roberts.”
    The silence between them was deafening as they stared into each other’s eyes. Paul’s voice broke through.
    “Roberts,” Catherine’s brother called. “There you are.”
    James bowed to Catherine and left her to follow Paul into his study.
    Catherine’s shoulders slumped a bit. Rose apparently sensed the change in her and turned in her lap. She reached up and brushed her hand over Catherine’s cheek. Catherine kissed the chubby little hand and smiled once more. Forcing Lord Roberts from her mind, she returned her attention to her little charge.
     
    *     *     *
     
    James tried to concentrate on what Paul was saying, but thoughts of Catherine intruded. Had he known she was here, he never would have come. He was struck by the pleasing picture Catherine made in the parlor, her head bent to Rose’s as she listened raptly while the tot told a story in baby talk. God, the hurt on her face after his cold greeting had been palpable.
    He forced his attention back to his friend. “I wished to tell you I’m leaving for Yorkshire, Leed,” he told Paul. “I realize your work will keep you in town for a while yet.”
    Paul nodded. “Michelle and I are merely finishing a few speeches, but we don’t expect to get to Leed Manor for at least a fortnight.”
    James cleared his throat. “I see Catherine is minding Rose,” he said, keeping his voice even. “How has she been?”
    “She’s been well.” Paul’s brow furrowed at Roberts’s concern. “Why do you ask?”
    James thought of the last time he saw her in his townhouse, both the desire on her face and the hurt in her eyes. He could say nothing of it to her brother, however. He couldn’t compromise her reputation. Not after Priscilla’s spiteful words.
    “I’d heard of the vicious rumors circulating,” James said.
    “Oh, that.” Paul grinned. “Michelle told Lady Brookdale in no uncertain terms that Catherine was a lady of