at a loss to see her sister so obviously distressed, and looked with wonder at Rutherston .
"Lady Mary, may I beg your indulgence? I should like a few words in private with Cath . . . Miss Harland." His note of appeal was unmistakable.
"No! pray do not. . . Catherine looked in dismay from one to the other.
"Please, Catherine. I shall only keep you a few minutes."
Lady Mary held out her hand to the child. "Come, Jeremy. We shall go in and see Grandmama ." In a few moments she had disengaged the children from Catherine's clasp, smiled encouragingly at her sister, and moved off in the direction of the house.
"Catherine, walk with me." He held out his arm, but she would not touch him. He turned to lead her to a nearby bench and, indicating that she should sit, settled himself beside her on the farthest reach of the seat.
"You must hear me out, Catherine. I promise I shall try not to distress you." He waited for some response, but Catherine was gazing at the ground as if her life depended on it.
"I cannot let you think that your conduct was at fault. I blame myself for losing control of the situation. You have my word that I never intended to insult you."
Rutherston waited, hopeful of some sign from Catherine that his words were having a conciliatory effect, but since she continued to gaze steadfastly away and maintained her stony silence, he began again.
"I beg your pardon, Catherine. My intention was not, as you think, to harm you. If anything had happened, you must see that I would be honor bound to offer for you?"
Catherine remained mute.
"The prospect is not unwelcome to me." He paused, watching her guardedly, but the set of her brows and chin deterred him from pursuing his suit.
"I beg your forgiveness! I should never have contrived to place a lady in such a compromising position. I was completely at fault. Catherine, please believe me when I say that I truly admire you."
Catherine was in no position to know that the apology that she had just received from the Marquis of Rutherston was, by his standards, a handsome one. His last few words brought an angry sparkle to her eyes and a quick retort to her tongue. She looked at him now in outrage.
"You admire me, my lord? Yes, I am sure of it! You say you are sorry to have placed a lady in such a compromising position—but you never mistook me for a lady, did you, my lord? No! The things you most truly admire about me are those things which convince you that I am, in truth, no lady."
In spite of himself, Rutherston laughed aloud, and Catherine, stung to the quick, leaped to her feet.
In a moment, he had grasped her by the wrist and held her.
"Catherine," he said in exasperation. "You must calm yourself. You cannot go on like this whenever you find yourself in my company. Do you want to have the suspicions of the whole world roused against us? I have tried to make amends. What more can I say?"
"There is nothing you can say, my lord, which is of the least interest to me. I have only to be in your company this one last time, then I need never set eyes on you again."
Rutherston rose and stood facing her, his grip tightening on her wrist.
"You are mistaken, ma'am. You will find yourself often in my company. Let me advise you, if you do not wish to become the latest on- dit of the gossip mongers, that when you find yourself with me, you conduct yourself with propriety and civility."
His tone was so stern, so haughty, so much that of the aristocrat, that Catherine quailed.
He released her wrist and held out his arm. "Take my arm, Catherine, and allow me to escort you to your sister."
It was impossible to refuse without creating a scene, and Catherine had no wish to provoke the marquis to further anger. She wondered what he had meant when he said that she would find herself often in his company, but could not bring herself to ask him.
She was quick to see that he was right when he said that she would rouse the suspicions of the whole world against them, for she was
"Lady Mary, may I beg your indulgence? I should like a few words in private with Cath . . . Miss Harland." His note of appeal was unmistakable.
"No! pray do not. . . Catherine looked in dismay from one to the other.
"Please, Catherine. I shall only keep you a few minutes."
Lady Mary held out her hand to the child. "Come, Jeremy. We shall go in and see Grandmama ." In a few moments she had disengaged the children from Catherine's clasp, smiled encouragingly at her sister, and moved off in the direction of the house.
"Catherine, walk with me." He held out his arm, but she would not touch him. He turned to lead her to a nearby bench and, indicating that she should sit, settled himself beside her on the farthest reach of the seat.
"You must hear me out, Catherine. I promise I shall try not to distress you." He waited for some response, but Catherine was gazing at the ground as if her life depended on it.
"I cannot let you think that your conduct was at fault. I blame myself for losing control of the situation. You have my word that I never intended to insult you."
Rutherston waited, hopeful of some sign from Catherine that his words were having a conciliatory effect, but since she continued to gaze steadfastly away and maintained her stony silence, he began again.
"I beg your pardon, Catherine. My intention was not, as you think, to harm you. If anything had happened, you must see that I would be honor bound to offer for you?"
Catherine remained mute.
"The prospect is not unwelcome to me." He paused, watching her guardedly, but the set of her brows and chin deterred him from pursuing his suit.
"I beg your forgiveness! I should never have contrived to place a lady in such a compromising position. I was completely at fault. Catherine, please believe me when I say that I truly admire you."
Catherine was in no position to know that the apology that she had just received from the Marquis of Rutherston was, by his standards, a handsome one. His last few words brought an angry sparkle to her eyes and a quick retort to her tongue. She looked at him now in outrage.
"You admire me, my lord? Yes, I am sure of it! You say you are sorry to have placed a lady in such a compromising position—but you never mistook me for a lady, did you, my lord? No! The things you most truly admire about me are those things which convince you that I am, in truth, no lady."
In spite of himself, Rutherston laughed aloud, and Catherine, stung to the quick, leaped to her feet.
In a moment, he had grasped her by the wrist and held her.
"Catherine," he said in exasperation. "You must calm yourself. You cannot go on like this whenever you find yourself in my company. Do you want to have the suspicions of the whole world roused against us? I have tried to make amends. What more can I say?"
"There is nothing you can say, my lord, which is of the least interest to me. I have only to be in your company this one last time, then I need never set eyes on you again."
Rutherston rose and stood facing her, his grip tightening on her wrist.
"You are mistaken, ma'am. You will find yourself often in my company. Let me advise you, if you do not wish to become the latest on- dit of the gossip mongers, that when you find yourself with me, you conduct yourself with propriety and civility."
His tone was so stern, so haughty, so much that of the aristocrat, that Catherine quailed.
He released her wrist and held out his arm. "Take my arm, Catherine, and allow me to escort you to your sister."
It was impossible to refuse without creating a scene, and Catherine had no wish to provoke the marquis to further anger. She wondered what he had meant when he said that she would find herself often in his company, but could not bring herself to ask him.
She was quick to see that he was right when he said that she would rouse the suspicions of the whole world against them, for she was
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