“Of course, you would say that,” Cathy muttered.
“Well, you are brilliant in just about anything you have set your mind to, just like the quick mathematics that had everyone reeling.”
Cathy thought that if her mind was sharp enough to come up with such rare insights in a game, it should also be able to recall the details. She knew she had not drunk any alcoholic beverages the night before. She had been drinking lemonade the entire night!
“I truly have no memory of all this,” she protested, feeling a hollow dread spreading all over her chest. “I remember drinking lemonade, but I cannot recall anything about this particular series of preposterous competitions.”
“Mm. Indeed, I remember you drinking so much lemonade. I wondered why you were so thirsty. Then, you started playing thegame, and I thought you were merely eager to prove you were better than the Duke of Baxter.”
“But why would I want that? Why would I want to make a spectacle of myself? You know I never attract attention to myself if I can help it!”
“I know, but you were engrossed in the competition! I believe it began with a debate. The Duke of Baxter made some comment about women’s supposed delicate brains. Instead of debating with him, you decided to prove him wrong through an actual duel of the minds. Everyone was thrilled to participate, too, bringing parchment and ink for the two of you.”
Nothing seemed to dim Madeline’s enthusiasm, even as Cathy’s horror grew and grew.
“Oh no.”
“Well, it was quite entertaining. You won most of the games, Cathy! Can you believe that? Well, of course you can! What I could not believe was the Duke looking positively delighted. I could even say he was happy for you. He was laughing so much!”
“Maddy, he was inebriated,” grumbled Cathy.
“Oh, that makes sense. Still, Miss Anne Longrove looked like she had swallowed a lime soaked in vinegar. She and her mother thought that you were a menace to the sanctity of the guest list. They believe your actions to be quite unladylike and improper.”
“The sanctity of the guest list!” Cathy protested. “Oh, what are we to do, Maddy? I have ruined our family!”
She had tried her best to keep up appearances, always aware of how she presented herself to theton. Her Papa’s failures were humiliating enough, but it seemed she had won the game of theworst by causing ruin in just one night.
“Well... There is more,” Madeline mused, looking less than enthused now. Cathy narrowed her eyes at her sister. “You did not stop at mathematics and poetry, Cathy. You dared the Duke of Baxter to a race. You were planning to race across the south lawn, even in the darkness. You were already on your way, your skirts lifted up, when Grandmama and Lord Longrove ran after you to restrain you. The Viscount of Farstone went to retrieve His Grace as well.”
“Oh, dear me. That is even worse than I thought!” Cathy groaned. How could she have done all that and not remember a thing?
Madeline was quiet, and when Cathy heard the approaching footsteps, she knew just why. Their grandmother, the Baroness of Marlow, had just found them in their little hidden corner.
“How are you feeling, Cathy dearest? Are we to understand that you are turning into your father?” she demanded in her discreet but firm voice.
“No, Grandmama!” Cathy replied quickly.
“Good,” the older woman, still intimidating at five-and-seventy, said. “Because at the moment, he is using your mother’s silver tea service to gamble some more. People are already talking about our family enough, and I would not want a repeat of last night’s events any time soon.”
Lady Marlow glided toward them, the hem of her silk dress rustling. Their grandfather, Lord Marlow, followed, clutching an ear trumpet. He looked confused while his wife looked furious.
“Perhaps Papa is... merely overwhelmed by theton,” Cathy protested weakly, knowing full well her grandmother was right. “He will join us for the ceremony, I am certain.”
The Baroness huffed loudly, striking the floor hard with her cane. There was no one she hated more in the world than her son-in-law.
“Do not defend him, Cathy. Your father has spent every single night in the card room,” the baroness declared, even as her eyes narrowed at Cathy’s gray gown, her nose wrinkling. “We are invited to a ducal wedding! Instead of socializing to fix his reputation, he behaves like a commoner by hiding with other drunks. He is a disgrace to his own family!”
“A race?” Lord Marlow yelled, leaning toward his wife. “Will there be a race as well? I wish to wager, but where is the bookmaker?”
“There is no race, Norman!” Lady Marlow yelled back right into his trumpet. Then, she refocused on her eldest granddaughter, smoothing a stray lock of hair from the latter’s forehead. “Cathy, you are the eldest and the pillar upon which your sisters lean. You should be setting a good example. Therefore, it pains me to hear you being incautious. What will become of us? A family on the brink of all sorts of scandal, including debtor’s prison?”
“Grandmama, I cannot... I cannot remember, nor can I explain, what happened last night. Yet, I can reassure you that—”
“There is no reassuring me now. I had warned your mother when she was your age. I told her what kind of man Harleigh Quinten was and still is. He would give her nothing but grief. He drinks to the point of oblivion. He has gambled the dowries of all four of his daughters. I would not be surprised if he sold one of you oneday.”
Cathy wanted to protest, but her mouth felt dry. Her father had continued to disappoint them. It seemed that only Madeline was willing to believe in him at this point. Even though she was familiar with her grandmother’s rants, she still flinched at the fiery hiss from her grandmother’s mouth.
“He would not sell his children, Grandmama,” Cathy muttered.