“No, I am very happy,” she claimed falsely. “Not only will Daphne make a good match for him, she will be lucky to have him for a husband.”
Maura knew her too well, though. “Kate, dearest…you are expending great effort to turn Valmere into an ideal husband for some other woman. Are you certain that is what you want?”
“I have his best interests at heart.”
“What of your best interests? What of your heart?” Maura’s dark eyes held real concern. “I have seen how you are when you are with him, Kate. Your whole being lights up. The sparkle in your eyes returns—the one that has been missing for years.”
Kate made a face at the indisputable statement. Doubtless the fiery spark of attraction she felt every time Deverill looked at her, the bright jolt of energy whenever he was near, was evident to anyone who knew her well.
“I can’t deny it,” she said with regret.
“But you also harbor deeper feelings for him. I think you want him for yourself.”
Unable to protest, Kate gave Maura a probing glance. “What if I do?”
“Then you should take action.”
“Meaning?”
Maura smiled kindly. “It seems to me that you are giving up prematurely. The Kate I have always known and loved would never act so passively. She would
go after what she wants with every fiber in her being.”
It was similar to the advice Kate had given to many a friend, and Maura knew it, judging by her self-satisfied look.
“I am nowhere near as skilled a matchmaker as you,” Maura added. “But if you resolve to have him, I will help you in any way I can. And you should act soon”—she glanced toward Deverill, who gave every appearance of wooing Daphne—“before they form a strong attachment.”
Another sharp pang shot through Kate, and when her friend turned away to address Ash, she was momentarily left alone to consider a stark realization: She’d been deceiving herself by pretending that Daphne was his best choice.
The truth was, she didn’t want Daphne to have him. She wanted Deverill for herself.
It was a disturbing acknowledgment, one that sent Kate’s thoughts churning. It took an intense effort of will to control her unruly emotions and finish supper before returning to the ballroom.
She went through the motions of dancing and conversing, but she was still stewing over Maura’s admonition a half hour later when Deverill suddenly appeared before her and drew her away from the crowd.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked in puzzlement as he led her out of the ballroom.
“Out of range” was his cryptic answer.
Hoping he would explain, she accompanied him along the corridor and felt more bewildered when he glanced into the various rooms they passed. Finally he ducked into a parlor that was unoccupied and dimly lit by a single lamp.
“What is the matter?” Kate demanded a little breathlessly.
Crossing the room to the hearth, he pulled her behind a Chinese screen that protected a sitter from hearth flames. “Miss Armitage is on my scent like a bloodhound.”
Kate couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you hiding from her?”
“Yes. Pray, keep your voice down.”
“Now who is being craven?” she whispered.
He glanced down at her. “Wretch,” he said lightly. “You are too damned gleeful at my predicament.”
Kate kept her voice to a murmur. “You should remain here for a while. Miss Armitage is a rank amateur compared to Lady Dalton, but she can still cause you trouble.”
“I will, but you must remain here with me.”
“Deverill, the ball is not over. I am promised to several more dance partners.”