There were certain things that well-bred ladies simply did not talk about. Cate was therefore protected from any open discussion about what had happened in Demery's room that night, though Miss Skinner dropped some heavy hints at breakfast the next morning. She wished to know if Cate had slept well. Perhaps Cate was a little fatigued this morning — there were shadows under her eyes? Perhaps the bed had not been warm enough, or perhaps too warm?

Cate answered those questions with enough embarrassment that Miss Skinner seemed satisfied. When later that day, Demery came to visit them in Cate's apartments to ask Cate to attend a ball with him, Miss Skinner seemed to take it as proof of the success of her scheme. She never referred to the matter again, and Cate left her alone to her assumptions.

The ball was an event of great anticipation for Cate — much of it unpleasant. She shivered to imagine the sly looks and whispers she would receive. On the other hand, though she had always been shy and unsure of herself, she used to enjoy balls. If you did not know what to say, you could always pretend to be listening to the music or engaged in the dance, and it was exciting to dress up and know, by the eyes that watched her, that men and women alike thought her beautiful.

Of course, now, her beauty had faded. Her looks were something of a cause of anxiety to her. What little capital she ever had in the world — her family, her position, her wealth, her character, even her good name — had dwindled to nothing more than her face and body. If she were to impress anyone, to have anything she could be proud of in society, she would have to look pretty, or at least prettyish.

Over the two weeks until the ball, she occupied herself chiefly with exploring the potential of her wardrobe and playing with arrangements of her hair. When her parents had sent her away after her disgrace became known, they had taken back most of her good clothes. She would not need them anymore, her mother said, and she did not deserve them. She had no ball gown with her, and no time to commission one before the ball. Cate settled on alterations instead, stealing the transparent lace overskirt from one morning gown and attaching it to the underskirt of a second, then shortening the sleeves halfway to her shoulders. Lace and ribbons, stolen from various bonnets and slippers, added prettiness to the bodice. To her surprise, she found it fun. It had been a long time since she had engaged herself in anything beyond looking after Luke or necessary chores.

Of course, it was not as charming as a professionally fashioned gown would have been, Cate thought, daring to look at herself in the mirror the evening before the ball, but it was a ball gown. Besides, it was only Wales. They could not be accustomed to fine things.

Her hair and face caused her more concern. The hollows under her eyes and weary lines on her brow were not fading. She patted them with pomade and oil, and even risked a little rouge on her pale lips and cheeks, hoping that Demery would not notice. She did not think he would approve.

They rode together to Holywell in the dun-coloured coach, Cate, Miss Skinner, and Demery. Demery was dressed as Cate had known him in London: a black suit, some ten years out of date, and a dark waistcoat with murky embroidery. Miss Skinner wore a claret-coloured evening dress that made her long thin nose look very pink — unless, Cate thought with a silent smile, she had been at the rouge too.

They arrived at the assembly rooms to find that they were already bustling. Cate had not expected such a crowd. Of course the rooms themselves were not very large — the summer parlour in her father's manor was larger than the dance room here — and from the broadness of their shoulders and accents, she suspected that more than a few handsome young men about the room were of a class no higher than well-to-do farmers. Despite that, everyone was very well dressed indeed. It was not London finery. There were no rubies or sapphires glinting at women's throats. But the fabrics shimmered and shone under the candlelight and were cut in graceful lines. Cate felt dowdy by comparison. She hung back next to Miss Skinner. Demery stood near them, looking around the room.

"I would like to introduce you to my friends," he said. "There are many people here I do not know. A great crowd." He frowned. "I am not overfond of crowds."

Before Demery could spot a friend, a voice called out his name.

"You did come! What a wonder!" Laurie pushed her way through the crowd to stand in front of Demery. Cate noticed rather jealously that she was looking very pretty indeed in a dress of poppy yellow that set off her dark eyes and hair. "I never thought I would see you here. The card room is through those doors."

"I did not come to play cards." Demery glanced at Cate. "Well. Perhaps later. Look, can you introduce Cate and me to a friend of yours? I don't see anyone I know."

"I think I saw the Bevans earlier. I don't know where they've got to." Laurie looked around. "Nell Bevans is sniffing out a dance from that old man. I bet Julia is in the refreshment room."

"Miss Julia." Demery looked relieved. "Yes, she always was a nice young girl. Perhaps you would care for lemonade, Catherine?"

Cate did not particularly care for lemonade, but she could see that Demery wished to introduce her to Julia Bevans, so she politely nodded.

Demery waded off through the crowd and Catherine followed in the gap he left in his wake. He was as broad-shouldered as the young men she thought might be farmers. Perhaps that was just how they were grown in Wales.

The refreshment room was less crowded than the dance room. Demery made a beeline for a rather dumpy-looking creature with carroty hair in a pink gown that did her no favours.

"Good evening, Miss Bevans," he said, with the cumbersome good manners Cate knew so well. "How do you do?"

The creature was thoroughly occupied with a glass of lemonade. She swallowed urgently, spilling lemonade down her chin and onto her gown. "But very well, thank you, sir. How do you do, Captain Demery?"

"Quite well, thank you." Demery cleared his throat. "May I introduce my wife?"

Miss Bevans's pale gaze slid to look somewhere past Cate's left shoulder. "I'm sorry. I see my sister. I must go."

She went. Cate looked at her broad, pink, retreating back with bewilderment. To be cut by a woman like that!

"I apologize," Demery said quietly. "She is not normally rude. I thought the two of you might be friends."

Why on earth would I want to be friends with that dowdy slob? Cate thought.

Cate said: "It was a kind notion, Captain Demery."

"I am sure there are others... closer friends of mine..."

It was hard to imagine Demery having close friends. Cate watched as he scanned the refreshment room and tried to picture it. Someone he would tell his innermost secrets, someone he would laugh with — no, she could not imagine him laughing. She was quite sure she had never seen him laugh. But his eyes met someone's across the room and he looked relieved.

"Mr and Mrs Sayer. Mrs Sayer is always very polite. Let me introduce them to you."

They crossed the room. Mr and Mrs Sayer turned out to be a rather stout middle-aged couple, involved in conversation with a pair of elderly women. When Demery said good evening, they responded with warmth, but their smiles faded when he introduced Cate. One of the elderly women whispered to the other and they turned and walked away. Mrs Sayer and her husband were not so openly rude: Mrs Sayer managed to stumble out that it was a pleasure to meet her, while Mr Sayer gave Cate a long, interested, hungry look that made her shudder. She kept her hands clasped firmly in front of her, even when he held out his hand for hers. A long moment's expectant silence elapsed, then he, too, turned away. After a murmured apology, his wife turned after him. His voice rose above the hum of chatter:

"Not as friendly as I heard tell!"

Cate felt Demery stiffen next to her and flinched, but when he spoke to her his voice was quite calm and low.

"I must again apologize. You need not be afraid that Mr Sayer is one of my frequent guests. Indeed, he will not be welcome at Plas Bryn after tonight."

"It was only a comment spoken out of hand."

Demery cast a swift look down at her. "Not only."

There was, in the low timbre of his voice, some frisson of suppressed anger. Had he seen Mr Sayer's look? Had he thought her receptive to it?

"If you would like to go the card room, please do," she said. "I do not need an escort."

"You know no one here."

"I am capable of making my own friends."

Demery kept her gaze for a long, silent moment. Cate's cheeks started to burn. It sounded wrong like that. It sounded like she meant something else altogether.

"It would be very ill-mannered of me to abandon you to the company of strangers," Demery said finally. "I must introduce you to my friends."

But friends were seemingly absent tonight. Demery got Cate a glass of lemonade and they loitered in the refreshment hall for some half-hour trying in vain to make introduction to people. No one was reluctant to speak to Demery, but as soon as he tried to introduce Cate their voices became cold and they found excuses to leave. At least there was no one else like Mr Sayer, with over-familiar eyes. It was less embarrassing to be rejected than to be leered at. All the same, Cate was quite sure that more than a few ladies were staring at her and whispering behind their fans.

Eventually Demery gave up. "Let's go and find Laurie," he said. "Do you enjoy whist? Laurie is quite good at it."

Cate did not enjoy whist, but she was willing to be bored for an hour or two if it meant getting out of the refreshment room. Then, perhaps, she could plead a headache and go home. Her earlier enthusiasm for the ball was entirely dampened now. It was clear by their eyes that no one thought she was pretty, except for Mr Sayer, and she would rather he did not. Nor could she really deny that anyone was wrong. Even if it was only a Welsh country ball, she had to admit that every other woman was dressed very well indeed, and she was underdressed by comparison. If only her mother had not taken all Cate's best gowns away.

They went through to the card room where they found Mrs Skinner and Laurie playing dummy whist with a third woman Cate had not yet met. She was about Cate's age, perhaps a little older, with willowy limbs and a long, solemn face, marked out by large, heavy-lidded dark eyes. She looked up as they approached, her eyes going first to Demery and then to Cate. Then she looked back down at her cards and calmly took the trick with the two of clubs.

"I would have won that!" Mrs Skinner said crossly.

"Yes, I know." The woman played the three of clubs. "Laura?"

"Blast!" Laurie said, tossing down the two of diamonds. "You know I've no trumps left, don't you?"

The woman shrugged. She won the last three tricks of the round, which soothed Miss Skinner's ruffled feathers considerably, as she was her partner. Then she turned again to Demery and Cate.

"Good evening," she said. "Is this your wife, Captain Demery? Perhaps she would like to join us at our table. We are not playing very high."

"Catherine. Might I introduce Miss Elizabeth Vaughn? Miss Vaughn, this is my wife, Catherine."

Miss Vaughn held out a long, slender hand and Cate shook it. It was not precisely a friendly hand, but it was the closest thing to warmth Cate had received all night.

"I suppose I can stand to lose a little of my pin money," Cate said. "If Mrs Wynn does not mind partnering with me."

"Not at all." Laurie shuffled the cards with deft fingers. "After all, there will be pleasure even in losing if it means you do too."

Cate sat down in the chair opposite Laurie. She felt rather the same way. The cards were dealt in such a way that they could not fail to win the first round, however, and they scraped a point in the second as well. Demery stood and observed them until halfway through the third round when he drifted away to the vingt-et-un table.

"Does Captain Demery not play whist?" Miss Skinner asked.

"Not, I think, when his wife is playing too," Laurie said.

"I would give up my place. I am not very good at card games, I know." Miss Skinner sighed. "I must be an unfortunate partner for Miss Vaughn."

Miss Vaughn gave no response, perhaps because Miss Skinner had just wasted the king of clubs on a trick Laurie had led with the eight of diamonds.

"I do think that it does good for a husband and wife to play cards together," Miss Skinner continued. "Or even against each other — cribbage, Catherine. You must ask Captain Demery to a game of cribbage in the evening."

"He will refuse," Laurie said.

"He is very fond of chess," Miss Vaughn said, playing a diamond. "And that is my trick — but we have lost the round again, I fear."

They had. Miss Vaughn took it nobly. There was no hint of impatience or annoyance in her heavy-lidded dark eyes. It was Miss Skinner's turn to shuffle. She did so slowly and clumsily, dropping several cards on the floor, which Cate bent to pick up. As she raised her head again, she felt a wave of dizziness come over her and clutched the table.

"Are you alright, Mrs Demery?" Miss Vaughn asked quietly.

"Yes. It is nothing — a little faintness that goes very quickly."

"Catherine is very delicate," Miss Skinner said. "She always has been, and since... well. She is more delicate lately. Should I fetch some wine?"

Cate shook her head. "It is gone already."

Laurie was watching her through narrow dark eyes. "I don't suppose you're going to sicken and die, are you?"

"I think it very unlikely," Cate said.

Miss Skinner dealt the cards. "Catherine must take care of her health. I am not sure the sea air is entirely good for her. London would be much safer."

"I hear Tunbridge-Wells is very good for invalids," Laurie said cheerfully. "I will suggest it to my brother."

"I have heard the sea air is very healthy," Miss Vaughn said. "Healthier than London, I would think."

Miss Skinner tutted and finished dealing the hands. "But you do not know Catherine's health the way I do."

"It is hardly worth talking about," Cate said. "Clubs is trumps, is it not?"

It was. Cate led with the ace of the suit, the only trick she was likely to win that round.

"David has poor health too," Laurie said, placing the two of spades on top of Miss Vaughn's four of clubs. "He took a sabre to the heart at Morales. He was barely more than a boy at the time. But you would never hear him complain."

"I do not mean to complain," Cate said. "Really. I would as soon we stop talking of my health altogether."

Miss Skinner frowned at her hand, then carefully drew out and played the two of clubs. "I did not know Captain Demery was injured. Was it very bad?"

"Awful. The scar is quite hideous, is it not, Catherine?"

"I have not seen it."

"Ah." A crocodile smile spread across Laurie's face. "I see."

Too late, Cate realized what Laurie saw. There was an air of quiet satisfaction about her as they proceeded to lose all but two tricks that round. Sometimes, she looked across to her brother at the vingt-et-un table and smiled to herself. There was something enraging about it. Thankfully, the implication passed Miss Skinner by, though Cate was sure Miss Vaughn had picked up on it; once or twice she gave Cate a rather considering look.

Cate took the cards to deal the next round, her fingers clumsy. She felt the need to make some claim upon Demery, to prove to Laurie that there was something more between them than convenience.

Through ill-managed play, they lost the last hand by several tricks, giving Miss Skinner and Miss Vaughn the game.

"Another?" Miss Vaughn asked. "Perhaps with a change of partners?"

"You'll have to excuse me." Cate got up from her chair. "I owe you, I know, but I wish to speak with Cap— my husband."

She slipped through the tables and chairs to where Demery was sitting at the vingt-et-un table and quietly, deliberately laid a hand on his shoulder. He turned and, on seeing her, as quietly and deliberately twisted his shoulder out from under her hand.

"What is it?"

For an instant, Cate felt the absurd compulsion to demand to see the scar on his heart. She controlled herself, well aware that Laurie was watching. "I'm sorry to interrupt you. I don't feel well."

"What do you mean? Headache?"

That he had guessed the malady she planned to invent flustered Cate. "No, I feel... dizzy. I think I am overtired. If it's not too much bother, I'd like to go home."

He frowned at her. "It's no bother." He turned back to the table. "You can take the carriage with Miss Skinner. I'll get a lift with Laurie."

This was not how Cate had expected him to respond. It did not seem somehow gentlemanly. He had never before shown a want of concern for her safety — not of course that tiredness demanded a man's protection, nor that she actually felt tired, but she was keenly aware that Laurie was watching them. Tears pricked her eyes.

Demery asked for a card then sighed and tossed the dealer a shilling. He turned back to Cate as the play continued. "Are you going home then?"

Cate looked away so he could not see her tears. "Yes. I think I will."

"Miss Skinner will be disappointed." Was there amusement in Demery's voice? It was hard to tell. "No matter. I will see you tomorrow, Catherine."

Cate moved away without saying goodnight. She beckoned to the claret-coloured blur of Miss Skinner, asked her in a low voice to make their excuses, then marched towards the door. The candles of the dance room were streaks of brightness above the brilliant swirling silks of the dancers. Cate bumped into someone and muttered an apology. She could hardly see where she was going for the tears in her eyes but she was determined to get out of sight before she let them fall. At last she made it to the entry hall and sent for her coach. After a few minutes, Miss Skinner caught her up.

"I must say, I do not like Miss Wynn," Miss Skinner said. "She was not concerned about your health. Not at all. She suggested a dip in the sea would fix it — in this weather!"

"She is teasing you." Cate swallowed the lump in her throat. "Cruel woman."

Miss Skinner peered at Cate. "You are a funny colour. Very flushed. I hope you do not have a fever. In London, you know, you could have the best of doctors."

"We won't be going to London. Demery will not countenance it."

"Hm." Miss Skinner chewed on a fingernail. "Maybe."

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2022-11-21: I had originally intended Cate to be unfairly bullied this chapter. She was going to be an innocent victim. Instead, she's a passive, manipulative, insecure idiot.