‘We’d best be getting back.’ Finn stepped away. ‘We wouldn’t want to miss the best part of the evening—a second round of cider and gingerbread.’
But Catherine thought she might have already missed the best the evening had to offer, which was an entirely ridiculous conclusion because her fairy tale didn’t involve Finn Deverill, it involved his brother.
Chapter Three
December 22nd
The sleighs were waiting in front of Deverill Hall after a jolly breakfast featuring every early morning delight imaginable: shirred eggs, sausages, fried potatoes, toast, Cook’s famous cinnamon buns and smoked salmon, no doubt caught in the cold rivers of the countryside. Catherine thought she might burst out of her clothes, but that didn’t stop her from heaping her plate high in celebration. No one in Paris did breakfast like a proper English household.
Afterwards, full and happy and ready to embrace the elements, which weren’t all that dangerous—the overnight snow had stopped and the skies had cleared, leaving the day perfect with blue sky over head and crisp snow on the ground—the guests made their way outside where the countess was organising everyone into sleighs.
‘Catherine, over here.’ The countess gestured. ‘You can ride with Meredith and Marcus.’
That was the plan at least. How she ended up with Channing and Lady Alina was a bit of a social mystery. No sooner had she put her foot on the rung of the sleigh to join Meredith then Channing had called out from his sleigh, ‘Mother, Catherine is to ride over here with us. I haven’t seen her the entire time and I want a good visit with her.’
Catherine could see the idea didn’t please the countess. A little furrow formed on her brow as she mentally tried to rearrange the seating to accommodate the change, but Channing was faster. ‘Mother, Alyson and Ellis can ride with Meredith and Marcus instead.’ Channing held out a hand to her before his mother could argue. ‘Come on, Cat, I’ll help you in.’
‘Catherine, please,’ she said softly, gripping his gloved hand and stepping in.
They were joined eventually by Lord Richard because the countess abhorred uneven numbers the way nature abhors a vacuum, but it hardly mattered. Channing had invited her of his own accord to ride in his sleigh. Surely that signified as interest.
Channing made the necessary introductions, settling lap robes for the ladies. It gave Catherine time to study Lady Alina, who was undeniably stunning and unique with her platinum-blonde hair and blue eyes, almost as blue as Channing’s. She looked like the queen of the frost and she was dressed like it too in a habit of bright blue the same shade as the dress she’d worn yesterday.
‘It’s my signature colour,’ Alina said somewhat coolly when Catherine commented on how well it suited her.
‘Our Catie is just home from Paris. She can tell you all the latest fashions from the Continent, m’dear.’ Channing patted Lady Alina’s hand, but he was looking at her. She could almost forgive him for the abbreviation of her name. Almost.
‘Catie?’ Lady Alina caught it immediately, her gaze shifting from Channing to her and back again. Catherine didn’t think anything got past her.
‘I prefer Catherine,’ Catherine said hastily.
Channing dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand. ‘No one named Catherine actually goes by it. They’re Caties or Cats or Cathys or even Kits,’ he protested good naturedly as the sleigh took off behind Meredith’s.
‘Channing’s right.’ Alina offered coyly, an arm sliding through his almost possessively. ‘You need a nickname, something distinctive to set you apart.’ Channing? She called him by his first name? Catherine had never heard any woman do that. Surely Channing would correct the familiarity. It should be Mr Deverill. Her heart sank. She called Finn and Channing by their first names because it was expected. She was as good as family. But this platinum-haired woman had no such claims.
‘I must disagree,’ Catherine said, wanting to be argumentative. She didn’t much like this special guest of Channing’s. ‘Many great women in history have used their full name: Catherine the Great, Katherine of Aragon, Catherine de Medici, Catherine Parr, Catherine of Valois.’ Catherine drew a breath and tossed Channing a flirty smile. ‘None of them, I assure you, was ever addressed publicly as Cat.’
Channing laughed and held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘You have me there. I couldn’t argue either way. I haven’t heard of half of them. Catherine of Valois? Are you sure that’s a real person?’