Free Shattered Rainbows by Mary Jo Putney Page A

so beautiful?" She gave Michael a droll glance. "Catherine is the only diamond of the first water I know who is genuinely liked by women as well as adored by men."
    "Please, Helen, spare my blushes," Catherine begged. "I am not such a paragon as all that."
    Lady Trowbridge rolled her eyes. "And modest as well! If I was not so fond of you, Catherine, I swear I would hate you. Be off, now. I shall see you later."
    Cheeks flushed, Catherine took Michael's arm and moved on. "Helen does rather exaggerate."
    "She seems to have spoken the truth," Michael said as several guests of both sexes started to move eagerly toward them. "It doesn't look as if I'll be needed until it's time to go home. Do you mind if I leave you?"
    "I'll be fine," she assured him. "Enjoy yourself."
    He inclined his head, then moved away. She sent a wistful glance after him. She wouldn't mind more of his company, but it was wise of him not to hover over her. That might have caused talk, even about "Saint Catherine." Society loved clay feet.
    Several of her officer friends arrived and swept her into a lively conversation. Soon she was enjoying herself thoroughly. Perhaps it was foolish not to come to functions like this alone, but when she had tried that, she had felt pathetic.
    A few minutes later, Lady Trowbridge approached with a man on her arm. "Catherine, do you know Lord Haldoran? He has just arrived from London. Lord Haldoran, Mrs. Melbourne."
    Haldoran was a handsome man of about forty with the powerful build of a sportsman. As Helen turned away,
    Catherine offered her hand. "Welcome to Brussels, Lord Haldoran."
    "Mrs. Melbourne." He bowed over her hand with practiced grace, and with an equally practiced meaningful squeeze.
    Knowing from experience that she must make her position clear immediately, she removed her hand and gave him her best frosty look. As he straightened, she saw that her message had been received and understood. For a moment, she thought that he was going to make a heavy-handed compliment. Instead, his languid expression changed to a stare that bordered on rudeness.
    Catherine said sweetly, "Is it so obvious that my gown has been remade several times?"
    He collected himself. "Forgive me, Mrs. Melbourne. A woman of your beauty could wear sackcloth and no man would notice. I was merely startled by your eyes. They are so unusual—neither blue nor green, and as transparent as gemstones."
    "I've heard that before, but since my parents' eyes were the same, I think of mine as nothing out of the common way."
    Something flickered across his face before he said gallantly, "Nothing about you could be common."
    "Nonsense," she said coolly. "I am merely an officer's wife who has followed the drum, learned to keep household when pay is months in arrears, and taught my daughter how to recognize the best chicken in a Spanish market."
    He smiled. "Fortunate husband, and fortunate daughter. Do you have other children?"
    "Only Amy." Preferring less personal conversation, she asked, "Are you in Brussels in the hopes of excitement, my lord?"
    "Naturally. War is the ultimate sport, don't you agree? As a lad I considered asking my father to buy me a commission in the 10th Hussars. The uniforms were very dashing and the hunting was excellent." He inhaled a pinch of snuff from an enameled box. "However, I changed my mind when the regiment was transferred from Brighton to Manchester. It is one thing to risk one's life for one's country, and quite another to be exiled to Lancashire."
    The flippant remark was in keeping for someone who had wanted to join the 10th Hussars, the most fashionable and expensive of cavalry regiments. Yet in spite of his banter, Haldoran was studying Catherine with disturbing intensity.
    "A pity you didn't join when the regiment was sent to the Peninsula," she said dryly. "I'm sure you would have found it grand sport to pursue creatures that could shoot back. So much more exciting than foxes."
    He laughed. "You're right. Hunting