Free Virginia Henley by Insatiable

used to being the center of attraction when she visited Hunsdon Hall. Tonight, however, she felt almost invisible. Cat was actually relieved when her mother arrived, but Isobel too ignored her and joined the circle of ladies clustered about the loutish lord from Scotland.
    She saw her case of sketches lying forgotten on a table and decided to whisk it up to Philadelphia’s bedchamber before her mother’s eagle eye spotted it. She managed to slip from the room unnoticed but could not resist the impulse to crash the door closed after her.
    Patrick smiled with satisfaction. My strategy is working. The little hellcat just slammed the door to get my attention!

Chapter Five
    F or Catherine, dinner was an exercise in frustration as the two male guests received the lion’s share of attention. Kate directed the servants to proffer the dishes to Patrick and Robert before serving the ladies. Cat had a dainty appetite and was astonished at the amount of food the Scot consumed. All at the table were having a marvelous time eating, laughing and conversing—all except Cat, who sat in silence, making no effort to hide her dislike and disapproval. Unfortunately, no one seemed to notice.
    Philadelphia invited their guests to attend the Court masque on Saturday evening but made no mention of the fact that Cat had designed many of the costumes and was to play the role of the Moon Goddess, Cynthia. The impulsive need to say something outrageous suddenly overwhelmed her. Cat drained her wine glass and narrowed her eyes to slits. “Lord Stewart, I hope you are aware that sheepskins are inappropriate attire at Queen Elizabeth’s Court?”
    A hush descended and all heads turned toward her.
    “Lady Catherine, I regret that my sheepskin offended you when we met in the woods this morning.” The heads swiveled toward him.
    “It was not the sheepskin that offended me,” Cat said sweetly. “It was the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Did you have a successful hunt, my lord?” All present awaited the answer.
    “I sighted my quarry, but instead of moving in for the kill I deliberately allowed it to escape. The undersized doe was so afraid, she presented no challenge to a seasoned hunter.”
    Undersized, am I, you insulting lout? “I quite agree it would be more sporting to pick on something your own size. Trouble is, you are unnaturally large. Perhaps not quite a giant, but I would certainly describe you as a bruising brute. ”
    Kate interrupted before Cat decided to scratch his eyes out. “Why don’t we go into the other room for an after-dinner drink? I believe we have some fine Scotch whisky.”
    The men got to their feet and allowed the ladies to lead the way. Catherine swept past Patrick with her chin in the air.
    “Hellcat.” He spoke softly so only she could hear.
    “Hellhound!” she retaliated, loud enough for all to hear.
    Isobel Spencer was incensed at her daughter’s show of bad manners. She gripped Cat’s arm and squeezed cruelly. “You will make your excuses and leave immediately,” she hissed.
    Cat blushed warmly and cursed her impulsive tongue. As the drinks were being poured, she said, “No more wine for me, thank you. I shall bid you all good night, if you will excuse me.”
    “Of course, darling.” Philadelphia gave her a speculative look. “We shall see you tomorrow.”
    “Sweet dreams, Lady Catherine,” Patrick said softly.
    She looked across the room. Their eyes met and held for a moment. His were challenging; hers were defiant. Go to hell, Lord Bloody Stewart!
     
    Hours later, Patrick stood at his window staring across at the house next door, absently fingering a length of white satin ribbon. His senses were still saturated by the scent of the lilac she had worn in her hair. Catherine Spencer rejected everything about him: his size, his looks, his clothes, his manners, his personality and his nationality—especially his nationality. How ironic that he found everything about her utterly irresistible: her size,