She knows herself to be at the mercy of events, and she knows by now that events have no mercy. ~ Margret Atwood.

Chapter 25.

Cinderellas Come with Stepmothers.

Charles had recongized Catrin the moment his eyes fell upon her.

"What is she doing in London?" He thought. He couldn't keep the smile from coming to his lips at the sight of her. She was pretty in her pale yellow gown. It brought out the lovely golden brown of her hair, most of which was covered with a delicate bonnet, though this time not red in color. She seemed lost in a world of her own and stood to the side, sipping from a glass thoughtfully.

"Excuse me, Father," Charles said and hurried over to where his Cinderella was. He failed to notice the intense, bitter stare her stepmother was giving him.

"Miss Llewelyn," he addressed her. "What a surprise to find you in London!"

Catrin lifted her eyes and blushed deeply from his words. She hated herself for this action. Why was she always blushing when he looked at her?

"A good surprise, I do hope, Lord Woodworth," she stammered out.

Charles' smile broadened. "A good one indeed. But where is your stepsister? I should be shocked to discover you are in London and she has remained in Wales."

Catrin giggled. "Then prepare to be shocked, Lord Woodworth, for I am here and Beatrice has remained in Wales."

He had only been joking when he said that and to have Catrin confirm his words left Charles speechless for a few seconds.

"My stepsister has taken ill, and was obliged to remain at Derwen Goch by doctor's orders until she is stronger," Catrin explained.

Charles narrowed his eyes a little, his smile growing playful. "If I didn't know better, Miss Llewelyn, I would say Miss Morton gave your mother the slip. I think she made it quite clear the first time I met her how she hates anything that has to do with society and I wouldn't be surprised to discover she faked her illness if only to keep from coming here."

Catrin could not believe the impertenance of the man. "It would seem you know my stepsister better than I do, Lord Woodworth!" She stated, a little crossly at that.

"Hardly," he replied, ignoring the tone of her voice. "But can you tell me I am wrong?"

Catrin sighed. "No, I cannot. But I beg of you, do not tell Mamma."

Charles laughed here. "I have kept the secret about you and the ball, did I not? I can keep this one just as well. It would seem Beatrice has quite the mind to play scams on honest folk."

"It is a habit of hers," Catrin half agreed. "I wonder that you did not meet her before. She has been in society for so long. Five years."

"Ah, but I have been living abroad and studying in Oxford for well over five years."

Catrin's eyes grew wistful. "Did you enjoy the time you were abroad, your lordship?"

Charles thought for a moment before answering. "Moderetly," he said at last. "Perhaps I would have enjoyed it more if someone had been traveling with me."

"Oh, I am sorry you were lonely," Catrin gave him a smile of sympathy. "I know what it means to be alone. Mamma and Beatrice are often away either to London or Bath and I was left on the manor, unable to accompany them because of my poor health."

Charles liked that smile. It was sweet and innocent, and full of genuine sympathy. No one had ever given him a smile like that before. Everything about his Cinderella that had so struck him at his birthday ball now came flooding back to him. There really wasn't any other girl like her in all of society.

"Charles! Charles!" His father's voice suddenly called out.

Charles rolled his eyes and turned to where his father stood. He caught sight of Mrs. Llewelyn standing next to him.

"Oh no," Charles muttered. Mrs. Llewelyn was a nice lady, but she irrtated him with the endless dull conversation that poured from her mouth like a fountain. She really couldn't speak two interesting words together.

"Charles, come over here!" The Duke motioned with his hand impatiently.

"Excuse me, please," Charles said to Catrin and went to his father. "Yes, Father."

"You remember Mrs. Llewelyn, do you not?" The Duke asked.

"I do indeed," Charles nodded. "I was a welcome visitor at her home. I am sorry I had to leave so suddenly. My father had an attack of ghout. Even now you can see he must sit in a chair with his foot bound."

"I am very sorry to know this," Mrs. Llewelyn patronized. "And it was a noble act to go and attend to you father when he needed you."

Charles put on a fake smile.

"Who were you talking to, Charles?" The duke asked.

"Oh, it was Miss Llewelyn, stepdaughter to Mrs. Llewelyn. I told you how I made her aquiantance while visiting Derwen Goch. She is..." Charles looked over but to his surprise Catrin was no longer standing by the tables. "She was just there," he stated in confusion.

Mrs. Llewelyn let out a merry laugh. "She is over there, your lordship."

Charles gaze followed her pointing finger and saw Catrin walking off with a gentleman.

"There will be dancing on the little platform there," Mrs. Llewelyn explained. "And of course my little stepdaughter was the first to be asked. She is quite popular with the gentlemen. I don't know how I am going to keep suitors away from her. Silly little girl, she is far to naive to understand anything just yet."

Charles didn't quite think Catrin to be silly and felt Mrs. Llewelyn's words would have better been left unsaid.

"She will learn with time," the duke soothed. "With such a fine stepmother as yourself."

"My dear Duke," Mrs. Llewelyn laughed and fanned herself. "I am flattered."

Charles wasn't listening to them. His mind was full of other things. While at Derwen Goch it had just been him and the ladies and he hadn't thought about a thing known as competition. But here in society it was obvious that Catrin was popular. He watched her as she danced and noticed that there were at least ten other men besides him watching her every move. Of course it was obvious that they should fall for Catrin. She was not only pretty and good natured, but held the title of heiress of Derwen Goch Manor.

It wasn't that Charles had any serious intentions towards Catrin, it was just he realized that while he was making up his mind if he really prefered Cinderella to Miss Morton, there would be a stampede of men all fighting to win her affections. If there was anything Charles hated in this life it was competition, because if he lost it would make him look like the world's greatest idiot.

"There must be some way to court her and not make it too obvious," he mused. "Get to know her better, see if she is more suited to me than her stepsister, but without becoming the laughing stock of society if she falls for some chap other than me."

Charles turned to his father, then shook his head. He was not going to ask him for advice. The Duke of Denster was far to desperate to get his son married to care about who or what would become the wife. Besides, his father had a special quality known as bluntness, and that was exactly what Charles wanted to avoid. He was guarding his pride after all.

A thought suddenly struck him. "This is the sort of thing Uncle Iestyn would know about," he decided. "I should write him a note, asking him for advice. Oh, wouldn't Elwyn be proud of me for finally turning to him for help."

Having made up his mind, Charles put the thought in the back of his head. Turning back to his father and Mrs. Llewelyn he excused himself.

"And where are you going?" His father demanded to know. "You can't leave me here with this foot."

"I want to dance," Charles replied.

"Go along, your lordship," Mrs. Llewelyn smiled. "I shall attend to your father. Mrs. Fairfax is watching out for my little Catrin and I find myself quite free."

Charles thanked her and with a bow departed. For all her annoying conversation she wasn't all that bad of a woman.

But Mariah Llewelyn had hidden motives. Once Charles was out of earshot she turned to the duke.

"I hear you are searching to get your son married?"

George Errol sighed. "It is a rotten buisness. I must have that boy with a wife before the year is up, but he is so lazy in going about it. I hosted an entire ball for him, I invited all the young, elibile ladies of the area. You know, I figured since his mother was Welsh he might have a Welsh bride too. But no, even with a ballroom packed with women it all went to naught. I wish his mother were alive, she would have been able to do this job splendidly. It's not exactly's a man's buisness trying to find a proper bride for his son."

"You are doing your best, your grace," Mrs. Llewelyn soothed. "But I will admit that a certain woman's touch is needed. Perhaps I can assist you? I know many families of importance, both in London society and back in Wales."

George's eyes lit up. "Mrs. Llewelyn, you might be the miracle I was hoping for."

Mrs. Llewelyn laughed and fanned herself. "Oh, your grace, you must stop with this flattery!" She chided. "Let us stick to buisness."

George smiled with the mischief of a school boy, but nodded his head in agreement. "I really am not a picky man, Mrs. Llewelyn. I all need for the boy is a woman of proper reputation, not having any...well...stains if you follow me. She must be of good family and have good looks about her. Call me vain, but the future Duchess of Denster must live up to the name."

"I could not agree more, your grace," Mrs. Llewelyn agreed.

"You know," George became thoughtful. "It would seem my son has a little fancy for your stepdaughter. What can you tell me about her?"

Mrs. Llewelyn was more than prepared for this question. "She is a good girl," she stated with the fond smile of a doting mother. "A little bit sheltered perhaps, but sweet and kind. I have only brought her out now because her health is very delicate."

"Is it now?"

Mrs. Llewelyn gave out a defeated sigh. "I wish my dear girl every best, and I will look out for her as long as I live, but there are some things that cannot be changed. Our family doctor was very concerened with my dearest Catrin. She is well enough for me to bring her out, at long last, but...well..." Mrs. Llewelyn's voice trailed off. "I will find my stepdaughter a good husband, and if you think your son will make her happy I will gladl approve of the match, but I fear I must warn you...it might be a childless marriage."

She struck home. If George Errol needed anything, he needed his son to have an heir. He needed the family bloodline, which was on the very of dying out completely, to keep going.

"But I beg you," Mrs. Llewelyn added. "Not a word of this to anyone. I would never wish humiliation on my sweet girl. She will have the best of everything I can give her, and her happiness in married life is my first concern."

"You are very kind to your stepdaughter," the old duke said with a smile. "She is lucky to have such a Mamma as you, one who will do anything to ensure her happiness. And you can rest assured, I will be silent as the grave. It is really none of my buisness to go talking about this to anyone, and I will confess it is a subject that I try to stay away from as much as possible."

The two of them were silent for a few minutes, watching as the couples danced.

"Did you not have another daughter?" George suddenly asked.

Mrs. Llewelyn turned to him, her face calm. "I do indeed, your grace, she was the product of my first marriage. Beatrice Morton is her name. You met her while we were in Bath."

"Ah, yes!" George nodded his head. "My son was very taken with her. They spent so much time in each others company as well. Is she here now?"

"No, she has remained in Wales for a little." Mrs. Llewelyn replied. "I expect her to arrive within the month. She is not like my stepdaughter, not quite so prone to lively conversation or dances."

"But she was very much of a chatter bug with my son," George pointedo out. "And they stood up several times at that ball we were at. How old is she?"

"Beatrice will be twenty one in February," Mrs. Llewelyn replied. "She is niece to the Duke of Worthington."

"Ah, yes," Geore was slowly remembering the details. "Yes, yes, now it all comes back to me. Of course, Miss Morton, very pretty young lady. The prettiest I have ever seen."

"Your grace is too kind."

George laughed. "The truth is the truth, Mrs. Llewelyn, and you have a picture of a daughter."

Mrs. Llewelyn smiled and said nothing. It was important not to press your luck if you wanted it to remain.

"So, she is coming to London in a few weeks," George kept on musing. "Very good. Very good indeed. When she arrives you must come and have dinner with me. Oh and bring little Miss Llewelyn as well. I shall be glad to see you all at my house."

Mrs. Llewelyn smiled and bowed. "Your grace, we will be honored. How delighted my girls will be. Oh, and if you know of any eligible young men for my sweet Catrin do tell me. I need a man of good and gentle character. She must be handled with the greatest of gentleness and such men are not easy to come by."

"I will keep my eyes open," George promised. "If you are to help me with getting a wife for my son, I will help you find a husband for your daughter."

Mrs. Llewelyn smiled and turned her gaze to where Catrin was dancing away to her heart's content.

"Stepdaughter!" She corrected triumphatly to herself. "Stepdaughter."