Cinderella After Midnight

But at least until a moment ago she had kidded herself that his involvement in her evening was done.

It was instantly apparent that he didn’t agree. When she stammered out something inane about a frightfully pleasant conversation with Councillor Wainwright during the dance, he laughed aloud. It was a complicated sound, more than the simple expression of amusement.

“While there’s no one else around,” he suggested, leaning forward, “let’s be a little more honest about this, shall we?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” she said, although she knew quite well.

“You have about as much right to call yourself Lady Catrina Willoughby-Brown as I would have to call myself Prince Patrick of Kalamazoo,” he answered. “Sorry, Lady C, but I’ve blown your cover. I know why you’re really here, and I’m not going to let you get away with it….”

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