![]() ![]() She had no desire to learn anything that was contained between the covers of a book. Which, in Cathy’s opinion, was just as well. Her explosions of rage had sent more than one governess running from the house in tears, vowing never to return. ![]() Cathy could assume the role of a gentle, well-bred young lady very well when it suited her, but when it did not, she was a termagant. In this last, the good ladies were only partially successful. Since her mother’s death ten years before, she had been raised by a nanny and a succession of governesses whose duty in life had been to teach their young charge the things that were important for a lady to know in 1842: to play the harp and the pianoforte, to execute insipid watercolors, to speak the French tongue like a native, and to appear sweetly mindless and childlike at all times. She was only seventeen, and had been pampered and protected all her short life. ![]() ![]() The brisk sea air had whipped color into her cheeks, and her blue eyes sparkled. She was very much aware of the picture she made as she stood bracing herself against the rail on the deck of the Anna Greer, a light wind ruffling her hair and the setting sun turning its red-gold splendor to a vivid flame. Lady Catherine Aldley was beautiful, and she knew it. ![]()
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