by Claudy Conn
* * *
First thing the next morning, Kitty made her way to Henrietta’s in the Halloway coach. She had told Nanny not to concern herself, that she wouldn’t go flitting about town on her own, and as Nanny had made plans to help Cook in the kitchen and was comfortable with Kitty’s destination, she allowed her charge to travel the short distance unattended.
Thus, Kitty rushed Henrietta in the morning room. After the first bout of hugging and screaming the two ladies sat together, and Ree asked, “Kitty, how did you know where to find me?”
“Harry told me.” Kitty watched her friend for a reaction and was astounded to see her friend pale.
“Harry? Are you saying that Harry is in town?” Ree asked in a small voice. “When did he arrive in London?”
“The night before last,” Kitty said, still studying her and wondering just what was wrong.
“Oh, well,” Ree’s hand fluttered as her lashes brushed her fine cheeks. “No doubt his father sent him here on some business. Why else would he have come? I am sure he must be distressed to have torn himself away …”
“Torn himself away? From what, you madcap, from what?” She studied her friend and said, “Ree, what is it? No use trying to bamboozle me. Something is wrong.”
“Wrong? And bamboozle, indeed.” Henrietta released a shaky laugh. “Naught, and I am sure Harry was too busy with the hounds to want to go to London.”
Kitty saw her friend’s attempt at sangfroid and almost burst out laughing. Had her friend not looked so miserable, she would have indeed given over to mirth.
She shook her head and said, “Absurd girl, hunting Season is long over. Now what is this all about?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Instead, tell me, are you madly in love with anyone yet, Kitty?”
“Silly goose, if you are going to keep secrets, so then must I,” Kitty bantered.
“Ah, I see, but in your letter you mentioned Brummell … my word, that is quite an accomplishment! Brummell spending even a moment with a young miss? But I can see why he would be intrigued by you—you who are so out of the ordinary.” Ree’s voice seemed to choke.
Kitty took her shoulders. “Enough. You will tell me what the devil is wrong, and you will tell me now. I shan’t leave till we sort this out.”
“I … I don’t know how or where to begin …”
“Begin with Clay. I hear you have been hobnobbing with him and that he escorted you and your parents—”
“Not my parents, only my mother,” Ree corrected.
Kitty sighed heavily. “La, very well then, you and your mother. Since when have you become so tight with Clayton Bickwerth?”
Henrietta picked at the skirt of her pretty cream-colored day gown and tried to dodge the question. “Not so very tight …”
“This won’t do. In a moment I shall be moved to strangle you, and honestly I don’t wish to do that, for I have no desire to spend the rest of my days in prison. Out with it, girl. What the deuce is going on?”
“Indeed, it is true that Clay’s attentions towards me are most marked,” Ree answered quietly and looked away.
“And your attentions towards him … are they also marked?” Kitty was ever direct.
“Many girls would be flattered. I am not. I know that he only switched to me—from you—when he found out you were no longer an heiress. Harry told me that, and I know it to be the truth.”
“Stupid Harry. But he isn’t wrong, dearest. If I was not hurt by his desertion, you should not be by his sudden interest. It is always better to face the truth and take it from there, don’t you think so, Ree? I have always thought you had a better head on your shoulders than I.”
“I know, but when Harry said it … well … I wanted to slap his face!”
Kitty laughed out loud. “I imagine that is exactly how I would have felt as well.”
Ree threw her arms around her friend and cried out, “Kitty, Kitty … ’tis so wonderful to be with you again. I missed you awfully. You have a way of dispersing the fog, don’t you?”
“Now, I shall disperse another fog, the mystery that surrounds you and Harry. Come on, Ree, what the devil is wrong?” When Ree hesitated Kitty added, “Henrietta. You have always known right from wrong, good from bad, and I can’t believe you don’t know your own heart.”
“I do, but I fear that—”
It was at this moment that the morning room door, which was closed, opened wide and a servant announced Clayton Bickwerth.
* * *
The earl left Manton’s Shooting Gallery after having had a successful and excellent shooting round. He had examined a friend’s new firing arm, laughed heartily with a few acquaintances, and felt the better for it as he took on the day.
His mind, however, was still at discord with his heart.
He wanted Kitty—wanted to taste her, wanted to possess her—wanted her for himself. Damn, if he wasn’t going to have her! That meant marriage.
It was a word that stuck in his gullet … and yet, when he thought of Kitty … he was able to contemplate it with a new sense of beginning.
He was her guardian—or something of a guardian—so he applied to himself for permission to ask for her hand, laughed, and granted himself that permission. The entire prospect of asking Kitty to be his wife, his bride for all time, had him happier than he had been in many years.
He imagined life ahead with Kitty as his bride, and something inside of him grew, expanded, and glowed at the notion. Ah, but she will lead you a pretty dance, his inner man told him. Bloody hell, she will, and I will love every blasted minute of it.
Right, then, what was his next step?
He made his way home and found Kitty had gone out. Disappointed, he rubbed his hands, went into the morning room, and there found his grandmother.
She eyed him and said, “Yes?”
“What can you mean, yes?”
“Brandon, you look like that cat who swallowed the canary but finds he wants to spit it out,” she said and laughed.
He grinned ruefully. “Do I?”
“Indeed, and I believe I know what it is,” she answered knowingly.
“Do you? Why then, don’t you tell me.” He raised an eyebrow with his dare.
“You can’t abide the thought that Kitty will soon have offers from gentlemen who are more than worthy—”
“No one is worthy of Kitty,” he said, cutting off his grandmother. “No gentleman knows just how to let her be who she is.”
“Only you?” she answered.
“Indeed, even I am not worthy of Kitty Kingsley, but I mean to have her just the same, and she will thrive with me, because I know her and love her just as she is.”
His grandmother beamed, and he realized ruefully that she looked as though she had swallowed said canary. “Brandon … perhaps you should wait for her ball next week.”
“Wait? Wait for her ball? Damn if I will. I mean to wed my Kitty and want the world to know.”
Instead of arguing, the dowager got to her feet and went to put her arms around him. “Oh my boy, oh my dear boy … how I have been waiting for this moment.”
~ Twenty-Eight ~
CLAY MADE A FUSS over Kitty, marveling over her hair, her grown-up style, and Kitty got the impression that he was calculating the cost of her clothes. She was beginning to dislike Clayton Bickwerth.
On the alert, she watched him as he flirted outrageously with her friend. Ree was only slightly flattered, which meant she did have Clayton’s measure. Why then allow him so much license?
It was obvious to her that Clay’s heart was not in his courtship. This was all about the money.
Kitty was not naïve about such things. In her class, titles and money were often the reason for marriages, and a marriage of convenience was an accepted solution to some of the aristocracy’s problems. Titles and wealth were often joined where love had naught to do with it.
Well, she wouldn’t have that for Henrietta. She was going to have to do something about this,
but why, why was Henrietta spurning Harry? She had been certain that Ree’s feelings about Harry had always been … warm.
“Do you join us, Kitty?” Clay interrupted her thoughts to ask.
“Join you?”
“Oh Clay, I am sorry,” Ree stuck in immediately. “I know I did say I might take a stroll with you this morning by the Serpentine, but although Mother is resting, I expect she will be getting up shortly, and I am promised to her for the day.”
Clay took this happily enough, Kitty thought.
She took her friend’s hand and said, “Very well then, tomorrow you and I shall go view the Elgin Marbles. And boring as that may seem, and it does, at least we will be bored together.”
Ree joined Kitty in a giggle and said, “Oh Kitty, no. I am persuaded it shall be more than boring—must we?”
Kitty leaned in and said, “That isn’t really where we shall go.”
Ree’s eyes opened wide, and a small gasp escaped her. “Kitty, you will never change.” She hugged her then, all while Clay frowned and pulled at his bottom lip under Kitty’s eye.
“Ah, we are whispering,” Kitty said, “How rude of us, Clay … but it is only missy stuff and nonsense.”
“I thought as much,” he said and smiled.
Kitty got to her feet then and said, “I must be going.”
“I’ll walk out with you,” Clayton offered.
Henrietta waved them off, and Kitty frowned. She still had no idea why Henrietta had taken a miff with Harry, and that was what it was—she was sure of it.
Outside, Kitty turned to Clay and eyed him openly. “Well, my buck, you may now tell me just what is going on.”
* * *
The Halloway Coach pulled up to the Halloway townhouse, and Max smiled, tipped his peaked hat to Kitty and the dowager, and announced that he was at their service.
Kitty smiled and handed him a basket. “Max, this is from Cook … she wants you to sample her strawberry tarts.”
Max’s eyes widened, and he grinned.
Kitty turned as the footman opened her coach door wide, and the dowager, bustling and still pulling on one of her gloves, climbed in before her, chattering all the while.
“What is this rush?” Kitty asked and laughed.
“I want to stop and pick up that shawl I admired yesterday. I decided that although it is very dear, it is worth it. I must have it,” the dowager said breathlessly.
Kitty giggled and gave the dowager a hug but was interrupted by Max, who opened the small box behind his driver’s seat and asked for their direction. The dowager told him and turned to Kitty to say, “It is bound to be a squeeze today … but I think you will enjoy the Rawlings’ tea party.”
Kitty heard a sound and looked to find the earl hurrying down the front steps and putting up a hand. “Oh … it is my lord.” She glanced at the dowager.
“So it is,” said the dowager and smiled to herself as she waved at her grandson.
Kitty thought he looked chagrined and laughed as she said, “Should we not wait? I think he wants a word.”
“I am sure he does, but it can wait,” the dowager answered, and Kitty wondered at the secretive smile she wore.
Somewhat later, the shawl had been purchased along with some pretty lace the dowager insisted could be made into a gown for Kitty. Kitty remarked that she rather thought they were late, but the dowager laughed this off as Max pulled the coach to the curbing of the Rawlings townhouse.
They were led by a butler who wore no expression at all, and Kitty had the saucy urge to wiggle her nose at him and make him smile, but she controlled herself.
At the Rawlings’ opulent and most spectacular drawing room, the dowager put a hand to her forehead and whispered, “Quite overdone.”
Minnie had already advised Kitty that Mrs. Rawlings was known for her lavish affairs. Her husband was both wealthy and apparently very fond of her and indulged her whims. Thus, she had chosen to decorate the room with an overwhelming quantity of oversized flower arrangements. Vases of mixed floral collections, as well as hothouse orchards and potted tulips, were everywhere.
A professional harpist played diligently in one corner of the room, and as Minnie had promised, it was a most crowded and buzzing crowd. Notables, consisting for the most part only of the aristocracy’s ladies, huddled in cliques, eyeing one another. Only a few men had been invited, among them the Beau. Kitty also saw Petersham, a snuff box in hand, strolling leisurely about. She had turned to tell Minnie when she clapped eyes on Cope, the notorious Green Man, meandering about in full green color.
She giggled, and the Beau, at her elbow, said, “You see, of course, what I see.”
“I do,” she said brightly.
“Don’t hurt your eyes, my dear … look away,” the Beau whispered and moved on.
Mrs. Rawlings’ son Rupert arrived, and Kitty immediately felt the buzz filter through the room and eyes turn his way. Intrigued, she watched him make his way through the chattering guests. Someone nearby bent and whispered that Rupert Rawlings had just arrived in London and that his mother was at her wits end because he had somehow found and fallen in love with Felicia Saltash. It was at that moment that the redhead in question turned from chatting with some guest and linked her arm through young Rupert Rawlings’.
Mrs. Rawlings evidently could do little about his very public affair with the widow. Now as he flaunted it before her eyes, Kitty watched Mrs. Rawlings hold herself up with grace and a smile, as though everything were just fine.
She imagined that might be difficult for a mother to do when she absolutely was certain her son, no matter the age, was about to be hurt.
Mrs. Rawlings approached her, and Kitty realized just what plan Rupert’s mother had in mind when the woman dragged her off to meet the besotted Rupert.
Within a short span of time, Kitty and Rupert, who had just turned twenty-one, had found a great many things in common and began speaking to one another like old friends. How could they not, once he mentioned riding and hunting the Quorn?
Kitty laughed at one of his anecdotes and looked up to find his mother smiling at them before she looked at Felicia, who was scowling and glancing their way.
Kitty’s eyes met and locked with Felicia Saltash’s bright eyes, and she got herself ready as the woman stalked towards her and said, “Rupert, you must introduce me to your … young friend.”
Kitty’s temper was flicked into the ‘hot’ position.
“I am Kitty Kingsley, and I can see why you think me young, Mrs. Saltash. The dowager recently told me that everyone looks young, after one reaches a certain age.”
Rupert choked as he stifled a laugh.
Felicia’s chin went up, and Kitty was fairly certain she had made an enemy. Perhaps she should have held her tongue, but, no, she would always have to respond when someone was pointedly rude.
Felicia snubbed her and said, “Rupert, darling, do give me your arm. I should like you to introduce me to that woman with the turban. She is your aunt, is she not?”
Rupert cast Kitty an apologetic and sincere smile. “I do hope we may talk again soon.”
“Yes, indeed.” Kitty turned and found the Beau once again at her elbow.
Beau Brummell winked at Kitty and said, “I am leaving now, but first, little devil, up on your toes and kiss me. I saw the Saltash have at you, and you gave her a much deserved set-down. What a good Kitty you are—and with such neat claws. I am quite proud of you, for I don’t know of any young miss who has ever dared to take on one such as she.”
Kitty laughed and did as she was bid and kissed his cheek. “I was very rude, though, wasn’t I?”
“Indeed, and quite right. Bravo, child, bravo!” He started off then, but Kitty called him back hurriedly. “Wait, Beau … tell me, how can my earl … be … with someone like that?”
“My dear, you mistake, he is not, as you say, ‘with her’—at least not any longer.” Once again he winked and then, inclining his head, left her and the drawing room.
Well, thought Kitty, he wouldn’t lie. He had no reason to lie. So then, had the earl honestly broken it off with Felicia Saltash? She was surprised, because she was still hearing gossip about the two. However, if Felicia was now interested in Rupert … well then?
~ Twenty-Nine ~
THE DOWAGER HAD planned a simple dinner for that evening. They had been gadding about for the last few weeks, and she felt they all needed a break from their hectic schedule, especially with Kitty’s ball on the horizon.
Kitty had chosen to don a simple gown of sky blue silk for their quiet evening, and the dowager must have already told her four or five times that she looked stunningly beautiful. If this was so, she thought, she was glad of it, as she was hoping the earl would join them.
He did not, and she was more quiet than usual as they enjoyed their meal and then retired to the library. Since it was a cool evening, a fire was lit in the grate. Kitty poked at it.
“La, child,” the dowager said, putting down her book. “I am exhausted. I shall bid you a sweet good-night and go up to bed.” She eyed her. “You need some rest as well.”
“Yes, Minnie … I’ll just sit for a bit longer and enjoy the flames.”
The dowager bustled about and kissed her cheek before making her way out of the library and leaving Kitty to mull over the day.
What was she to do? She loved the earl to distraction, and even if it were true that he was no longer interested in Felicia Saltash, how could she expect him to want her after he had been with such an experienced beauty?
She had tried everything she knew to catch his interest and hoped that his heart would follow, but he had resisted her, and she could no longer throw herself at him. She supposed she was destined to be a spinster for she was certain she would never love anyone else.
He was … everything.
A sudden draft.
Kitty turned and stared as he approached. His presence was like a magnetic force of nature. She felt drawn to him, mesmerized by him, and this knowledge kept her breathless.