by Diane Farr
This was disturbing, but Mr. Montague kept his inevitable reflections to himself. He was aware that Kilverton, after searching in vain for a bride who could stir stronger emotions in him than respect and liking, had recently contracted an extremely eligible engagement. Although the ceremony was not to take place for some months yet, Richard Kilverton was as good as married. Under the circumstances, it was fortunate that he was unlikely to discover the identity of his mysterious charmer. She seemed to be firing his imagination in a rather dangerous way.
Mr. Montague decided his friend needed to take a damper. He assumed a gloomy tone, shaking his head pessimistically. “Sounds to me like some dashed governess, Kilverton. Probably forty if she’s a day, and hatchet-faced. If you saw her in the daylight, she’d more than likely be covered in spots, or bucktoothed. Mark my words; only a dragon could come through an experience like that without having the vapors.”
But Kilverton only laughed, stretching his long legs out before him. “Not bucktoothed, Neddie! Of that, at least, I am sure!”
His shoulder was beginning to pain him, and Ned looked as if he should be in bed, so his lordship soon called for a hackney to take him to his family’s residence in Mount Street. It was late; that was good. No fear of his disheveled appearance alarming anyone. His valet could discreetly dispose of the ruined coat, and no one need know of his adventure.
He caught himself staring out the windows as the jarvey drove past Curzon Street, trying to calculate the possible direction of a certain young lady’s footsteps, and frowned. What nonsense!
Lord Kilverton sank back against the squabs and ruefully pondered the fickleness of fate. However silly it undoubtedly was, and however fleeting his interest would no doubt have proved, he felt a pang at finding himself for the first time unable to follow his inclination. If he were unattached, he realized, he would have tried to solve the mystery and find that girl.
Of course, Ned was right. Once found, she would no doubt prove as insipid as every other female of his acquaintance. But at the moment, it seemed a rather cruel joke that after years of searching, he had finally located a female he felt at least a passing interest in—and it was too late.
Chapter IV
It was long before Caitlin could fall asleep that night, and she awakened the next morning feeling little refreshed. One of the housemaids had brought her a pot of morning chocolate, but even this agreeable luxury failed to raise Caitlin’s spirits. She sat up in bed, sipping the hot, sweet liquid gloomily.
She was in the suds, and no mistake. The more she considered the previous evening, the worse it appeared to her. It was bad enough to have been snubbed by Lady Elizabeth Delacourt, but Caitlin’s cheeks grew hot when she recalled her own behavior. Leaving the party early—and unescorted! With only a message to Lady Selcroft! Oh, she had definitely crossed the line. She had committed an unforgivable solecism, and her unknown assailant had given her her just desserts.
She frowned, unseeing, at the bedpost. It was absurd the way her mind kept returning to that man. No amount of self-scolding succeeded in banishing him from her imagination. Despite the evidence of the bloodstains he had left on her gown, she could not convince herself he was a sinister individual whom she was fortunate to have escaped. It was maddening to think she would probably never discover his identity.
On the other hand, she reminded herself with a shudder, I am excessively glad that he will probably never discover mine!
It would have relieved her considerably to confide the story to a sympathetic listener, but that was out of the question. If any part of the tale came to Lady Lynwood’s ears, Aunt Harriet would probably wash her hands of her hoydenish niece and send her back to Hertfordshire without more ado. And Emily would be scarcely less shocked than Aunt Harriet at Caitlin’s wanton disregard of the proprieties.
Serena might understand—but then a dreadful thought occurred. Caitlin had stupidly seconded Lady Elizabeth’s advice with her own shocking conduct. The next time she saw Serena, she would probably receive a crushing snub. Caitlin had alienated her only friend in London, and she had no one to blame but herself. Her eyes suddenly filled with remorseful tears.
Caitlin set her chocolate cup down, dashed the tears from her eyes, and resolutely scrambled out of bed. If it killed her, she would go down to breakfast with a semblance of her usual cheerful calm. Emily would be longing to confide the story of her presentation. Caitlin hoped fervently that the ton had given Emily a warmer welcome last night than her sister had experienced.
She would not wait for Jane to come and help her dress. Besides, she must not grow accustomed to the life of luxury she was leading at Lynwood House. Caitlin had waited on herself all her life, and since she was doubtless returning to Rosemeade in disgrace in the near future, she would probably wait on herself forever. She dressed hastily and dragged a comb through her hair, trying to arrange the copper-colored tresses as Emily had taught her, then grimaced at her reflection. In her white muslin morning dress, she looked like nothing so much as a—a lit candle!
She hurried downstairs, dreading what she might find there; she could not help fearing that sensitive Emily had been slighted as she had been. But when she stepped through the breakfast room door Emily flew out of her chair with a cry of joy.
“Caitie! How I wish you had been with us last night!”
Caitlin laughed, and hugged her younger sister. “Indeed, Emily, I wish I had been,” she replied, thinking Emily could little know how heartfelt that sentiment was. “Did you enjoy yourself? Was it everything you hoped?”
Emily’s soft blue eyes glowed, and her cheeks were more than usually pink. “Oh, it was lovely! Everyone was so kind.”
Caitlin sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving. If Emily succeeded in joining their aunt’s world, Caitlin felt she herself could happily return to obscurity in Hertfordshire. “But this is excellent!” she remarked, her eyes twinkling. “If everyone was kind to you, Emily, you must have been a great success.”
This brought a chuckle from Aunt Harriet, sitting at the head of the table with the morning post scattered beside her breakfast plate. “A portionless girl from the country cannot expect to cause a sensation, Caitlin!” she announced, her satisfied expression belying the admonition. “But on the whole, our little Emily did very well. Very well indeed.”
Lady Lynwood was a plump little woman who retained much of her youth’s prettiness, and almost all of its giddiness. With her correspondence and tea things heaped about her like a nest, she reminded Caitlin of a contented little hen, preening and clucking over last night’s success.
Feeling immensely relieved, Caitlin seated herself and shook out her napkin. “There was never a doubt in my mind that Emily had only to be seen to be appreciated. Once we removed her from the backwater and brought her into the world, it was only a matter of time before all of London fell at her feet.”
Her sister’s blond curls danced as she shook her head earnestly. “Caitie, I’m sure it is wicked to say such things, or even to think them.”
“She doesn’t think them,” proclaimed Aunt Harriet with conviction. “Pray do not exaggerate, Caitlin! You are distressing your sister.”
Caitlin laughed, one auburn brow arching quizzically. “Have I put you out of countenance, my dear? Never mind! Levity, you know, was always my besetting sin. Tell me about last night!”
Emily turned beseeching eyes upon her aunt, and Lady Lynwood patted her hand comfortingly. “Emily dear, you conducted yourself with perfect propriety. And. I must say, that silk we chose made up beautifully. A lucky chance we stopped at Lisette’s that day, wasn’t it? I was beginning to think we would never find anything suitable, and although I am as fond of shopping as anyone—or fonder!—I really thought I had reached my last possible hour of looking at dress-patterns. Well, we had been doing so for days! They all begin to look alike, and one’s head goes round and round! But that pattern she found gave you just the right touch. What a fortunate circumstance that white becomes
you! You cast them all into the shade. Did you see that Lady Mary Ellersbee? Haggish! Her mother was just such another; put her into pastels and she instantly appears ten years older. I don’t know why it should be so, but there it is. And it was clear from the outset Miss Emmons would trip on her train. La! The poor girl was quite out of her element. Gawky!”
Caitlin felt the story was straying rather far from the point. “But, Aunt, do you think Emily will—”
“Oh!” Lady Lynwood threw her hands into the air rapturously. “It could not have been better! So graceful and poised, and she looked such a picture! I was most pleased. And do you know”—she leaned forward impressively—“no less a personage than the Duke of Severn told me she was pretty-behaved. Pretty-behaved! His very words, I promise you.”
Caitlin saw that Emily was now quite scarlet, and laughed. “An encomium, indeed!”
“Well, so it was,” said Lady Lynwood happily. Her eyes brightened. “Bless me if I haven’t forgotten to tell you the best part! The most fortunate coincidence! Mrs. Drummond-Burrell was present. Only fancy! The woman always puts me in a quake, but I vow, I never saw her in better humor. And as luck would have it, she spoke to Emily. Well! Emily had no notion who she was, of course, or she might have gone into one of her tongue-tied fits, but by the luckiest chance Emily did not catch her name.”
Lady Lynwood beamed at her nieces triumphantly. “She told me, Emily-love, that she thought you unexceptionable.”
The color drained from Emily’s face. She looked as if she were about to faint. “Mrs. Drummond-Burrell said that?”
Caitlin choked on her toast, then burst out laughing. “Oh, I am sorry!” she gasped. “But surely such a mild compliment is not enough to overset you, Emily?”
Lady Lynwood was indignant. “Mild compliment? No such thing! I have every hope that we will secure vouchers for Almack’s now. And that is no small feat, let me tell you!”
Caitlin was impressed despite herself. “Vouchers for Almack’s! So Emily is to parade her wares in the marriage mart. I congratulate you, Aunt.”
Emily uttered a faint protest. Lady Lynwood chuckled. “Only vulgar persons refer to Almack’s as the marriage mart, Caitlin. Pray do not do so again! And I have every hope that you are both to ‘parade your wares’ there, so you may stop quizzing your sister.”
Caitlin set her teacup down and stared at her aunt. “Now it is you who are quizzing me! I cannot go to Almack’s. I have never even been presented.”
She instantly regretted her remark. Just as she feared, Emily began reproaching herself—for the hundredth time. “Oh, Caitie!” she mourned. “I feel dreadful whenever I think of you giving up your place so that I might be presented. I cannot think it right. I know the family could not afford to present us both, but why should I have been presented rather than you? After all—”
Caitlin pretended to place her hands over her ears, and appealed to the head of the table. “Aunt Harriet, I implore you—! Convince Emily that she is distressing herself to no purpose!”
“Do not place your elbows on the table, Caitlin,” said Lady Lynwood placidly, applying a generous portion of jam to a crumpet. “And, Emily, your sister is quite right! There is no need for these lamentations. You are eighteen, and that is the perfect age for a first Season. I could not convince your mother to let me bring you both out, since Amabel did not wish me to go out of pocket—such stuff! A choice had to be made, and even Caitlin believed that you should be the one chosen.”
“Yes,” agreed Caitlin firmly. “I never stirred the slightest interest among the Hertfordshire beaux, so there seemed little point in exhibiting me to the ton.”
Emily cried out again at this, and Lady Lynwood pointed her jam-slathered knife at Caitlin. “Caitlin, really! We are going to exhibit you to the ton, and you may stop rolling your eyes at me, for I won’t change my mind! No, how really, Caitlin—there is simply no more to be said on the subject! You are an excessively pretty girl—yes, you are!—and although your hair is very red indeed, I think we need not despair. It is not a carroty red, you know, and you are not, thank Heaven, bran-faced—now, whatever have I said to send you into whoops?”
“I beg your pardon!” gasped Caitlin. “Pray continue. Besides my lack of freckles, what else have we to thank heaven for?”
“Your height,” replied Lady Lynwood promptly. “You wear clothes very gracefully, Caitlin, and there is much to be said for an elegant air! Of course there are many gentlemen who dislike tallness in a female, but on the whole, I think it rather an advantage. And as for worrying about Almack’s, pooh! An almond for a parrot! How are people to know you have not been presented? Since you are a bit older, it will be assumed you have been ‘out’ for some time. And so you have! Though only in Hertfordshire, of course.”
Lady Lynwood munched her crumpet reflectively. “We must not become discouraged if you are not an immediate success, my love. In my view, it will be an excellent thing if we do not secure respectable alliances for both of you at once. In fact, I would dislike it excessively! For then I would not be able to invite you next year, you know, and of course it will be years before Agnes is old enough. I cannot begin to express to you, my dears, how much I enjoy having you here! I cannot imagine why I never thought of inviting you before.”
Caitlin hid a smile. She had often heard Mama express that very sentiment! Now that Caitlin was better acquainted with her loveable but scatterbrained aunt, she suspected that Lady Lynwood had remembered her nieces’ existence only because she was moped to death, all alone at Lynwood House. The baronness had been widowed two years ago, and now both her sons were from home; James was off enjoying whatever advantages a very limited Grand Tour could provide a young gentleman in these dangerous times, and little Harry was away at school. Aunt Harriet was far too gregarious to live alone, and Caitlin suspected that putting on her blacks and foregoing the pleasures of last year’s Season had been a severe punishment for her widowed aunt.
After breakfast, Lady Lynwood and Emily went on a shopping expedition. Caitlin, declining the treat, escaped to the morning room. She needed to write a long-overdue letter to Mama. She also needed to cudgel her brain to come up with a way to neutralize the effects of her social ostracism. For surely, once Serena cut her acquaintance, Caitlin would find herself on the fringes of Society. She was certain that she, at least, would never cross the sacred threshold of Almack’s. Would Emily be exiled with her? She was staring sadly out the window with the ink drying on her pen when, to her astonishment, Stubbs announced Lady Serena Kilverton.
Chapter V
Serena rushed impetuously into the morning room, barely waiting until Stubbs had shut the door before casting herself into Caitlin’s arms and giving her a quick, fierce hug. She burst out in her honest, unaffected way with: “Caitlin, you heard her, didn’t you? I shall never forgive Elizabeth. Never!”
Caitlin felt tears of mingled relief and shame springing to her eyes. She had underestimated her friend. She gave a shaky little laugh and tried to speak lightly. “Serena, you goose! I might have known you would fly in the face of anyone’s advice, however well-intentioned it was.”
Serena sniffed disdainfully. “You certainly might have known I would fly in the face of that advice, at any rate. Did you think I would tamely agree to distance myself from you? I am not so henhearted!” She tossed her muff and reticule onto a nearby sofa and flung herself into its cushioned depths. “Now, Caitlin, confess: you did not expect to see me today.”
“Well, no,” admitted Caitlin. She sank onto a chair across from her friend, and managed a wavering smile. “But I must say, Serena—I am very glad to see you!”
Serena’s eyes snapped dangerously. Her face was too pretty and mischievous to achieve malevolence, but she did acquire something like the aspect of a fierce kitten. “That—that shrew! How could you believe I would listen to her? Really, Caitlin, I don’t know what you deserve!”
“I would not have blamed you for cutting the connection, so do
not eat me!” Caitlin found she could not meet her friend’s gaze and looked down at her hands, forcing her words past a sudden constriction in her throat. “It’s all very well to say you cannot forgive Lady Elizabeth, but according to her own lights she was quite right. I’m sure she meant nothing but kindness in warning you away.”
“Elizabeth is an ill-natured harpy!” declared Serena, bouncing indignantly upright on the sofa. “And I won’t have you defending her!”
Caitlin’s cheeks grew hot. “But my behavior last night was enough to give any well-bred person a disgust of me. I walked off without a word to anyone—left your mother a message—oh, I am covered with shame whenever I think of it!”
“Nonsense. You behaved beautifully until Elizabeth uttered those unhandsome remarks. And you needn’t tell me you overheard them by accident!”
“Thank you,” said Caitlin, with difficulty. “But really, Serena, you must not encourage me in such shocking impropriety! I don’t wonder at it that Lady Elizabeth thought me a vulgar upstart. After all, she is the Lady Elizabeth Delacourt, and I am the veriest nobody.”
Serena’s eyes flashed. “Fiddle! You are a niece of Lady Lynwood and cousin to Baron Lynwood. A nobody, indeed! I defy anyone to call you so in my presence!”
Warmhearted Serena was clearly ready to do battle for her friend. Caitlin was touched. Trying for a lighter note, she responded, “What a pity I did not stay on the terrace long enough to hear your response to Lady Elizabeth’s amiable warnings! Once you had proved you were as rag-mannered as I, I would have been quite comfortable again.”
Serena giggled. “Well, she is enough to try the patience of a saint! I do wish Richard had offered for Maria Carleton, or Anne Markham. Heaven knows they threw out enough lures! And although poor Maria is sadly fat, and Anne has more hair than wit, at least they are both pleasant and kind.”