‘We…um…we export much of our cloth. And we have the cotton mills, too, that depend upon imports.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ said Kitty, trying to speak normally yet aware that her cheeks were aflame. ‘I fear I am very ignorant of what you do.’
He shrugged.
‘Manufacturing is not something often discussed in society’s drawing rooms.’
‘Very true, unlike politics!’ declared Lord Harworth, coming up and overhearing this last remark. ‘Although some like to keep silent on their true opinions.’
‘I admit my views are more…reformist than yours, my lord,’ said Daniel. He was smiling slightly and Kitty wondered if he, too, was glad that the conversation had moved on. ‘But I would not be so ill-mannered as to quarrel with my host.’
‘No, damn your impudence, but you didn’t offer up the information when we first met, did you?’
‘The subject did not arise,’ was Daniel’s mild reply.
Lord Harworth laughed heartily and clapped him on the shoulder.
‘Very true, my boy! I suppose I was too keen to discuss building my mill to think of anything else!’ He turned to Kitty. ‘Miss Wythenshawe, did Blackwood tell you he was in favour of Grey’s motion for electoral reform? Dashed poppycock. Wasn’t best pleased when I found he had come to London to offer his support to Grey, but in the end it all came to nothing, so I didn’t have to throw him out of the house.’
Lord Harworth threw back his head and laughed at his own joke. Daniel merely shrugged.
‘I made no secret of it, nor of the fact that I would like to see the laws against Nonconformists and Catholics relaxed.’
‘Whatever his faults, Pitt won’t make a stand on that in the present climate,’ returned Lord Harworth, shaking his head. ‘He’s too busy making sure we avoid a revolution like the one in France.’
‘Do you think there is any risk of such a thing?’ asked Kitty.
‘Not if we contain the mob and keep the poor in their place,’ replied Lord Harworth.
‘Surely the poor should be encouraged to better themselves,’ put in Kitty. ‘We should educate them; teach the parents to read, perhaps, and open schools for the children…’
‘Now, now, Miss Wythenshawe,’ cried Lord Harworth genially, ‘you are beginning to sound very like Blackwood here!’
‘So I have found you at last, my love!’ Lady Leaconham’s exclamation forestalled Kitty’s response. She addressed their host with a soft laugh. ‘You must forgive my goddaughter, Bertram, she does not understand the complications of politics. You know what young ladies are, their kind hearts rule their heads and they are all too fond of expressing opinions on matters they know little about.’ Kitty opened her mouth to protest but met with a warning glance from Lady Leaconham, who pinched her arm and began to pull her away. ‘Come, Kitty, my love, we must find a seat in readiness for the recital. I believe Lady Celestine is to play for us upon the pianoforte, including something by Signor Clementi and I know you have been practising one of his pieces yourself…’
As she was almost dragged away, Kitty cast one last look back at Daniel. He met her eyes for an instant and nodded. Perhaps that earlier, incendiary moment between them had been in her imagination: certainly he gave no sign of it now, only reassurance that he understood what she had been trying to say and did not regard her as a foolish young girl, talking out of turn. The thought warmed her as she sat beside Lady Leaconham, listening to a series of musical performances including Ann’s lively if not always accurate rendition on the harp of a piece by Mr Handel.
When at last everyone who wished to perform had done so, Lady Harworth announced that the room would be cleared for dancing. Ann was nowhere to be seen, so Kitty followed her godmother away to the supper room in search of refreshments. She saw Daniel standing alone and could not resist taking the opportunity to speak to him again. She refused to be intimidated by the rather severe cast of his countenance as he sipped at his wine: she was growing used to his sober mien and the fact that he was not scowling blackly she took as a good sign.
Daniel’s heart sank as he saw Kitty coming towards him. Damnation. Surely his expression should tell her he did not want to speak to her—did the woman not know the effect she had upon him? His irritation passed. Of course not: she was such an innocent she did not realise how adorable she looked, gliding about the room in a cloud of pale gauze, curls tumbling artlessly about her head and her green eyes sparkling like emeralds. She attracted every man’s eye, made every male pulse race. She had no idea that while he was trying to talk to her about serious subjects such as spinning and exports all he really wanted to do was to take her off somewhere and ravish her! She had told him herself that she was set on achieving a good marriage, possibly even ensnaring a lord, so he should not waste his time even thinking about such a woman. The problem was that he could not help himself. He squared his shoulders: he was no moth to perish at her flame—this would be the last time he spoke to her. After that he would make damned sure he kept away from Miss Kitty Wythenshawe.
Daniel schooled his features into what he hoped was a look of polite indifference as she came up to him, refusing to allow himself to respond to her shy smile.
‘What time do you leave tomorrow, sir?’
‘Directly after breakfast. I am travelling on horseback and expect to make good time.’ He paused. ‘And you, Miss Wythenshawe? Do you remain in Town?’
‘I do not think my godmother has plans to leave just yet.’
‘Perhaps she is remaining here in the hope that Harworth will offer for you.’ He clipped off the words, angry that he had spoken of it. He had meant to remain aloof, to cut short this conversation and move away from her. Kitty did not appear to notice the bitterness of his tone and merely shook her head.
‘I do not think that is likely.’
‘But you would accept him, if he did propose to you?’ She hesitated.
‘Yes. I do not think I have a choice.’
Daniel put his glass down with a snap; the tight rein on his temper had slipped a little further.
‘We all have a choice, Miss Wythenshawe,’ he said harshly.
Blinking, Kitty watched him walk away. She was confused by his anger: could it be that he did not wish her to marry Lord Harworth? Why should that be—did he not consider her good enough for his friend? Or—her mouth was suddenly very dry—could it be that he was jealous? Absently she took another glass of wine from a passing waiter. She must be mistaken: Daniel had never shown any sign of preferring her. In fact he went out of his way to quarrel with her every time they met—with the exception of that evening at the Rising Sun.
They had agreed the events of that evening meant nothing, but a tiny spark of excitement flickered within her as she accompanied Lady Leaconham back into the ballroom. If he liked her, if he wanted to talk to her, then surely he would ask her to dance with him.
Lady Harworth brought a young gentleman forwards to partner her for the first two country dances, then Lord Harworth claimed her hand for the next. From the corner of her eye she saw Daniel watching the dancing, and her spirits lifted when he led Ann on to the floor to join the next set. Kitty finished her last dance with Lord Harworth, who then asked his sister to be his partner. They went off, laughing, and Kitty waited expectantly. Daniel hovered for a moment then, his face set, he made his bow and walked away.
Disappointment and humiliation seared through Kitty. Tears threatened but she fought them down. She had been foolish to hope that he liked her. Daniel Blackwood had never given her reason to think it, save for one, fierce kiss that had shaken her to the core but obviously meant nothing to him. She put back her shoulders and pinned a smile in place as she walked across to join her godmother at the side of the room. If he did not wish to pursue the acquaintance, then neither did she.
‘There you are, Kitty. I have someone here who is anxious to dance with you.’ Ann came up, dragging a stocky young gentleman behind her. ‘This is Mr Leonard Ashley, Kitty. You
may remember he came to our picnic.’
‘By Jove, yes!’ declared the young man, making her a flourishing bow. ‘I’d be honoured if you would stand up with me for the next set, Miss Wythenshawe.’
Kitty looked at the young man. She remembered him from Wormley Hall as the gentleman who had made such disparaging remarks about Mr Grant’s poetry. Her impression then had been of a very square gentleman, for he was not above average height with a broad chest and a thick neck. That impression was reinforced now when she saw him in evening dress. He wore a bushy curled wig that made his head as wide as it was long. He was regarding her with blatant admiration in his rather small eyes. It was nearing midnight but Kitty was still smarting from Daniel’s defection and she ignored the small voice within that urged caution. Mr Ashley’s attentions were balm to her wounded spirits.
‘Why, thank you, sir.’ She gave him a wide smile. ‘It would be my pleasure.’
Mr Ashley bowed again.
‘Is it not the most wonderful party, Kitty?’ cried Ann, clapping her hands. ‘I vow I am quite out of breath with dancing so much, but I would not have it otherwise—oh, Bertram!’ She looked up, smiling. ‘What are you come for? If it is to ask Kitty to dance then you are too late, for you see that Mr Ashley has beaten you to it! Now, I have danced with Martin Hamilton, and George Camber—who else is there? Ah, yes, I must go and find Julian Grant: he is promised to me for the next dance.’
‘If he can tear himself away from his poetry!’ replied Mr Ashley with a loud snort of laughter.
Ann dashed away, leaving Kitty feeling quite breathless. She had time for a small, apologetic smile for Lord Harworth before Mr Ashley escorted her to the dance floor just as the musicians were striking up. Two energetic country dances followed and at the end of them Kitty was feeling flushed and very warm. She moved towards one of the open windows, fanning herself vigorously while her partner went off to fetch her a glass of lemonade. She could not see Daniel anywhere and wondered if he had gone out into the garden, where the coloured lamps shone brightly in the darkness. Not that she really cared where he might be. The sooner he took himself back to the north the happier she would be. A movement beside her made her turn and she found Mr Ashley had returned and was holding out a wine glass.
‘Oh, but I wanted lemonade.’
‘I know and I am very sorry for it but I could only find this.’ Mr Ashley pushed the glass towards her. ‘It is champagne—have you tried it?’
‘But of course.’ Kitty raised her brows and tried to look as if she drank champagne every day. She took the glass from him and sipped it cautiously. The light, refreshing taste was very pleasant. She took another sip: the way the bubbles burst on her tongue was really quite delightful. She drank some more and gave a sigh of satisfaction.
‘It really is frightfully hot in here,’ remarked Mr Ashley. ‘Would you care to take a stroll outside?’
He was smiling at her and holding out his arm. Kitty looked out of the window. Below the terrace she could see a number of couples wandering along the illuminated paths. ‘I should like to see the lamps,’ she admitted. She put down her glass, pulled her thin wrap over her shoulders and gave him a smile. ‘So, yes, Mr Ashley, I would like to walk through the gardens.’
It was the work of an instant to step out on to the terrace, and another to descend into the gardens, where the night air was cool after the heat of the ballroom. For a moment Kitty felt quite dizzy.
‘Steady, Miss Wythenshawe!’ Mr Ashley laughed as she clung to his arm.
‘I beg your pardon,’ she muttered, breathing deeply as she tried to control her balance.
The gardens of Harworth House were extensive and the paths criss-crossed between the flowerbeds that filled the centre space. The area was bounded by the house on one side and the high walls on the other three sides were obscured by a belt of tall trees. It was from the branches of the innermost trees that the coloured lamps twinkled and shone. As they strolled along the outer path, Kitty could hear laughter and voices coming from the darkness. Peering through the gloom, she could just make out a ghostly figure moving gently back and forwards, a noisy group of gentlemen gathered around her.
‘Ann is on the swing,’ she remarked, pausing. ‘Shall we join her?’
‘Oh, I think not,’ said her companion, gently drawing her on. ‘I do not think she is in need of our company. Let us explore.’ He led her away from the house until they reached a point where the main path turned to follow the edge of the flowerbeds, while a smaller track stretched off into the trees. ‘I wonder where this leads?’
‘To the summerhouse,’ Kitty responded. ‘I saw it earlier.’
‘Splendid, just what we need.’
Kitty did not understand the remark but she accompanied him along the path and up the shallow steps. The light from the coloured lamps had not penetrated the trees and Kitty stopped between the tall pillars, loath to enter the shadows beyond.
‘I do not think our hostess intended the guests to come here,’ she said, trying to withdraw her hand from his arm. Mr Ashley gripped her fingers.
‘Not all of them,’ he replied. ‘But now we are here, perhaps we should make the most of the solitude.’
He pulled her into his arms and with a jolt of surprise Kitty realised he was going to kiss her. She had experienced none of the awareness she had felt when alone with Daniel at the Rising Sun: there was no pleasant if guilty anticipation. Quite the opposite—she felt a definite aversion to the idea. She turned her head and tried to hold him off, but he was too strong and merely laughed at her struggles.
‘Do not play the innocent now, Miss Wythenshawe. We both know this is why we came out into the dark!’ He pushed her back against one of the pillars, trapping her with his body while his hand caught her face, turning it up so that he could kiss her.
Kitty shuddered and tried to pull away but she was powerless to move. She felt his knee pushing between her legs while his free hand began to pull up her skirts.
Thoroughly frightened, her hands pummelled ineffectually at his back. But her struggles only seemed to inflame him; his mouth moved savagely against hers and through the thin muslin of her gown she could feel his body hardening. Her knowledge of the coupling between a man and a woman was incomplete, gleaned from the books she had read and a few overheard conversations between Mama and Aunt Jane, but instinct told Kitty that Mr Ashley was beyond reason and meant to force himself upon her. In a panic she brought up her hand and raked her nails down his cheek. He gave a howl of fury and, gathering up all her strength, Kitty pushed him off enough to wriggle free. There was a ripping sound as his fingers caught the delicate lace of her bodice. She had barely reached the bottom of the steps when his hand grabbed her arm. ‘Oh, no, you don’t. I haven’t finished with you yet.’
He tried to pull her back but Kitty’s knees buckled and she sank to the earth, too exhausted to fight him again. She shrank from his loathsome touch.
‘Take your hands off her!’
The words cracked like a whip through the darkness. The grasp on her arm loosened.
‘Who the hell are—?’
The smack of a fist on his chin sent Mr Ashley crashing to the ground. Silence followed, then Kitty was aware of a pair of white-stockinged legs standing before her. Strong hands were helping her to her feet.
‘Are you hurt?’ Daniel’s voice was full of concern. Kitty shook her head, unable to trust her voice. Behind her she heard her assailant grunting and she shrank against Daniel. He put his arms around her and spoke over her head, saying coldly, ‘You will leave now, sir, if you know what’s good for you.’
His tone was so menacing that Kitty trembled. From the corner of her eye she saw Mr Ashley dust himself off, glaring at them.
‘She was willing enough,’ he said sullenly. ‘Why else would she come off the path with me—?’
With a growl Daniel released Kitty and lunged towards his opponent, but Kitty clung on to his coat, begging him not to fight. He stopped, sayin
g savagely, ‘I suggest you take yourself off immediately, before I forget there is a lady present and give you the thrashing you deserve.’
Mr Ashley hesitated, glaring pugnaciously at Daniel. ‘Take her then, and welcome to her,’ he snarled. ‘Strumpet!’
Daniel moved so quickly that Kitty did not have time to protest. Again there was a sickening thud and again Ashley was stretched out on the ground. This time Daniel stood over him, his fists clenched.
‘You will leave the house now, sir, and if I ever find that you have spoken a word about this, I swear I will call you out and cut you down like a dog.’
Daniel spoke quietly, but there was so much menace in his voice that his opponent made no attempt to rise. Instead he scrabbled away on all fours until he was out of reach of those punishing fists before clambering to his feet and hurrying away.
In the silence that followed Kitty did not move. Daniel turned back to her.
‘He is gone now. You are safe.’ He held out his hand. ‘Shall I take you back?’
Kitty shook her head.
‘N-no, not yet. I do not think I could face…’ Her voice trailed away. With shaking fingers she lifted the shred of muslin that was hanging down from her gown and pulled it across the exposed linen of her under-bodice.
‘Here, let me.’ Daniel scooped her muslin shawl from the ground and wrapped it about her shoulders. ‘If we cross it like this and tie the ends at the back, no one will know there is anything amiss.’
To Catch a Husband... Page 13