“You can’t even think of anything comforting to say! You must agree.”
“I don’t. Not at all, but I do think you should worry less about what others think of you.”
If there was an art to eye-rolling, Violet had perfected it. She reminded Kitty of the fact with an impressive eye-roll and sigh combination.
“Just be true, and to yourself most of all. One day you’ll find a man who loves you for that, for the truth of who you are. He’ll love that you adore books and sewing. That you’re overly fond of sticky toffee pudding and sneak sips of Father’s coffee when he’s not looking. That you like to plan for the future and care dearly about details, such as which flower you’ll have on your wedding gown. In fact, you have such a way with a needle, I suspect you could embroider your own gown.”
Violet sniffed, but she lifted her chin and sat up a bit straighter, as if somewhat mollified by Kitty’s words. “With violets?”
“With whatever you wish.”
“Does the Duke of Wrexford love you like that?”
“I think he does.” He did. Kitty knew it, felt it, no longer truly doubted it.
When Violet smiled, it lit up the room, and caught the tiny mole on her cheek—the one she hated and had once tried to scrub off with tooth powder—in the cleft of her only dimple.
“He seems very charming.”
“Yes.”
Was he? He could dress elegantly and had impeccable manners. He was distractingly handsome and a clever conversationalist. Presumably he could be charming, though Kitty didn’t like the word. She associated it with men who fawned, men preoccupied with boasting about themselves while pretending to adore her. If Sebastian had attempted to charm her, she wouldn’t have given him a second look. Well, perhaps she would have looked. She’d never found a man more appealing to the eye, but charm wouldn’t have snared her interest the way his honesty had. Charm wouldn’t have won her heart. And it still shocked her that he’d accomplished that feat.
Violet lifted her head and stared at the room’s threshold.
“Hattie, we were just talking about the duke. It seems Kitty is madly in love with him.”
“Thank you, Violet.”
Her youngest sister shrugged innocently before Kitty turned her gaze back to where Hattie lingered in the doorway.
Hattie wore a serious expression and ignored Kitty’s implicit invitation. “Papa would like to speak with you, Kitty. He’s asked me to fetch you down to his study.”
“Did he mention why?”
“He just asked me to call you down.” Along with eye-rolling, Violet was quite adept at fibbing, but Harriet could never pull it off. If her cheeks didn’t flush and give her away, she had a tendency to start blinking, her eyelashes fluttering like black butterfly wings against her face. She blinked now, rapidly.
Kitty turned and pressed a kiss to Violet’s cheek.
Her baby sister reached up to pat her arm and whispered, “I’m glad he loves you as you are.”
“Me too.” Now if she could just assure the man she felt the same.
While Hattie tapped her foot impatiently, Kitty walked to meet her at the door, almost forgetting that she was wearing a simple outdated day dress and had yet to change in the one she’d selected for their outing.
“I should change before speaking to Papa.”
“No, Kitty, there isn’t time.” She’d never heard such panic in her sister’s voice.
“Hattie, what is it?”
Kitty asked the question gently, quietly, so as not to alarm Violet, but it only seemed to anger Hattie and she threw up her hands before bracing them on her hips. “Goodness, Kitty. Why not go and speak to him rather than cross-questioning me?”
The girl was distressed, and Kitty didn’t doubt their father was the cause. Apparently he had all the answers.
She swept past Hattie without another word and heard her sister’s footsteps echoing behind her own.
“I do remember where to find father’s study. You should prepare for our trip to the museum.” Without looking back at her sister, Kitty heard Hattie retreating up the hall.
She stopped and took a deep breath before knocking on the door of her father’s study. Clashes with Papa required every bit of mental energy she could muster.
“You wished to see me, Papa? I haven’t much time. Hattie and I are meeting Sebastian and his sister at the museum.”
“Yes.” He lifted a hand to indicate she should take the chair in front of his desk. The direction was unneeded. She always occupied the same chair in his office.
She sat and he followed suit, reclaiming the larger plusher chair behind his desk and settling with his hands crossed over his waistcoat.
“Harriet will not be joining you this afternoon.”
Kitty frowned, curiosity and concern fizzing in her belly.
“Is Hattie unwell? She seems unsettled.”
Her father grinned, the last reaction she expected. The man possessed an unnerving ability to take her by surprise.
“She is quite the opposite of unsettled, Katherine. In fact, just this morning your sister has settled her fate nearly as fortuitously as you’ve managed to settle yours.”
He could only be referring to marriage, but he’d never been this pleased about Hattie’s match with Mr. Treadwell. The buzzing in her stomach turning to stabbing jolts of dread.
Her father looked far too pleased with himself and Hattie had been decidedly troubled.
“Please explain.”
“When a man finds no succor at one table, he dines at another.”
Now they were talking about dining? Papa did love his aphorisms.
“You’ve lost me.”
“That’s what Ponsonby thought. ‘I’ve lost her,’ he said. And so he turned his attentions elsewhere. We can only be grateful his eye didn’t stray to the daughters of some other family.”
“Ponsonby?” Kitty knew a moment of guilt that the man who’d pursued her so tenaciously for years hadn’t crossed her mind in days.
“He’s asked for your sister’s hand, and I have given them my blessing.”
Ponsonby. Harriet. Ponsonby and Harriet. The two were like water droplets on an oily surface. They simply would not coalesce in her mind. By their very nature, they could not merge together. The man was as old as their father, perhaps older, and she’d always sensed him taking her measure, not as a potential life partner but for her ability to provide him with heirs. Kitty wanted children, and several of them, but she wanted a marriage based on more. Love, mutual respect, desire—qualities she’d previously doubted or belittled mattered now most of all. She’d found them, and so had Hattie.
“But s-she’s engaged to be married to Mr. Treadwell.”
“Is she? I can’t see how that’s possible, since I never gave the man consent to marry her.”
More words that would not compute in her mind. Even Sebastian’s mathematical wizardry couldn’t solve this equation.
“But she and Oliver seemed so happy after he’d spoken to you. I thought—”
“I gave the man reason to hope, but I told him that he and your sister needed more time to become acquainted. I asked him to give me a fortnight to consider the matter.”
She realized she was shaking her head, and so quickly she felt dizzy. Hattie wanted to marry Oliver Treadwell. That was what all of this had been about—the scheming, the planning, the wedding dresses. Her feigned engagement.
“But you gave your blessing to Sebastian?”
“Yes, of course. The man’s a duke. I could hardly refuse him.”
Titles, wealth, power. She’d never doubted how much her father valued those qualities, but despite how hard he’d been on her, despite how stern he could be with all of them, deep down she’d believed in his decency. Her father was an honorable man. He might schem
e for political and financial gain, and he collected information on others the way she collected perfumes, but she’d never doubted that, at his core, he was worth her admiration.
Until now.
“Does her happiness mean nothing to you?”
He shot up from his chair and winced as if she’d stabbed him, his cheeks mottling an awful puce shade.
“The future happiness of my children is my chief concern. Do you really believe my sweetest, gentlest daughter will be happy living in poverty with that young jackanapes?”
Opening her mouth to answer his question, Kitty wondered where she and Violet fit in his ranking of daughters, but, as often happened during discussions with her father, he hadn’t truly wished for an answer and cut her off before she’d gotten a syllable out.
“Do you know the fellow told me he may not persevere in the law but may try some other profession if it suits him better? As if a man can change professions as often as he replaces his shirt collars. He is aimless, penniless—”
“The Duke of Wrexford has ensured that Mr. Treadwell is not penniless.”
When her father came out from behind his desk to argue, Kitty knew the topic had raised his ire and he was determined to win his point.
“And what if he falls out with the man? Mr. Treadwell has a fondness for betting on horse races. What if he’s as unsuccessful with the ponies as he’s been with every other profession he’s attempted?”
She had no idea Oliver Treadwell involved himself in gambling or that he’d tried other employment before settling on the law. The news didn’t please her, but not every man who gambled did so excessively, and not every man who pursued a profession found it to his liking. None of her father’s revelations changed the fact that yesterday Harriet had been in love with the man. Now that she’d experienced the emotion herself, she knew Hattie’s heart couldn’t have altered overnight.
“Papa—”
He moved to stand in front of her, between his desk and her legs tucked against her chair, close enough to loom over her, his finger jutting out accusingly.
“And if you didn’t wish Ponsonby to marry another woman, you should have married him yourself.”
Ponsonby? How had the conversation become about him and not her sister?
“I haven’t a care who the man marries. He’s too old for me, and he’s certainly too old for Harriet.” Especially when she’d already given her heart to someone else.
“She’s agreed to the match, Katherine. There is nothing left to debate.”
If Hattie had a character flaw, it was that she was too malleable and eager to please. She never wished to disappoint anyone, least of all their father. Whatever he’d said to convince her, it wouldn’t have taken much.
Kitty’s chest burned and the stinging pain traveled up, pressing behind her eyes, but she ground her teeth. She’d determined long ago never to let her father see her cry.
“What of Mr. Treadwell? Has she spoken to him of this decision?” She didn’t let the tears fall, but she hated the quaver in her voice.
“I’ve invited him to meet with me tomorrow. I’ll break the news on her behalf.”
So he’d take everything from Hattie. Her choices and her opportunity to part with Oliver on her own terms. To Kitty, that seemed the worst of it. Hattie deserved her own ending with Mr. Treadwell. She must have the opportunity to explain her choice or at least choose her last words to him. Why burden an eighteen year old with regrets that might last a lifetime?
Then again, perhaps if Hattie was forced to break off with Oliver face-to-face, she’d come to her senses and realize their father’s wishes for her future did not match her own. At least she would have that choice.
“Then you should let Hattie come to the museum with me.”
Her father instantly began shaking his head in refusal, almost before she’d finished her sentence.
“Her absence will be noted, and when all is said and done, some may think it cowardly that she did not face Mr. Treadwell one last time.”
“Nonsense.” He moved back around to settle himself in his desk chair, straightening his necktie before reaching for a cigar from his humidor. His relaxed air told Kitty that he considered the battle won.
“I’ll be marrying a man who considers Treadwell his brother. Wrexford won’t take kindly to seeing his friend snubbed.”
A humming ring sounded in her ears and tension ran through her body as she gripped handfuls of her skirt below the edge of her father’s high desk, where he could not see. She wanted a true engagement with Sebastian, but it would mean another battle with her father, especially if Lady Naughton could prove he was Archie’s father.
But the matter of Hattie’s happiness came first.
“Papa, please allow Hattie to accompany me today.”
“Go then. And take your sister with you.” He waved her away through the pungent smoke of his cigar. “Don’t imagine you’ll change her mind, Katherine. Unlike you, Harriet wants to do what’s best for her future and this family.”
Stand up and go. The temptation to stay and defend herself, to turn this conversation into an argument, as so many of theirs had been, battled with her impulse to get out while she could.
But more than winning an inch of ground with her father, she wanted to see Sebastian. She needed to tell him the truth of her feelings so they could end their feigned engagement and put away the pretense between them.
This time she wouldn’t doubt. This time she would not run away.
And yet she’d never have contrived an engagement with Sebastian if not for the goal of securing Hattie’s happiness with Mr. Treadwell. What if her father won? How could she grasp her own happy ending and leave Hattie to marry Ponsonby?
Chapter Twenty-Three
“IT SEEMS SILLY for us not to speak to each other for the entire journey.” Kitty leaned over to get a glimpse of the cluster of carriages blocking their way. It was as if all of London decided to take advantage of the unseasonably warm weather. “Judging by traffic, we’ll be in this carriage awhile.”
“We should have walked.” Hattie wouldn’t look at her as she said the words. She sat in the farthest edge of seat opposite her, arms firmly clasped across her chest.
“Shall we send the carriage back and get out? I do enjoy walking.”
“It’s too late now.” Hattie’s voice had the petulant tone of a young woman determined to be displeased with any suggestion.
Kitty had rarely argued with her middle sister. Violet could be a whirlwind of changing emotions, but Hattie had always been too agreeable. She’d never give an opponent a chance to argue before capitulating herself.
“Papa says you don’t intend to marry Mr. Treadwell.”
Hattie turned a momentary glare her way, and Kitty considered it a victory. If Hattie truly wished to marry Oliver, she would have to defy their father. Kitty would support her sister’s choice every step of the way, but in the end, Hattie would have to be the one to stand up to their father, and she’d need that kind of inner fire to do it.
“I suspect he did not say it in that way at all.”
No. He hadn’t made it about Hattie’s choice, more about her agreement with his.
“He said you’ve agreed to marry Lord Ponsonby.”
Hattie winced. It was a fleeting tightening of the smooth skin around her eyes, but Kitty caught it. Seeing even that flash of pain in her sister’s face hardened Kitty’s resolve to prevent her sister’s marriage to a man three times her age.
“Is that what you want, Hattie?”
At first it seemed she’d only be treated to more silence. Hattie tucked herself further into the corner and pressed her mouth tight and flat. Kitty closed her eyes and waited, imagining her love for her sister stretching out like a vine attempting to find a bit of sun.
“You ask me the question as if my wishes are all
that matter. What I want. What I wish. What of our father’s expectations?”
Kitty opened her eyes to find Hattie glowering at her, eyes glassy as if she might burst into tears at any moment.
“Hattie, love, Papa isn’t the one who has to marry Lord Ponsonby. I’m more concerned with your wishes than his.”
“Lord Ponsonby is a fine man. He is kind, and he possesses wealth and status.” Hattie’s youthful voice echoed off the interior of the carriage, but Kitty imagined the words coming out of their father’s mouth.
“And if you’d married him, I wouldn’t have to.” And there were father’s exact words. He hadn’t just persuaded her. It seemed he’d converted her completely.
Hattie’s tears finally started trickling down her cheeks and Kitty gathered up the skirts of her gown and managed to maneuver from her side of the carriage onto the seat next to her sister. When she reached for her, Hattie stiffened but finally melted in her arms, sagging against her and weeping in earnest.
Each little moan of misery, each hiccupping sniffle tore at Kitty, but she let her sister cry her fill, rubbing soothing circles over her back and shoulders. The initial wave of sobbing subsided and she whispered against Hattie’s hair, the same shade and texture as her own.
“Neither of us wants to marry Ponsonby. And neither of us must marry the man.”
She’d expected the words to bring her sister comfort, to reassure Hattie that Kitty would join her in defying their father on this point, but Hattie pushed her away.
“You don’t understand, Kitty. You never have.”
“Understand what?” She wanted Hattie to have her say, to find her voice and make her own choices.
“Papa wants what’s best for us. For all of us, and yet you’ve spent your whole life defying him. It’s no wonder he’s hardest on you. You’ve never obeyed him or sought to please him.”
All the tenderness she’d felt for her sister while comforting her, the ache in her chest at the notion of Hattie promising herself to a man she did not love—it all receded with the bite of Hattie’s accusations.
One Tempting Proposal Page 25