A Dance of Manners

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  She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. Grey felt the same way toward her, of that she was certain. In a sudden moment of clarity, she realized the ridiculousness of their predicament. Her mother and father expected—demanded—that she marry someone in the upper class. Her father would never approve of a coachman coming to call. There was nothing else to think about. Grey surely knew it better than she.

  When he came up beside her, she prayed he wouldn't see her tears. She quickly lowered the lantern so there was less light on her face.

  “She is stuck and not coming out. There is only one thing to do.”

  Heartbroken, she didn't trust herself to speak. Why was she feeling such a strong attraction to him? How could someone from the lower class and a different background—so unlike her and supposedly different—trigger these new feelings?

  “I am going to unharness one of the horses,” he said. “We will ride into London. It is not far. We shall go slow and bring the light with us, but I know these roads well.”

  Riding on the same horse sounded dangerous—and intriguing. “I do not know. That frightens me.”

  He chuckled.

  Confused, she raised the lantern to see his grinning face. “What is so amusing?”

  “I assure you it is perfectly safe. I shall take good care of you.”

  Riding on the same horse? She was a lady! How could he forget that? What if someone outside the family found out she had ridden with a man on a horse, in the middle of the night, unchaperoned? “Perhaps I should stay here until you return with help.”

  “I shall not and cannot leave you here alone, and we are not staying here all night. It will be too cold. No, absolutely not. You are coming with me,” he ordered.

  “I do not—”

  “I will not leave you alone here in the middle of the night. Do you understand?”

  “Very well.”

  “Good. Follow me,” he commanded.

  Reluctantly, she walked behind him with the glowing lantern. He approached one of the horses, and Kitty held up the light for him while he unharnessed the horse with confidence and ease. Well, he works with horses every day, doesn't he?

  "I shall help you up on the horse and then sit behind you."

  “Bareback? No!”

  “Have you a better idea?”

  She wanted to remind him—sarcastically—that she was a lady, but his hand was badly cut. He needed to get to town as soon as possible so it could be washed and bandaged. He was right. They couldn't stay out here all night.

  With a sigh, she put down the lantern. “Very well. Help me up.”

  “You will have to sit astride.”

  “That is simply out of the question!”

  “It is for your own protection. I have never ridden this horse and have no idea how she will react. I cannot have you slipping off. It would make things easier if you pull your skirt up to your knees before I lift—”

  “Are you mad? I will not!”

  “It is my responsibility to get you back to London, and that is what I must do. Now up you go!”

  He lifted her, blanket and all, then lifted the lantern for her to hold. In a flash, he climbed up behind her and circled her waist with his strong arm. He ordered the horse forward. Clutching the top of the lantern, Kitty had no time to argue.

  The cool air against her face contrasted to his body warmth from behind. His arm pressing in on her waist felt delightful, unusual and she savored it. Safe and tired, she leaned back into his shoulder for support, aware of his scent, a sweet mixture of sweat mixed with leather. She closed her eyes and settled into the gentle, constant rhythm.

  “Are you relatively comfortable?” he whispered into her ear.

  As he spoke, a hot knife seemed to surge through her. She leaned back harder, enjoying sensations and smells she had never imagined existed, savoring the pleasure of his enveloping warmth. If only this ride with him could go on forever. There must be a way to convince Papa! There has to be.

  The peaceful ride in the darkness continued for what seemed like an hour at a slow, languid pace. She would forever remember it as both the longest hour of her life, and the shortest.

  When they were close to London, he stopped the horse. “You are shivering.”

  “Yes, a little.”

  He adjusted the blanket around her shoulders and neck more snuggly and leaned into her. He put both arms around her and her head slid back as she moaned softly.

  He whispered into her ear. “I am not taking liberties with you. I am simply trying to warm you with my body. You are getting such a chill.”

  “Warm me,” she said.

  He held her tighter and nuzzled his face into her neck for warmth. “Better?” he whispered.

  “Oh, much. Just stay like this with me forever.”

  “I would love to, little one, if you only knew,” he whispered. “But as soon as you are warmer, I have to get you home. You must get into bed.”

  “No. I shall return to Claremont with you!”

  “You were, but things have changed. You are shaking and I am afraid this has all been too much for you. I shall get you home safely, and then I will ride over to Lady Morelander's to get her medicine and return to Claremont as soon as possible.”

  “But the princess! I am supposed to be there and—”

  “You have been exposed to the elements far too long. I daresay your parents will not allow you to return in this condition. I will make sure the princess and the duchess know what has happened.”

  Again she shivered and he hugged her tighter. Overwhelmed with cold and emotions, she shed a warm tear.

  “It will be all right, I assure you,” he promised, still holding her.

  It wasn't the dark or the cold that had brought on the tears. She cried because it was torture for her to think of him leaving, but she couldn't tell him that. Would she ever see him again—and experience a moment like this and feel his embrace? No. She had no choice but to forget him. A courtship with him would never, ever be permitted.

  “Please do not cry. You will be home soon, I promise.”

  And she cried harder when he said that, knowing soon he would be gone.

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  * * *

  Chapter Five

  Kitty spent the next afternoon in her room. After a bath and a small lunch which tasted terrible, she asked for one of her many sketchpads and pencils and sat by her stone fireplace. She drew and shaded—nothing in particular, really—she just liked the feel of the pencil in her hand. Melancholy, she wallowed in the solitude of her room and filled up four pages within an hour. Her maid brought her a large cup of chocolate. She looked at it, but couldn't drink it.

  Soft rain pattered against her window and the sky grew darker than usual. Kitty wondered where he was.

  Setting her sketchbook aside, she crossed the room and lit the long, white candles on the fireplace mantelpiece. Physically, she felt better after the ordeal of the carriage accident. There was no more weakness and she was no longer cold. But inside, deep within, she didn't feel herself and never would again. How could anything ever compare to the perfect pleasure she had experienced with Grey the night before? Knowing it would never happen again, an agony she couldn't describe surged through her. No thoughts of Nebry Castle or Edward came to her mind.

  As long as she felt up to it, she would be allowed to come to dinner in the dining room, later on. Mama had insisted she rest all day. How could she face her family at dinner tonight and act as if nothing had changed? Nothing would ever be right, and nothing would ever be the same.

  Because she must do something or go insane, she decided to pull out a dress or two to look at before dinner. If Mama came in and saw she was prepared, with her dress chosen and her toilette items in place, there would be no hesitation in allowing her to attend the family meal. Although sad and tearful, Kitty preferred going down to the dining room rather than sitting in her room all night, alone. She couldn't admit to anyone that she had experi
enced and enjoyed improper feelings for someone she could never have. It was her own private anguish, and somehow she must endure it.

  She chose a red dress with a low neckline, delicate sleeves, and a flowing hemline. Out of her jewelry case she lifted her sapphire earrings and matching pendant. The items she chose were pretty, but failed to lift the gloom surrounding her.

  The pitter-patter of the rain against the house sounded peaceful. The rain would cool the air after the heat of the afternoon. She was relieved to be home in one sense, but an aloneness settled deep within her, a loss she had never experienced before. She sat in her chair and stared out the window. She should not think now. It was too painful. How could she ever be near Grey again? She needed to go back to Kensington Palace eventually. It was the only way she might ever see him. But could she stand to be near him—yet not with him?

  In her misery, she thought of the princess. Would the girl be disappointed Kitty had left Claremont? Would they explain it to the child? She hoped so.

  A knock sounded at the door. Kitty forced a smile when she saw her mother. “I am feeling fine,” she managed.

  “That is wonderful, my angel. You rested this afternoon?”

  “I did, but I am ready to be up. Please may I join you for dinner?”

  “Yes, you may. We will be dining earlier than usual. Dress now and come down presently. Have you an appetite?”

  “Yes,” she lied. “I shall be right down. I have already chosen a dress.”

  “Should I send in your maid? You do not seem quite yourself,” the duchess noted.

  “I shall be fine without her. I will do a quick toilette and be down shortly.” She forced her voice to remain even and watched her mother leave.

  Once alone, listless and sitting at her dressing table, she began her toilette. It didn't bring her the usual satisfaction. It took a few moments to decide on a hair ornament which she chose from the flowered case on her dressing table.

  Wondering what her mother had chosen for the menu tonight, she ran a comb through her glossy hair and pinned it back, letting tendrils fall down naturally on each side of her face. Noting she looked pale in the small mirror, she applied a dab of rouge to her lips, pinched her cheeks and applied a soft scent to her neck and wrists.

  After putting on fresh undergarments, she slipped on her dress. It fit well and showed off her trim figure nicely—not that the one person that mattered would see her in it. She put on her sapphires.

  She glanced at the candles in her room. They were fine. The window was closed. Her book was at her bedside. Later, her maid would pull down her thick, cream colored bed cover. Somehow, she would endure dinner and try to act herself and later she could cry. No—no tears now.

  Turning, she let herself out and left the door ajar. At the end of the long, brown carpeted hallway, she grabbed the wood banister and descended the staircase. At the bottom, she made a familiar right and headed in the direction of the dining room.

  She saw her father's gray hair as he looked up and saw her coming.

  “Darling, you look beautiful tonight. Rested?”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “Before we sit down, may I present to you the Viscount Castleton, who has accepted my invitation to join us for dinner? And sir ... my daughter, Lady Kitty.”

  Looking up, she saw his eyes. Him! He flashed her a white, dazzling smile and extended his hand to her. She looked back at him, aghast, her heart beating madly in her chest. She wanted to look away but could not. He lifted her hand gently and kissed it.

  “It is an honor, indeed, to be introduced to you formally, Lady Kitty.” He dropped her hand gently and it fell to her side.

  “I do not understand...”

  “This fine young man is the son of the Earl of Croydon, someone I am pleased to be well-acquainted with. I had not actually met his son until last night, however, and the viscount has rectified that.”

  Kitty stared at him, unable to avert her gaze from his face. His jet-black hair was extraordinarily neat, and he looked tall in a well fitted waistcoat. Had he spoken with her father last night after she returned home and went upstairs to bed?

  Although excited, Kitty was fully aware of another emotion ... confusion. Why had Grey gone to her father and disclosed his identity to him, but not to her? Why had he kept it a secret? She recalled the day he'd picked her the wildflowers. Yes! He'd mentioned knowing she was the duke's eldest daughter. How had he learned that? She suspected he'd known for some time who she was.

  “How is your carriage?” she asked.

  “The carriage ... I had assistance and it is back at Kensington Palace.”

  At the sight of a white bandage, she remembered his injury. “How is your hand?”

  “It will be fine,” he assured her.

  “But, why were you ... well, driving the carriage?”

  He smiled at her, that smile with the little dimple, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “I find myself assisting the royal family, occasionally, as you have been doing.”

  “What?”

  “I tend to drop in at Kensington Palace when I am in town, with all the families there ... Sussex ... the Kent's ... I know them all. Once in a great while I am able to put myself at their disposal.”

  “You do? You mean you are not a coachman?”

  “I can drive a coach well enough, I would say, and I can hold my own with a horse.” He smiled.

  “As I have seen.”

  “But no, I am not one of their coachmen, in any official capacity.”

  “You don't say...” she said softly.

  “I am afraid I am not. I pray I have not disappointed you.”

  Many emotions rushed through her and she was unsure what to respond. “No. Not at all.”

  “Surprised?” he teased.

  “Maybe a little.”

  “A nice surprise, I hope?”

  She looked into his eyes, unable to hide her bewilderment. “Maybe a little.” After she answered him, she felt foolish. If he'd confessed who he was earlier, there'd have been no tears nor would her heart and spirit be so miserable. Courting might have been a possibility, and she'd have understood that all along. Was this some kind of consolation for her pain?

  The duchess beamed at her daughter. “May I suggest we all sit?”

  Seeing her mother's radiant face unsettled her. Her mother must be pleased with this development, but Mama just didn't understand. Kitty couldn't savor this moment because Grey had been dishonest.

  The family and their guest assembled around the table. The servants stood across the room, waiting for the family to be seated.

  “Why do you not sit next to our guest, Kitty, since you know him so well?”

  Remembering her manners, she spoke. “That would be lovely.”

  He was behind her chair, pulling it out for her. She sat. Was this a dream? Was this man—this coachman—really a viscount? Why, oh why, hadn't he told her before?

  She observed him as he sat close to her ... only two feet away at most. She couldn't help but be drawn to him, and she hated herself for it. Looking at his face, she thought it angelic. He was, by far, the most dashing man she had ever seen. She observed his manners, which seemed excellent and the fluttering in her chest settled down.

  But as time went on, the anger within her grew. If things had been different—if he had not lied to her by omission—perhaps there would have been a chance for them to be together. But now? Obviously, he was underhanded and could not be trusted. It was good she found out now what a disagreeable character she was dealing with. This man was no gentleman!

  “I am sorry you took such a chill last night,” he said to her. “Your parents have told me you have rested all day. Are you feeling better?”

  “Oh, quite,” she said, forcing a lively quality to her voice. “And I have you to thank for getting me home safely.”

  “My pleasure, Lady Kitty.”

  “The viscount did a fine and proper job, and I have thanked him for his assistance,”
the duke interjected. “Had he not been as good with a horse ... well, you may have been out there all night, my dear.”

  “Yes, Papa, he did a fine job seeing me safely home. I am very grateful.”

  “We are all very grateful to him,” the Duchess added.

  Papa cleared his throat. “In talking to Viscount Castleton earlier, we have come to realize we have mutual friends. He will be going to the ball at Devonshire House tomorrow.”

  Oh no!

  "We expect it to be hot, but wonderful,” Margaret said.

  Kitty had almost forgotten—the ball! “You are going to Devonshire House? Who do you know?”

  “Do not be impolite, Kitty,” the Duchess remonstrated.

  “That is quite all right,” Grey said, looking at Kitty. “I am sad to admit it, but I do not find myself in London as much as I would like. My parents came down from Cheltingham on the seventh and dined at the Lansdownes with the Hopes and Cowpers and Lord Russell, among others. I can see now, though, that I have missed a great deal while not in London.”

  If his parents had dined at the Lansdownes, indeed, they were part of polite society. But their son was a schemer and his character questionable. Perhaps there was a reason his parents preferred to keep him away from London?

  The first course was served, and there was a rattling of silverware as everyone began to eat. Kitty looked over at her mother, sitting elegantly, beginning her soup. Her father was doing the same, and everyone seemed oblivious to the fact that her world was spinning, and here was this man at her side. But they didn't know him like she did. He'd kept his true identity hidden in an attempt to take liberties with her and fool her! He might deceive her family now, but she knew the truth about this viscount. His actions were deplorable. Imagine his audacity in coming here! For all she knew, he might have driven the carriage into that rut on purpose.

 

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