by Sahara Kelly
They did not disappoint; Kitty could smell delightful and mouthwatering aromas as she crossed the hall to the parlor. A good cup of tea to start with, definitely.
Keeping that in mind, she opened the door, and found—to her astonishment—that she wasn’t the first to have that idea. Seated at the table, with a cup and saucer in front of her, was a woman, who looked up as Kitty entered.
“Hullo,” she said. “You must be Kitty Ridlington.”
“Uh yes. Yes, I am,” answered Kitty, confused and curious as to why this woman wore a veil down one side of her face. “I don’t believe we’ve met…”
“No, we haven’t.” The woman’s shoulders rose and fell with her breath. “I’m Grace. Grace Chaney. Max’s sister.”
Chapter Seventeen
The polite clink of teacups echoed through the parlor as Deery served both ladies.
Grace nodded at him, and Kitty murmured her thanks.
It was, she realized, awkward as awkward could be. She sipped, sighed and put down her cup. “This is most awkward, Ma’am.”
“Call me Grace, if you would?” She put down her cup as well. “Yes, I suppose it is. I cannot imagine too many ladies are sitting down to breakfast with their brother’s mistress this morning.”
Kitty’s chin came up. “I’m sure that is true.” She looked straight at what she could see of Grace’s face. “Should I retire? I will if my presence is making you uncomfortable.”
“No.” Grace made a brief negative motion with her head. “No, don’t leave. Max brought you here, to Mowbray House. That is out of character for him, so I decided it would behoove me to make your acquaintance.”
“To find out what kind of woman would become a mistress on a wager?”
“Something like that.”
The part of Grace’s face that Kitty could see curved into a slight smile.
Kitty nodded. “I would do the same, I suppose for either of my brothers. Should they act unlike themselves, of course. Although since there really isn’t much one could label as normal in the Ridlington family, I doubt I shall be called upon to do so. Not in the near future, anyway.”
“I’ve heard of the Ridlingtons,” Grace said hesitantly. “Not all good things, I’m afraid.”
“That would be our father,” sighed Kitty. “To set the record straight, he married three times. Edmund, Simon and Letitia are from his first wife. My twin Richard and I were born of his second, and our sister Hecate is the only child of his third wife. All our mothers are gone, and all of us children were glad to see the back of our father when he passed.” She shrugged. “A terrible thing to say, but he was a terrible man. Which is why we’re all…out of the ordinary style, I suppose.”
“That bad?” Grace sounded sympathetic.
“Yes, that bad.” Kitty rose and gathered jam and butter from the sideboard. They were private now, since Deery had left them with full teacups, doubtless knowing they would prefer to be alone. Butlers were awfully good at that sort of thing.
“He was a cold hearted brute,” she continued. “He mistreated his wives and either ignored us, his children, or treated us as if we were beneath contempt. Edmund left and went to sea to get away from him and Simon became a vicar and took the Ridlington living just to escape the house.”
“And your oldest brother…Edmund…he is now Baron?”
Kitty smiled. “He is. He also has a wife he worships and they have a brand new addition in their son, Hugh, who is the most perfect child ever born.”
Grace had to laugh. “I’m sure of it.”
“We are a family, Grace, in spite of our father. Perhaps because of him. I believe we clung together as a way of providing each other with the support and encouragement not offered by a parent.”
“And you, Kitty…what are your plans for your life? You are a member of Lady Allington’s extended family, are you not?”
Kitty tilted her head. “You are well informed, Ma’am. My compliments.”
Grace sighed. “I am a voracious reader. I don’t come to town or get out into Society at all, so my news is gleaned from the news sheets. Lady Allington’s good fortune was mentioned, several times, I believe.”
That was true. “Yes, you’re quite right.” Kitty helped herself to toast. “So here you are, assessing me as a mistress to your brother.”
“No, not so.” Grace finished her tea. “I’m here because I was curious as to what kind of woman could make my brother break his one most steadfast rule about bringing any woman here.”
Kitty gazed at her. “And have you reached a conclusion yet?”
There was a long silence, then Grace moved backward in her chair a little, raising her napkin from her lap and dabbing her lips. “Not quite.” She raised her head and met Kitty’s gaze. “I think it’s time I removed this…” she touched the thin layer of silk lace obscuring half her face.
Kitty watched as she unpinned it from her hair and let it fall to her lap.
“Now you see why I don’t go out, or visit London, Kitty.”
Kitty could indeed.
From just in front of Grace’s earlobe to the tip of her eyebrow and then back to her hairline, there was a scar. Thin, but ragged. It would most certainly have attracted attention and comment, if not outright distaste, from people who valued appearance over everything else.
“My dear Grace. I scarce dare to ask how you came by that mark, because it must have been quite terrible,” faltered Kitty.
The other woman ran her fingers over the length of the scar in a casually familiar way. “It was.” She swallowed. “My late husband gave it to me, moments before he took his own life with the same blade.” She looked at Kitty. “I loved him very much. I had no idea his mind was not healthy, nor that he had such violence within him. So perhaps you can now understand why I am here. If Max is strongly attracted to you, which his actions would suggest, I need to know you won’t hurt him.” She gripped her hands together on the table top, knuckles whitening as she spoke.
“Love can be amazingly powerful and beautiful on the surface, Kitty. But I learned there can also be another side to people. One that is filled with darkness and horror. I will never ever let anyone inflict such pain on Max. He’s all I have left.”
*~~*~~*
“Then why don’t you spend more time here, love?”
Max walked in on Grace’s dramatic statement, hurrying to her side. He bent over and place a kiss on her cheek as she raised a hand to touch him. “Max, dearest. I hope you don’t mind my impromptu arrival? I couldn’t sleep last night, so I packed a few things and hopped into my gig. I’m afraid I shocked Deery by arriving so early, but your people are so wonderful. I’ve had breakfast, a lovely cup of tea, and…”
“And you’ve met Kitty,” finished her brother.
“I have, yes.”
Max glanced across the table. “Did you suffer much under her interrogation?”
Kitty laughed. “Oh yes, it was quite terrible. I think the thumbscrews were the worst.”
Grace laughed back. “How ridiculous you are, Max. Kitty and I just talked.”
“I know you, sister.” He flashed her an affectionate glance. “You pried, wheedled, casually dropped pertinent questions into a simple conversation and generally intruded into someone else’s mind.”
“I do that?” She looked at him curiously.
“Sometimes, yes.” Max smiled at Kitty. “And given the circumstances, I can forgive you all of it.”
“This is a somewhat unusual situation,” added Kitty. “I just told Grace that if I were in her shoes, I’d probably do exactly the same for Richard.” She frowned. “I am quite concerned about him, you know. I’m pretty sure he’s well, but I do wish he’d leave Brussels and come home.”
“Your twin is in Brussels?” Grace’s eyebrows rose, tugging on the scar as they did so. “I understand there is a lot of activity there. Balls and assemblies put on by those amazing British visitors for the benefit of Wellington and his men.”
“Mostly the titled ones, I should think,” commented Kitty wryly.
“Well, yes,” answered Grace. “But you can’t expect a Duchess to entertain a young army private, can you.”
“Actually, I can,” said Kitty. “Why should a Duchess enjoy the benefits of money and position, be served glorious meals and dance with beautiful people, when that young private is going to go out onto the battlefield and perhaps die for her freedom?” She took a breath. “Doesn’t he deserve to leave for the fight with a full belly and the memory of a lovely girl in silks held close in his arms?”
“Such equality would be difficult to attain, and almost impossible to maintain, though, wouldn’t it?” Grace leaned forward, her face alight with interest.
“Here now.” Max interrupted. “If you two start debating England’s social system, I will end up napping on the couch over there. Perhaps you could save the discussion for another time?”
Kitty, who was about to do just that, wrinkled her nose. “Damn you, Max. I so seldom enjoy the opportunity of having an intelligent conversation with anyone, and now you’ve just forbidden it.”
Grace leaned her arm across the table and gently touched Kitty’s hand. “We will continue our talk, Kitty. I promise. I too would enjoy the chance to talk about matters of import.” She shot a glare at her brother. “And be listened to, not lectured.”
“Wonderful.” Kitty nodded.
“Well then,” Max fetched his breakfast and sat down. “Grace, you must have heard of our recent crisis…the coach accident and the injuries to Kitty’s sister?”
“Deery told me.” She turned to Kitty. “I was so glad to hear Miss Hecate reached your home in one piece, and is eating now. Such good news.”
“What you may not know is that my wheels were sabotaged. It was no accident, Grace. It was deliberate.”
His sister’s jaw dropped. “Oh good God, Max.”
“Exactly. So while you’re here…”
“Oh dear, here it comes,” smiled Kitty. “Grace, you are now about to be reduced to an innocent eighteen-year-old girl.” She turned to Max. “Go ahead, Grandfather. Give us our orders.”
Max frowned in irritation. “This is not a joking matter, Kitty. What happened may well pose a threat to either myself, or anyone associated with me. Which includes Grace, and as of a couple of nights ago, you, as well.”
Kitty shook her head. “I still cannot believe I would be in any danger at all.”
“If you and I had been in that carriage?”
“Then Harris would have been driving much more slowly. In addition, it would have been over roads in much better condition than the ones where the accident occurred. We certainly would have run the risk of breaking wheels, but the likelihood of either of us being killed…I would put that as a distant possibility.”
Max glowered.
“That is quite logical, brother dear. You must admit Kitty has a valid argument there.”
He sighed. “So you’re saying the point of the sabotage was not to kill?”
“If you look at it from an impersonal perspective, yes.” She tapped her fingers on the table in emphasis. “We leave the ball, get in the carriage and drive back here. Our wheels break on the way. We get bumped around, bruised, maybe even break a limb. But…nobody is killed. The result would be some discomfort for us, and probably a lot of additional gossip.” She pursed her lips in distaste. “Not that we need it.”
Grace chuckled. “True.”
Max shot Kitty a glance. “If I recall correctly, you were the one who wished to be known as the scandalous Miss Ridlington.”
She blushed. “Well, yes. All right, that was what I said.” Her chin lifted. “However, I did not anticipate these events in any way, shape or form.”
“I’ll allow that,” agreed Max. “But I’m still going to ask you both to use a great deal more caution until this matter is settled. The incontrovertible face remains that someone, some malefactor sawed through the spokes on the wheel of my carriage.” He bit back the oaths that came to mind. Fury, while still simmering, wouldn’t help the conversation. “Their intent was to do harm. I would not have harm come to either of you. So that, as far as I’m concerned, is that.”
Chapter Eighteen
It was another morning of frustration for Max, who continued to make the rounds in London.
He dropped casual questions to many of his acquaintances, always careful to avoid implying his concern for his life. But that worry was there…how could it not be? “Sorry, Max. I really don’t have a clue if there are any grudges against you out there,” said Lord Michael Northfield. “You know there’s always been a nasty minded group of scum who believe all of us…” he waved his hand around the gentlemen’s club in which this conversation was taking place… “All of us in Society should be eliminated.”
“Sad, but true,” agreed Max.
“Agitators, protestors, small groups who are angry for so many reasons.” Lord Michael folded his hands over his bounteous stomach.
“They might have good reasons,” Max murmured. “Ah well, thank you anyway.”
“How’s that sister of yours?”
“Well, thank you sir. Visiting Mowbray House at the moment, as a matter of fact.”
“Give her my best? I heard her play once. A magical experience.” Lord Michael beamed as a waiter brought a tray with two papers neatly rolled and a goblet of brandy. “Ah. Breakfast.”
“Thank you, my Lord,” Max gave a slight bow. “I shall pass along your regards to Grace.” He acknowledged the farewell nod, and then left, many thoughts running through his head.
Northfield did have a point. There had been more than a few incidents of unpleasantness, fights, property damage and so on, caused by those unsatisfied with their lot. Social conditions in London weren’t perfect for everyone. And he could imagine the anger that might build in a man’s breast as he tried to earn enough to feed his family, while seeing the Ton parade by on a daily basis, spending more on their shoes than he made in a year.
But, in all fairness, sawing through the spokes of every member of Society who owned a carriage in the hopes that they’d be killed?
No. It just didn’t make sense.
He needed to find something a great deal more specific, something he still believed might well be aimed directly at him. After all, the one fact that haunted him incessantly was that it was his carriage. Why not the one before or the one after? His was quite new…an old one would have been far more likely to suffer a broken wheel, and fewer questions would have been asked.
All those logical assumptions pointed his thoughts toward a personal vendetta.
But from whom? That was the question he could not, as yet, answer.
He returned just after noon, hoping for lunch and some time with his sister. As he turned his horse toward Mowbray House, he spent some time considering the interaction between Grace and Kitty.
The veil was off. So Grace had felt comfortable enough to reveal what she considered to be her devastation. He’d tried to explain that what she saw was a great deal worse than what the rest of the world saw.
He knew the mark she bore reminded her every day of pain, violence and a grievous error on her part that had, in her own mind, ruined her life.
Everyone else just saw a nasty scar.
But Kitty had managed to put her at her ease upon first meeting. Once again, Max found himself surprised at the response to a woman that Grace should, by all rights, have shunned. And yet he’d found the two of them chatting comfortably, sharing both ideas and wit. It had confounded him for a moment, but then he wondered if he was failing to give Kitty enough credit.
She was intelligent, without a doubt. Most of the Ton would never consider a brain might lurk behind her attractive countenance, and perhaps he’d fallen into that trap. But not now, now that he was learning about her. Her beauty was undeniable, but also unique, since in repose she was no more than the average beautiful woman. It was when she was engaged in anything—conversati
on, actions, decisions—that’s when she lit up like a Roman candle and surpassed the ordinary, revealing a unique and breathtaking glory.
That chin, when raised, indicated that she was a Ridlington to the core; determined, proud, and steadfast in her opinions. Her father might have been a bastard of the first order, but he had left a legacy in his offspring. And it showed.
Mowbray House was upon him before he realized it, and Max slid from the saddle, cold and a little depressed that he’d failed to make progress in his investigation.
Deery welcomed him and took his coat. “The ladies are in the library, sir. They’ve requested a light lunch be served there. Will you join them or…”
Max nodded. “That will be fine, Deery. As long as there’s a good fire. There’s still no sign of spring and the air’s damn cold.”
“Indeed, sir.” Deery vanished with his usual efficiency.
Pausing at the door of the library, Max smiled at the sounds of a lively discussion coming from within. He caught the words “absurd” and “Wellington”, and realized this was no debate on gowns or the Season. His sister and his mistress were involved in dissecting Wellington’s campaign. Bemused, he entered the fray.
“Good afternoon, ladies.”
“Max. Perfect timing.” Grace turned to him. “Could you please inform Kitty that her opinion of the Duke’s strategies at the battle of Conaghul are incorrect?”
He blinked. “Er…what?”
Kitty sighed. “You are unfamiliar with the Anglo-Mysore Wars, then?”
“The what wars?”
“Good Lord, Max. It was not that long ago. Maybe ten years or so.” Grace frowned at him.
“Well that explains it, then. I was busy being a Corinthian.”
“Drinking and whoring?” Kitty’s expression was mildly curious.
“That too.” He sighed. “But if I might turn your obviously acrimonious discussion to the present…”
“If you must,” pouted Grace. “But I swear I’m right, Kitty.”
“We’ll agree to disagree then,” said Kitty equitably. “And I will thank you for a lively debate.”