“Is something wrong, Anthony?” she asked after a few moments.
“I do not know, Amelia, I fear so!” he answered shortly.
“Then tell me, I beg!”
“Amelia, when I asked you to marry me, I did not suppose that you had fallen in love with me. I did not ask it of you. But it never occurred to me that you might perhaps love another man. Now I have some reason to believe that this is the case. A certain Captain Markham has been mentioned to me. Tell me, Amelia, is there something between you?”
“He is in love with me.”
“Indeed?”
“And I with him. You see I do not lie to you. However, I do not advise you to use this admission as an excuse to break off the engagement, for I should certainly deny it.”
“Let me understand you, Amelia, you expect me to accept that you love this man, to go through with the marriage knowing that I cannot trust the woman who is my wife!”
“I do not think you have very much choice, Debenham. I shall not cry off. If you do so, and tell the world why, who would not condemn you? If indeed they believed you. No, Debenham, a man like you could not do it! “
“Can you really contemplate marrying me, loving Markham as you say you do?”
“Easily, Sir. Markham has nothing but his pay.”
The Earl was silent, contemplating the size of the mistake he had made. He knew that she was right—he could not expose her. The marriage must go forward, but the affair must cease. He gripped her by the shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes.
“Amelia, do not look to find in me a complacent husband. If we are to go through with this farce, you will cease to have any communication with Markham from this day. Do I have your promise?”
“Do I have your word that no one shall ever know what we have said? That there will be a marriage?”
“You do,” he answered in a hard voice.
She smiled. “Then you may rest easy, Sir. The Countess of Debenham will be as Caesar's wife.”
With this, the Earl had perforce to be satisfied, yet he spent many bitter hours wondering what his life would be, tied to a woman who was capable of holding a man to a pledge which, she had every reason to suppose, he already regretted.
Lord Debenham had promised that night to conduct his ward and her duenna to a Ball to be held at Ranelagh Gardens, a resort of high fashion, which Kitty had not yet visited, He was little in the mood for such festivity. But he knew that his ward had purchased a new gown for the occasion and had been looking forward to it, and he had not the heart to disappoint her.
They arrived late to find the Ball already commenced. Kitty was quite enchanted by the gardens and turned impulsively to her guardian, crying: “Oh, dear Sir, it is lovely! Thank you so much for bringing me here.”
“It is a pleasure, my dear,” he told her, smiling. He was about to suggest that they stand up together when, at that moment, a young gallant appeared to claim a dance that she had promised him.
She went away quite happily upon his arm, leaving Lord Debenham to lead out his aunt. When the set came to an end, the Earl was surprised to see his old friend Courtney elbowing his way through the crowd towards him.
“Hallo, old fellow!” cried the young nobleman joyously, “I've been looking for you everywhere. Now, come on, Tony, my boy, this is a devilish place; but there's a game going on in the card room, and tonight I feel my luck is in!” Lord Debenham allowed himself to be led away into the card room, where he found it pleasant to be hailed by several of the men who demanded to know where he had been hiding all these months.
He answered them, laughing, and was persuaded to take a seat at the faro table, from which he rose later in the evening a considerable winner.
Strolling into the ballroom once more, he was surprised to see his aunt seated with one of her oldest friends, deep in conversation, while his ward was nowhere to be seen. Questioned, his aunt answered airily that Kitty had gone off for a little stroll with Lady Amelia, who had suggested to Kitty that they should have a talk. She knew that the two women were not very friendly, so she had thought it a splendid idea that they should have the opportunity to settle their differences, as it seemed likely that they would have to see a great deal of each other once the marriage had taken place.
Lady Horatia was taken aback by Lord Debenham's reaction to this news. He looked furious and strode off in the direction his ward had taken, looking dangerously purposeful.
Lady Amelia had taken care not to make Kitty's chaperone suspicious by greeting her affectionately but, once out of ear-shot of that good lady, she had wasted no politeness. “Well, Mistress Brabington, I congratulate you!''
“I am sorry, I do not understand you, Lady Amelia. What do you mean?”
“Why, only that you seem to have won the heart of Lord Debenham—no mean feat, as there has always been a certain amount of doubt that he has one.”
“I do not think you should talk to me like that about the man you intend to marry, Ma'am!” declared Kitty hotly.
“There, you have put your finger upon it, my clever little upstart. I do intend to marry him, so be warned.”
Kitty fought to keep her temper, merely saying: “As my guardian is betrothed to you, I do not understand why you feel it necessary to tell me this.”
“Because, Mistress Brabington, your precious guardian came to me today to tax me upon a certain matter. It was obvious that he was itching to be released from his promise to me. You can tell him from me that I am greatly looking forward to our marriage, my dear, and that I would hold him to it, if only to prevent his marrying you.”
“There is no need to send me messages, my love,” came a voice unexpectedly. “Tell me yourself.”
Both ladies swung round to see the tall figure of Lord Debenham regarding them with cool amusement, beneath which Kitty sensed a smouldering anger.
Lady Amelia cast him a look of triumph. “Well, my Lord, I have kept my promise. I have written to Markham giving him his congé. I hope that you will give your beloved ward hers before our wedding, for I do not intend to live in the same house with her. I give you fair warning.”
“Do not be concerned, Amelia,” Lord Debenham said icily. “I would not for the world subject either of you to such an unpleasant situation.”
Kitty stared at her guardian. “Oh, really, my Lord? May I ask what you intend to do with me?”
“Doubtless you will find a better home, Kitty,” he answered, refusing to meet her eyes.
“But you said Debenham would be my home!” she cried. “I love the house. Where else could I go?”
“Suffice it to say that I do not want you to share a house with Lady Amelia,” answered the Earl curtly. Kitty glanced from her guardian’s face, grim and strained, to Lady Amelia, smug and satisfied. With a little cry of despair, she ran off down the darkened path, leaving behind her two people, pledged to marry and who regarded each other with a contemptuous dislike that could only deepen in the coming years.
Nine
It very soon became apparent that Mistress Kitty was the success of the season. No fashionable gathering was complete without her and, to all appearances, she was enjoying herself hugely. There had gathered around her a large court of young gentlemen, all of whom behaved in a gratifyingly ridiculous way—and chief among whom figured my Lord Courtney. He was much favoured by the heiress, for not only was he a dashingly handsome blade, he also had the reputation of being very difficult for any young lady to attach. To have added him to her court was a triumph. Moreover, he could always be depended upon to make her laugh with his wicked sayings. It was pretty well accepted in polite circles that Courtney was to be the lucky man and, for once, even the most ill-natured gossips could find nothing to say against the match.
One morning, after a particularly late night, Kitty awoke to the sound of an unexplained bustle in the house. She could hear Lady Horatia's excited voice directing the footmen, and she could just catch the sound of a much softer voice, slightly French in accent, w
hich seemed to be issuing from the bedchamber next to her own.
Forgetting her fatigue in her curiosity, Kitty rang for her abigail, who appeared with chocolate, rolls, and the news of a visitor in the house.
Sarah was unable to disclose the name of this guest, but she was able to inform Kitty that the lady was very beautiful and had the most wonderful clothes that she, Sarah, had ever clapped eyes on. This naturally had the effect of whetting Mistress Kitty's curiosity still further, so she threw back the covers and announced her intention of rising immediately.
Nevertheless, it was close on noon when she eventually entered the morning room and executed a well-rehearsed start of surprise at the sight of their visitor. “Forgive me, Ma'am, I thought you were alone,” she told Lady Horatia disingenuously.
“Not at all, my dear. I am delighted to be able to introduce you. Marguerite, ma Cherie, permit me to present my nephew’s ward, Mistress Katherine Brabington. My love, this is Madame La Comtesse de Longueville, my oldest and dearest friend.”
Kitty swept the lady a demure curtsy and, to her surprise, found herself lightly embraced. Madame de Longueville then took her hands and, holding her at arm's length, scrutinized her with the air of an expert, from the top of her curls to her slender, satin-shod feet.
“Charming, Cherie, absolutely charming,” pronounced the lady in her soft voice. “Horatia, you are to be congratulated.”
Kitty, meanwhile, was subjecting Madame de Longueville to a scrutiny every bit as thorough and had concluded that she had never in her life seen anyone so elegant, so beautiful, and so stylish. In truth, the lady was exquisite. In a beruffled morning gown of cherry-blossom dimity, she looked not a day over five-and-twenty, although Kitty knew that she could give Lady Horatia a couple of years. Her hair, coiled into a neat chignon, was perfectly white. At first, Kitty thought it was powdered, but then she realised it was quite natural. Strangely, it did not age the lovely Countess; rather, with her huge blue eyes and pointed chin, it gave her the appearance of a porcelain figure. There was something very endearing in the lady's smile for it was sad and rather wistful. She bestowed it now upon Kitty, saying, “You must know, my child, that I have been following your adventures with great interest. Lady Horatia has written so much about you that I decided I must come and see for myself. It is long since I visited any of my so dear friends in England. One becomes out of touch.”
“Well, I am sure we are all very glad that you have come at last,” remarked Lady Horatia, “and I hope you'll pay us a long visit. Tell me, Marguerite, are you too fatigued to accompany us to the Duchess of Devonshire’s masquerade tonight? It promises to be a brilliant affair.”
“Oh yes, do come with us,” cried Kitty eagerly.
“In the face of such a kind invitation, how could I refuse?” smiled Madame la Comtesse.
In the afternoon, Lady Horatia, on whom the fatigues of the season were beginning to tell, excused herself and retired to her chamber to snatch a few hours’ sleep before embarking upon the evening’s entertainment.
Madame de Longueville and Kitty were left alone in the drawing room, and it was not long before Kitty was confiding in her new friend the full story of her boyhood, concealing only her father's involvement in the recent rebellion.
“And so, my child, you have made your home with Milor Debenham. Is he kind to you?”
“He is wonderfully kind, Madame, and has been from the very first,” replied Kitty with unmistakable sincerity.
Madame was thoughtful. “I know little of him,” she said. “Tell me what kind of man he is.”
Kitty was silent for a moment. Then a loving smile illuminated her face, and she began to speak so softly that her companion was forced to lean forward to catch her words.
“He is a man of great pride,” she began, “and great integrity. He has, I think, been very much alone, for he hides his feelings always. Yet, Lord Courtney, who is his closest friend, says that there is no one he would rather go to should he find himself in trouble. Of course, he is very handsome, but that is not so important.” She laughed, a little embarrassed, for she was aware that she had said more than she had intended.
Madame de Longueville took one of her hands and held it in a warm clasp. “You are very much in love with him, are you not, my dear?”
“Yes,” whispered Kitty despairingly. “Oh yes.”
“And he?” questioned Madame.
“He loves me, too,” responded Kitty. “But he is already promised to Lady Amelia, you see, and he says he cannot jilt her, even though I know that Captain Markham is her lover….”
“I beg your pardon!” exclaimed Madame la Comtesse, startled.
Kitty nodded vigorously. “It's quite true, Ma'am, for I saw them embracing after my ball. But my Lord says that it makes no difference, for he cannot in honour give such a reason for breaking the engagement.”
“That is very true, my dear,” conceded Madame. “For a man who did such a thing would be almost as much an outcast as the woman herself, and I cannot feel that it would benefit you greatly to be married to a social pariah.”
“No,” agreed Mistress Kitty dolefully.
Madame patted her cheek. ''Do not despair, petite,” she counselled. “I am sure that something will occur to put matters to rights. I am a great believer in fate, you know.”
Kitty smiled wanly, but she had no such faith. However, she was considerably cheered by the timely arrival of a bouquet of white roses bearing Lord Courtney's card, followed almost immediately by Courtney in person to sue for the honour of the first dance with the heiress. This was graciously allowed him. He stayed for half an hour entertaining the two ladies and then took his leave.
Upon leaving the house, he almost bumped into my Lord Debenham, who was ascending the steps just as he was about to descend.
“I say, old fellow,” cried the Viscount cheerfully. “I've just been visiting the divine Kitty. You're a fool, Tony, my boy. If you're not careful, I'm going to snatch the prize away from under your nose, and that's fair warning.”
“My dear Julian, as it seems to have escaped your somewhat erratic memory, may I remind you that I am betrothed to Lady Amelia,” rejoined Lord Debenham acidly.
“Seems to me it's not my memory that needs jogging. The on dit is that you haven't been seen in her company for weeks,” replied Courtney frankly.
“Let them talk,” shrugged Lord Debenham. “It is nobody's business but mine.”
“And Lady Amelia's,” reminded Courtney.
The Earl regarded his friend humorously. “Julian, I refuse to be taken to task on my own doorstep, particularly by a young idiot who should know better!”
“Sorry, old fellow, but you know I'm dashed fond of you and well…you know what I mean.”
“Of course I do,” Lord Debenham assured him. “Please believe that Amelia does not suffer by my absence.”
“I daresay she doesn't,” muttered Lord Courtney to himself as he strode off. “What I say is that she damn well should!”
Meanwhile, the Earl, with consummate grace, was making his bow to the Comtesse with whom he was already slightly acquainted.
The Earl, who was not so much in love as to be totally blind to feminine charms, had always found the fascinating countess much to his taste and, as Kitty was still behaving towards him with studied coolness, he was content to sit beside the older woman, although his eyes often strayed to his ward's lovely face. They had many friends in common and shared an intimate knowledge of Paris, where Madame de Longueville had lived since she first married. Lord Debenham, who had met the Comte de Longueville in France, found it difficult to imagine this exquisite, sophisticated lady enjoying connubial bliss with that amiable but doltish nobleman. However, report had it that they were a devoted couple and, in any event, he was in no position to criticize other people's matrimonial arrangements. What madness had induced him to offer for Lady Amelia he could not now fathom, but he had made his bed and he supposed they must all lie on it.
He was informed by his ward that he was to have the pleasure of escorting all three ladies to the masquerade that night, to which he replied that he would be delighted.
“I am very much looking forward to it,” Madame de Longueville told him. “I expect to meet so many of my old friends.”
The Earl bowed and murmured something complimentary, but it was obvious that his attention had strayed once more to his ward. Kitty was looking very appealing in a gown of soft pink, but it was her air of anticipation that disturbed him. Distrustfully, he attributed her excitement to the prospect of being with Lord Courtney at an event at which conventions of decorum were notoriously lax.
Disturbing as the last few weeks had been for the Earl, for Cedric, Lord Brabington, they had been a period of unmitigated gloom. He preferred not to dwell upon the scene that had taken place upon his return to his lodgings on the morning of his abortive love scene with his cousin, for it made him shudder even to think of it. Wellbeloved had been cursed unpleasant about the whole thing, and Brabington had had a very good mind to cut the acquaintance altogether. He was, however, no match for Wellbeloved who had, after venting his first annoyance with a careless blow that left an angry, red mark on Brabington’s cheek, set his devious mind to plotting once more. It was apparent that the heiress could no longer be won by fair means; indeed, he had never really thought so poorly of the girl as to imagine that she would ever contemplate marrying her odious cousin. His plan had been to take advantage of their friendship to lure her into his trap. It was, he reflected, more difficult than one had thought to kidnap a young lady of fortune who was escorted wherever she went by a stout footman and more often than not by at least one lovesick swain. He was aware that she must have been warned by Lord Debenham against him, and he had a higher opinion of her intelligence than to send her notes suggesting mysterious assignations. He had been considering this problem for some time when, calling upon Lord Brabington one evening, he found that pretty gentleman engaged in trying on a new domino of puce silk, which he had purchased in honour of the Duchess's masquerade the following night.
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