by Dorothy Mack
“How clever of us to have chosen amber for you to wear tonight, my dear child.”
Lady Langston’s complacent voice brought her attention back. The plainly styled amber satin with only a self-trim of ruching at the hem was glamorized by the loan of her mother’s colourful Norwich silk shawl, which she draped gracefully about her arms. As Lady Langston had often said, “Good things pay for themselves,” and Kate presented a most agreeable picture of elegant simplicity.
“I’ll be the most envied man at Covent Garden tonight,” the viscount assured his ladies suavely, and he grinned at Deborah’s infectious giggle. Certainly no man having the honour to be seen with the dark and vivacious young girl should have any complaints about his lot. She resembled a blooming tea rose in her demure orangey-pink silk, embroidered all over with tiny white flowers. A white ribbon threaded through her bouncy black curls, and she was in sparkling spirits that enhanced her vivid prettiness. And that made two out of three ladies favourably disposed, he thought with an inward smile, as eventually he escorted the women to his father’s town carriage, borrowed for the occasion, and assisted them to enter. Deborah chatted away unselfconsciously, and by the time they reached the theatre was already on a first-name basis with her future brother-in-law. The easy conversation between them needed only an occasional comment from Lady Langston or Kate, so the latter’s unusual quietness was not noticeable. She was engrossed in her own thoughts and was rather allowing the talk to wash over her head when they entered the theatre and proceeded up the long staircase toward the second tier of boxes. Lady Langston and Deborah were a few steps higher.
“Kate,” began the viscount, about to address some innocuous remark to her. He noticed the slight start she gave at being roused from her self-absorption and misunderstood the reason. Just barely his lips compressed, but his voice merely held a trace of amused condescension.
“It won’t do, you know, to have people hear us addressing each other as Miss Harmon and Lord Torvil. This engagement will be a nine days’ wonder as it is. My name is Nicholas. My friends call me Nick.”
His mistress had called him Nick with a caressing note in her husky voice. “I believe I prefer Torvil,” Kate murmured.
He shrugged. “Just as you like. Have you had a busy time of it today, receiving calls of congratulations?”
“Oh, yes.”
He waited for a moment for any amplification she might choose to add, then continued his probing. “Was it very trying?”
“Oh, yes,” she admitted with no change in the serenity of the profile that was all he could see as they continued to climb, “but I will concede that most of our callers tried, at least, to contain their curiosity. Very few came right out and inquired how I had managed to snare such a marriage-shy bachelor.”
“And did you satisfy their curiosity?”
“I smiled a lot and agreed that it was a short courtship. After two such calls, Mama allowed me to develop a sudden headache, and she and Deb handled the rest of our visitors without me.”
“Well, it was inevitable, of course. You might have avoided it.”
At this reference to his offer to delay the announcement, she shrugged lightly. “I’ll survive the ordeal.”
By now they had reached the earl’s box, putting an end to their uncomfortable conversation while the business of assigning seats was accomplished. Nicholas had invited his brother and Mister Waksworth to make up the numbers, and introductions were made in a remarkably short order. He noted that Kate’s smile of greeting to his brother tonight held none of the radiance he had observed at Almack’s, but at least the addition of two personable males to the party had the effect of easing the strain in the few moments remaining before the curtain rose on the first act. In fact, by the time the production opened, an excellent understanding was flourishing amongst the members of the viscount’s party, and he was pleased to note that his fiancée’s eyes held no trace of the sombreness that he had observed in his previous encounters with her.
During the first interval, Nicholas leaned nearer his betrothed to quiz her reaction to the production of Mozart’s Così fan Tutte.
Kate gave him an unclouded smile. “I am finding it quite delightful, and all the singers are marvellous, though I do not care for quite so much vibrato as Dorabella displays.”
“Do you sing yourself?”
“Not a note,” she replied firmly.
“Good.”
The satisfaction in his voice prompted a gurgle of laughter from Kate, and the first duplication he had been privileged to witness of the mischievous look that had caught his attention at Almack’s.
“You sound like a man who has been a captive audience at one amateur performance too many,” she ventured gaily.
“Dozens too many.” He grinned back with uncalculated charm, and thus it was that the first of an unending stream of visitors to their box entered to discover the newly affianced pair isolated in a strangely intimate little scene.
It was the last private moment the party was to enjoy that evening, however, for theirs was undoubtedly the most popular box in the theatre, thanks to the notice that had appeared in that day’s edition of the Gazette. For the most part, the mood was gay and the felicitations pleasantly sincere. Excitement lent a particularly lovely colour to Kate’s normally pale, clear skin, but she responded composedly, if a bit shyly, to the unusual attention, not only from her own friends and Lord Torvil’s but also from a number of persons who had known her father. Even a few people who were intimates of Lord Sedgeley came to meet the heir’s bride-to-be. Lord Torvil’s manner in presenting her to a number of strangers could not be faulted, and she was able to relax and enjoy herself to a degree she would not have dared to hope for even three hours previously. It was a comfort, certainly, to realize from a number of admiring glances that, with her lovely mother and vivacious sister beside her, the Harmon family made a more than creditable impression on these same strangers. Sneaking a peek at her fiancé, she was compelled to admit that he was playing his part to perfection. Anyone might have imagined, from his relaxed and faintly possessive attitude, that he had carefully chosen his bride from amongst all the most desirable girls in the kingdom, which, though ridiculous, was hardly a thing about which to complain, she reminded herself hastily.
In fact, the only uncomfortable moments of the evening were provided by her brother. Lord Langston had been spending a few days in the country with friends, and Kate had not seen him since before the issue of marriage arose. On questioning her mother about the negotiations that had taken place over the arranging of the contract, she had been astonished to learn that she was not the only one who had been kept in the dark until the arrangements were concluded. Lady Langston had not thought it necessary to inform her son of her intentions with regard to her elder daughter’s future. Kate knew Roger had returned to town because his valet had made his presence felt in the servants’ hall, according to Becky, but Roger had not dined at home, and Kate was unsure whether he had as yet learned of her betrothal.
During the second interval, she had spotted a dark curly head amongst the young bucks in the pit and wondered if it could be Roger, though she had never known him to be a patron of the Opera. Unfortunately, her attention was claimed before she could make sure of the identity of that curly head. He appeared after the next act, putting an end to her doubts. It seemed he now knew of her engagement and he was not pleased, judging from the stiffness in his manner when Lady Langston made him known to Lord Torvil. Kate eyed her brother in some perturbation. She knew that glittering look.
Roger was having difficulty in containing his ire, and she was not surprised when under his breath, he muttered, “Come down to breakfast early, Katie. I want to talk to you.”
She nodded and glanced at Lord Torvil to see if he had overheard, but he was greeting more newcomers to the box and when she looked around again, Roger had departed.
The viscount had arranged for his guests to partake of a late supper at a good hotel. The
repast was splendid and the party a merry one, thanks to Deborah’s uninhibited high spirits and Lord Torvil’s ability to keep the conversation moving over a variety of topics. Consequently, it was not until the small hours that he escorted the ladies home. They were all able to thank him quite sincerely for a most entertaining evening, though it must be added that his betrothed’s gratitude was expressed in somewhat cooler terms than that of the other ladies.
As the door closed behind them, Kate was congratulating herself on the accuracy of her prediction regarding the viscount’s behaviour. The charm had been very much in evidence tonight, but she had been prepared for that. After all, it stood to reason that a man could scarcely acquire the reputation of being a rake without knowing how to make himself agreeable to women. Her brows drew together slightly as it struck her that the fact that he had a mistress did not necessarily brand him as a rake or libertine. Admittedly, she had jumped to this conclusion on the sole evidence of that one overheard conversation, but she had gleaned enough from the attitude of some of the people who had sought her out to offer felicitations to suggest that her guess was not far out. She had not been on the social scene long enough to have heard of him, since they did not generally frequent the same places. Then, too, she had spent the previous few years away from town before her grandfather’s death, and the family had been in mourning for a time afterward.
Lady Langston’s satisfied voice broke into her thoughts as they attained the first-floor landing. “I must say that went extraordinarily well, a most agreeable evening.”
Kate’s murmur of assent was lost in Deb’s huge yawn. As the tired girls headed up to their bedchambers on the second floor, Lady Langston remembered something else.
“Kate, did Lord Torvil mention anything about meeting his father?”
“Yes, Mama. Just as we entered, he said he would call tomorrow — today, I mean, to discuss a wedding date. He said that I must soon meet the earl also.”
“Splendid. Off to bed then, girls. It’s little enough sleep we’ll get as it is.”
“Goodnight, Mama,” came the sleepy chorus.
Kate’s rest was to be even shorter than that of her relatives because she had promised her brother to join him for an early breakfast. True to her word, she appeared in the small dining room at eight o’clock. She had hastily donned a cool green muslin morning dress, but her hair was merely swept back from her face and secured with a ribbon. The style revealed the clear-cut oval of her face, but it also highlighted the heavy eyes and pallor after a scant five hours’ sleep.
Roger took one look at her and shoved the coffee pot across the table.
“Here, get some of this inside you. You look a wreck,” he commented with a brother’s disregard for social niceties.
Obediently, she sipped some of the steaming brew she had poured into her cup, shuddered perceptibly at the bitter taste, and reached for the cream and sugar which she used with a lavish hand. Roger waited with a darkling look throughout this operation, then burst into speech.
“What is the story of this absurd engagement? When I left town five days ago, I’d have taken my oath you were not even acquainted with Torvil. I came back yesterday and dined at Humphrey’s lodgings. He congratulated me on my sister’s betrothal. You may imagine how I stared, but he had the paper and there it was in black and white. How do you think I felt, finding out that my sister was engaged from a newspaper? I came dashing home as soon as I might decently leave to find you all gone to the Opera with that fellow. I stayed just long enough to scramble into my rig and take off after you, but I apprehend I must consider myself fortunate to have gained entrance to your box for even thirty seconds.”
“Roger, I’m so sorry.” Looking at her brother’s glowering face, Kate felt terrible. “It all happened very quickly, but I never dreamed Mother had not consulted you about the arrangement. I was so upset myself I never even thought to ask her. The announcement was wholly my fault. Lord Torvil offered to postpone it, and if I had not been so determined not to accept any favours from him, you would not have had to read about it in the newspaper.” She fell silent, noting that her incoherent explanation had served merely to turn his anger into something more nearly resembling anxiety.
He said quietly, “All right, Katie, let’s have the whole unvarnished tale.”
She recounted everything except the conversation she had overheard at the Westerwood ball, which meant that she faltered a bit in her description of that first meeting with Lord Torvil. He interrupted her to demand incredulously, “Why should you take a man in such dislike the instant you clap eyes on him that you cannot bear to be presented to him? Come now, Kate, that won’t wash. Deb might do something of the sort, she’s featherbrained enough, but not you.”
Kate had gotten herself backed into a corner where only the truth would suffice. As she described the scene at the Westerwood ball, Roger’s face took on an alarming expression of fury. He leaned forward and grabbed the hand that had been toying incessantly with her coffee spoon and gripped it tightly.
“Damn it, Kate, you cannot marry this fellow! It isn’t so much the fact that he’s had his affaires; they don’t mean much, but as I understand you, he was coerced into offering for you without ever having set eyes on you. Under the circumstances, he might well feel there’s no need to treat you with any consideration at all. He could make your life miserable.” He dropped her hand and walked over to the window, staring out with his fists jammed into his pockets. “We’re in pretty tough shape financially, and a lot of it is my fault, I know, but I’m not going to stand by and watch my sister sold to a damned, heartless rake. Somehow I’ll get you out of this engagement, Katie.”
Kate blinked back sudden tears at the evidence of her brother’s concern for her and joined him at the window. She slipped a hand under his arm and leaned her head briefly against his shoulder. “I have not yet told you about Deb and her captain,” she said quietly.
As she finished her story, she could feel the rigidity of his arm under her hand, and she shook it slightly. As Roger turned to scrutinize her serene countenance, she met his look steadily.
“At first I was deeply resentful about having to marry a man like Lord Torvil, but I won’t see Deb sacrificed when her affections are engaged. Also, I do not think Lord Torvil is disposed to be too inconsiderate toward his wife. For my sake, he offered to postpone the announcement until we had been seen together several times to curtail the gossip and speculation the betrothal would cause, and his behaviour toward me last night was all that could be desired in a fiancé.” She smiled a trifle ruefully and displayed her ring. “He bought me this because he said I was meant to wear topaz and diamonds.”
Roger was studying her with a curious intentness. “The fellow’s got charm to burn; that don’t mean he’ll be a good husband.”
“I do not expect him to be a good husband,” his sister replied coolly, “but my knowledge of him is a protection, indeed a guarantee, that he won’t break my heart. He won’t be allowed to. Besides,” she continued with a slightly heightened colour and a shifting of her gaze, “he has agreed to let the marriage remain one in name only for a year or two. So you need have no fear for me, Roger. It is necessary for one of us to marry for money, and I am better equipped than Deb to endure it.”
Lord Langston stared at his sister in great perturbation. Did she actually believe such an agreement would stand in the way of a man like Torvil? He knew of his reputation, of course, although the difference in their ages was sufficient to keep them in different circles. Women represented a challenge to such a man. With a girl who looked like Kate on the other side of his bedroom door, how long would a promise keep it shut? It was madness to expect it! He opened his mouth to tell her so in no uncertain terms, but the opening of the door to the butler’s pantry prevented him from speaking. By the time Emmett had departed, carrying the half-empty platter of meats from which the young baron had replenished his strength, he had thought better of his impulse. It was his experienc
e that women believed what they wished to believe, though a man might tell them the contrary till he turned blue in the face. Kate was determined to go through with this cold-blooded marriage, and nothing he could say would serve to change her mind. He had no real personal knowledge of Torvil to speak from, but nothing he’d heard or seen since last night was likely to allay the fears he felt for his sister’s future. He stared gloomily at her as she sat across the table from him, unconcernedly making a very good meal from the eggs and kippers Emmett had served her.
“When is this marriage to take place?”
She paused between bites. “I don’t precisely know, but quite soon I expect — however long it takes to get the banns put up. We were supposed to discuss it at the Opera last night but did not get the opportunity.”
“I did notice your popularity,” commented Roger dryly, “but seriously, I think you’d be well advised to make it a long engagement. Take time to get to know each other.”
“Frankly, I feel I know Lord Torvil better than I would wish to already. I’d liefer get married quickly so all this notoriety can fade, and we will not be obliged to be seen together constantly.” At the look on her brother’s face, Kate extended her hand in a gesture of comfort. “Don’t look like that. I promise you I have accepted the necessity for the marriage, and I fully intend to enjoy all the advantages of the married state.”
“All of them?”
“There’s no call to be indelicate, Roger.” Kate put up her chin.
“There’s no need to behave like an ostrich, Kate,” he mimicked with grim humour.
After this riposte, the conversation languished. Roger was apparently sunk deep in thought. Her appetite suddenly gone, Kate pushed away her half-filled plate and took up her coffee cup in both hands. Her frowning concentration on the rapidly cooling contents did not waver until Deborah came bouncing into the room ten minutes later.