“Very much, Ma'am!” answered Kitty dutifully. “It was most agreeable.”
“Lord, child! Is that all you have to say?” demanded Lady Horatia gaily. “Why, you silly girl, you were the success of the evening. There are a round dozen bouquets downstairs this very minute from various admirers. I dare swear you have every gallant in Bath at your feet.”
Kitty sighed. “And very stupid I think them, Ma'am. I wonder what they would say if they knew that, only a few months ago, I would have been happy to engage them at Hazard or show them the latest Italian trick of duello.”
“I am sure they would be vastly intrigued, my love, but I beg you will not.”
“Of course I will not, Lady Horatia, though I shall be sorely tempted.”
“Now tell me, Kitty, was there any whom you did not find stupid? Did no one take your fancy?”
Clearly, it was impossible to reply that when one's guardian was present one was unable to take note of any other man. “I thought Lord Courtney vastly amusing, Ma'am. He made me laugh. Oh, and I thought my new cousin a perfect gentleman, so kind and courteous. Yet Lord Debenham does not like him. I wonder why.”
Lady Horatia knew why very well but felt quite incapable of explaining to Kitty the kind of degenerate life her cousin led. Had she remembered that Kitty's upbringing had not been exactly sheltered, she might have brought herself to discuss the matter but, instead, she made the fatal mistake of treating the matter lightly. “Why, my dear, who knows why gentlemen take these dislikes,” she answered airily. “'Tis nought to do with us.”
A resounding clang of the doorbell brought Lady Horatia to her feet in a swirl of rustling skirts. “Callers already! I must go down. Hurry and dress, my pet, the pearl grey lustring I suggest, with the quilted petticoat. You must always look your best the morning after a Ball or people will chatter so.” On this mystifying piece of worldly advice, Lady Horatia swept from the room, leaving her young charge to follow her instructions with all expedition.
Within half an hour, Mistress Kitty was descending the stairs to greet her guests, a charming sight in palest grey, her dark locks becomingly neat under a frivolous cap. As she entered the drawing-room, she was pleased to see her cousin, who was engaged in making himself agreeable to Lady Horatia, and succeeding very well. He rose at once upon Kitty's entrance and bowed gracefully, his hand over his heart.
“Sweet Coz,” he said admiringly. “As fresh and lovely as the morning! Permit me a cousinly salute.”
Mistress Kitty allowed him to kiss her cheek and then took a chair by the side of her duenna. This cousin of hers intrigued her, and the repeated warnings of her guardian had served only to increase her interest. She noted with approval the grace of his slender form and the elegance with which he clothed it. She was not sure she admired the work of his wig maker, his curls were perhaps a little girlish, but he possessed her own blue eyes and aristocratic nose in a weak, but nonetheless attractive, face. He was witty, too, and had a store of entertaining gossip with which to amuse Lady Horatia. Kitty did not share this taste for tittle-tattle, but she was very happy to sit and study her new relative while he exchanged scandalous on dits with his hostess.
In the following weeks, it was gloomily noted by Kitty’s many suitors that her cousin was by far the most favoured amongst them. Only Lady Horatia suspected that he was being ruthlessly used to make Lord Debenham jealous, and she was amused to note that these tactics were succeeding. Lord Debenham went around Bath resembling a thundercloud while his beautiful charge danced, rode, and flirted with her new cicisbeo.
Lord Brabington paid them a morning call one day about six weeks after making his cousin’s acquaintance. Lady Horatia chaperoned the young couple in a rather desultory way, and their visitor very correctly rose to take his leave after half an hour. He was in the middle of polite farewells when a footman appeared with a message for her ladyship who, it appeared, was wanted to restore peace below stairs, which had been disrupted by an acrimonious dispute between chef and housekeeper. Lady Horatia, who was beginning to believe that Brabington had been much maligned, had no hesitation leaving him alone with her ward and sallied forth to deal with her recalcitrant staff.
Scarcely had she left the room when Lord Brabington threw himself upon his knees before his cousin and seized her hand, which he kissed passionately, crying, “Dearest, sweetest Kitty, forgive me, but I must speak!”
Kitty gazed at him in wonderment, too surprised to withdraw her hand. “Cousin! Whatever are you about?” she demanded, supressing a giggle.
“Please hear me!” he cried dramatically. “I love you! Have loved you since I first saw you. I know it is too soon, that I have startled you, sweet innocent that you are, but make allowance for my passion, I beg!”
“Are you making me an offer, Cousin?” inquired Kitty, who was rapidly reversing her favourable impressions of her cousin. He looked so very foolish upon his knees. “Do, I beg of you, rise, Sir!” she continued in exasperation.
“An offer?” repeated Lord Brabington, palpably taken aback. “Er, yes...that is...if you would consider it, cousin.” He surveyed her with scarce-concealed annoyance. Here he was making passionate love to this country innocent and, instead of being cast into adorable confusion or showing any agitation, she coolly asks if he is offering for her. The scene was not going at all as he had planned. He rose and dusted his purple velvet knees with a scented handkerchief. “Only, say that you will be mine,” he finished lamely.
“Thank you, Cousin, for the great honour you have paid me, but I must decline your very obliging offer,” answered Kitty, with difficulty preserving her countenance.
Brabington seemed nonplussed by this unlooked-for reply. Then, as though to demonstrate the depths of his passion, he clasped Kitty in his arms and planted a series of rather wet kisses upon her face and neck.
Before Kitty could recover from her surprise, the door was flung open to reveal a wrathful Lord Debenham, who surveyed the scene before him with smouldering eyes.
“Oblige me by releasing my ward, Brabington,” he commanded curtly. “Kitty, come here!” Thankfully, she took his hand and stood quietly as, in a voice of icy politeness, he informed Lord Brabington that he was unwelcome and that they could well support the prospect of his prolonged absence.
Mustering what dignity he possessed, Brabington faced his cousin and formally begged her pardon for having distressed her. He then swept from the room with a rather magnificent air of injured innocence, leaving Lord Debenham alone with his ward.
The Earl became aware that he was still holding his ward's hand rather tightly but, as he tried to release her, he found his hand retained by the force of a grip that surprised him. Glancing down, he saw that large tears were rolling down her cheeks. Stricken, he took her in his arms and held her close, stroking her hair soothingly.
“There, there, my sweet,” he murmured. “What's this? It's not like my brave Kit to be afraid of a paltry fellow like that.”
“I was not afraid, Sir!” cried Kitty indignantly, lifting her face from his shoulder.
“Then, tell me, my love,” adjured Lord Debenham, leading her to a small chaise-longue and seating himself beside her.
“Oh, Sir,” she said in a choking voice, “for so long I was a boy and I never thought about love or romance at all. Then I became a girl again and, at first I hated it, but then I began to enjoy being a lady, and I dreamed that…someone… would fall in love with me and he would be the first man to kiss me. But now I shall always have to remember that he was the first and how hateful it was!”
“Shall I put a sword through him?” asked the Earl quietly.
“No, Sir,” she answered, laughing a little through her tears. “But, dear Sir, will you kiss me, please, so that I will have that to remember as well.”
The Earl regarded his ward thoughtfully. Did she have any idea, he wondered, what she was asking of him? Gazing into those innocent, blue eyes, he doubted it. Almost involuntarily, his arms went around her
, and he bent his handsome head to press a gentle kiss on her parted lips. He raised his head to look at her and met in her eyes such adoration that he was lost. His arms tightened around her, and their lips met in a passionate embrace.
It was long before he released her. Then, with a groan, he put her from him and strode quickly to the window, looking blindly out over the busy square. “Forgive me, my darling,” he begged, not trusting himself to look at her.
She said nothing, but the sound of a small sob valiantly supressed reached him, and he returned swiftly to her side, kneeling by her chair to gather the drooping figure into his arms once more. She lay quietly on his breast with her cheek snuggled into the hollow of his shoulder. They remained so for a long time, but at last Kitty pulled herself out of her guardian's protective arms and, taking his beloved face between her two hands, she murmured, “Thank you for this, Sir, you have given me something to remember, indeed. But I am greedy, my love; I do not wish to live on a memory. I could let you go to a woman who truly loved you, but I know Amelia Henshawe for what she is, a deceitful hypocrite, and I will not let her have you!”
“What are you talking about, Kitty?”
Haltingly, she told him what she had witnessed the evening of the ball. Lord Debenham was astonished, not because he had believed in Amelia's pretended affection for himself, but because he had considered her devoid of all human feeling. It was, however, no consolation to find her passion directed towards another object. Kitty, watching him from under her curling lashes, thought that he looked appallingly grim. He glanced up to find her cornflower-blue gaze upon him, and his expression softened at once.
“My sweet,” he smiled. “Forgive me, but even this news cannot in all honour release me from my obligations. I cannot expose Amelia to the world as a wanton; you must see that it is impossible.”
“No, I do not see,” countered Kitty swiftly. “She does not love you. What happiness can she hope for in this marriage? You are sacrificing the future of all three of us for a stupid point of honour.”
“I am sorry you feel like this, Kitty,” he answered wearily, “but there is really no more to be said. Unless I am released by Amelia of her own free will, my hands are tied.”
Kitty rose with a great rustling of silk and faced her guardian proudly. “Then, Sir, there is, as you remarked, no more to be said. I shall not importune you further.” She turned swiftly upon her heel and left Lord Debenham, who stood for a long time, very pale and with one hand still outstretched as though to detain her.
Eight
Lady Horatia was not a lady particularly sensitive to atmosphere, but it would have been obvious to the bluntest perceptions that all was not well with her young friends that evening. Kitty was pale. Her eyes were suspiciously red and swollen. When questioned, she admitted that she had the headache and was persuaded to retire to her chamber, where she indulged in the luxury of a hearty bout of tears. Her guardian remained in the drawing room, but he could not be said to be enlivening company for his aunt.
“Anthony, dear, what is the matter with the two of you this evening?” she finally demanded in exasperation. “I have never seen you so ill-humoured.”
“Forgive me, Aunt. I have been thinking….”
“Well, if the result of your thinking is to make you as sulky as a bear, I think you should desist, dear!” interrupted Lady Horatia in a sarcastic tone.
He bowed, unsmiling. “My apologies, Aunt! But attend, I beg. I have been thinking that Bath does not agree with Kitty. The society here is too limited. Today, I found her in intimate conversation with that impossible cousin of hers. You know, that is not a friendship to be encouraged. Nor do I wish her to stand upon intimate terms with Amelia. Therefore, I think our wisest course would be to remove to London. In any event, it is high time that she was presented.”
Lady Horatia was rather bewildered. “But, Anthony, we have only just arrived and, indeed, Kitty seems very pleased with Bath on the whole. We can watch her if you fear for her safety far better here than in London.”
“Please, Aunt, no more! My mind is made up! Kitty is quite ready to enter the world fully. We need have no fear that she will make any mistakes. I desire my ward to be seen by the entire monde, not just the parcel of rakes and toadies that seem to make up the majority of Bath Society!”
“Oh, very well, Anthony, if you must have it so. I will go and inform Kitty, though what she will say heaven only knows!”
In the event, Lady Horatia was surprised at Mistress Kitty's docility. She, too, seemed suddenly to find Bath insupportable and relished the thought of a wider circle of acquaintance. Lady Horatia was even more confused but, as it was obvious that she had not been told the whole story, she held her peace, hoping that one or other of her friends would confide in her sooner or later.
It was typical of his Lordship that, his decision made, he wasted no time in removing himself and his family. It was only five days later when the travelling coach drew up in front of the Debenham Town House, disgorging two very weary ladies. They were greeted by John, who, when hailed in friendly terms by the erstwhile Kit Clareville, permitted himself a sheepish grin before ushering both ladies into an exceedingly elegant salon, furnished by the Earl, with French gilt furniture in the latest mode.
Kitty was still disinclined to chatter, but she had recovered most of her good spirits. The prospect of being presented to their Majesties was wholly exciting. Moreover, she promised herself that she need see very little of her guardian now, for he would naturally spend much of his time at his club and with his particular cronies, leaving his aunt to chaperone his ward.
The ladies retired early without waiting for his Lordship's arrival, and though Kitty was up betimes, she found that the Earl had already breakfasted and left the house.
She was seated in the morning room, waiting for her duenna to appear, when the door opened and John entered the apartment, bearing a silver tray, upon which lay a letter. Kitty smiled at the man, saying: “John, it is good to see you again. Is all well at Debenham?”
“Indeed yes, Miss. The gardens are looking beautiful, and the farm's doing very well. It'll be a good harvest.”
“Is that letter for me, John?”
“Yes, Miss, it came this morning, from Paris so the carrier said.”
“Paris!” exclaimed Kitty, snatching at it. “Oh, it must be from my dear Tante Hélène!”
The manservant bowed himself out of the room, leaving Kitty to peruse her precious letter in peace. Hélène was not a very good correspondent, and her letter was rather hard to decipher. But it was a letter full of a warmth and affection that brought tears to Kitty's eyes as she read it. So occupied was she that she did not hear the door open and so jumped when Lady Horatia spoke.
“Why, child, I declare, you are weeping again! Indeed, I do not know what has come over you, for you were more wont to swear than cry when I first met you.”
“I beg pardon, Ma'am, but I have received a letter from dear Hélène, bless her. She says she misses me.”
“Are you very fond of each other then, Kitty?”
“Oh yes, Ma'am, for she almost brought me up. She lived with my father and me, you see, for my father's wife ran away with an Austrian officer when I was twelve.”
“My poor child!” exclaimed her Ladyship.
“No, Ma'am, I did not care very much for her in any event. She told me before she left that I was not her own child, you know, and though she tried to be kind, I do not think she liked me very much. Papa was not very nice to her, either, and so, when he was arrested in Budapest, she left us. About a year later, Papa met Hélène, who was an actress, and she came to live with us. On and off, that is.”
“I do not understand, dear,” said Lady Horatia:
“Well, you see, Hélène is rather an expensive lady, and poor father rarely had any money. Hélène would find herself a rich protector but, in between, she would come to us. It worked very well. She adored my father, you see, but he never seemed to feel very
much for any of the women who loved him.”
If Lady Horatia was shocked to think that Kitty had been brought up by her father's mistress, she hid it admirably. Her Ladyship belonged to a world that viewed the peccadilloes of its men indulgently, but let the women beware who transgressed any of the rigid laws that governed feminine conduct.
Kitty found that she enjoyed London very much, and there was no doubt that London very much appreciated her. Her success in Bath had reached the ears of the Ton, and she found herself given the kind of welcome always reserved for the rich and beautiful. She was duly presented, danced with the Prince of Wales, and chatted with all manner of impressive people. She behaved herself admirably, forgetting nothing she had been taught, so that her guardian often had to remind himself that six months ago this fashionable young lady had never even worn a gown.
His Lordship had problems of his own, quite apart from his ward. His betrothed had written to him, hinting that the time had come for them to decide upon a date for their marriage. He had not replied, nor had he visited his betrothed since her return to London, which had followed hard upon his. As a gentleman, he had no desire to tax Lady Amelia upon her relationship with Captain Markham. But, upon the other hand, he owed it to his name to wed only a lady whose conduct was above reproach. Therefore, some three weeks after his return to London, he paid his bride-to-be a morning call and was lucky enough to find her alone.
Lady Amelia had been offended by his neglect, but she cared for him too little to be hurt by it. As she held out her hand to him, she smiled mechanically, offering her cheek to be kissed. He ignored the invitation and strode past her to the window, where he stood looking out onto the busy street. She watched him, puzzled.
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