Читать книгу Kitty - Elizabeth Bailey - Страница 10

At the back of Claud’s mind hovered a realisation that both aunt and cousin, having caught sight of the girl, were staring in a species of shock. But the recognition that he had made a colossal blunder—had not the chit said so over and over?—made him address his immediate feelings to the stranger herself.

‘Hang it all, I’ve made a mistake! Deuced sorry for it—er—’ what in the world was he to call her? ‘—ma’am, only you look so alike! Don’t know who you may be, but I’ve obviously dragged you off to no purpose.’

The girl made no reply. He could not be sure she had heard him. She was in the devil of a tremble, that he could see. Not surprising. He was a thought shaken himself!

A faint moan turned his attention back to the sofa. To his deep dismay, his aunt Silvia had turned ashen. The ball of wool she had been holding had fallen from her grasp and was rolling unchecked across the carpet, unwinding as it went. At any other time, Claud would have leaped to retrieve it, but the sight of his aunt’s pallid features, accompanied by a series of palpitating moans that began to issue from her mouth, had thoroughly unnerved him. An attack of the vapours! That was all he needed!

The matron toppled backwards, falling against the upholstered back of the sofa, her eyes rolling alarmingly in their sockets and showing white. Claud darted forward and checked again, irresolute.

But his cousin, whose own rapt attention had been all upon the unknown female, had started at her mother’s collapse and jumped up, her skein of wool discarded. She seized her mother by the shoulders.

‘Mama! What is the matter? Mama, pray!’

Claud took a hand, moving to the sofa. ‘No use shaking her like that, silly chit! Here, let me. Haven’t you any smelling salts? Give me another cushion!’

In a moment, he had arranged his aunt more comfortably upon the sofa, her head resting upon two cushions. His cousin had darted to an escritoire and was rummaging in a drawer. Claud stood back, looking down at the stricken matron in no small degree of perturbation.

Her breathing was shallow, shown by the rapid rise and fall of her overlarge bosom, and her eyes, sinking into the plump folds of flesh, were closed. But she had not quite fainted away, Claud decided, for a series of protesting groans were escaping from her lips. She had no colour, and it was clear to the meanest intelligence that she had sustained a severe shock.

Claud glanced at the cause of it, and found the girl standing just where he had left her, staring round-eyed at the appalling result of her sudden appearance in the yellow saloon. And all because she looked like his cousin. Not that the girl was in the least to blame. It was his fault, and he must presently face the consequences—which loomed horribly ugly, if Aunt Silvia’s reaction was any measure. He brushed this aside for the present. At this juncture, it was of more moment to revive his ailing aunt.

To his relief, Kate came dashing back, armed with a small bottle. ‘I have it. Stand aside, Claud!’

Claud stepped hastily out of the way, allowing his cousin to move into the sofa. But it was with mixed feelings that he heard her soothing words.

‘Poor Mama. You will be better directly, I promise you.’

He was not at all sure that he wanted to be present when his aunt should feel recovered. It was rapidly being borne in upon him that his arrival with an unknown female who all too closely resembled Kate was a faux pas of the first order. He tugged at the short green spencer that had shifted with his exertions, unconsciously smoothing its fit across his chest. What in Hades was there in the stranger to cause this reaction?

Wholly absorbed, and forgetful of the unknown female herself, he watched as his cousin opened the bottle and waved its contents under her mother’s nose.

Kitty, standing all the while in a state of petrified shock, could almost envy the large woman lying on the sofa. She could herself have done with a dose of sal volatile. Had she not guessed it? There could be no doubt. She must belong somehow in this family. Else why should the woman become subject to a dramatic collapse? She must know something.

Her heart hammered painfully, and her gaze turned upon the girl Kate, for whom her abductor had taken her. The resemblance was uncanny. The female had hair as dark and perhaps as long as Kitty’s own, though since it was dressed in a chignon high upon her head, it was difficult to tell. Her figure was masked by a demure gown of white muslin, the fashionable folds of which sent a thrill of envy through Kitty. Was the bosom—which was all the curve visible—as full as her own? Hard to tell. And equally difficult to see at this moment whether Kate had a thought the advantage of her in height. Yet there could be no doubt that in face she looked all too familiar. It was not quite like a mirror, but Kitty could not find it in her to blame Claud for his error.

The reflections left her as she saw that the afflicted matron was recovering. Kitty unconsciously shifted backwards as she saw the woman’s eyes flutter open. Finding herself stopped by a chair against the wall, Kitty froze again, wishing she might become invisible.

‘There, Mama, that is better, is it not?’

The woman gazed up at her daughter. A frantic look came into her features, and a wavering hand rose up to catch at Kate’s fingers.

‘Where is she? Did I truly see it? Oh, what a nightmare!’

Kitty shrank away. If only the floor might open and swallow her up! She heard the voice of the girl Kate, but did not take in the words as with a resurgence of dread she saw the woman threshing to get up.

‘Pray don’t distress yourself, Mama! No, no, don’t try to sit up. Stay there, I beg of you!’

The matron’s efforts to raise herself ceased, but her eyes, casting about the room, fastened upon Kitty, whose heart jerked as the creature pointed, horror in her face.

‘She is there still! Oh, what have I ever done to deserve this?’

‘Mama, pray hush!’ begged Kate.

Claud, torn between a sense of duty and a strong desire to retire from the coming scene as fast as he could, found his cousin’s eyes upon him in a scowl very like that to which he had been subjected by the female he had brought with him.

‘Claud, how could you? Look what you’ve done!’

‘How was I to know?’ protested Claud aggrievedly. ‘I thought it was you!’

His cousin turned to look at her hapless mirror image. ‘Well, I can see there is a resemblance. But surely you must have known it wasn’t me? Those clothes, for one thing! Where did you find her?’

‘In Paddington.’

These simple words acted upon his aunt as if a firework had been set off beneath her. The matron reared up, dislodging her daughter, who fell back in disorder, and gazed upon her nephew with eyes standing wide with dread.

‘Paddington?’

Claud winced. ‘Confound you, Aunt, I wish you would not shriek like that!’

She paid him no heed. ‘It is as I suspected. You must take her back! Now. Immediately.’ Her arms stretched out towards him, and her voice took on a plea. ‘And not a word to your mother, I implore you, Devenick! If Lydia were to hear of it, there is no saying what she would do. Oh, it is too bad! Why, why had you to bring her here?’

She withdrew her hands, wringing them painfully, and casting loathsome glances at the wretched female that was the innocent cause of the brouhaha. Claud’s mind was alive with curiosity. Nor was he the only one, for he perceived that Kate, having taken in the gist of her mother’s speech, was looking at the girl with a new interest. It became expedient to explain himself.

‘The thing is, I was coming back from Westbourn Green—stayed at my friend Jack’s place, for we were at cards last night until the small hours—’

‘Do get on, Claud!’

Wounded, Claud protested his cousin’s impatience. ‘I am only explaining how I came to be in Paddington.’

‘I can’t think why you should suppose I would be in Paddington!’

‘That’s just it. Couldn’t believe my eyes! Only I thought you’d run away.’

‘Run away? Why, in heaven’s name?’

It occurred to Claud that it was scarcely politic to be giving his reasons in front of Lady Rothley. Not that Aunt Silvia was in any condition to be protesting over that! He gave his cousin an austere look.

‘I should have thought that was obvious. But be that as it may, I took the girl for you and thought I’d best bring you back home before anyone got wind of your escapade.’

‘But surely this person must have told you that she was not me?’

‘She did,’ Claud confessed ruefully. ‘At some length. Only I would not believe her.’ He turned to his aunt. ‘You must not blame her, for it was entirely my doing.’

Lady Rothley shuddered. ‘Blame her? No, I blame you! I blame Lydia! I blame—’

She broke off, and Claud got the distinct impression that she had recollected herself just in time before giving away whatever secret there was connected with the girl. Vaguely it came to him that the chit had said something about skeletons. Devil take it, there was something in it!

‘What’s to do, Aunt?’ he demanded abruptly. ‘What do you know of the girl? Do you know her?’

‘Of course I don’t! I mean—no, I—You must not ask me!’

To Claud’s intense relief, Kate took a hand. ‘But, Mama, that is unreasonable. After what has passed, I do think you might tell us. Why did you cry out when you heard she came from Paddington? Do you know why she looks like me?’

Lady Rothley waved agitated hands. ‘Nothing will induce me to speak of it! You must not ask me! And for heaven’s sake, don’t either of you speak of it to anyone. Least of all to Lydia!’

‘But, Mama—’

‘Unless you wish to drive me into my grave, Kate, you won’t mention this again.’

There was a silence. Across the room, Kitty eyed the trio with a burgeoning resentment, which rapidly overlay the fear and distress occasioned by the woman’s horrid reaction to her coming. She found that she was shaking, but she resolutely trod a step or two in the direction of the sofa.

‘But I b-believe you owe me an explanation, ma’am.’

Three pairs of eyes shot round, and Kitty blenched. But she stood her ground, holding her head as high as she could, and keeping her gaze fixed upon the female. She saw her abductor move, as if he would come to her, and quickly held up a hand.

‘No, sir, pray don’t approach me. It seems that I am contaminated by my—by my l-likeness to your cousin there. I did warn you.’

Claud suffered an odd pang of compassion and strode quickly forward. ‘The skeleton in the family closet, you said. Seems you were right. But you need have no fear. I won’t let you suffer for it! The blame is entirely mine, and I shall—’

‘Devenick, fetch her here!’

He checked, turning his head. ‘I’ll not let you upset her any more, Aunt Silvia, and so I warn you! She’s suffered enough humiliation already, I should have thought.’

A riffle of gratitude swept through Kitty. He had shown himself a brute, but he had a streak of kindness. She looked quickly at the matron to see how she took this.

The creature was waving plump hands. ‘Fetch her! I want to look at her.’

At which, the girl Kate jumped up and came towards Kitty. ‘Yes, pray do come closer.’ But instead, Kate came to her. She pulled Kitty about to face Claud and stood close beside her. ‘It is extraordinary, is it not? We are much of a height, I think. Only do we really look so very much alike?’

Kitty waited tensely as Claud looked them both over. She was acutely aware of the other girl’s hand clutching her at the elbow.

‘Peas in a pod,’ said Claud. ‘If it weren’t for the clothes, of course.’

Kitty reddened, and her feelings suffered a reversal. How excessively tactless! As if she was not distressingly aware of the truly enormous gulf between her horrid gown and the elegance of Kate’s attire.

But the feeling did not long endure, for a renewed groaning from the sofa drew the attention of both cousins. Kitty was forcibly dragged towards the matron, who had sunk a little where she sat. For all she could sink, with the rolls of extra flesh that made the spotted muslin gown, with its fashionably high waist, appear grossly inadequate for its purpose.

‘Mama, who is she?’

Kitty found Claud at her other elbow. ‘Good question. Only you’d best refer it to the lady herself!’ He gave her a smile that was curiously engaging. ‘I know you told me your name, but I wasn’t taking notice and I’ve forgot it.’

The blunt honesty could not but appeal, and Kitty returned his smile. ‘It’s Kitty.’

‘Heavens, you can’t be called Katherine!’

This from the girl Kate, who was also possessed of that name. To her chagrin, Kitty heard a note of apology in her own voice. ‘But I am called Katherine. My name is Katherine Merrick.’

This information acted powerfully upon the aunt. She closed her eyes in a look of anguish. ‘I knew it!’

To Claud’s intense annoyance, Lady Rothley addressed him once more in that imploring tone. ‘Devenick, you must take the girl away—back to where she came from. And say nothing of this to a soul, I charge you!’

‘Yes, you said so before, Aunt Silvia. Only you won’t say why.’

‘I cannot. You must understand that it is a matter of the utmost secrecy. I am sworn to silence!’ She turned to her daughter. ‘Kate, you must put forth your best efforts to persuade him. I tell you, it will kill me, if Lydia gets to hear of this! To have it all dragged up again—no, a thousand times! I tell you I could not bear it!’

This was more than Kitty could endure. Shaking Kate off, she retreated a few steps, turning in desperation to Claud.

‘Pray, sir, will you take me away from here?’

He was frowning. ‘Yes, but not until I’ve got to the bottom of this!’

To his surprise, his cousin balked. ‘No, Claud! I cannot ask Mama to betray her promise.’ She turned from him to Kitty. ‘I am so sorry, Miss—Merrick, wasn’t it?—but I think it is best if Claud takes you back.’

‘Yes, but wait a bit—’

‘Pray, Claud, don’t say any more! You can see that poor Mama is upset.’

‘That’s all very well—’

Kitty cut in swiftly. ‘Sir, I have no wish to remain here! It was all a mistake, and there’s an end. If you don’t wish to embarrass me further, pray take me home.’

It was not an appeal he could refuse. With a sigh, Claud abandoned his attempt to extract the secret. Though he was by no means reconciled. The intelligence that it would upset the Countess had set him on fire to find it out. But his cousin again intervened, moving to the other girl again and taking her hand.

‘Poor thing, I am so sorry. We have been dreadfully rude—the shock, you know. I dare say you must be feeling excessively uncomfortable.’

To Claud’s intense annoyance, his cousin next turned on him.

‘I do think you might have listened when she told you she wasn’t me, Claud. Poor Miss Merrick has been disgracefully inconvenienced, and Mama distressed—and it is all your fault!’

‘I am well aware of that. Haven’t I said so?’ He took the girl’s arm and pulled her away from Kate. ‘Besides, I’m going to make her reparation.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know yet, but I shall think of something.’

Kitty warmed to him. Indeed, his presence close beside her gave her courage. If his fat aunt Silvia had repudiated her—indeed, her gaze continued to veer towards Kitty at intervals, brimful of revulsion!—at least Claud had the decency to stand by his mistake.

‘All I want is to be returned to the Seminary,’ she urged, adding bitterly, ‘I only wish I had taken one of the posts offered to me weeks ago, and then this would never have happened.’

‘Post?’ repeated Claud.

‘What sort of post?’ asked Kate.

Kitty lifted her chin. ‘I am meant for a governess. We are all raised for it at the Seminary.’

‘Oh, poor thing!’ uttered Kate, distressfully. Then her face brightened. ‘I know! If you have not yet found a post, perhaps we could help you. Claud, you might recommend her to someone of our acquaintance.’

Claud snorted. ‘Don’t be so feather-brained, Kate! Present for a governess to some matron I know a girl who looks exactly like you?’

A shriek from the sofa brought his head round, and he winced. His aunt had once again bounced up.

‘Upon no account! Dear heaven, only think of the scandal if the girl appeared in town in such a guise! Devenick, I forbid you to help her. Or, stay! You had best see the woman at the Seminary and tell her that the girl must be given a post in a country establishment, among people who will never show their faces in town. Perhaps a well-to-do tradesman, who could never find a place among the ton. Yes, that will be the best plan. You will see to it, Devenick. I rely upon you.’

‘Lord, ma’am, I can’t do that! Who am I to dictate the girl’s future? Or you, come to that.’

To his dismay, Lady Rothley surged out of the sofa and came to him, throwing out imploring arms. ‘My dear, dear boy, if you knew the agony of mind into which I must fall if this dreadful business should be dragged up all over again, you would not hesitate. Believe me, if anyone has reason to beg your aid in this, it is I. As for authority, your mother took that upon herself long years ago. I tell you, if you do not do as I ask, you risk the worst of Lydia’s displeasure!’

Claud evaded her, shifting away to the other end of the mantelpiece, and pulling the girl with him. ‘Yes, that’s all very well, ma’am, but there’s something devilish havey-cavey about all this, and I am not at all sure—’

‘For heaven’s sake, Devenick, do you wish to drive me demented?’

In a good deal of dudgeon, he watched his aunt totter back to the sofa, Kate fussing about her. He glanced at the girl, whose wrist he had hold of, and realised she was trembling. There was strain in her white face, and the brown eyes looked enormous. A guilty pang smote him, and without thinking, he let go her wrist and put his arm about her, giving her a hug.

‘Don’t look so worn, young Kate—I mean, Kitty!’ he corrected himself, remembering. ‘Haven’t I said I won’t let it harm you?’

Kitty looked up into the even features, and a tired sigh escaped her. ‘She is right, sir. If I were seen in town, the resemblance would be remarked. I shall speak to Mrs Duxford myself.’ She looked across at the afflicted matron. ‘I have no wish to embarrass you, ma’am.’

Kate answered, for the aunt was engaged in moaning softly and rubbing at her temples. ‘You are very good, Miss Merrick. I only wish there was something we might do for you.’

Kitty moved out of Claud’s protective arm, and took a pace towards the sofa. ‘There is one thing. If—if your mother will only tell me that I am indeed a member of this family?’

Claud was beside her. ‘That much is abundantly plain!’

‘Claud!’

‘Well, it’s true, Kate. And you needn’t look censorious, for I know very well you want to know how it comes about just as much as I.’

Kitty put out a hand. ‘Pray don’t! I do not care if she does not wish to explain the exact relationship, for I have long suspected there had been a scandal. Only—’

She got no further. A loud groan issued from the aunt’s lips, and she waved podgy hands. ‘Take her away, Devenick! I cannot bear to look at her!’

Kitty’s brief moment of valour was over. The blow struck hard, and she shrank away, feeling all the force of that rejection she had known when persons she only vaguely recollected—strangers to her—had removed her from the place she had called home and dumped her at the Paddington Seminary, leaving her horribly alone.

As if through a cloud, she heard voices, saw Kate’s features close to hers, speaking words that had no meaning. She sensed beside her the presence of Claud, and moved as he directed her, going where he led with neither interest nor attention. Only when she was outside the mansion in the fresh air, and being urged into the curricle, did Kitty come back to herself. And to the full realisation of what had happened.

Having packed the girl into his curricle and taken up the reins, Claud did not immediately instruct Docking to stand away from the horses’ heads. His mind was sorely exercised by the revelation of the existence of a family skeleton, and he sat irresolute, wondering what were best to do. If his aunt Silvia supposed he would meekly bury the finding under the carpet, she had much to learn of him. Particularly in light of the fear she had exhibited on the notion of Lady Blakemere getting wind of the matter.

A surge of tingling exhilaration rose up inside him at the thought of what this could do to the woman who had long been his Nemesis. She might be his mother, but he had long ago given up addressing her as such. Lydia, Countess of Blakemere, had harried him from his earliest years, and he could not regard her with anything but revulsion. Along with his sisters, he had been terrorised by her frowns and castigated for every fault of character—of which, according to the Countess, he had more than his fair share. He had thanked his stars, and his father’s insistence—likely the only time poor Papa had succeeded in standing out against her!—for his schooling at Eton, which had toughened him to withstand the creature just as soon as he was old enough to do so without fear of retribution. Two of his sisters had escaped into matrimony—not that they’d had choice of who they married!—and it was upon the head of poor Babs at seventeen that the wrath of the Countess now fell. There was little young Babs could do against her. But for Claud, always on the lookout for vengeance, an opportunity such as this was manna from heaven. The family skeleton come home to roost!

At this point in his ruminations, it was borne in upon Claud that the skeleton was emitting suspiciously doleful sounds. Turning his head, he found Kitty valiantly attempting to stifle her sobs. Tears nevertheless gathered at her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Stricken with renewed guilt, Claud cursed.

‘Don’t cry! Told you I won’t let it harm you, didn’t I?’

Kitty gulped and sniffed, shaking her head in the hope that he would realise that she could not speak. It evidently did not occur to him that she was less hurt by the possible consequences than her reception in the Haymarket house.

‘Where’s that handkerchief I gave you? You’d best find it, for I haven’t another on me.’

The reminder served to send Kitty’s fingers digging into her pockets. One hand came out clutching the handkerchief. In the other was a package tied up in brown paper. Kitty stared at it uncomprehendingly.

‘Here, give me that!’

The handkerchief was snatched from her hand, and next instant, her chin was being grasped in a set of gloved fingers and Claud was wiping away her tears. As if she had been a little girl, he held the square of white linen over her nose and requested her to blow. Too startled to protest, Kitty did as she was bid, and then stared into the blue eyes as they inspected her face.

‘There, that’ll do. You’d best keep this.’ Claud released her chin and stuffed the handkerchief back into her fingers. Then he noticed the package she was holding. ‘What’s that?’

Kitty looked down at it. ‘I cannot remember.’ And then she did. ‘Oh, it is the hose I purchased for the new girl.’ Recalling the toothbrush and the tin of toothpowder, she dived a hand into her other pocket and found the other package. ‘Thank goodness! The Duck would scold me dreadfully had I lost it!’ It then occurred to her that Mrs Duxford was going to have far too much to scold her over without concerning herself about toothpowder and white hose. A wail escaped her. ‘Oh, what am I to tell her? How long have I been absent? The Duck will kill me!’

‘What is all this about a dashed duck?’ demanded Claud, at last signing to his groom and instructing his horses to start.

Too agitated to be other than forthright, Kitty explained. ‘She is the lady who is in charge of the Seminary. Mrs Duxford, only we call her the Duck. Not to her face, for she would be excessively displeased. Not that it matters, for I don’t know how I am to explain this. I dare say she will turn me from the door if she hears that I ran off to London with you!’

‘Must she hear of it?’ asked Claud, turning the horses out of the Haymarket and heading west. ‘Can’t you make up some tale that will satisfy her?’

‘When I have been absent for hours and hours? What should I say? And what if someone had seen you drag me off like that? They would be bound to tell her.’

‘Then you will have to tell her the truth.’

‘She would never believe it. What is more, I could not blame her. Whoever heard such a rigmarole as you have landed me in?’

Relieved that Kitty no longer showed any disposition to weep, Claud yet had no solution to offer. ‘Well, I admit it’s a thought fantastic, but I’m sure you will come up with a likely explanation.’

‘It’s well for you to say so,’ declared Kitty, incensed. ‘Do you suggest I tell her that you forcibly abducted me?’

‘You know very well it wasn’t an abduction,’ argued Claud, aggrieved.

‘Well, whatever it was, you promised you would compensate me.’

‘I intend to.’

‘How? The least you can do is help me think up an excuse. You ought to be glad that I am nothing more than a governess, or you would be obliged to make reparation by marrying me.’

‘What?’

The horses suddenly shot forward, and Kitty was almost thrown from the curricle. She clutched the seat as the groom behind issued a warning.

‘Take care, guv’nor, or you’ll have us over!’

But Claud was already bringing his cattle under control. Cursing, he turned wrathful eyes upon Kitty. ‘What the deuce made you say a thing like that? Made me jump nearly out of my skin!’

A giggle escaped Kitty. ‘I didn’t mean that you should marry me. But I cannot say I am sorry you got a horrid shock, for it serves you right for what you have put me through today.’

Claud was in no mood for this sort of thing. ‘If you think I did what I did for the pleasure of it, you’re mistaken. Last thing on my mind was to spend the day ferrying my cousin back and forth to no purpose.’

‘But I am not your cousin,’ objected Kitty.

‘As things stand, it looks deuced likely that you might be!’

This untimely reminder served to throw Kitty back into gloom. ‘I wish you will not talk about it. It serves no purpose to recall it to my mind, for it is clear that the scandal is too dreadful to be talked of, and there is nothing to be done about it.’

‘Oh, isn’t there?’ Claud swept round Hyde Park corner and turned north. ‘I’m hanged if I let it lie, if it’s going to annoy my mother.’

Kitty gazed at him in the liveliest apprehension. ‘What do you mean to do?’

‘I don’t know yet.’

‘Why should you wish to annoy your mother?’

‘Ha! You don’t know her, or you wouldn’t ask!’

‘Is she horrid?’

‘Loathsome!’ declared Claud, not mincing his words. ‘If you’d to choose between my Lady Blakemere and this Duck you speak of, you’d run to your Duck and hide behind her skirts.’

Kitty eyed the jutting chin in a species of wonder. For all his vehemence, he did not look as if he was in the least afraid of his mother. As for the Duck, Kitty knew her for a just and well-intentioned woman. And she had her moments of kindness. This Lady Blakemere sounded perfectly dreadful. Kitty was glad she would never be called upon to meet her.

It occurred to her that the curricle was travelling so rapidly, despite the press of carriages and people, that in a short space of time she would be leaving the metropolis forever. And with nothing to show for her visit but a headful of unkind memories. It was most unfair! She recalled Claud’s promise to compensate her. Did he mean to give her money?

A riffle of excitement bubbled up, followed immediately by a depressing thought. What was the use of his giving her money when she had no means of supplying herself with the things she craved? There was no shop in Paddington where she could purchase the sort of gown she wanted. Nor would the local dressmaker be persuaded to make it up for her—even could she furnish herself with the material.

The daring idea surfaced, and Kitty turned quickly to Claud. ‘There is one thing you might do for me.’

His head snapped round, frowning suspicion in his eyes. ‘Oh, is there? As long as it has nothing to do with matrimony—’

‘Of course it has not.’ Kitty drew a deep breath and plunged in. ‘Only will you buy me silk stockings and a spangled gown?’

The blue eyes popped. ‘Silk stockings and a spangled gown! Have you run mad?’ He noted a burgeoning sparkle in the velvety eyes. ‘Gad, you mean it! But you are going for a governess. What in Hades are you going to do with a spangled gown?’

‘It is just that I have longed to possess such a gown,’ said Kitty, breathless with hope. ‘Only I had never the means to pay for it.’

‘But when are you going to wear it? Besides that it ain’t the thing for a governess.’

‘I don’t care if I never wear it!’ Kitty declared. ‘If only I might have it, I could be happy for the future.’ She brightened. ‘I have just had a famous notion! It will give me all the excuse I need for Mrs Duxford. I will tell her that I came to London expressly to purchase it.’

Claud thought this over and found a flaw. ‘But you said you couldn’t afford it. Don’t she know that?’

Kitty summarily dismissed this. ‘I shall say that I have been saving my money for the purpose. Oh, and I can say that I have hopes of being invited by one of my two friends, for they are both married—at least, one is already, and the other will be shortly. It is not unlikely that either Prue or Nell will ask me to stay.’

‘Not if you’ve gone as a governess,’ objected Claud.

‘I wish you will not keep making difficulties!’ declared Kitty, annoyed. ‘I thought you wanted to make me reparation.’

‘So I do, but we’re going in the wrong direction.’

‘You may turn around then!’

‘Yes, but it’s already past noon and I’ve got to drive you all the way to Paddington. Besides, I’ve an engagement this evening.’

Kitty’s bosom swelled. ‘How abominably selfish! It is your fault I am in this mess, and you even suggested I may be your cousin after all, and it is not as if I am asking for the moon.’

‘No, but—’

Kitty swept over him. ‘If you refuse me, it will be the horridest thing imaginable, for it is only a spangled gown and a pair of silk stockings. Unless you have not enough money either to pay for such things?’

Claud slowed the carriage. ‘I can stand the nonsense, never fear. It ain’t that at all. Only I don’t see how I’m to do it without the confounded mantua-maker thinking you’re my che`re amie. A man don’t otherwise take a female to buy gowns unless he’s betrothed to her, or they are at least related.’

Kitty digested this in silence for a moment. The curricle had drawn in to the side of the road, which at least indicated willingness. If she let this opportunity slip, there might never be another. Desperately she searched her mind, and found a solution. She turned eagerly to Claud.

‘I know. You may pretend that I am Kate.’

About to reject this idea on the score that his cousin would scorn to wear the type of gown Kitty had specified, Claud caught the deeply hopeful look in her face and the words died on his tongue. If he thought poorly of her choice, why should he dash the girl’s only hope of pleasure? She had little enough to look forward to. It would make him late for the last ball of the season, but that couldn’t be helped.

‘You win, Miss Merrick! Let us repair to a mantua-maker.’

Concealed from the eyes of the curious in a private parlour at the White Bear inn, Kitty sat in a happy daze as she partook of the luncheon provided for her by her abductor. It was a trifle stuffy in the little first-floor room, and Claud had been obliged to force the casement window open to let in air. Kitty felt the benefit, for the table at which they were seated was fortunately set parallel to the embrasure, and she was able also to enjoy the comings and goings in the busy thoroughfare of Piccadilly below.

Although she much enjoyed the selection of delicacies placed before her, together with sturdier pasties of which Kitty partook only sparingly, this luxurious entertainment was not responsible for her contentment. Rather it was the thought of the made-up gown that was even now being adjusted to fit her full figure.

The establishment to which Claud had taken her had been disappointingly situated not in Bond Street itself, but in a little lane off the main thoroughfare. Its discreet entrance had been indistinguishable from the other doors except for a small plaque upon the wall. A narrow staircase had led them into a little salon, presided over by a female of French origin, who evidently knew the Viscount of old. She had treated Claud to roguish smiles and, upon hearing that she was to gown his cousin, a suspiciously knowing look that had made Kitty uncomfortable. She could only hope the creature’s inevitable reflections had been quieted by Lord Devenick’s glib explanation.

‘My cousin has taken a fancy to a style of gown that her mama refuses to let her wear, Madame, and so I have agreed that she may purchase it so that she may please herself after we are married.’

If Madame wondered why the lady did not make the purchase after the wedding, she said nothing of it, but immediately asked after the style proposed.

‘I wish for a spangled gown,’ had said Kitty breathlessly, fixing hopeful eyes upon the woman. ‘Have you got one?’

‘Bien sûr. We ’ave zis gown, and many uzzers.’

White muslins, sprigged, spotted and spangled, had danced before Kitty’s eyes as Madame’s assistant produced them for her inspection. In her imaginings from the drawing she had once seen, the treasured vision had been scattered with gold. But when she was shown a delicate white gauze, sprinkled over with silver threads and tiny sparkles of glass beading that caught the light, Kitty fell instantly in love.

‘Oh, this one, this one, if you please!’ she had cried, turning ecstatically to the man who had suddenly become her benefactor. ‘Can it be this one, Claud? Pray say I may have it!’

‘Have it, by all means,’ had come the welcome response. ‘Only hadn’t you best try it on first? No sense in buying the thing if it don’t fit you.’

Hardly able to believe in the good fortune that had come out of this disastrous journey, Kitty had allowed herself to be bundled out of the horrid pink gown and into soft folds of muslin that floated about her. To her intense disappointment, the gown had been a trifle tight across the bosom, and a little long at the hem. But her mirror image was so delectable that Kitty would willingly have put up with these inconveniences, had it not been for Madame’s suggestion that an adjustment could easily be made if mademoiselle were prepared to return later for the gown.

‘But I cannot! I must go home immediately, and I doubt I shall ever come here again.’

Kitty’s distress had been acute, but to her relief, the matter had been resolved by the resourcefulness of Lord Devenick, who had urged the mantua-maker to do the necessary alterations at once, while they repaired to an inn for a meal.

‘For I don’t mind telling you, Kitty, I’m as hungry as a hunter, and if I’m to drive all the way to Paddington and back, I’d as lief not do it on an empty stomach.’

As long as she might have the precious spangled gown, Kitty had no fault to find with this programme. And indeed, when they had left the little shop and set off in the curricle for the nearby White Bear in Piccadilly, she had discovered that she was also excessively hungry.

For some time, both parties were too preoccupied for conversation, Kitty’s attention being divided between the potted beef spread upon hot buttered toast and the mental picture of herself arrayed in the new gown, while Claud concentrated on replenishing his stores of energy. At length he pushed aside his plate, the huge slice of pigeon pie upon it considerably diminished, and sat back, apparently replete.

He did not immediately engage in conversation, but quaffed a tankard of ale, his frowning blue gaze so intent upon Kitty’s features that she could not but become aware of it. Disconcerted, she challenged him.

‘I wish you will not stare so! Have you not yet accustomed yourself to the likeness?’

Claud shook his head briefly. ‘Shouldn’t think I ever would. If I were to continue to see you, that is.’

‘Well, you won’t, so you may cease to look at me in that excessively rude fashion.’

‘I’m thinking,’ protested Claud, aggrieved.

‘About me?’

He took a pull from his tankard. ‘Got a notion revolving in my head. No, I won’t tell you what it is. Not yet, in any event.’

Curiosity gnawed at Kitty, together with a trifle of anxiety caused by the peculiar intensity of his speech. ‘But is it about me?’

‘Dash it, who else would it be about?’

Incensed, Kitty exploded. ‘Then why will you not say it? I think it is excessively mean-spirited of you to mention it at all if you don’t mean to tell me what it is. Has it to do with my likeness to Kate? Do you think you have guessed what your aunt would not reveal about me? Oh, tell me, Claud, pray!’

‘Lord, if it was that, of course I should tell you!’

He rose from his seat and began to shift about in the confines of the small parlour, wishing that he had held his tongue. The scheme revolving in his head was fantastic, but it would not do to say a word of it to the girl until he had thoroughly inspected its merits. It was difficult to think with those expressive eyes trained upon him. They were very like Kate’s, but with a velvet sheen that was lacking in his cousin’s. Even in repose—when Kitty had been sitting in a dreamlike state, unaware of his regard—they had been striking.

However, it was not her pretty features that had brought the notion sneaking into his head, but the effect of them upon his aunt Silvia, and the lively apprehension she had exhibited of Lady Blakemere’s reaction should the episode reach her ears.

Claud did not wholly believe that the idea had struck him, but there was no shaking it off. Was it because the girl had herself made mention of it? He had repudiated it then—in no uncertain terms. As well he might. It was madness! Only now that it had planted itself in his head, the temptation was so strong that he doubted he could withstand it. The Countess would be as mad as fire! It was too much to hope that she might go off in an apoplexy, but the blow would assuredly fall hard. Such exhilaration attacked him at the thought that Claud had all to do not to throw caution to the winds on the instant. Kitty’s voice checked him.

‘You look quite murderous! What are you thinking?’ He uttered a short laugh. ‘Thinking of my mother, the Countess.’ He was unaware that his lip curled in a manner that was uncharacteristically sardonic. ‘That’s enough to make anyone look murderous!’

Kitty gave a little shiver, her eyes fixed upon the horrid look in his face. He was the oddest man. All kindness one moment, the next a brutish unpredictable creature. What had his mother done to make him hate her so?

‘Is it your mother who wishes you to marry Kate?’

‘Aunt Silvia wishes for it too, but yes, the Countess took the notion. Only because Grandmama chooses to settle a dowry upon Kate. She pretends it is for Kate’s own sake, but I know better. The Rothleys may lack fortune, but they ain’t precisely paupers. Only the Countess had my father make my aunt an allowance, and she thinks to recover something from it.’

‘But it was kind of her to do that, was it not?’ Claud’s snort was bitter. ‘Don’t run away with that notion! Kind? Nothing of the sort. The Countess cares only for what Society may say of us. She sets store wholly by appearances, and my aunt was not to be suspected of being purse-pinched, regardless of the fact that everybody knows my uncle Rothley wasted much of his substance.’

This glimpse into the lives of a family of whom she was certainly a part threw Kitty into a combination of excitement and frustration. She longed to know more, yet the horrified reception of her advent convinced her that she had no right to pry. No right, and no reason either. What advantage could it be to her to learn the worst? There had been, in her insistence upon a past couched in mystery, a touch of romance. She had guessed at a hint of unlawful beginnings, convinced that she had been the outcome of an illicit liaison between a peer and an equally high-born married lady. Vague and hazy memories had been at root of her piecing together of this history. But gowned in Kitty’s colourful imaginings, it had never been tainted with the disgrace of sordid scandal. At a blow, Claud’s aunt Silvia had destroyed the comforting blanket of childish desire, and exposed Kitty for what she truly was—an outcast.

The bleak reality of her situation, which had been held at bay in the joy of her new gown, came in on her. All at once, she wanted to be back in the familiar surroundings of the Seminary, where if she was valued little, she was at least accepted. She pushed back her chair and got up from the table.

‘Should we not be starting for Paddington, sir?’

The rapid descent of her mood had not been lost on Claud. The forlorn look in those velvet eyes drew his instant compassion. The words were out before he could stop them.

‘We are not going to Paddington. I’ve thought better of that notion and have settled upon a new plan. We are going to Gretna Green.’