Kitty

A vague recollection of having heard these names before came to Claud. ‘Don’t know who they may be, but why should they object to me?’

‘Not to you! Nell and Prue were my dearest friends at the Seminary, only they both went out as governesses and Prue has married Mr Rookham and Nell is betrothed to Lord Jarrow.’

‘Why did they go as governesses then, if they planned to be married?’

Kitty tutted. ‘You don’t understand, sir. Mr Rookham hired Prue to look after his two little nieces, and Nell went as governess to Lord Jarrow’s daughter.’

‘Good Gad! D’you mean to say they both married their employers?’

‘Well, Nell is not married yet, but was it not the most romantic thing imaginable?’

‘I don’t know about that, but I can’t see why either should put a bar in the way of your marriage, if that’s the way of it.’

Kitty sighed. ‘Had you been another man, perhaps they would not. But I know they would say I must not marry you in the circumstances. Though I must confess it is what I have always wanted.’

Claud blinked. ‘You always wanted to marry me? But you didn’t know me!’

‘I wanted to marry a lord,’ explained Kitty, adding wistfully, ‘Indeed, I have believed all my life that it was my true destiny. I could not believe that I was meant for a governess.’

‘Well, you couldn’t choose better than me,’ put in Claud briskly, ‘for I am a viscount, you must know, and heir to the Earldom of Blakemere.’

Kitty’s heart skipped a beat. ‘An earl? Oh, no!’

‘What’s wrong with an earl?’ demanded Claud, nettled.

‘Nothing indeed. Except that it is too much of a temptation!’

She smiled abruptly, and Claud was conscious of a faint warmth at his chest. She was a taking little thing, there was no doubt of that.

‘It would be like Cinderella,’ Kitty told him. ‘You could change my life at a stroke. You have no notion how much I have yearned to go to parties and balls, and to wear such gowns as I have seen in the Ladies Magazine.’

Claud knew a cue when he heard one, and lost no time in pursuing his advantage. ‘So you may. In fact, you can do just as you like, provided you don’t expect me to change my way of life. As for gowns, I’ll buy you a dozen, if you wish.’

‘A dozen!’ Kitty’s pulses were rioting. She could not help a breathless question. ‘Are you rich?’

‘Don’t know what you’d call rich. Mean to say, in your situation, I should suppose anything above a thousand a year would be a fortune.’

‘A thousand a year? I would give my right arm for a thousand a year!’

Claud grinned. ‘No need for such a sacrifice. You may have twice that and more just for your pin money. I’ll stand the nonsense for any other gewgaws you choose to buy. Spend as much as you like.’

‘Oh, don’t,’ begged Kitty, a catch in her voice. ‘You must not tempt me so! Why, you must be as rich as Croesus!’

‘Since I don’t have a clue who he may be, I can’t comment. But I’ve a fair fortune to hand, and that’s without the Earldom. I’ve a place here in London of my own as well as the family house—which will be mine too at some distant date—and m’father gave me one of the smaller estates to live in when I came of age, so you won’t live with the family, never fear.’

‘How many estates are there?’ asked Kitty, awed.

‘Can’t remember offhand. Four or five, I think. Unless you count the hunting box as well. It’s why they’re content for me to marry Kate, for I don’t need more. The Countess knew what she was doing when she married m’father, that’s certain.’

It was more than Kitty could withstand. Dazzled by the vision of herself as mistress of all this wealth, she was no longer capable of clinging to the hideous reality. After all, she had a right to accept, had she not? She belonged in the family that contained Claud. How and why seemed less important now. Why should she not benefit? It was not as if she had looked for it. If her dream had come true, it must be what Fortune intended. The sneaking little voice of conscience that whispered of a horrible mistake was crushed. Opportunity was knocking on the door, and it might never come again. Fatal words fell from her lips.

‘It is of no use! I cannot possibly resist you!’

To her disappointment, Claud showed no sign either of pleasure or relief. ‘That’s settled, then.’ He dug a hand into his fob pocket and pulled out a watch, flipping open the lid. ‘Deuce take it, it’s past three! We’d best make a start as soon as may be. Only if I’m to go all the way to Gretna, I’ll need more luggage than I’ve got with me, for I only had enough for one night. We’ll be five or six days on the road there and back at the least. Ain’t even got my driving-coat, and I’m bound to need that. Never know what the weather’s going to do. Can’t start on a long journey without a bath and a change of clothes, what’s more. I’d best repair to my lodging and pick you up again later. I’ll have to forgo the party tonight, but it can’t be helped.’

Kitty listened to him in growing dudgeon. Had he no thought for anyone but himself? Did it not occur to him that she might have needs too? She lost no time in placing these before him.

‘Have you forgot that I have nothing but the clothes I stand up in?’

‘What are you talking about?’ demanded Claud. ‘Haven’t I bought you that spangled gown?’

‘If you suppose I can travel all the way to Scotland in a spangled gown, you must have windmills in your head! And what is more, you never got me the silk stockings you promised!’

‘We’ll pick them up from that Frenchwoman.’ But he scratched thoughtfully at his chin. ‘Pity we didn’t think of getting your clothes before we left Paddington.’

‘How should we have done so when you were abducting me?’ uttered Kitty with scorn. ‘Besides, none of my clothes are suitable for a viscountess. Indeed, there is little at the Seminary that I care to keep, except perhaps one or two personal items like the letters from my friends.’

‘We can fetch those after we’re married,’ said Claud, dismissing this. ‘Nothing for it but to get one or two more gowns from that mantua-maker.’

In the event, this programme proved inadequate. Repairing to the little salon off Bond Street, Kitty found herself in possession of two additional gowns, both muslin, one plain and one spotted in black, and a thick cloak to wear upon the journey. But Madame was able to supply neither silk stockings nor those essential items of underclothing of which a young lady going upon a journey stood in crying need. When Kitty, prompted by Madame, also mentioned hats and shoes, it was borne in upon Claud that his blithe intention to enter upon matrimony was going to prove a good deal more complicated than he had anticipated.

Already shaken by hints from the mantua-maker that she had divined his purpose, he came within an ace of abandoning it altogether. The remembrance of the inevitable confrontation with the Countess strengthened him, however, and he had the happy notion of paying one of Madame’s sewing-women to take Kitty beyond Bond Street and into a less fashionable arena further north where a plethora of shops of every description might furnish all she required. Meanwhile he could attend to his own needs.

Armed with a roll of bank notes—which was more money than she had ever dreamed of—Kitty spent an exhilarating, if bewildering, couple of hours shifting from one thoroughfare into another. The woman who accompanied her, delighted to be released from incarceration below stairs at the salon, entered into her requirements with great enthusiasm, bustling her from shop to shop and bargaining in a merry way with the tradesmen. Kitty could only be glad of her escort, for she had no idea where she was, nor how to choose of the myriad wares offered for sale. The streets were so busy that passers-by could not but jostle her, and her confusion grew as she was led past all manner of window displays and enticing signs. Fishmongers rubbed shoulders with snuff makers, and busts with glass eyes stared out at her to show off the wigs of the perruquier. The milliner she visited was placed beside an apothecary’s with curious bottles of remedies; the shoemaker was found beside a jeweller’s, and the discreet requirements of her toilette were next door to a shop selling exquisite lamps of glass and alabaster.

By the time Kitty returned to the salon, exhausted, both she and her companion were burdened with so many packages that she was unable to remember what was in them. She plonked down upon a chair proffered by Madame to wait for Claud’s return, daunted by the rapidly gathering apprehension that he would scold her for having spent so much money. But time passed, and his lordship put in no appearance.

Madame, whose expression became more pitying as the afternoon wore on, suffered her assistant to shift the packages out of sight behind a curtain while another customer was served, and at length had a dish of tea brought for Kitty’s refreshment. She sipped it gratefully, desperately trying to hide her growing dismay under a cheerful front. What would she do if Claud had chosen to abandon her? No matter how many times she told herself stoutly that this was unlikely, the horrid thought would keep obtruding.

But just as Madame was making noises about closing the shop, and Kitty had begun desperately to think of how she could get herself back to Paddington—never mind explaining the money she had left and the acquisition of so much finery!—a commotion below signalled the arrival of her betrothed.

Only it was not Claud, but his groom Docking, sent in his stead to collect Kitty and drive her to his lordship’s lodging in Charles Street. This proved to be a roomy apartment occupying the better part of one floor of a large mansion. Kitty was unloaded into it, together with all her packages, and into the hands of a disapproving individual who introduced himself as Mixon.

‘I am his lordship’s valet, miss.’

Mixon showed Kitty into a masculine bedchamber, with a dwarf bookcase and a whatnot, besides the bed and the press. It served, so the valet informed her, for accommodation for any of his lordship’s friends who might happen to stay the night. There was, to her chagrin, no sign of Claud himself.

‘Where is Lord Devenick?’

The valet bowed. ‘His lordship has gone out for the evening. He requested me to make you comfortable. A meal has been ordered and will be served presently.’

Kitty gazed at the man, stupefied. ‘Gone out for the evening? But we are supposed to be—’

She broke off, suddenly and acutely aware of the invidious nature of her position. She could scarcely discuss her elopement with his lordship’s valet!

Mixon coughed. ‘His lordship informed me that you are taking a journey, miss, but he thought it rather too late to set out. It is his wish that you rest yourself, ready for an early start in the morning. As for these, miss—’ indicating the packages littering the bed ‘—would you wish me to lend you one of his lordship’s portmanteaux?’

But Kitty was in no mood to think about packing. In vain did she strive to repress an enveloping sense of outrage and indignation. She was to rest, while his horrid lordship disported himself at some jollification! Had he not complained of having to miss a party? Not content with leaving her for hours to wait for him at the mantuamaker’s, he not only neglected to fetch her himself, but left her—a stranger to the town and his betrothed to boot!—without explanation or reassurance, to the ministrations of his valet and her own devices. He was the most selfish creature she had ever met in her life! And nothing would induce her to marry him.