Dangerous Escapade (10 page)

It was impossible
to deny her in front of all those men
—
they were
smiling at her pretty caprice, thinking she meant but to tease them. Debenham
bowed and took her hand, leading her off to join the set. He looked far from
gratified, however, as she noted, peeping up at him from beneath long
eyelashes.

“You are angry
with me, Sir. Should I not have asked you to dance with me? It was just because
I was so tired of talking to people I do not know. I thought I would like to be
with you instead.”

Debenham was not
proof against such an appeal. He glanced down at his ward with an expression so
tender that, had they been observed, every uncharitable suspicion would have been
confirmed. Fortunately, however, the scandalmongers had now decided that
Brabington was the lucky man, and the Earl was no longer the subject of speculation.

They danced a
minuet with grace, and then Lord Debenham obligingly conducted his ward down to
supper and saw her supplied with dainties before abandoning her once more to
the mercy of her admirers. Lord Courtney, by astute fieldwork, was able to gain
the seat beside her and, as he was a gentleman of considerable charm, kept her very
well entertained with various highly slanderous titbits of scandal. As his
Lordship was as rich as he was charming, Lady Horatia did not feel it necessary
to play gooseberry to this happy scene, and she went off with some satisfaction
upon the arm of an old friend, expressly invited by Lord Debenham to amuse her.

The Earl meanwhile
had done his duty by most of the young ladies, had exchanged a friendly word
with each of the gentlemen, and now felt at leisure to enjoy the company of his
betrothed. That there was little enjoyment to be had he had ruefully admitted to
himself but, chivalrously, he was determined that his future countess should not
be humiliated by lack of attention on his part.

He found her
seated with her mama, surrounded by a circle of young men who either preferred
golden hair to black or who were too wary to pay attentions to unattached ladies.
He detached his betrothed from this group and led her onto the floor.

“Allow me, my
dear Anthony, to congratulate you,” remarked the lady graciously. “Kitty is
quite ravishing.”

“She is very
well,” he answered indifferently. “Horatia has worked wonders.”

Lady Amelia
would have done well to leave the subject there but, like any jealous woman,
she could not be wise, she must probe his feelings, if only to confirm what she
suspected.

“Brabington seemed
much struck,” she remarked next. “What a good match that would be for her.”

“You think so?”

“But naturally,
Anthony. He, after all, has the title and knows who his mother was. She is the daughter
of a criminal, and who her mother was no one knows.”

“And so you
think it would be suitable to match her, in all her innocence, with a man given
over to every form of viciousness and licence, simply because her birth is questionable?
I had no notion you were so romantic,” he answered savagely.

“Do not take
that tone with me, Debenham!” she cried angrily. “Do you expect me to take her
under my roof, a girl from God knows where? She must be married, and Brabington
will do as well as any other. It will at least keep the estate together.”

The Earl did
not trust himself to answer, and so the rest of the dance was accomplished in
silence, at the end of which he returned his lady to her mama and remained
silently by her chair for much of the rest of the evening while his betrothed
was whisked away to dance with her unsuccessful suitors. Had he been in a mood
to care, my Lord might have been rather annoyed at the number of times Captain
Markham was favoured with the lady's hand. But as his only concern was to hide
their quarrel from the prying eyes of his guests, he did not follow her
movements with any closeness. His mind was occupied, instead, with the possibility
of Kitty's falling in love with her handsome cousin
—
and
how best he might warn her of that gentleman's vicious propensities.

To the three
people principally involved, the Ball seemed to have been going on for an
eternity. Lady Horatia, an indefatigable hostess, was still brightly keeping
her guests happy. But Kitty was pale with fatigue, and Lord Debenham would
happily have kicked most of the company into the street.

Catching sight
of Kitty's wan little face, Lady Horatia suggested that she slip quietly away,
leaving the Earl and herself to see their guests out of the house. This release
was gratefully accepted by Kitty, who eluded her still-persistent court and
escaped through a small saloon that looked out onto the garden. The long
windows were open and, as it was a warm night, Kitty was tempted out into the
moonlight for a few moments. She soon discovered, with some embarrassment, that
she was not alone in her desire for the night air. A lady and gentleman were
standing some yards off behind an arbour and were locked in a passionate
embrace. Kitty had been brought up carelessly and had often witnessed far
warmer scenes among guests in her father's house. And so she was not at all
shocked, merely amused to find that, for all their airs and refinement, the
fine dames of Bath were as approachable as any of the ladies of easy virtue who
had enjoyed her father's protection.

However, she ceased
to be amused when the couple moved apart, and clearly seen in the moonlight was
the face of Amelia Henshawe and beside her, not the handsome figure of Lord
Debenham but an unknown gallant, garbed in an officer's uniform, who held the
lady with all the possessiveness of an accepted lover.

Kitty shrank back
into the shadows unobserved as the couple parted. Then she hurried back into
the salon and from thence to her chamber, where she lay until morning, too
exhausted to sleep, her mind revolving every moment of an evening that seemed
to her one of the most eventful in her life.

Seven

Lord Brabington
had left his cousin's Ball feeling very much more hopeful. In common with the
rest of the Polite World, he had been certain that the Earl would have lost no
opportunity to attach the heiress to himself. That he should whistle away a
fortune merely because of a previous engagement was quite out of Lord Brabington's
understanding, and he had been pessimistic about his own chances of attracting
the heiress. Now, however, he was very much inclined to think that she favoured
him, not entirely to his surprise, for how could she resist so attractive a
suitor as himself?

He reached his
lodgings, still pleasantly daydreaming, but was jerked rudely out of his
complacency by the news, hurriedly whispered by his anxious manservant, that a
gentleman awaited him in the study.

He entered the
room in some trepidation, for he was a nervous individual, nor was he reassured
to find the room in darkness so that only the silhouette of his visitor was visible
against the uncurtained window.

“Come in, you pathetic
creature,” adjured his guest softly. “I have a good deal to say to you.”

Brabington
swallowed and then said with an assumption of ease, “Oh, it's you, old fellow.
I protest, you gave me quite a turn.”

“I am no
fellow of yours, Brabington,” answered the visitor unpleasantly. “Sit down and
tell me what happened tonight before I lose all patience with you.”

Brabington
cast his interlocutor a look of acute dislike but obediently began to relate
his progress that night. As he talked, the moon emerged from behind a bank of
cloud and illuminated the familiar features of Mr Wellbeloved.

“You say she
seemed pleased with you,” remarked this gentleman at the end of his companion's
recital. “How strange! I had formed a higher opinion of her intelligence.
However, her preference will no doubt assist us considerably.”

“I protest, Sir,
your jests are unmannerly. I think I may say that my fair cousin will do as
well with me for a husband as any.”

Wellbeloved favoured
his confederate with an appraising stare but said nothing. Brabington moved fretfully
under his scrutiny and then burst out with the request that had been upon his
lips the entire interview. “I say, Wellbeloved, I'm devilish short just now and,
you know, if I'm to court this wretched girl, I'll need to spend some money on
her. Can't expect her to do without the odd posy, you know.”

“Very true,”
calmly answered Wellbeloved and tossed over a purse. “But be warned,
Brabington. If I discover that one penny of that has gone on the tables, I will
assuredly break your neck.”

Brabington was
affronted, “You have my word, Sir,” he declared haughtily. Wellbeloved smiled but
made no comment. He merely proceeded to issue certain instructions to his
confederate.

“You will
continue to make yourself agreeable to the heiress in every way open to you.
More important, you will eschew your former way of life totally and let it be
widely known that you do so in the hope of being worthy of her affection. If I
know women, that will soften her, and it's as well to be prepared lest some
busybody tells her what a thoroughly unsavoury character you really are. You
will induce her to trust in you, and you will await my instructions. Is this
understood?”

Brabington nodded
sulkily and was dismissed.

It was nearly
noon before Kitty awoke the next morning after a heavy but unrefreshing sleep.
Her dreams had been troubled and, even as she awoke, she was aware that some
unaccustomed cloud hung over her. Her feeling for her guardian, unacknowledged though
it was, made it impossible for her to stand silent by whilst he married a woman
already faithless to him. Yet how could she tell him what she had seen? Their friendship
was yet uncertain; often he surprised her with his odd incomprehensible remarks.
Slowly, they were building up the trust that she had so foolishly thrown away.
She did not feel that she could risk losing it again by playing the part of
tale-bearer.

She lay back
against her pillows, musing and sipping the sweet chocolate her abigail had brought.
She was interrupted by a discreet tap upon the door, which opened to reveal Lady
Horatia, absurdly youthful in figured dimity, who tripped lightly into the room
saying, “My sweet, how are you? I vow I am still exhausted and I am accustomed
to such routs. Did you sleep at all? I know I did not after my first party! Did
you enjoy yourself?”

“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.