Dangerous Escapade (11 page)

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 thinkin
g….
”

“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.