Dangerous Escapade (12 page)

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.

“Is something wrong,
Anthony?” she asked after a few moments.

“I do not
know, Amelia, I fear so!” he answered shortly.

“Then tell me,
I beg!”

“Amelia, when I
asked you to marry me, I did not suppose that you had fallen in love with me. I
did not ask it of you. But it never occurred to me that you might perhaps love
another man. Now I have some reason to believe that this is the case. A certain
Captain Markham has been mentioned to me. Tell me, Amelia, is there something
between you?”

“He is in love
with me.”

“Indeed?”

“And I with
him. You see I do not lie to you. However, I do not advise you to use this
admission as an excuse to break off the engagement, for I should certainly deny
it.”

“Let me understand
you, Amelia, you expect me to accept that you love this man, to go through with
the marriage knowing that I cannot trust the woman who is my wife!”

“I do not
think you have very much choice, Debenham. I shall not cry off. If you do so,
and tell the world why, who would not condemn you? If indeed they believed you.
No, Debenham, a man like you could not do it! “

“Can you really
contemplate marrying me, loving Markham as you say you do?”

“Easily, Sir.
Markham has nothing but his pay.”

The Earl was
silent, contemplating the size of the mistake he had made. He knew that she was
right
—
he could not expose her. The marriage must
go forward, but the affair must cease. He gripped her by the shoulders, forcing
her to meet his eyes.

“Amelia, do
not look to find in me a complacent husband. If we are to go through with this
farce, you will cease to have any communication with Markham from this day. Do
I have your promise?”

“Do I have
your word that no one shall ever know what we have said? That there will be a
marriage?”

“You do,” he
answered in a hard voice.

She smiled. “Then
you may rest easy, Sir. The Countess of Debenham will be as Caesar's wife.”

With this, the
Earl had perforce to be satisfied, yet he spent many bitter hours wondering
what his life would be, tied to a woman who was capable of holding a man to a pledge
which, she had every reason to suppose, he already regretted.

Lord Debenham had
promised that night to conduct his ward and her duenna to a Ball to be held at
Ranelagh Gardens, a resort of high fashion, which Kitty had not yet visited, He
was little in the mood for such festivity. But he knew that his ward had
purchased a new gown for the occasion and had been looking forward to it, and
he had not the heart to disappoint her.

They arrived late
to find the Ball already commenced. Kitty was quite enchanted by the gardens
and turned impulsively to her guardian, crying: “Oh, dear Sir, it is lovely!
Thank you so much for bringing me here.”

“It is a
pleasure, my dear,” he told her, smiling. He was about to suggest that they
stand up together when, at that moment, a young gallant appeared to claim a
dance that she had promised him.

She went away
quite happily upon his arm, leaving Lord Debenham to lead out his aunt.
 
 
When
the set came to an end, the Earl was surprised to see his old friend Courtney
elbowing his way through the crowd towards him.

“Hallo, old
fellow!” cried the young nobleman joyously, “I've been looking for you everywhere.
Now, come on, Tony, my boy, this is a devilish place; but there's a game going
on in the card room, and tonight I feel my luck is in!” Lord Debenham allowed
himself to be led away into the card room, where he found it pleasant to be
hailed by several of the men who demanded to know where he had been hiding all
these months.

He answered
them, laughing, and was persuaded to take a seat at the faro table, from which
he rose later in the evening a considerable winner.

Strolling into
the ballroom once more, he was surprised to see his aunt seated with one of her
oldest friends, deep in conversation, while his ward was nowhere to be seen.
Questioned, his aunt answered airily that Kitty had gone off for a little
stroll with Lady Amelia, who had suggested to Kitty that they should have a
talk. She knew that the two women were not very friendly, so she had thought it
a splendid idea that they should have the opportunity to settle their
differences, as it seemed likely that they would have to see a great deal of each
other once the marriage had taken place.

Lady Horatia was
taken aback by Lord Debenham's reaction to this news. He looked furious and
strode off in the direction his ward had taken, looking dangerously purposeful.

Lady Amelia had
taken care not to make Kitty's chaperone suspicious by greeting her affectionately
but, once out of ear-shot of that good lady, she had wasted no politeness. “Well,
Mistress Brabington, I congratulate you!''

“I am sorry, I
do not understand you, Lady Amelia. What do you mean?”

“Why, only
that you seem to have won the heart of Lord Debenham
—
no
mean feat, as there has always been a certain amount of doubt that he has one.”

“I do not
think you should talk to me like that about the man you intend to marry, Ma'am!”
declared Kitty hotly.

“There, you
have put your finger upon it, my clever little upstart. I do intend to marry
him, so be warned.”

Kitty fought
to keep her temper, merely saying: “As my guardian is betrothed to you, I do
not understand why you feel it necessary to tell me this.”

“Because,
Mistress Brabington, your precious guardian came to me today to tax me upon a
certain matter. It was obvious that he was itching to be released from his
promise to me. You can tell him from me that I am greatly looking forward to
our marriage, my dear, and that I would hold him to it, if only to prevent his
marrying you.”

“There is no
need to send me messages, my love,” came a voice unexpectedly. “Tell me
yourself.”

Both ladies
swung round to see the tall figure of Lord Debenham regarding them with cool
amusement, beneath which Kitty sensed a smouldering anger.

Lady Amelia
cast him a look of triumph. “Well, my Lord, I have kept my promise. I have
written to Markham giving him his congé. I hope that you will give your beloved
ward hers before our wedding, for I do not intend to live in the same house
with her. I give you fair warning.”

“Do not be
concerned, Amelia,” Lord Debenham said icily. “I would not for the world
subject either of you to such an unpleasant situation.”

Kitty stared
at her guardian. “Oh, really, my Lord? May I ask what you intend to do with
me?”

“Doubtless you
will find a better home, Kitty,” he answered, refusing to meet her eyes.

“But you said
Debenham would be my home!” she cried. “I love the house. Where else could I go?”

“Suffice it to
say that I do not want you to share a house with Lady Amelia,” answered the
Earl curtly. Kitty glanced from her guardian’s face, grim and strained, to Lady
Amelia, smug and satisfied. With a little cry of despair, she ran off down the
darkened path, leaving behind her two people, pledged to marry and who regarded
each other with a contemptuous dislike that could only deepen in the coming
years.

Nine

It very soon
became apparent that Mistress Kitty was the success of the season. No fashionable
gathering was complete without her and, to all appearances, she was enjoying
herself hugely. There had gathered around her a large court of young gentlemen,
all of whom behaved in a gratifyingly ridiculous way
—
and
chief among whom figured my Lord Courtney. He was much favoured by the heiress,
for not only was he a dashingly handsome blade, he also had the reputation of
being very difficult for any young lady to attach. To have added him to her
court was a triumph. Moreover, he could always be depended upon to make her
laugh with his wicked sayings. It was pretty well accepted in polite circles
that Courtney was to be the lucky man and, for once, even the most ill-natured gossips
could find nothing to say against the match.

One morning,
after a particularly late night, Kitty awoke to the sound of an unexplained bustle
in the house. She could hear Lady Horatia's excited voice directing the
footmen, and she could just catch the sound of a much softer voice, slightly French
in accent, which seemed to be issuing from the bedchamber next to her own.

Forgetting her
fatigue in her curiosity, Kitty rang for her abigail, who appeared with
chocolate, rolls, and the news of a visitor in the house.

Sarah was
unable to disclose the name of this guest, but she was able to inform Kitty that
the lady was very beautiful and had the most wonderful clothes that she, Sarah,
had ever clapped eyes on. This naturally had the effect of whetting Mistress
Kitty's curiosity still further, so she threw back the covers and announced her
intention of rising immediately.

Nevertheless,
it was close on noon when she eventually entered the morning room and executed
a well-rehearsed start of surprise at the sight of their visitor. “Forgive me, Ma'am,
I thought you were alone,” she told Lady Horatia disingenuously.

“Not at all,
my dear. I am delighted to be able to introduce you. Marguerite,
ma Cherie
, permit me to present my nephew’s
ward, Mistress Katherine Brabington. My love, this is Madame La Comtesse de
Longueville, my oldest and dearest friend.”

Kitty swept the
lady a demure curtsy and, to her surprise, found herself lightly embraced. Madame
de Longueville then took her hands and, holding her at arm's length,
scrutinized her with the air of an expert, from the top of her curls to her slender,
satin-shod feet.

“Charming,
Cherie
, absolutely charming,” pronounced
the lady in her soft voice. “Horatia, you are to be congratulated.”

Kitty,
meanwhile, was subjecting Madame de Longueville to a scrutiny every bit as
thorough and had concluded that she had never in her life seen anyone so
elegant, so beautiful, and so stylish. In truth, the lady was exquisite. In a beruffled
morning gown of cherry-blossom dimity, she looked not a day over five-and-twenty,
although Kitty knew that she could give Lady Horatia a couple of years. Her hair,
coiled into a neat chignon, was perfectly white. At first, Kitty thought it was
powdered, but then she realised it was quite natural. Strangely, it did not age
the lovely Countess; rather, with her huge blue eyes and pointed chin, it gave
her the appearance of a porcelain figure. There was something very endearing in
the lady's smile for it was sad and rather wistful. She bestowed it now upon
Kitty, saying, “You must know, my child, that I have been following your adventures
with great interest. Lady Horatia has written so much about you that I decided I
must come and see for myself. It is long since I visited any of my so dear
friends in England. One becomes out of touch.”

“Well, I am
sure we are all very glad that you have come at last,” remarked Lady Horatia, “and
I hope you'll pay us a long visit. Tell me, Marguerite, are you too fatigued to
accompany us to the Duchess of Devonshire’s masquerade tonight? It promises to
be a brilliant affair.”

“Oh yes, do
come with us,” cried Kitty eagerly.

“In the face of
such a kind invitation, how could I refuse?” smiled Madame la Comtesse.

In the
afternoon, Lady Horatia, on whom the fatigues of the season were beginning to tell,
excused herself and retired to her chamber to snatch a few hours’ sleep before
embarking upon the evening’s entertainment.

Madame de
Longueville and Kitty were left alone in the drawing room, and it was not long
before Kitty was confiding in her new friend the full story of her boyhood,
concealing only her father's involvement in the recent rebellion.

“And so, my
child, you have made your home with Milor Debenham. Is he kind to you?”

“He is
wonderfully kind, Madame, and has been from the very first,” replied Kitty with
unmistakable sincerity.

Madame was thoughtful.
“I know little of him,” she said. “Tell me what kind of man he is.”

Kitty was silent
for a moment. Then a loving smile illuminated her face, and she began to speak
so softly that her companion was forced to lean forward to catch her words.

“He is a man of
great pride,” she began, “and great integrity. He has, I think, been very much
alone, for he hides his feelings always. Yet, Lord Courtney, who is his closest
friend, says that there is no one he would rather go to should he find himself
in trouble. Of course, he is very handsome, but that is not so important.” She
laughed, a little embarrassed, for she was aware that she had said more than
she had intended.

Madame de
Longueville took one of her hands and held it in a warm clasp. “You are very much
in love with him, are you not, my dear?”