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Authors: Hilary Gilman

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She and Lady
Horatia soon became the centre of a crowd of admirers, well-wishers and
hangers-on, and Kitty passed the morning very agreeably being introduced to as
many of the fashionables as her guide considered suitable. The Polite World had,
of course, long been agog with the news that Debenham had become the guardian of
an heiress; now they were delighted to find that she was a Beauty as well. The
situation promised to be interesting, for not a man or woman there but was sure
that the relationship between ward and guardian was of the closest. Thus, when
the assembly became aware that the Lady Amelia Henshawe had entered the Rooms
accompanying her Mama, a hush descended, and they watched with delicious
anticipation as Lady Horatia led her young friend forward to be presented to her
guardian's betrothed. They were disappointed. Something was said, and a chaste
salute was exchanged. With unexpected cordiality, Lady Amelia invited Kitty to
sit beside her and engaged her in conversation. The sensation seekers were
disappointed but soon entered once more into the more important business of the
day

making assignations, flirting desperately,
and destroying reputations.

Had they been
able to overhear the conversation between the two women, the fashionable
assembly would have been little the wiser regarding the sentiments of either
lady. Lady Amelia was far too well-bred to betray any animosity towards her young
acquaintance, and, as yet, Kitty was conscious of none towards her. The
conversation was kept up mostly between the two older ladies, and Kitty was
well content to listen to the gossip they exchanged.

Lady Amelia
was graciously intent on including Kitty, however, and began to question her
about the coming Ball and upon the gown she was to wear. Nothing loath, Kitty
embarked upon a minute description of its glories, which Lady Amelia was
pleased to approve.

“My dear, it sounds
delightful and most decidedly suitable. No colour becomes a brunette so well as
pink.”

“Indeed,
Ma'am, I hope so, for above all things I desire to be a credit to my guardian
and to dear Lady Horatia,” answered Kitty demurely.

“Oh, do not
exclude me!” cried Lady Amelia playfully, tapping Kitty's hand with her fan. “For
I am one of the family, am I not? You must know, my dear, that I look forward
to having you under my own roof very soon now.”

“Yes,”
answered Kitty, a little taken aback by this sudden affection, “yes, indeed,
Lady Amelia.”

“When we are married,”
pursued the lady, “my Lord and I have quite decided that you shall make your
home with us until we can find an eligible match for you. Debenham is very
anxious to establish you creditably, my love. I am sure you must be very grateful
to him.”

Kitty opened her
eyes very wide. “You have discussed my marriage with the Earl?” she repeated
incredulously.

“But, of
course.”

“Then, Ma'am, perhaps
you would be kind enough to inform Lord Debenham that I have no intention of
marrying now or at any time any man chosen for me by him. No, do not trouble yourself.
I shall tell him myself!” announced Mistress Kitty defiantly.

Lady Horatia judged
it time to intervene. ''Do not fret, my love,” she interposed soothingly. “Anthony
would never dream of acting without consulting you. Your happiness must and shall
be the paramount consideration. But why should we be talking of bridals when
our dearest Kitty has not yet made her first appearance? There is time enough
to be thinking of such things.”

“Of course, there
is,” agreed Lady Amelia with a gracious smile. “I did but mention the matter so
that Kitty might know how hard dearest Debenham is striving to establish her, despite
the doubtful nature of her upbringing.”

Lady Horatia decided
that Kitty had been exposed for quite long enough to the honeyed spitefulness
of her guardian's prospective bride, and at the conclusion of this speech, she
swept Mistress Kitty from the Pump Room and secured a couple of chairs to
convey them back to Milsom Street.

The next
evening was that of the Ball, and as her ladyship was determined that her
charge should be in the best of looks and spirits for the evening, she ordered
the reluctant Kitty to remain quietly in her chamber until midday, which time
she was allowed to take a gentle stroll in the gardens before being summoned inside
to partake of an early dinner. This was a hurried affair, for there was much to
be done, but Lady Horatia completed her multiplicity of tasks in good time to
attend Kitty as she embarked on the all-important business of dressing for the
Ball.

When Lady Horatia
arrived in Kitty's chamber, the coiffeuse had just completed his work. Kitty's curls
formed a flattering frame for her enchanting little face while her heavy back
hair had been twisted into a stylish chignon into which several tiny pink
rosebuds had been pressed in a purposely haphazard fashion.

Lady Horatia beamed
with satisfaction. Next, the open robe was carefully flung over Kitty's head
and spread out across the heavy fall of net that formed the petticoat. A pretty
diamond necklace was clasped about her slender throat, and as a finishing touch,
two of the pink roses were pinned to the lace at her breast.

“There, you
are ready!'' cried Lady Horatia delightedly.” Oh, my dear, you are so beautiful,
did you know? Now I must dress. Go down and wait for me in the salon, child,
and whatever you do, do not sit, for if you crush your dress, I shall be cross.”
With a smile to soften the severity of this speech, Lady Horatia tripped off to
her own chamber, where she completed her toilette in a time that would have
astonished her husband had that amiable peer been alive to see her.

Kitty
meanwhile descended the stairs with all due care and obediently made her way to
the salon, now ablaze with the light of a hundred candles. She stood by the
fireplace, a little at a loss, pondering the change in her circumstances since
the day, four months ago, that Lord Debenham had entered her life. She wondered
what he would think of her when he saw her tonight and then remembered with a
little shrug that his opinion mattered little, as he could not, it seemed, wait
to see her married off to some eligible suitor. Unexpectedly, a voice from the
doorway recalled her to the present.

“Kitty, my dear,”
said a familiar and increasingly beloved voice, and she turned, blushing a
little, to greet the man on whom her thoughts had centred. He stood in the
doorway, staring at her. He held out a hand, and she moved forward to meet him,
placing her hand trustingly in his.

He smiled. “My
dear, I am struck dumb by the picture you present. You are quite exquisite.”

“Thank you, Sir,”
she smiled, dropping a mocking little curtsy. “I am pleased that you approve of
me.”

“How could I help
it? I am not blind,” he answered quickly. Then, under his breath, “I would to
God I were!”

Before Kitty could
make any reply to this strange remark, Lady Horatia came bustling into the
room, splendidly attired in crimson satin and a hoop so enormous that she was
obliged to enter the room sideways. Lord Debenham, always amused by his
youthful aunt, made her a most profound leg and professed to be quite
overpowered at the sight of her magnificence. Lady Horatia laughed and then turned
her attention to their charge.

“Well, Anthony,
what do you think of our Master Kit now? Does he not make a monstrous pretty
girl?”

“Indeed, Ma'am,
I was engaged in expressing my admiration when you arrived. The transformation
is quite astounding. I am exceedingly grateful to you.”

 
“La, my dear, I enjoyed it prodigiously,”
disclaimed her Ladyship. “Well, Anthony, I must say, you have done justice to
the occasion yourself. I protest I have never seen you look so smart.”

Debenham bowed
his thanks for this tribute, which was well merited. With the very definite
intention of providing a foil for his two ladies, Lord Debenham had arrayed himself
in sombre black. He wore a good deal of silver lace and an embroidered waistcoat
of such magnificence that Lady Horatia vowed they were surpassed and that nothing
else would be talked of all evening.

Their quiet talk
was interrupted at this point by the sound of the bell. The liveried lackeys
sprang to attention, the doors were flung open, and Lord Debenham moved to the
top of the stairs with a lady on either arm, ready to greet his guests.

One hour later,
the rooms were already so full that people were obliged to stand in draughty passages,
and yet still more people were arriving. Kitty had made her curtsy a hundred times
and was quite bewildered by all the names and the faces that swam before her eyes.
Of the crowd, several people stood out in her memory. The first was Lady
Amelia, who had floated up the stairs upon the arm of her papa, arrayed in
violet silk, with a cluster of the exquisite blooms tucked behind one pretty
ear.

A murmur of
admiration went up around them as the two women curtsied politely, the one
divinely fair, the other dark, but withal as dainty as a piece of porcelain. Amelia
had been fulsome in her compliments; Kitty had replied courteously. Again, the
sensation seekers were disappointed. The Withingtons passed on into the
ballroom.

About half an
hour later, a young man, rakishly dressed in royal-blue velvet, and with his
modish wig askew, bounded up the stairs and grasped Lord Debenham's hand with
heart-warming enthusiasm.

“Tony, Tony,
you dog, where have you been hiding yourself?” demanded this gentleman jovially.
“There's a horse I've been wanting to sell you this age, and you nowhere to be
found!”

“Very true,” replied
the Earl, smiling with rare warmth. “I heard about the horse and thus made
quite sure you could not find me. Now, you young idiot, have the goodness to
stop talking for one minute and allow me to present you to my ward. Kitty, may
I present to you one of my oldest friends, Julian Faraday, Viscount Courtney?”

Lord Debenham's
young friend had by now discovered the lady for himself and was standing in
front of her with his mouth open. Fortunately, he had a very good set of teeth
and so was not seen to disadvantage in that position. Kitty extended her hand,
which he took reverently, closed his mouth, swallowed, opened it again
,
and managed to utter that he was charmed. Lord Courtney
was a young man notoriously unimpressed by female charms

respectable females that is

and
was so terrified of being caught by a matchmaking mama that he rarely amused
himself among girls of his own set. If even he could be struck dumb by Mistress
Kitty, her success, reflected the Earl, was no doubt assured.

It was late in
the evening, and Kitty had long been released from her position beside Lord
Debenham, that a gentleman entered the ballroom. He was extremely handsome, of
slender build and dressed with finicky care. He stood in the doorway and
searched the room with his eyes until he discovered Kitty, surrounded by admirers,
foremost among whom was young Lord Courtney.

Leisurely, the
gentleman crossed the floor to where this laughing group stood wrangling about
whom should be honoured with the next dance. People in his path, becoming aware
of his presence, hushed their friends and watched breathlessly as he approached.
A touch of a shoulder here, a word there, and he was through the crowd and
standing before the lady. He bowed gracefully and, in a light, pleasing voice, said,
“Cousin, I beg leave to present myself.”

“Cousin?”
repeated Kitty questioningly. “Then you are

?”

“Cedric Brabington,
Cousin, and wholly at your entrancing feet.”

A sound very
like a sigh of relief pervaded the room, the tension was broken, and the guests
began with renewed animation to discuss this latest development.

Meanwhile,
Kitty was welcoming this new and handsome relation with naive delight. Chagrined,
other admirers found themselves dismissed, for Mistress Kitty must sit with her
new friend and express to him how kind she thought him, how generous, in
allowing her claim so easily. She told him, too, how guilty she felt to have
deprived him of so much and, with touching innocence, she begged him to forgive
her.

With practised
charm, Lord Brabington took her hand and kissed it warmly. “Do not be foolish,
my little Cousin,” he told her caressingly. “I have more than enough for my needs,
and to own you as my cousin, to be able to claim your affection through our
relationship

these must amply compensate me
for anything I have lost.”

Kitty coloured
adorably. “My lord, you may have my affection if you desire it, for I have
never had a family, and to find that I possess a cousin with whom I can truly
be friends is delightful.”

Lord
Brabington pressed the hand he had retained. “One day, Cousin,” he murmured, “I
may perhaps ask for more than cousinly affection.” In some confusion, Kitty
withdrew her hand, dismayed to find her frank confidence so misinterpreted. However,
Brabington must have realized that he had moved too quickly, for with great address
he turned the subject and talked so much like the kind friend she hoped for
that she forgot her embarrassment, and, at the end of half an hour, they were
firm friends.

At the end of this
conversation, Brabington rose and, having obtained permission to visit his
cousin on the morrow, he left the ballroom, very well satisfied with the
progress he had made.

Upon the
departure of Brabington, Kitty's admirers once more besieged her, but Kitty was
in a wayward mood and would have nothing to say to them. Instead, with an
angelic smile, she turned to her guardian, who was standing with his friend
Courtney, defending himself against accusations of gross selfishness in keeping
his little heiress to himself. “Dear Sir, will not you dance with me?” she
asked beseechingly.

BOOK: Dangerous Escapade
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