The Bishop's Daughter (17 page)

Kate quickly dismissed such thoughts as frivolous. As she and Mr. Thorpe came together in the movement of the dance, she realized with dismay he must have asked her a question and patiently awaited her reply.

"I beg your pardon," she said, “but I fear I did not quite hear you."

"It does not matter." Mr. Thorpe heaved a melancholy sigh. "Julia says that I have a habit of forever prosing on."

"Then Miss Thorpe is quite unkind," Kate retorted without thinking. In a flash of insight, it occurred to her that outside of the pulpit Mr. Thorpe was likely not given much encouragement to speak his views by his clever and sharp-tongued sister. Knowing how discomfited Julia frequently made her feel, Kate experienced a rush of sympathy for the vicar.

"Pray do continue," she urged him. "I am most interested in what you have to say." Quite forgetting the notions of marriage that made her so awkward in his presence, Kate resolved that at least she would accord the poor man some attention. She gazed up at Mr. Thorpe, her smile inspired only by kindness.

But the gentle expression did not escape Julia Thorpe's notice from her vantage point near the doorway. Having snubbed Lieutenant Porter's impertinent offer to dance with her, Julia had stationed herself where she could keep her brother and Kate under constant observation.

Noting the way Kate hung upon Adolphus's every word, Julia's mouth thinned into a smile of triumph. Praise the Lord! Her brother was doing something right at last. She had been admonishing him forever to make an effort to charm Kate, despairing that he would heed her advice.

At this distance, she could not tell what utterances fell from Adolphus's lips, but Kate was clearly captivated. Hereinafter, Julia supposed she must accord her brother a new respect. She had been quite right to believe that the sensible Kathryn needed only a little encouragement to forget her foolish infatuation with Lytton. Although Julia was not given to let her imagination run riot, she could not help calculating how long it might take before the banns of her brother's marriage to the bishop's daughter would be cried. A year perhaps for the wedding to take place, for Kate's powerful relatives to secure Adolphus a better position, for all three of them to be gone from this dreary little village.

These agreeable reflections were disrupted as she was jostled by a latecomer arriving in the assembly hall. Julia turned to haughtily rebuke the oaf who was even now removing his high crowned beaver hat, revealing familiar waves of glossy coal dark hair. He flashed one of those lightning quick smiles that could send the surliest of lackeys scurrying to do his bidding.

"Lytton!" Julia exclaimed in the same accents of dismay and bitter loathing she would have said 'Lucifer.'

Her cousin tossed off his cloak to the porter tending the door before turning back to Julia with his customary infuriating good humor.

"Julia, you must not act so overjoyed to see me. You know how people love to gossip."

"What are you doing here?" she said, her face flushing with disappointment and rage.

"You are forever asking me that," Harry complained. "I begin to think you are surprised to see me anywhere outside the regions of hell."

"It is where you belong—" Julia choked off the retort, groping for the remnants of her frigid dignity.

Harry chucked her lightly under the chin. "Don't put yourself into a taking, my dear coz. I have not come here tonight to dance with you."

He smiled at Julia's gasp of outrage and moved on his way, fully aware of her looking such daggers at him, he fancied he could almost feel the sharp points pricking his back. He supposed he ought to be ashamed of himself for ruffling Julia's feathers, but he was surely entitled to a little amusement.

It had been a most unamusing day. More dreary accounts to be gone over with Warren, more hysterics from Sybil over that Crosbie fellow, and once again no opportunity to see Kate. The only thing that had sustained him had been the missive he received from Lady Dane, commanding him to attend the assembly. Kate would be present, her ladyship assured him, and possibly in ‘a more receptive mind regarding the subject of marriage.’ Harry had his doubts on that score.

Kate had looked far from receptive at their last parting when he had dragged Folly away before the blasted idiot could say anything more to affront her. Still Harry held enough confidence in Lady Dane that he conjured up an agreeable image of Kate awaiting him, seated demurely at her grandmother's side, refusing all invitations to dance until Harry should arrive. Her hair would be tumbled about her shoulders in those long silky ringlets, her dress one of those sweet flowing frocks that made her look as though she had stepped from a portrait by Gainsborough.

Harry's spirits raised a trifle at these delightful imaginings, and he edged his way through the crowded assembly with impatient step. Taking no heed of the dancers or other acquaintances who greeted him, Harry sought out Lady Dane.

Her ladyship was not difficult to find. Ensconced in one corner like a queen holding court, she kept the local ladies at an awed distance. When she espied Harry, she frowned and summoned him, her gesture rife with a most royal displeasure.

Harry inched his way toward her and made his leg, but before he could speak, Lady Dane hissed at him, "Impudent rascal. Where have you been?"

"I had some difficulty with my horse," Harry began. The old cobbie he had been obliged to employ now that his chestnuts were gone had raised great objection to being hitched to the curricle. As Harry had helped the groom to quiet the vile-tempered beast, the nag had given Harry's arm a savage nip that left him with quite a swelling bruise.

"I am not talking about tonight," Lady Dane said with a rap of the ever-present cane. "I mean all this past week, sirrah!"

"I have been buried up to my eyebrows, trying to set my properties to rights. You did bid me become more respectable."

"I said respectable, not dull!"

Harry felt his good humor slip a notch. It seemed unjust for her ladyship to rake him over the coals when he had simply been doing his best to follow her advice. He decided it might be better to let the subject drop.

"Where is Kate?" he asked instead. "You told me she would be here."

"No," her ladyship said in a voice of withering scorn. "I summoned you here to dance with me. Of course, Kate is here, you young cawker. And you'd best look sharp before she is snatched from under your nose."

Her ladyship's acid remark made little sense to Harry, but when she prodded him with her cane and gestured toward the dancers, Harry turned obediently. He eyed the couples promenading in the center of the room, his gaze flitting from one pretty face to another without interest. He vaguely recognized most of the chits present except for the elegant dasher with the Grecian headdress.

Harry took a closer look and then sucked in his breath like a bunch of fives had delivered a punishing blow to the stomach. Kate! It could not be—but it was, her dark hair done up in that style that was all the rage, the white silk gown clinging revealingly to her sylphlike frame. As lovely as the ensemble was, it robbed Kate of that piquant charm that was all her own, making her look like any of half a dozen other society misses rigged out by the dressmaker's art.

"What have you done to her?" Harry groused at Lady Dane in bitter disappointment.

"What have I done with her?" her ladyship asked in ominous accents. "You might better worry what that yellow-haired dolt dancing with her is now doing."

Harry angled another glance at the dance floor. Amid the swirling dancers, it took him a moment to ascertain who Kate's partner was. When he did, he shrugged.

"It is only my cousin, Adolphus."

"The Reverend Mr. Thorpe," Lady Dane corrected him. "A perfect match for a bishop's daughter or so I have had to listen to all these old tabbies about me a-twittering. If Kate has come to think so, too, it will be all your own fault."

"My fault?" Harry choked.

"For dillydallying. I did my best for you, giving the child a good lecture, telling her it was her duty to marry."

"Saving your ladyship's pardon, but that was a perfectly buffleheaded thing to do," Harry said indignantly. "I don't want Kate casting herself at me out of duty."

"Then you need not worry, because she does not appear to be flinging herself toward you at all."

Harry thought Lady Dane was raising a dust over nothing, but her remarks were beginning to make him uneasy. He made his way closer to the lines of dangers, studying Kate and Adolphus through narrowed eyes.

As the pair met, circled, and parted again, a heavy scowl settled upon Harry's brow. If Kate had been fluttering her fan, outright flirting with his cousin, he could have borne it. But her eyes raised to the vicar's held no trace of the coquette, only such a gentle expression, her smile so sweet, Harry felt a red-hot brand twist inside of him, searing him with a jealousy such as he had never experienced before.

It was not fair. He could have easily dispatched any other sort of rival. He could outride, outshoot and outfight anyone within the country for Kate. But she did not judge men by such criteria. When it came to the matter of dreary respectability, Harry was painfully aware that, next to Adolphus, he was a lightweight. The vicar would have met the late bishop's approval with a vengeance, and Kate had to be realizing that. Harry's wretched cousin was not exactly hard for a woman to look upon either.

"I should have offered the living at St. Benedict's to that other fellow," Harry muttered beneath his breath. "The one with the wart on his nose."

Damnation! It was intolerable. The last of Harry's patience snapped. He had attended church; he had worked on a set of musty books when he would have far rather been kissing Kate; he had given up his most prized horses and then been bitten by a vile-tempered knacker's ware into the bargain. After all that, he'd be damned if he was going to lose Kate to some . . . some vicar.

Harry had a strong urge to stride forward and drag her away from Adolphus, but he checked his temper enough to keep from causing an uproar. He waited for the set to finish, his arms locked over his chest. As the strains of the dance faded to silence, Harry watched his cousin lead Kate from the floor. Was it his imagination or was there already something proprietary in the way Adolphus linked his arm through Kate's?

Pressing his way past the other couples retreating from the floor, Harry followed after Kate. Adolphus was on the point of surrendering her to her next partner, a cheerful young lieutenant whom Harry recognized as Frank Porter.

The vicar was the first to notice Harry's approach. The fellow, damn his eyes, actually had the impudence to hold out his hand and look rather pleased to see Harry.

"Why, Cousin Harry—"

"Lord Lytton to you," Harry grated.

Adolphus's smile faded to one of consternation and bewilderment. "Er - certainly, my lord. This is a most unlooked-for pleasure to see you here this evening."

"Evidently." After delivering this unmistakable snub, Harry rounded on Kate. "Good evening, Miss Towers."

Kate started at the sound of Harry's voice, so close to her ear, the voice she had been half dreading, half hoping to hear all evening. Her heart skipped a beat. She felt grateful that she had a moment to school her features before she turned to face him.

She managed a rather unsteady, "Good evening, my lord." Risking a glance at him, she stood frozen. She thought herself familiar with every expression of Harry's, from his devil's grin to that warm steady gaze that was always her undoing.

But never before had she seen this unsmiling look that rendered his features so harsh, the deep furrows by his mouth for once not stemming from laughter.

His voice had a most unsettling edge as he said, "I have come to claim my dance."

"Alas, I fear you come too late, my lord. My dances are all bespoken."

"The next dance is mine." Harry reached for her hand, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Indeed, my lord. You are quite mistaken. I—"

Harry's hand locked about her wrist, tugging her toward the dance floor.

"I say, Lytton, this is the most barefaced piracy I have ever witnessed." But Lieutenant Porter's good-natured protest was lost as Harry pulled Kate out to the center of the floor.

So much for Kate's plan of defense. She might have known Harry would do something this outrageous. The thought of resisting entered her mind, only to be dismissed. People were already turning to stare.

Yet Harry's action bore none of the mark of his usual teasing mischief. She sensed a suppressed anger about him. Although she could not begin to guess its cause, his dark mood alarmed her a little.

"You are being most uncivil, my lord," she said in the sternest voice she could muster.

"I have never been noted for my social graces, Miss Towers."

As the strains of a waltz sounded, he yanked her hard into his arms. Kate let out a gasp. But she had no choice but to set her feet into motion, following where Harry led.

As he whirled her in a circle, he continued in that sneering tone that was not Harry's and that Kate felt she could rapidly learn to hate. "You seemed less than delighted to see me, my dear."

"You took me by surprise. I did not notice you arrive."