“I do not mind in the least,” Charity responded. “How boring for you to sit and wait. Take Molly.”
With the unobtrusive maid at her side, Katherine left the dressmaker’s shop and carefully made her way across the street. The milliner’s had nothing to please her, or at least nothing she felt she could afford. On the street again, she looked in the window of the next shop and was drawn inside. The window exhibited delicate silk fans, skillfully painted in multicolored Eastern florals. Just inside the door a display case held all manner of jewel-encrusted trinkets. There were ladies’ snuffboxes set with diamonds; brush and comb sets of finest ivory; jewel boxes in every size and shape carved from fine wood and decorated with jade, rubies, and sapphires. Katherine allowed her eyes to feast on these lavish ornaments and then resolutely turned away.
As she emerged once more onto the street, she hesitated, wondering if Charity would have finished by now. Glancing across the roadway, she noticed a young man and woman emerge from a jeweler’s shop several doors to her right. She had been prepared to cross back to the dressmaker’s but now froze where she stood, for the fashionable gentleman across the way was none other than Lord Parnaby, her beloved James.
Her eyes grew soft at the sight of him. Surely no man was so handsome. He was tall; the young lady on his arm barely reached his shoulder. His shiny beaver sat at a jaunty angle over light brown locks, while his lips offered the lady a tantalizing smile.
Katherine had shifted her gaze to the brunette in a pink pelisse at the viscount’s side when a voice near her said, “Good day, Miss Stillwell.”
She turned, startled, to gaze up into the face of the Lord Rudley. She returned his greeting pleasantly but could not resist glancing across the street again.
“You know Lord Parnaby well, I believe,” the earl said. It was more a statement than a question.
“Fairly well, yes. He has a property near us in Lincolnshire. I first met him several years ago at Lord Beecham’s. We are both avid riders.”
“Ah, yes. Parnaby does sit a horse to perfection. Are you alone, Miss Stillwell?”
“No,” she replied, wishing the earl would take his questions elsewhere and leave her alone. “Miss Harrington is with the
couturière
across the way. I am waiting for her.”
Parnaby and the young lady were walking toward a point directly across from Katherine and Rudley. If he looks across now, he will see me, Katherine thought. She willed Parnaby to do so, but he did not. He was speaking earnestly to the young lady, who had her arm tucked through his. She was petite and stylish, Katherine noted, but not particularly handsome. Another woman, with the sober look of a companion, walked a few paces behind the couple.
“Allow me to give you my arm across the roadway,” the earl said. “It is slippery from last night’s rain.”
As Lord Parnaby and the lady in pink disappeared around a corner, Katherine accepted the earl’s offer and soon found herself at the dressmaker’s door.
“Thank you, my lord. You are most kind.”
“Not at all. I believe Lady Brent has accepted my invitation for Friday night. Will you be coming as well?”
“Yes, I plan to be there.”
“Then I will see you Friday,” he said as he took a step back, bowed slightly, and turned to walk away.
Katherine entered the shop to find that Charity had finished. Charity chatted amiably on the way home, while Katherine listened with half an ear, her mind busy searching for a way whereby she might speak privately with Lord Parnaby.
* * * *
This opportunity presented itself much sooner than she expected, for the next day while Katherine and Charity sat sewing in the drawing room the butler announced Lord Parnaby.
He entered the room with a quick step, his emerald riding coat contrasting sharply with the brilliant white cravat at his throat.
Charity spoke first. “Lord Parnaby, how nice to see you again.”
He smiled briefly at Katherine and then spoke to Charity. “I just met your uncle, Miss Harrington, at White’s. When he said you were in town, I came straightaway. I had no idea you were coming up this year. How delightful! I am told Lady Brent is not at home this morning.”
“No, she is not,” Katherine replied. “She and Miss Brent have gone out.”
“I am sorry to have missed her. You must give her my regards.”
“We will certainly do so,” Charity answered.
As the door closed behind the butler, the viscount immediately abandoned his formal speech and behavior and came to Katherine, taking both her hands in his. “Why did you not let me know you were coming?”
“I decided at the last moment. We have been in town only three days.”
His next words were softer. “I have missed you. It has been more than a month; do you realize that?”
As Katherine and Parnaby stood close together, still holding hands, Charity said, “I think I will play a bit, if you do not mind. I am growing sadly out of practice.” She walked to the pianoforte in the far corner of the room and began to play softly.
Katherine smiled at her friend’s discretion as she invited the viscount to be seated near her on the sofa. “Charity is too conscious of the proprieties to leave us alone together, so she has discovered a way to stay in the room and still allow us some privacy.”
“She cannot even see us from where she is sitting, for the music board blocks her view,” he replied as he leaned forward and kissed Katherine gently on the cheek.
She blushed and turned her hands within his, her hopes soaring at his warm greeting. “I came to town for a specific purpose, James, and since we could be interrupted at any moment by Lady Brent, I must speak quickly. My stepfather has become unbearable, and I have decided I can no longer live with him.”
His brow clouded as he regarded her. “I do not understand. If not with him, where else would you live?”
Her courage failed under his direct gaze and her eyes fell. “I was hoping you might have an idea where I might go.”
“Me?” he asked, sounding quite shocked. “Why would I—”
“James,” she interrupted, “my situation is grave. We have meant—we mean . . . a great deal to each other.” Her voice dropped to an intimate whisper. “We have admitted we love one another. I thought—I mean, could we not . . .”
She finally stopped in confusion, almost angry that he was making this so difficult. When he said nothing, she raised her eyes to see a look of shocked dismay distorting his handsome features.
“Katy, I have told you how my father left things. My lands are mortgaged to the point where I am struggling to hold them. I have nothing to offer you.”
“There is my income,” she argued. “I know it is not much, but we could be together.”
He let go her hands and stood suddenly. “We cannot live on love, Katherine. I know it sounds romantic, but, believe me, it would not be.”
“But we would not be paupers. We would have enough—”
“And what about my property, my home?” he asked. “There have been Haygarths in Norfolk for three hundred years. Am I to simply let it go without a fight?”
Into the silence that followed this passionate outburst Katherine said slowly, “Let me be certain that I understand you. Are you saying I should not expect a proposal from you?”
“Not now,” he affirmed. “Perhaps in time, when I have somehow managed to put my affairs in order—”
“Time is something I can no longer offer you, James. I am four and twenty. I have decided I will not go back to Sir Humphrey when the Season ends. If it is in any way possible, I plan to marry this year. I love you, James, but I cannot wait forever for you to put your house in order.”
Before Parnaby could respond, the door burst open and Lady Brent entered with Marie in her wake. “My butler said you were here, Lord Parnaby. What a pleasant surprise!”
* * * *
Lady Helen Manville, youngest sister of the previous Earl of Rudley, resided with her nephews in Cavendish Square and managed Rudley’s household in an efficient and unobtrusive manner. Lady Helen had been wed in her youth to a dashing naval officer who, during the seventh year of their marriage, was lost at sea. Declaring herself to be one who would love only once in her life, she had settled down quietly with her former governess in a cottage near Greenwich. When the present Lord Rudley’s wife died in the spring of 1814 and Lady Helen offered to help her nephew with his young daughter, Rudley said she could best serve him by taking over the reins of his residence in London. This, Lady Helen had done with an aptitude that made invitations to her nephew’s entertainments among the most sought after in London.
The earl’s intimate party included some forty guests, all, as Lady Brent had predicted, from the
beau monde
. Standing at Rudley’s side, his aunt greeted the guests as they ascended the grand staircase.
Among the first to arrive was Rudley’s only sister, Margaret, Countess of Finley. She was a charming matron of nearly thirty. With Oliver she shared a fair complexion, golden hair, and an open, friendly smile; with both brothers she shared intense dark blue eyes. Lady Margaret had been an instant success at her come-out and had married the Earl of Finley in her second Season. She had two young daughters still in the schoolroom.
Lady Finley remained standing at her brother’s side as her husband passed into the salon. When Lord and Lady Brent’s party was announced, Rudley himself introduced Miss Harrington, Miss Stillwell, and Miss Brent to his aunt and sister. As the young ladies moved away, Lady Finley turned to her brother and exclaimed in an undertone, “My dearest Ned, you describe her as a very handsome young woman? She is incomparable!”
“Miss Harrington, you mean?” he asked.
She rapped him with her fan. “Of course I mean Miss Harrington. What a stir she will cause! I suppose the limp is permanent? It is a great pity, of course, but one can hardly spare a thought for it when presented with such a delicate figure, and I do not believe I have ever seen a more perfect face.”
Her brother’s dark eyes rested on the retreating figure of Miss Harrington as he nodded in agreement. “I believe you will find her manner as pleasing as her appearance. But tell me, Meg, what is your impression of Miss Stillwell?”
“She has not her friend’s beauty, certainly, but she seems presentable. She has a fine figure and carries herself well. Her manner did not strike me as particularly warm; her greeting seemed rather stiff.’’
“Yes, I agree,” her brother said thoughtfully. “But she was not always so.”
“You have met her before?” she queried.
“More than a year ago at Rolly Beecham’s. She was quite different then, I assure you.”
His reminiscent tone caused his sister to look searchingly at him. There was unquestionably a frown on his face as he remembered the Miss Stillwell of that earlier meeting. Lady Finley wished to pursue this conversation but was distracted by the arrival of her youngest brother John and his wife, Fanny.
The Honorable John Seaton, youngest of the late earl’s four children, greeted his aunt and sister briefly and began a hurried apology to his brother.
“Sorry to intrude in this way, Ned. I know we were not invited tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”
“My dear John, there is no need to apologize. You and Fanny are always welcome. Believe me, if Aunt Helen and I had thought there was the slightest chance of your accepting, we would surely have issued you an invitation.”
It was true that Mr. John Seaton, MP, was not often to be seen at social functions of this sort, for his seat in the Commons and his growing family kept him well occupied. He was possessed of a sober, scholarly nature and felt that the majority of London’s social gatherings were a shameful waste of time.
Rudley guessed that John’s presence tonight was due largely to a curiosity about Miss Harrington. Their brother Oliver had shown little interest in any woman since the death of his wife, Lydia, but during the past week he had mentioned Miss Harrington several times—more than enough to make his family take notice. Rudley was certain Fanny had convinced her husband to come tonight in order to make the acquaintance of the incomparable Miss Harrington.
The musicians tuned their instruments as several couples prepared for the first dance. The ladies of Lord Brent’s party seated themselves at the far end of the large drawing room, a room well suited for the size of the party and the dancing. Its high walls were painted blue-gray, the wide floorboards so highly polished that they reflected the light of the chandeliers overhead. Tall windows hung with dark coral brocade covered one entire side of the room and opened onto a balcony overlooking the garden below. The sofas and chairs lining the walls were Louis Quinze, delicate and exquisite. Huge vases of fresh-cut flowers in charming arrangements had been placed between each set of windows. The scent of blossoms carried softly through the air; the effect was that of a summer garden brought indoors.
“What a lovely house this is!” Charity exclaimed. “This room is so tastefully decorated.”
“I like it very much,” Katherine replied. “It is simple and at the same time grand.” She turned to Miss Brent and asked quietly, “Who is the beautiful woman with Lord Rudley?”
“Lady Milicent Battle,” Marie answered.
“The young woman Lady Brent said Lord Rudley was spending time with? Do you know her?”
“Mm . . . a little. Her father is the Earl of Carstairs.”
Katherine openly observed Lady Milicent as she stood in conversation with the earl. She was tall and slender, remarkably elegant in a gown of deep-sea blue. Her jewelry consisted only of diamonds but those were in abundant supply. Above the low neckline of her gown a priceless pendant lay against her white breast while a diamond tiara nestled in her high coiffure and diamonds dangled from her earlobes and encircled her slender, shapely wrists. Her face was arresting, for without being classically beautiful she had a presence that was commanding. She had hair as dark and shiny as mahogany and large, widely spaced eyes. High, arched brows were raised at something his lordship said to her, and her sensual mouth curved in a half smile.
“She is . . . unusual,” Katherine said, for lack of a better word.