A Regency Baron's Bride: To Catch a Husband... / The Wicked Baron. Sarah MalloryЧитать онлайн книгу.
stage. She was conscious of Daniel sitting behind her and she resisted the temptation to turn and look at him. She longed to know if he was enjoying the performance or if he, too, was distracted. The thought that he might be studying her made Kitty feel a little light-headed. Despite her resolution to avoid him, she decided if he repeated his invitation to stroll out in the interval she would accept. After all, what danger could there be in walking together in a crowded foyer?
As soon as the front curtain was lowered a general buzz of conversation and movement ran through the audience. Kitty collected her fan and her reticule, anticipating Daniel’s invitation.
‘Miss Wythenshawe, will you walk outside with me?’
‘Oh, that is very kind of you, sir,’ said Lady Leaconham quickly, ‘but I think Lord Harworth is before you.’
Kitty was dismayed at her godmother’s interruption, but at that moment a number of visitors arrived in their box and it was clear that Lord Harworth would have to remain to talk to them. There was an added distraction as Lord Leaconham appeared, saying, ‘I saw you from the pit, you know, and thought I should look in.’
‘Garston, how delightful!’ Ann waved an imperious hand towards him. ‘Come and sit by me and tell me what you thought of the singing. Was it not dreadful?’
The small box was suddenly full of people, all talking at once.
‘Shall we go, Miss Wythenshawe?’ Daniel murmured in Kitty’s ear.
She looked around. No one raised any objection when Daniel held out his arm to her and they slipped out to join the noisy crowd parading through the vestibule. It was so busy that Kitty was obliged to cling tightly to Daniel’s arm, thankful for the strong, protective presence of her escort.
‘I thought I might not get you away,’ remarked Daniel. ‘I haven’t seen you since Barnet.’
She raised her hand in a small, defensive gesture.
‘Please. We agreed not to mention it again.’
‘Can you forget it so easily then?’
‘Yes,’ she lied. ‘I have quite put it from my mind. It is an incident that could ruin my reputation.’
‘Because you intend to marry a lord.’
‘It would make any gentleman think twice about marrying me,’ she responded frankly.
‘Not if he really cared about you.’
‘But I must not deter a suitor before he has a chance to care for me,’ she reasoned.
‘And must you have a title?’
‘Yes, if I can.’
There. It was out, she was acknowledging her ambition. She wondered why she should feel so ashamed of it: after all, it was commonly expected that every young lady would make the best marriage she could.
Papa would not have liked such worldly ambition. The thought popped into her head unbidden, but almost immediately she imagined her mother’s response: “Yes, and look where your father’s lack of worldliness has landed us—in poverty!”
After a slight pause she said, ‘Please, Mr Blackwood, do not think too badly of me: a good marriage is my mother’s dearest wish and I must not disappoint her.’
She held her breath. There was no explosion, no angry retort.
After a moment he said coolly, ‘If that is what you want then I wish you every success. There is the interval bell—shall we return to the box?’
Kitty awoke the next day to find the early morning sunshine flooding into her room, but she was conscious only of a dull depression. She sipped thoughtfully at her hot chocolate, trying to work out why there should be such a cloud over her spirits.
The visit to the opera had been a success: nothing had occurred to mar the good humour of the party. Lord Harworth had been an attentive host; the performance had been entertaining—the ostrich and the elephant most diverting—and her companions agreeable. There had been no cross words or spiteful comments to spoil her enjoyment. She allowed her mind to dwell upon Daniel. He had said nothing out of the way, had been polite and gentlemanlike during their brief walk together and after that first mention of Barnet had assured her that the matter would not be mentioned again. His manner for the remainder of the evening had been no less gentlemanlike and he had taken his leave of her with his usual calm friendliness, but Kitty had the uncomfortable feeling that he had withdrawn from her. It did not matter, of course: despite what he had said at the Rising Sun they were not really friends—no more than mere acquaintances—but she was disturbed to find that she did not like the thought that somehow she had disappointed him.
The depression did not lift all day, but Kitty was able to push it to the back of her mind while she accompanied her godmother on a shopping expedition and later drove in the park with Ann, who was full of excitement over the forthcoming birthday celebrations her mother had arranged.
‘Bertram is taking us north to Kirkleigh Hall the following week so this will be our last party of the Season,’ Ann told her. ‘I do hope the dry weather holds, for Mama is going to throw open the doors to the garden and hang coloured lamps from the trees. I think it will look magical, do not you? I cannot wait for you to see it. Bertram tells me that Mr Blackwood is engaged to dine out that evening so there will only be family sitting down to dinner beforehand. I am sure Mama can be persuaded to invite you and Aunt Leaconham.’
‘That will not be necessary,’ Kitty replied. ‘Garston is taking me to Somerset House that afternoon and I doubt we would be back in time.’
‘Garston?’
Kitty giggled.
‘I am afraid I rather bludgeoned him into it. It is a lecture, or more properly a debate, on slavery and I knew that Godmama would not allow me to go unattended, so I persuaded Garston to accompany me.’
‘But you will not miss our party?’ cried Ann, alarmed.
‘No, no,’ said Kitty soothingly. ‘Godmama and I will be there, I promise.’
She did not disclose to her friend that Lady Leaconham had almost collapsed in tears of despair and frustration when Kitty had told her of her determination to attend the debate.
They had been alone in the morning room when Kitty had mentioned the matter.
‘I may as well wash my hands of you now, you unnatural girl,’ Lady Leaconham had replied, falling back in her chair with her vinaigrette clutched in her hand. ‘What is Garston thinking of to agree to such a thing?’
‘He wishes to make up to me for his behaviour at the Rising Sun,’ Kitty explained patiently.
‘He would do better to make up to me by refusing to take you,’ retorted her godmother, taking another sniff of her smelling salts. ‘Oh, dear, what am I to do? Do you not realise the damage to your reputation if word of this gets out?’
‘My dear ma’am, surely there can be no harm in my attending a lecture,’ responded Kitty, amused. ‘It is at Somerset House, and perfectly respectable.’
‘On slavery!’ declared Lady Leaconham. ‘You have no business to be involving yourself in such matters.’
‘My father would not have agreed with you, ma’am,’ returned Kitty, a slight edge to her voice. ‘He considered it every man’s duty to reduce the suffering of others.’ She dropped to her knees beside her godmother’s chair. ‘Dear Godmama, you have such a good, kind nature and you were happy that we should avoid buying sugar from the plantations, were you not? You would not have done that if you did not support the abolition.’
Lady Leaconham eyed her doubtfully.
‘Far be it from me to see any poor creature suffer,’ she said, ‘but with the situation in France, the poor rising up against their masters—it makes people nervous, Kitty. Support for the abolition is fading. It