Radcliffe’s only response was a small smirk, and Kitty’s anger quite boiled over.
‘Is this a joke to you?’ she demanded. ‘Because this is my family at stake, my lord. My ten-year-old sister, Jane, will have nowhere to live if I do not have something to show to the moneylenders who will be banging on our door in less than six weeks.’
He looked taken aback, but she continued mercilessly. ‘My sister, Harriet, is fourteen, and the most romantic creature you ever did meet. I don’t know how I would tell her that she will never be able to marry for love, because I could not secure her future for her. And Beatrice—’
He raised a hand. ‘You have quite made your point,’ he said. She glared at him, chest heaving with the force of her emotion.
‘I apologise,’ he said simply. ‘It will not happen again.’
Kitty blinked, glare dissipating. She had not expected an apology. ‘Thank you,’ she said at last.
They looked at each other for a few moments. ‘I think that is the first time you have actually done what I asked of you, without argument,’ she said, a little uncertainly. She was not sure how to speak to him now that the air was not weighed down by animosity.
‘Am I the only person you have met that does not immediately do your bidding?’ he asked curiously.
‘I suppose I am used to having my way,’ she allowed. ‘I’m the oldest in my family, so perhaps it is force of habit.’
‘Oh, that will be it,’ he agreed at once. ‘Nothing at all to do with the militant planning or iron will, of course.’
Kitty looked at him with a touch of surprise, an ember of warmth lighting in her chest.
‘Why, that almost sounded like a compliment, my lord.’
‘I’m losing my touch, it seems,’ he said. ‘You are, of course, also lacking anything resembling moral integrity, and I imagine that goes a long way towards contributing, too.’
‘Oh, of course,’ she said, smiling. There was no sting in his words, and only humour in his grey eyes, so she found herself quite happy to accept the teasing. She had not been teased in a while, and it felt – not unpleasant.
‘May I procure for you a refreshment, as proof of my apology?’ he asked, proffering an arm. She moved to take it – instinctively, without hesitation, as if this were the hundredth time this had happened, and not the first – before catching herself. She had matters to attend to, and the only men she ought to be spending time on were her suitors.
‘I find I am not thirsty,’ she refused the offer and the arm. ‘You shall owe me a favour instead.’
‘Oh, shall I?’ he asked, lip twitching at her lofty tone. ‘That sounds dangerously vague to me. Are you sure a glass of wine would not do?’
‘I am,’ she said grandly. ‘It shall be a favour of my choosing, at a time of my appointment.’
He eyed her suspiciously. ‘Am I to expect another early morning call? I warn you, Beaverton is now under strict instructions to shoot on sight before ten o’clock.’
She smiled mysteriously. ‘I suppose you shall have to see.’
21
‘And so, I told him …’ Aunt Dorothy gave a dramatic pause, her smile coquettish and intriguing ‘… why would I play whist with a lord, when I could play faro with a prince?’
Lady Radcliffe let out a peal of laughter at the punchline, joined by Mr Fletcher, Mr Sinclair and Lord Derby. Kitty looked on with an indulgent smile. Were Kitty a pettier character, she might find some enjoyment in reminding her aunt that not so many weeks ago it was she who was warning Kitty against the ton with all the doom and gloom she could muster. As it was, Kitty felt no reason to ruin Aunt Dorothy’s fun – so long as it remained firmly within the bounds of propriety, that was. Kitty resolved to keep an eye on her aunt and Lady Radcliffe’s developing friendship. The two ladies had, in recent evenings, taken to flirting with every gentleman that crossed their path with increasing fervour.
They had relaxed a little now, Kitty, Cecily and Aunt Dorothy. The greatest challenges of the Season were behind them; they knew the rules now, they were in and safely so, with nary a whisper of suspicion about them. Aunt Dorothy had even stopped worrying about being recognised, her chief fear of those first few balls, as she walked around eyeing all the men with suspicion. By contrast, just now Mr Fletcher – the newest admirer in Mrs Kendall’s coterie, a silver-haired gentleman with a very distinguished set of side-whiskers – was roguishly challenging her aunt to a duel of whist in the card room, which she accepted without a question. Kitty declined to observe with a smile. She was sure the sight would be impressive – especially since she knew for a fact that Aunt Dorothy was the most accomplished cheat – but Kitty had business to attend to.