‘You cannot,’ Aunt Dorothy finished for her.
‘Mama did not have sisters,’ Kitty pointed out. ‘Perhaps it would have been different if she had.’
‘Perhaps it would,’ Aunt Dorothy agreed. ‘Not all of us can follow our hearts.’
Kitty took a large gulp of tea. That was certainly true.
‘Their lives were not without sacrifice, though,’ Aunt Dorothy reminded her, gently. ‘We of course might wish they had been a little more circumspect financially’ – at this Kitty gave a dry chuckle – ‘but to marry, they had to leave everything behind. Following their hearts did come at a cost.’
‘That is true,’ Kitty said, with a bitter little shrug of her shoulders.
‘I spoke to Mrs Ebdon earlier today,’ Aunt Dorothy said, hoping a change in subject would lighten Kitty’s dark mood. ‘I have mentioned her to you before – Rita runs the faro house on Morwell Street. I was meaning to tell you.’
‘Oh yes?’ Kitty feigned interest.
‘She let slip that the young Mr de Lacy has been getting into an awfully bad crowd. Just gossiping you know – of course I have not told her of the connection between our families – but apparently, he’s been seen parading around Soho in the company of that Selbourne boy. Terrible sort, the kind Rita doesn’t let into her establishment. Cheat on the card table – and partial to opium, too, I’m told.’
‘Mr de Lacy, gambling?’ Kitty was quite taken aback – she had not thought it part of the young man’s character. And while Selbourne had said they were friends, she had originally supposed this to be merely part of his manipulations.
‘And this isn’t something you felt the need to tell your dear friend Lady Radcliffe?’ Kitty asked, pointedly.
Her aunt looked at her as though she was the most foolish creature ever to have existed. ‘And how would I explain my acquaintance with Mrs Ebdon to Lady Radcliffe, hmm? I just thought, given your … friendship with Radcliffe, that you might like to give them a warning.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Kitty said absently. When was the last time she had properly spoken to Mr de Lacy? Several weeks at least. He was, now she considered the matter, making only the most fleeting of appearances at social occasions, if he attended at all. While Kitty might not want to marry the boy any longer, she still did not want him falling prey to a gambling addiction or getting caught up with a disreputable crowd. He had a good heart and wore it quite on his sleeve – and she of all people should know how easy this made him to manipulate.
Kitty vowed to warn Radcliffe of the danger at the earliest moment, which – fortuitously – turned out to be the very next night. Kitty did not look for him – there never seemed to be a need – but no sooner had the clock struck eleven, than he appeared at her side.
‘For you,’ he announced, offering her a flute that glittered even in the muted light.
‘Is it poisoned?’ she asked, with faux suspicion.
‘No, no. If I wanted to murder you, I can think of far better means than that,’ Lord Radcliffe said, tilting his head in consideration.
‘Yes, I suppose you could just bludgeon me,’ Kitty suggested. ‘Less elegant, but possibly simpler, and there’s no lack of convenient places to dispose of an unwanted body around London.’
He looked at her sideways. ‘I am alarmed to hear you have given the matter so much thought. Perhaps it is I who should be worried?’
She shook her head, smiling, and took a sip of the champagne for courage. ‘Actually, I did have something I wanted to speak to you about.’
‘Oh yes? And how went the clash of the Titans?’ Radcliffe asked. At her questioning look, he clarified, ‘Did you manage to charm Mrs Pemberton into submission?’
‘Oh, it went quite well,’ Kitty said as brightly as she could. ‘She’s a very strange woman, certainly, but by the end of our time together she quite approved. Pemberton tells me that she is a romantic at heart and is pleased that he has secured a love match.’
Radcliffe choked. ‘A love match?’ he said, incredulously. ‘Miss Talbot, doing it far too brown, indeed.’
‘It will be! At least on his part, and that comes to much the same thing,’ Kitty insisted, a slight blush on her cheeks. Radcliffe enjoyed her discomfiture for a few moments – for it was seldom won and should thus be properly relished as a rare delicacy.
‘He will propose tomorrow,’ she said, holding her chin high, and he felt some of his good humour dissipate.