“Oh, the countess! That’s all you care about!”

“Of course that’s all I care about! That’s why I married you!” he said.

“And that’s why you would bed me! Not because you wished to! Nor because I am pretty or—or—Oh, you are selfish beyond belief! I am nothing! My life, my past—my identity, even!—is nothing, except as it is useful to you, Claud. And now you will not take me for your wife, despite the fact that I have spent the whole day in a state of high anxiety only waiting for this moment!” Her voice thickened. “And it will be all to do again when you decide it must be done, after all, and you won’t care if I die of apprehension!”

A burst of sobs ended this speech. Aghast at her words, Claud sat irresolute, unable to think what to do. His conscience pricked at him. He looked at Kitty, all tousled hair and her face crumpled in distress, and instinct took over. The next moment she was in his arms, and his lips were buried in her neck….

Kitty

Harlequin Historical #178

Dear Reader,

I have often thought with sympathy of that army of sad spinsters in bygone days whose lot in life was to be a governess. Without means, marriage was out of the question, and so they entered alien households to work as a tutor.

In the Georgian world of my creation, three such young ladies, devoted friends, are just emerging from a charitable seminary in Paddington, where they have been prepared for just such a life.

First comes tender Prudence, a softhearted creature, who is hopelessly outclassed by the enterprising twin nieces of Julius Rookham. Resentful of his amusement at her struggles, Prue finds her unruly heart nevertheless warms to her employer.

Then there is practical Nell, buoyed up by a commonsense approach to the strange goings-on in the Gothic castle of a brooding widower and the erratic behavior of his little daughter. Yet she is drawn to the mystery of Lord Jarrow’s tortured past, and all Nell’s considerable strength of mind cannot prevent her from falling into a dangerous attraction.

Lastly, there is fanciful Kitty, the only one of the trio to escape the future mapped out for her. But her reality is a far cry from the golden ambition of her dreams.

I dedicate these stories to those unsung heroines condemned to a life of drudgery, who deserve all the romance they can get.

Kitty
Elizabeth Bailey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Available from Harlequin® Historical and ELIZABETH BAILEY

The Veiled Bride #152

Prudence #162

Nell #168

Kitty #178

ELIZABETH BAILEY

grew up in Malawi, then worked as an actress in British theater. Her interest in writing grew, at length overtaking acting. Instead, she taught drama, developing a third career as a playwright and director. She finds this a fulfilling combination, for each activity fuels the others, firing an incurably romantic imagination. Elizabeth lives in Sussex, England.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

No warning of impending disaster struck the sleepy village of Paddington. A kindly sun obligingly cast its warmth upon the grateful inhabitants, while May bees and butterflies flitted about their business in the hedgerows. The carter’s horse plodded slowly around the confines of the Green, and the baker’s boy, sauntering from the shop to set out upon the next of his deliveries, let out a jaunty whistle.

He gave a cheery wave as he took in the identity of the young lady perched upon the fence that edged the Green, alongside the road leading to Edgware and thence to the metropolis. The baker’s boy was scarce to blame for missing the tell-tale reddened eyes, their brown the more lustrous for having being drowned in tears, for Miss Katherine Merrick undoubtedly added something to the picturesque scene.

A quantity of lush black curls descended halfway down her back, escaping from under a straw hat that framed a countenance undeniably lovely. A straight nose and a pretty mouth, just now turned down in discontent, were worthy of an ensemble more becoming than the dimity gown of faded pink, with its unfashionably low waist and three-quarter sleeves, and the short hem revealing more than a glimpse of the white cotton hose that Miss Merrick thoroughly detested.

Truth to tell, the young lady loathed every item she had on, from the ancient black shoes to the unmentionable undergarments that confined her curvaceous figure in the least flattering way. The gown was only marginally less hateful than the rest. Only how was one to manage upon a paltry income of three shillings a week?

It was through the agency of the upper maid at the Paddington Charitable Seminary for Indigent Young Ladies—which had been Miss Merrick’s home for more years than she cared to count—that she had acquired the pink cast-off gown. Where Parton got it, she could not have said. Indeed, she took care not to enquire too closely.

‘Let’s just say as I’ve a friend of a friend as is friend to a parlour maid in the house of a great lady hereabouts. And this one will be three shillings, if it’s to your liking, Miss Kitty.’

It was not much to Kitty’s liking, but for want of any other means of augmenting her wardrobe with anything fit to wear besides the horrid grey Seminary uniform, she had handed over the entirety of the week’s wages. Now that she was no longer strictly a pupil, Mrs Duxford had decreed that she must receive a little something for her services. And not before time! It was more than a month since she had been dragooned into the trying task of inculcating a modicum of grace into the clodhopping feet of the junior girls. It was like teaching a roomful of elephants!

Kitty dabbed at her eyes again with the sodden pocket-handkerchief. Perhaps she had best swallow her yearnings and take up the latest in a series of beastly posts the Duck wished to thrust upon her. Only what hope had she of emulating the success of her dearest friends as governess in a household where the eldest son was but eleven years of age, and there was not a widower in sight?

A fresh deluge of tears cascaded down her cheeks at the melancholy remembrance of Helen Faraday’s coming nuptials. The letter handed over to Kitty at breakfast this morning by Mr Duxford, who always dealt with the post, had been couched in rhapsodic terms wholly unlike Nell’s usual manner. Kitty held the handkerchief to her eyes as she vainly attempted to stem the flow. She was happy for Nell, she told herself miserably. Had she not predicted this outcome the moment she had heard of the widowed Lord Jarrow and his Gothic castle? She had told Nell to fall in love with him, and her friend had done it within a few short weeks. While as for Prue—! Who would have thought that so unpromising a creature would have captured any man’s romantic fancy? Mrs Rookham she was now, and disgustingly happy. It was too bad!

But no sooner had this unkind thought passed through her mind than Kitty chided herself for a beast. She could not envy darling Prue. Nor would Kitty have settled for a mere mister! But it was hard indeed to be the only one left, and with no prospects. Of the three, she had been the one to repudiate the future to which she had been raised, and if she ended after all as a governess, it would be the greatest injustice imaginable!

There was but one consolation, her present status permitting her to escape now and then upon the flimsiest of pretexts. This morning she had volunteered to nip out to the village shop in order to procure three pairs of the regulation hose for the latest orphaned arrival, along with a toothbrush and a tin of toothpowder—essential items that had been mysteriously forgotten by the persons who brought the child. Having made the purchases, Kitty had thrust them into her inner pockets and dawdled in the shop as long as she dared without buying anything more. Having used every penny of the last of her pupil’s allowance, as well as her new wage, she had no money left to spend.

But the thought of returning to the Seminary, and to the task of listening—her unenviable occupation now of a Friday afternoon—to one of the worst-fingered pupils in the place practising upon the pianoforte, was altogether unbearable. Especially at a time when she was severely moved by Nell’s good fortune—and no privacy in which to indulge it. The two other beds in her shared accommodation were now occupied by girls much younger than herself. Seventeen and eighteen—and Kitty was one and twenty in all but a month or two.

One and twenty! It was all of a piece. By rights she should have made her come-out and been long betrothed, if some ill-disposed person had not cut her off from the heritage she was convinced should have been hers. And condemning her thereby to a life of drudgery. She was the unluckiest female in the world!

A sound unusual in this out-of-the-way village penetrated her self-absorption. A vehicle coming down the lane, and drawn by several horses? It could not be the stage, for Mr King’s coach boasted but one pair, and it was travelling too fast for a carrier. Distracted from her troubles by an idle curiosity, Kitty looked towards the sound, which was coming from the direction of Westbourn Green.

Around the corner swept a team of matched greys, drawing a smart-looking open carriage. It was driven by a man who looked to be a gentleman, with a liveried fellow up beside him, whom she took to be his groom. Tutored by her avid reading, Kitty recognised a fashionable spencer in the short green jacket, worn over a brown frock coat, the whole topped by a stylish hat. She watched the approach of the carriage with a feeling of envy. How she would love to be driven in so dashing a vehicle! Was it a curricle?

The carriage sailed by, and Kitty could not help but preen herself a little upon seeing its occupant glance in her direction. Especially when she thought she caught an expletive bursting from his lips. She was used to being an object of male attention, even if her admirers were for the most part bucolic yokels like the baker’s boy. It did her heart good to know that her features had caught the interest of a personage of this calibre.

And then Kitty realised that the carriage was slowing. In some surprise, she watched it come to a halt, and saw the groom jump down and run to the heads of the leading pair of horses. Had the driver mistaken the way? A riffle disturbed her pulses as an enticing thought struck her. Perhaps he took her for a village maiden, and had leaped to the notion of indulging in a little flirtation.

The horses began to back, guided by the groom, and Kitty experienced a moment of doubt. Hitherto, her flirtations had been confined to the ilk of old Mr Fotherby, who lived in the house at the top of the Green, and knew how to keep the line. Lord, what if this man were to—

There was time for no more, for the carriage was coming level with where she perched, the gentleman’s attention fully directed upon Kitty. She took in a vaguely pleasing countenance, just now marred by a heavy frown, and a glimpse of yellow hair under the wide-brimmed beaver, brown in colour. And then the gentleman addressed her, in strongly indignant tones.

‘I thought it was you! Dash it, Kate, what the deuce are you about? How did you get here? You haven’t run away, have you, silly wench? Didn’t I tell you not to fret?’

As Kitty stared at him, utterly bemused, his glance raked the surrounding area and came back to her face, a pair of blue eyes popping at her.

‘What the devil—? Have you come here alone? Where’s your maid? Gad, Aunt Silvia will be having a blue fit! I’d best take you home without more ado. Come, get off that fence and hop up!’

Bewilderment gave way to wrath, and Kitty found her tongue. ‘I shall do no such thing! Who are you? I do not know you, nor have I heard of your aunt Silvia, and I’ll thank you to take yourself off, sir!’

‘Oh, will you?’ muttered the gentleman grimly. ‘Stop playing games, Kate, for the Lord’s sake!’

‘I am not Kate,’ stated Kitty bluntly. ‘I do not know who you are, and my name is Kitty.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ argued the young man. ‘Kitty indeed! Never heard such flimflam.’

‘It’s the truth!’

‘And I’m a Dutchman.’

Kitty blinked. ‘Are you? You sound English to me.’

The young man groaned. ‘I’ll throttle you in a minute! Now be sensible, there’s a good girl. Leave off joking, for I haven’t got all day.’

Kitty began to feel desperate. ‘Sir, I am not joking. You are quite unknown to me. I am not this Kate, whoever she may be, and—’

‘Next you’ll be telling me I’m not your cousin Claud!’

‘I haven’t got a cousin Claud! Indeed, I have no cousin at all.’

Claud—if that was indeed the gentleman’s name—gazed at her in a look compound of disbelief and frustration. Kitty pursued what she perceived to be an advantage, and assumed as haughty a mien as she could.

‘Be pleased to drive on, sir.’

The gentleman threw his eyes to heaven. ‘Will you stop behaving like a third-rate play-actress? Are you going to get into this curricle, or do I come and get you?’

A rise of apprehension made Kitty grasp tightly to the bar of the fence upon which she was perched. Was the man mad? Her voice quivered a little as she tried again to disabuse him of his strange delusion.

‘Sir, I have n-never set eyes on you in my life! You are m-mistaken in me, I do assure you, and I most certainly will not get into your curricle.’

The gentleman cursed fluently, and called to his groom. ‘Hold them steady, Docking. I’ll have to get down.’

Seeing him move to alight from the curricle, Kitty jumped hastily off the fence and made a dash for safety, running away from the vehicle in the direction of the little bank of shops to one end of the Green. The thunder of feet in pursuit threw her heart into her mouth, and she gasped her fright as a hand seized her from behind.

‘No, you don’t!’

Kitty shrieked, trying to pull away, as the relentless young gentleman tugged her round to face him. Panic took her.

‘Let me go! Let me go!’

But his hold instead strengthened upon her arms, and he berated her with some heat. ‘Will you stop making such a cake of yourself? Enacting me a tragedy in the middle of the street, silly chit! Come on!’

‘I won’t! Let me go!’

‘Kate, I won’t brook your defiance! Get into the carriage!’

Glancing wildly round for succour, Kitty saw only the empty Green. The hideous truth of a quiet country village hit her. There was no one to come to her aid! Those few inhabitants round about would be stuck in their parlours or out in the gardens that looked away from the Green. And there was little to hope for from the proprietors of the few shops for which she had been headed, who were in all likelihood snoring at their posts. She was alone with a madman, whose tight hold she could by no means shake off.

Sheer fright drove her then, and she fought like a tigress, shrieking protests and imprecations as her captor struggled to control her.

‘You won’t make me! Beast! Brute! How dare you?’

‘If you won’t come quietly, I’ll pick you up and carry you!’

But Kitty was beyond reason, yowling as much with rage, as panic, as she tried to break free. The man let go of her, and Kitty staggered back, almost losing her balance.

‘All right, young Kate, you asked for it!’

How it happened, Kitty could not have said, but the next instant, she found herself flung over the gentleman’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Half-winded and distressingly uncomfortable, Kitty was borne resistless to the curricle and dumped down without ceremony on to the seat, where she sat mumchance and numb with shock. She gazed in a bemused fashion as her assailant, panting a little, collected up his hat, which had fallen off in the struggle, clapped it back on his head, and leaped nimbly up into his seat, where he settled himself and gathered up the reins.

The horses were given the office to start and the curricle rumbled down the road. The groom jumped up behind as it passed him, and Paddington Green began to recede as it dawned on Kitty that she was being abducted.

Her heart began to hammer. In a shaking voice, she informed her captor of his iniquity. ‘You are the h-horridest man I have ever met in my l-life! Set me down at once! Stop the carriage, I tell you!’

‘Screech as much as you like. It won’t make a ha’p’orth of difference.’

Kitty looked back and saw the familiar Paddington landmarks disappearing rapidly behind them. In a few moments, they would be turning into the Edgware Road. The heavy thump at her chest almost overwhelmed her, and she could barely get the words out.

‘This is—is k-kidnapping! You—you may go to p-prison for it!’

But the heartless creature, who, in a few short moments, had turned her world upside down—literally too!—had no other answer for her than a mocking laugh. For a hazardous instant or two, Kitty contemplated jumping from the curricle. But it was travelling faster than she could ever have imagined, and as her glance raked the swiftly passing road beneath the carriage, her imagination presented her with a hideous picture of broken limbs, or worse. Her eyes swept the road ahead, where the rapid approach of the fork told her that hope of a swift return to the safety of the Seminary was receding all too fast. Fright enveloped her, and she descended to pleading.

‘Oh, pray, sir, take me back! Indeed, I do not know you, and there will assuredly be the most dreadful uproar when you discover your mistake. Pray, pray stop now, before it is too late!’

A brief glance came her way, and the gentleman addressed her in a conversational way. ‘That’s very good, Kate. Never knew you were such an actress. You’d best get up some theatricals and give yourself some scope.’

Despair gripped Kitty. Could she make no impression upon him? His conviction of this false identity appeared unshakeable. What could she say to make him recognise that he was making an error, which could not fail to have serious repercussions? She clenched her hands in her lap as the curricle slowed for the turn into Edgware Road.

‘You will not believe me, but you will be sorry presently, I promise you.’

His head turned. ‘I should dashed well think I will be, if Aunt Silvia chooses to cut up rough! If I don’t get you back as fast as bedamned, as sure as check she will have gone to the Countess in hysterics, and then the fat will be in the fire, and no mistake!’

Kitty caught her breath against a rising sob. ‘I think you are mad! And if you are not put in prison for this day’s work, very likely you will end in Bedlam.’

‘Ha! Hark at the pot calling the kettle black! The only thing that would put me in Bedlam is finding that I’ve got to marry you, after all. Which is what the Countess is bound to say if she gets wind of this escapade.’

So saying, he put the horses into the corner at a speed that raised the hairs on the back of Kitty’s neck. The curricle swerved horribly and she clutched hastily at the side, fearful of being overturned. But within seconds, the vehicle had made the turn and was running straight and true down the Edgware Road.

It was a moment or two before Kitty’s fright abated enough to think over what he had said. Not that it made sense. Had he mentioned marriage? Certainly, his words bore out that he truly had mistaken her for another. Was she so much like this Kate?

He turned his head again and the blue eyes raked her. ‘What in Hades possessed you, Kate? Thought you were a biddable girl. Can’t blame you for rebelling, for I want the match as little as you do. Only why go to these lengths? Told you I had the matter in hand, didn’t I? Should have known I’m not the fellow to let myself be pushed into it when the female ain’t willing. I know my mother’s a tartar, but I ain’t about to knuckle under over this, and so I tell you!’

Kitty began to be curious, despite her lurking apprehension. ‘Is your family then constraining you to marry your cousin?’

She received a disgusted look. ‘Don’t start all that again! As if you were indeed someone other than Kate.’

The curiosity turned to annoyance. ‘But I have told you so! Why you should mistake me for your cousin, I cannot tell, but I am not she.’

‘I’ve had enough of this!’ He glanced over his shoulder to address his groom. ‘Docking, who is this female?’

Kitty turned in her seat and found the liveried fellow grinning. ‘Why, it’s Miss Katherine, me lord.’

‘And what relation is she to me?’

‘Cousin, me lord, being as your ma and her ma be sisters.’

The blue gaze swung back upon Kitty. ‘I rest my case.’

But Kitty’s attention had caught upon the manner of the groom’s address. Almost she held her breath. ‘Are you indeed a lord?’

‘Don’t be a nodcock, Kate. You know I am.’

Kitty experienced a jolting leap in her chest, and turned to stare at the gentlemen’s profile. He looked to be pleasant enough—if only she had not discovered him to be anything but!—for his features were clean cut and even, the nose straight and true, the lip rounded. She had taken in little in the brief glimpse she’d had of his hair, except that it was of pale gold. But there was something about the chin. Kitty examined the chin with a certain intentness. It was not a heavy jaw, by any means, only that chin had a stubborn jut. Which explained why his character did not match his appearance! Only he was a lord.

‘Your name is Claud?’ she ventured.

‘Devil take it, Kate, will you stop this?’

Then she had recalled it aright. ‘And you are unmarried?’

‘They could scarce be constraining me to marry you if I wasn’t.’

A daring thought occurred to Kitty, and her heart jumbled its beat. ‘Is it not the case that if you ruin my reputation by abducting me, you ought in honour to offer me marriage?’

‘Lord above!’ Claud’s horrified gaze swept hers. ‘What the deuce will you be at? You ran off only because you don’t want to marry me, didn’t you?’

The daring notion died at birth. Kitty sighed. ‘I keep telling you I am not your cousin. It is true that my name is Katherine, but—’

‘Listen!’ begged Claud. ‘I don’t know what your game is, but I’m at the end of my rope! Any more, and I’ll tie something round your mouth, so you can’t talk!’

Having no reason to disbelieve him—had not the brute thrown her pell-mell over his shoulder in that horrid way?—Kitty refrained from responding in kind and subsided into brooding silence. The pace of the curricle picked up, causing a wind to fly at her for which she was most unsuitably clad. Realisation hit, and the pit of her stomach vanished. She was being driven to London, with nothing but the clothes upon her back! She would likely die of exposure, if she did not expire from sheer terror.

The shock of her enforced capture had in fact receded, although Kitty could not subdue the leaping apprehension. That she had been mistaken for another could not be in doubt, and what would happen when her captor discovered it, she dared not think. Not that she was in any way to blame! If there was any justice, this Claud must acknowledge it. Surely, he would make her reparation? At least he must find a way to send her back to the Seminary.

That he would opt to send her back was all too likely, Kitty reflected a little despondently. He showed no sign of being attracted to her. He clearly did not wish to marry his cousin. And since Kitty evidently resembled her, she could not suppose he would wish to marry her either. A pity, for she desperately wanted to marry a lord! Still, it might not be comfortable to be wed to a stranger, and it was apparent that it would be difficult to bring this Claud up to scratch.

Besides, he was a brute! She recalled the rough treatment she had received at his hands—and the recent threat—with a resurgence of outrage. Oh, but she would serve him out for it! Only wait until he discovered his mistake. For discover it he must, sooner or later. However much she resembled his cousin—

The thought died. Kitty’s pulse did a rapid tattoo and shot into a wild thumping that echoed in her ears. Why had she not thought of it at once? If she was this alike to an unknown female, there could be only one explanation. She had stumbled inadvertently upon a member of her lost family.

Buried in his own thoughts, Claud, Viscount Devenick, paid scant heed to his cousin beside him, although she came within the scope of his ruminations. His temper had cooled, but he was at a loss to account for Kate’s freakish conduct. Not that he would question her again. If she meant to persist with this ridiculous masquerade, it would only drive him up into the boughs. Thank the Lord she had ceased her nonsensical arguing. Did she think he truly would have gagged her? Should have known him better. Clearly she did not, as this escapade proved. Silly chit hadn’t trusted him!

He reminded himself that she was only eighteen and just out this season. From the vantage point of five and twenty, it was clear how readily this escapade could put the cat among the pigeons. Faced with a niece who ran away rather than marry her cousin, ten to one his mother would force him to the altar on the pretext that Kate had blasted her reputation.

Not that he was such a nodcock as not to realise why Lady Blakemere had taken this notion into her head. If it hadn’t been for Grandmama’s promised legacy to the girl to give her a decent dowry, the scheme would not have occurred to the Countess. As if he hadn’t enough money of his own! And all his mother would keep saying was that the Dowager Duchess’s money ought to be kept in the family. A pity he had no brother instead of three sisters. It would have made sense for a younger son to dangle after the loot. But not for Claud to tie himself up in matrimony to Kate, of all girls under the sun!

She was comely enough, but what man wanted to wed his cousin? Besides, she was a thought too much of a milk-and-water miss for his taste. Which made her conduct today all the more incomprehensible. He’d never known the chit to be so flighty, nor to face him down as she had. A faint stirring of interest rose up. Perhaps there was more to young Kate than he had thought. He turned to glance at her, and found her studying him, her dark brows lowering. Claud shot instantly to the attack.

‘What are you scowling for? You should be grateful to me.’

She continued to stare at him, a pout forming on her lips.

‘Lost your tongue?’ demanded Claud crossly. ‘Answer me, can’t you?’

It was too much. Kitty lost her temper.

‘Answer me, can’t you!’ she echoed, in almost exact imitation of his tone. ‘Why should I answer you, when you can think of nothing better to do than to threaten me? Is it not enough that you have dragged me by force into your carriage?’

‘That was your own fault, Kate. Why couldn’t you come quietly? Fought like a wildcat!’

‘And I would do so again!’

But to his utter bewilderment, the chit abruptly burst into tears. Claud was thrown into instant disorder. He hadn’t meant to make her cry.

‘Hey, no need to turn into a watering pot!’

‘Yes, there is,’ sobbed Kitty, hunting frantically for her pocket-handkerchief. ‘You don’t know what you’ve done, and I can’t tell you. Except that it is terrible!’

Unable to find the handkerchief, Kitty recalled that she’d had it in her hand when this infamous Claud had come upon her. It must have been lost in the struggle. She sniffed, turning on her abductor.

‘And you made me lose my handkerchief!’

He transferred the reins to his left hand and dug the right into a pocket of his frock coat. ‘Here.’

Kitty snatched the snowy white pocket-handkerchief he presented to her and defiantly blew her nose, wiping away her tears. The desire to weep was receding, but she did not return the handkerchief, instead jerking it between her fingers in a nervous fashion. The wind had begun to make her feel chilled, reminding her of the woeful lack in her costume. She looked round at the author of her plight.

‘Do you realise that you have brought me away without a stitch to wear besides this gown?’

The blue gaze travelled briefly down her person and returned to the road. ‘Beats me why you’d want the thing! Where did you get it? You look like the farmer’s daughter in her Sunday best.’

‘How hateful of you to say so! I know it is not fashionable, but—’

‘If you take my advice, you’ll burn it.’

‘Burn it!’ shrieked Kitty, outraged. ‘It cost me three whole shillings!’

He looked round again, a critical frown between his fair brows. ‘You were robbed. Mind you, I can’t think why you didn’t provide yourself at least with a cloak. Featherbrained, that’s what you are, young Kate.’

Kitty glared at him. ‘Why should I take a cloak merely for a trip to the shops on the Green on a day like this?’

But Claud was not attending. It had been borne in upon him that his idiotic cousin was shivering. Why she must need escape without proper preparation, he was at a loss to understand. Silly chit hadn’t a brain in her head. Thank the Lord he had held steadfast against marrying the wench!

He slowed the carriage, and called over his shoulder to the groom. ‘Docking, is there a blanket in this thing?’

‘Under the seat, me lord.’

Kitty, who had been lost in the realisation that everything she owned was at the Seminary, came to herself as the carriage was pulled up. Her abductor was rummaging under the seat, and Kitty briefly thought of taking a chance and jumping down. Only he would be bound to come after her, and would have no difficulty in catching her. Besides, how in the world would she manage, left in the middle of the highway, with no notion where she was and no means of getting herself back to Paddington?

Claud straightened, and shaking out the blanket he had found, slung it carelessly around Kitty’s shoulders.

‘Wrap yourself in this.’

Regretfully abandoning the opportunity for escape, Kitty huddled herself into the new warmth. Gratitude swept through her, and without thinking, she smiled at Claud for the first time in this nightmare journey.

‘Thank you.’

For a moment, Claud stared at his cousin’s features, oddly troubled by the look that accompanied the smile. It vanished abruptly.

‘Oh, Lord! What in the world will the Duck say when she finds me gone?’

‘Duck? What duck?’ demanded Claud, bewildered. ‘What the devil has a duck to say to anything?’

But Kitty, reminded by the idea of Paddington, had realised that in all the horror of her capture, she had forgotten Mrs Duxford. She was supposed in the afternoon to mind the pupils who were practising the pianoforte. When it was found that she had been missing throughout, the Duck was bound to think she was up to mischief. What if it was discovered that she had left the village in company with a strange man? Suppose someone had seen him forcing her into his curricle? She would be utterly ruined.

Almost the thought of Mrs Duxford’s inevitable rage made her wish she might never go back. Only the apprehension of what might be awaiting her in the immediate future was worse. If indeed, this abominable Claud’s cousin Kate was so very much her image. It must be her family! She had longed to find out the truth of her background—believing all these years that it had been kept from her deliberately. But now that the opportunity had arisen, she was more afraid than she had thought possible. They had not wanted her. How would they react if she were thrust upon them?

The curricle had been on the move again for some while, and Kitty sat silent, from time to time contemplating the profile of the perpetrator of the evils that were gathering about her. What would he say and do when he discovered his mistake? Worse, what would these unknown relatives say?

Time began to have no meaning, and Kitty could not have said how long she had been travelling when she noticed that the passing scenery had begun to change, the rural aspect of the country giving way to an urban feel. The traffic became steadily heavier, with more people shifting on the roadside. They must be approaching the capital.

‘Where are we?’

‘Coming up to Tyburn Gate.’

‘Then we are almost in London!’

Despite the invidious nature of her situation and the horrid uncertainty of her future, Kitty was conscious of a burgeoning excitement. How she had longed to come here! What dreams she’d had of the soirées and balls she would attend; the masquerades and theatres; and the fashionable Bond Street shops!

She gazed about her with new interest, drinking in the sight of persons of all description trotting to and fro. Here a liveried servant, hastening with a message perhaps. There a female in clogs with a yoke about her neck, crying wares which Kitty could not identify. Red-coated soldiers stood about a tavern at the roadside, and several official-looking men were to be seen hurrying into a building, while a fellow in rough garments, with a straw in his mouth, leaned against a wall.

The noise grew to a din. Rumbling wheels, cries from the street, and the yapping of dogs mingled with a clattering and hammering that came at Kitty from all directions. She almost put her hands over her ears. But she was distracted by a series of emanating aromas that assailed her nostrils one after the other. Strongest amongst these was the ordure from the many horses, swept to one side by an industrious boy. But through that, Kitty identified the smell of manly sweat here, and there that of fresh baked bread. Confusion swamped her.

Huddling in her blanket, she felt altogether inadequate, and ill equipped for this great city. Without realising what she did, she drew nearer to the man at her side. Despite his horrid conduct, he was her only hope of succour. She had no clothes, no money, and no prospect of remedy. And at any minute, she would be facing the consequences of her abductor’s rash actions.

At last, the curricle entered a less noisome part of the town, coming into a tree-lined avenue that ran beside a large park. She pointed.

‘What is that, please?’

Claud started out of a reverie. ‘Eh?’

‘Is it Hyde Park, perhaps?’

Irritation shook him once again. ‘Thank the Lord we’re almost there! If I had to take much more, young Kate, I couldn’t answer for the consequences.’

He found himself under scrutiny from his cousin’s brown eyes, a disconcerting expression in them.

‘Where are you taking me?’

Claud sighed. ‘To the Haymarket, of course. Where else should I take you but to your own home? Unless my aunt has already gone to the Countess in Grosvenor Square. In which case, we’ll have to concoct some tale to account for your absence. Though I’m hanged if I can think what!’

He glanced at her again as he spoke, and the oddest sensation came to him. For a flicker of time, he wondered if the chit was indeed someone else. Then he shook off the moment. It was just what she wanted him to think, he dared say. And the moment he admitted he had a doubt, Kate would laugh him out of court.

‘Still beats me why you did this, young Kate. What did you hope to gain?’

Kitty had no answer. Since he would not accept the truth—and showed an alarming tendency to brutishness in anger!—she judged it prudent to evade the question.

‘I know you will come to regret your actions this day, sir,’ she said instead. ‘Only I hope you will be gentleman enough not to blame me for it in the end.’

‘Still at it, eh? Well, I’ve done. We’ll see how you persist when my aunt has an attack of the vapours!’

If anyone deserved to have the vapours, it was herself, Kitty decided. For as they drew nearer and nearer to the destination he had outlined, the thought of what she might discover at the other end all but crushed her.

The house at which the curricle drew up at length was very fine. A tall building of grey stone, with a narrow porticoed entrance, one of a row that had been built in much the same design.

Kitty’s heartbeat became flurried again as the groom leaped from his perch and ran first to the great front door, where he tugged on a bell hanging to one side. As he returned to go to the horses’ heads, she was impelled to make one last appeal before Claud could alight.

‘Sir, pray listen to me!’

His head turned, but his manner was impatient. ‘What’s to do, Kate? Let’s get in and get this over with.’

He was still holding the reins and his whip, and Kitty reached out an unconscious hand to grasp his arm.

‘You are making a grave mistake,’ she said tensely. ‘I very much fear that you may be opening a closet in which I will be found to be the skeleton.’

Claud cast up his eyes. ‘Will you have done?’

He turned away without waiting for her answer. Next moment, he had leaped down and was handing both reins and whip to the groom, who left the horses to take them. Vaguely Kitty was aware that the groom was swinging himself up into the driving seat. But her eyes were upon Claud as he came around the back of the carriage to her side. He held up his hands to her.

‘Come on, I’ll lift you down.’

There was no help for it. Kitty let the blanket fall away and half-rose, moving to find the step. But two strong hands seized her by the waist. There was an instant of helplessness, and she grasped at his convenient shoulders. Then she was set upon her feet, the hands shifting to her arms to steady her. Kitty felt strangely light-headed, and was conscious of warmth where his gloved hands touched her.

She looked up into his face, and found the blue eyes had softened.

‘You’re a confounded nuisance, young Kate. But I’ll stand buff, never fear. I won’t let Aunt Silvia bully you!’

This from one who had bullied her unmercifully! Kitty had no words left for protest, for the unpleasant behaviour of her heart was giving her enough to contend with. An imposing individual of great girth and age had opened the door of the Haymarket house. Kitty allowed herself to be shepherded up the short flight of steps and meekly followed the gentleman inside.

The hall into which she stepped was long and somewhat narrow, with a staircase towards the back. There was space only for a table to one side with a gilded mirror above, together with a hat stand and a porter’s chair.

Claud stripped off his gloves and handed them, together with his hat, to his aunt’s butler. The fellow was fortunately too discreet to say anything, he thought, as he briefly checked his image in the mirror and passed a hand across the cropped blond locks to straighten them. One could not blame the butler for the look he had cast upon Kate, following in his wake. Not that Tufton gave himself away by so much as a flicker. But the fellow could scarcely fail to have been astonished.

‘Is my aunt in, Tufton?’

‘To you, m’lord, yes.’

‘In the yellow saloon, is she?’

The butler bowed. ‘As is her custom, m’lord. She is with—’

But Claud was already ascending the staircase, turning to ensure that Kate was following. There was not a dog’s chance of keeping this escapade from his aunt, so there was nothing for it but to beard her at once. At least she had not run to his mother. One might entertain some hope of brushing through this with the minimum of fuss. He turned to his cousin as he reached the first floor.

‘Looks as if your mama ain’t blown the whistle, in which case you may escape with a scold.’ Her eyes were as round as saucers. The wench looked scared to death! ‘It’s all right, silly chit. She can’t bite you.’

Kitty swallowed on the choking feeling occasioned by the frantic beating at her bosom. Her hands were trembling, and she was obliged to clasp them together. Her legs felt like jelly, but she trod resolutely behind Claud, her eyes on the back of his fair head, as he strode purposefully for a little way down a corridor and stopped outside one of a series of doors of dark wood. He gave her an encouraging wink.

‘Here goes!’

And then the door was open, and there was nothing to do but to square her shoulders and walk into the unknown.

Claud let his cousin precede him, and then strolled into the well-known yellow saloon. It was aptly named, with walls covered in a paper of dull mustard, striped in gilt that was rubbed away in places. The Hepplewhite chairs of mahogany were cushioned at the seat in faded yellow brocade, and cracked gilding enhanced the mantel as well as the stain-spotted mirror above. That it was a family room was evidenced by the general air of dilapidation, the plethora of knick-knacks and ornaments placed upon every surface, and the wear in the brown patterned rug.

His aunt Silvia, a matron with a tendency to corpulence, and attired most unsuitably in a gown fashionably waisted below her ample bosom, was seated in a striped sofa of yellow and brown set close to the fireside—although there were no coals burning there today. The small table to one side held a jumble of the impedimenta required by a knitter. And on the sofa beside her, holding up between her hands a skein of wool in order to enable his aunt to wind it into a ball, sat a young female whom Claud knew almost as well as he knew himself.

In the blankest amazement, he stood staring at his cousin. The deuce! If Kate was sitting there, then who in the name of all the gods was the girl by his side? And why was she the living spit of the Honourable Katherine Rothley?

Chapter Two

At the back of Claud’s mind hovered a realisation that both aunt and cousin, having caught sight of the girl, were staring in a species of shock. But the recognition that he had made a colossal blunder—had not the chit said so over and over?—made him address his immediate feelings to the stranger herself.

‘Hang it all, I’ve made a mistake! Deuced sorry for it—er—’ what in the world was he to call her? ‘—ma’am, only you look so alike! Don’t know who you may be, but I’ve obviously dragged you off to no purpose.’

The girl made no reply. He could not be sure she had heard him. She was in the devil of a tremble, that he could see. Not surprising. He was a thought shaken himself!

A faint moan turned his attention back to the sofa. To his deep dismay, his aunt Silvia had turned ashen. The ball of wool she had been holding had fallen from her grasp and was rolling unchecked across the carpet, unwinding as it went. At any other time, Claud would have leaped to retrieve it, but the sight of his aunt’s pallid features, accompanied by a series of palpitating moans that began to issue from her mouth, had thoroughly unnerved him. An attack of the vapours! That was all he needed!

The matron toppled backwards, falling against the upholstered back of the sofa, her eyes rolling alarmingly in their sockets and showing white. Claud darted forward and checked again, irresolute.

But his cousin, whose own rapt attention had been all upon the unknown female, had started at her mother’s collapse and jumped up, her skein of wool discarded. She seized her mother by the shoulders.

‘Mama! What is the matter? Mama, pray!’

Claud took a hand, moving to the sofa. ‘No use shaking her like that, silly chit! Here, let me. Haven’t you any smelling salts? Give me another cushion!’

In a moment, he had arranged his aunt more comfortably upon the sofa, her head resting upon two cushions. His cousin had darted to an escritoire and was rummaging in a drawer. Claud stood back, looking down at the stricken matron in no small degree of perturbation.

Her breathing was shallow, shown by the rapid rise and fall of her overlarge bosom, and her eyes, sinking into the plump folds of flesh, were closed. But she had not quite fainted away, Claud decided, for a series of protesting groans were escaping from her lips. She had no colour, and it was clear to the meanest intelligence that she had sustained a severe shock.

Claud glanced at the cause of it, and found the girl standing just where he had left her, staring round-eyed at the appalling result of her sudden appearance in the yellow saloon. And all because she looked like his cousin. Not that the girl was in the least to blame. It was his fault, and he must presently face the consequences—which loomed horribly ugly, if Aunt Silvia’s reaction was any measure. He brushed this aside for the present. At this juncture, it was of more moment to revive his ailing aunt.

To his relief, Kate came dashing back, armed with a small bottle. ‘I have it. Stand aside, Claud!’

Claud stepped hastily out of the way, allowing his cousin to move into the sofa. But it was with mixed feelings that he heard her soothing words.

‘Poor Mama. You will be better directly, I promise you.’

He was not at all sure that he wanted to be present when his aunt should feel recovered. It was rapidly being borne in upon him that his arrival with an unknown female who all too closely resembled Kate was a faux pas of the first order. He tugged at the short green spencer that had shifted with his exertions, unconsciously smoothing its fit across his chest. What in Hades was there in the stranger to cause this reaction?

Wholly absorbed, and forgetful of the unknown female herself, he watched as his cousin opened the bottle and waved its contents under her mother’s nose.

Kitty, standing all the while in a state of petrified shock, could almost envy the large woman lying on the sofa. She could herself have done with a dose of sal volatile. Had she not guessed it? There could be no doubt. She must belong somehow in this family. Else why should the woman become subject to a dramatic collapse? She must know something.

Her heart hammered painfully, and her gaze turned upon the girl Kate, for whom her abductor had taken her. The resemblance was uncanny. The female had hair as dark and perhaps as long as Kitty’s own, though since it was dressed in a chignon high upon her head, it was difficult to tell. Her figure was masked by a demure gown of white muslin, the fashionable folds of which sent a thrill of envy through Kitty. Was the bosom—which was all the curve visible—as full as her own? Hard to tell. And equally difficult to see at this moment whether Kate had a thought the advantage of her in height. Yet there could be no doubt that in face she looked all too familiar. It was not quite like a mirror, but Kitty could not find it in her to blame Claud for his error.

The reflections left her as she saw that the afflicted matron was recovering. Kitty unconsciously shifted backwards as she saw the woman’s eyes flutter open. Finding herself stopped by a chair against the wall, Kitty froze again, wishing she might become invisible.

‘There, Mama, that is better, is it not?’

The woman gazed up at her daughter. A frantic look came into her features, and a wavering hand rose up to catch at Kate’s fingers.

‘Where is she? Did I truly see it? Oh, what a nightmare!’

Kitty shrank away. If only the floor might open and swallow her up! She heard the voice of the girl Kate, but did not take in the words as with a resurgence of dread she saw the woman threshing to get up.

‘Pray don’t distress yourself, Mama! No, no, don’t try to sit up. Stay there, I beg of you!’

The matron’s efforts to raise herself ceased, but her eyes, casting about the room, fastened upon Kitty, whose heart jerked as the creature pointed, horror in her face.

‘She is there still! Oh, what have I ever done to deserve this?’

‘Mama, pray hush!’ begged Kate.

Claud, torn between a sense of duty and a strong desire to retire from the coming scene as fast as he could, found his cousin’s eyes upon him in a scowl very like that to which he had been subjected by the female he had brought with him.

‘Claud, how could you? Look what you’ve done!’

‘How was I to know?’ protested Claud aggrievedly. ‘I thought it was you!’

His cousin turned to look at her hapless mirror image. ‘Well, I can see there is a resemblance. But surely you must have known it wasn’t me? Those clothes, for one thing! Where did you find her?’

‘In Paddington.’

These simple words acted upon his aunt as if a firework had been set off beneath her. The matron reared up, dislodging her daughter, who fell back in disorder, and gazed upon her nephew with eyes standing wide with dread.

‘Paddington?’

Claud winced. ‘Confound you, Aunt, I wish you would not shriek like that!’

She paid him no heed. ‘It is as I suspected. You must take her back! Now. Immediately.’ Her arms stretched out towards him, and her voice took on a plea. ‘And not a word to your mother, I implore you, Devenick! If Lydia were to hear of it, there is no saying what she would do. Oh, it is too bad! Why, why had you to bring her here?’

She withdrew her hands, wringing them painfully, and casting loathsome glances at the wretched female that was the innocent cause of the brouhaha. Claud’s mind was alive with curiosity. Nor was he the only one, for he perceived that Kate, having taken in the gist of her mother’s speech, was looking at the girl with a new interest. It became expedient to explain himself.

‘The thing is, I was coming back from Westbourn Green—stayed at my friend Jack’s place, for we were at cards last night until the small hours—’

‘Do get on, Claud!’

Wounded, Claud protested his cousin’s impatience. ‘I am only explaining how I came to be in Paddington.’

‘I can’t think why you should suppose I would be in Paddington!’

‘That’s just it. Couldn’t believe my eyes! Only I thought you’d run away.’

‘Run away? Why, in heaven’s name?’

It occurred to Claud that it was scarcely politic to be giving his reasons in front of Lady Rothley. Not that Aunt Silvia was in any condition to be protesting over that! He gave his cousin an austere look.

‘I should have thought that was obvious. But be that as it may, I took the girl for you and thought I’d best bring you back home before anyone got wind of your escapade.’

‘But surely this person must have told you that she was not me?’

‘She did,’ Claud confessed ruefully. ‘At some length. Only I would not believe her.’ He turned to his aunt. ‘You must not blame her, for it was entirely my doing.’

Lady Rothley shuddered. ‘Blame her? No, I blame you! I blame Lydia! I blame—’

She broke off, and Claud got the distinct impression that she had recollected herself just in time before giving away whatever secret there was connected with the girl. Vaguely it came to him that the chit had said something about skeletons. Devil take it, there was something in it!

‘What’s to do, Aunt?’ he demanded abruptly. ‘What do you know of the girl? Do you know her?’

‘Of course I don’t! I mean—no, I—You must not ask me!’

To Claud’s intense relief, Kate took a hand. ‘But, Mama, that is unreasonable. After what has passed, I do think you might tell us. Why did you cry out when you heard she came from Paddington? Do you know why she looks like me?’

Lady Rothley waved agitated hands. ‘Nothing will induce me to speak of it! You must not ask me! And for heaven’s sake, don’t either of you speak of it to anyone. Least of all to Lydia!’

‘But, Mama—’

‘Unless you wish to drive me into my grave, Kate, you won’t mention this again.’

There was a silence. Across the room, Kitty eyed the trio with a burgeoning resentment, which rapidly overlay the fear and distress occasioned by the woman’s horrid reaction to her coming. She found that she was shaking, but she resolutely trod a step or two in the direction of the sofa.

‘But I b-believe you owe me an explanation, ma’am.’

Three pairs of eyes shot round, and Kitty blenched. But she stood her ground, holding her head as high as she could, and keeping her gaze fixed upon the female. She saw her abductor move, as if he would come to her, and quickly held up a hand.

‘No, sir, pray don’t approach me. It seems that I am contaminated by my—by my l-likeness to your cousin there. I did warn you.’

Claud suffered an odd pang of compassion and strode quickly forward. ‘The skeleton in the family closet, you said. Seems you were right. But you need have no fear. I won’t let you suffer for it! The blame is entirely mine, and I shall—’

‘Devenick, fetch her here!’

He checked, turning his head. ‘I’ll not let you upset her any more, Aunt Silvia, and so I warn you! She’s suffered enough humiliation already, I should have thought.’

A riffle of gratitude swept through Kitty. He had shown himself a brute, but he had a streak of kindness. She looked quickly at the matron to see how she took this.

The creature was waving plump hands. ‘Fetch her! I want to look at her.’

At which, the girl Kate jumped up and came towards Kitty. ‘Yes, pray do come closer.’ But instead, Kate came to her. She pulled Kitty about to face Claud and stood close beside her. ‘It is extraordinary, is it not? We are much of a height, I think. Only do we really look so very much alike?’

Kitty waited tensely as Claud looked them both over. She was acutely aware of the other girl’s hand clutching her at the elbow.

‘Peas in a pod,’ said Claud. ‘If it weren’t for the clothes, of course.’

Kitty reddened, and her feelings suffered a reversal. How excessively tactless! As if she was not distressingly aware of the truly enormous gulf between her horrid gown and the elegance of Kate’s attire.

But the feeling did not long endure, for a renewed groaning from the sofa drew the attention of both cousins. Kitty was forcibly dragged towards the matron, who had sunk a little where she sat. For all she could sink, with the rolls of extra flesh that made the spotted muslin gown, with its fashionably high waist, appear grossly inadequate for its purpose.

‘Mama, who is she?’

Kitty found Claud at her other elbow. ‘Good question. Only you’d best refer it to the lady herself!’ He gave her a smile that was curiously engaging. ‘I know you told me your name, but I wasn’t taking notice and I’ve forgot it.’

The blunt honesty could not but appeal, and Kitty returned his smile. ‘It’s Kitty.’

‘Heavens, you can’t be called Katherine!’

This from the girl Kate, who was also possessed of that name. To her chagrin, Kitty heard a note of apology in her own voice. ‘But I am called Katherine. My name is Katherine Merrick.’

This information acted powerfully upon the aunt. She closed her eyes in a look of anguish. ‘I knew it!’

To Claud’s intense annoyance, Lady Rothley addressed him once more in that imploring tone. ‘Devenick, you must take the girl away—back to where she came from. And say nothing of this to a soul, I charge you!’

‘Yes, you said so before, Aunt Silvia. Only you won’t say why.’

‘I cannot. You must understand that it is a matter of the utmost secrecy. I am sworn to silence!’ She turned to her daughter. ‘Kate, you must put forth your best efforts to persuade him. I tell you, it will kill me, if Lydia gets to hear of this! To have it all dragged up again—no, a thousand times! I tell you I could not bear it!’

This was more than Kitty could endure. Shaking Kate off, she retreated a few steps, turning in desperation to Claud.

‘Pray, sir, will you take me away from here?’

He was frowning. ‘Yes, but not until I’ve got to the bottom of this!’

To his surprise, his cousin balked. ‘No, Claud! I cannot ask Mama to betray her promise.’ She turned from him to Kitty. ‘I am so sorry, Miss—Merrick, wasn’t it?—but I think it is best if Claud takes you back.’

‘Yes, but wait a bit—’

‘Pray, Claud, don’t say any more! You can see that poor Mama is upset.’

‘That’s all very well—’

Kitty cut in swiftly. ‘Sir, I have no wish to remain here! It was all a mistake, and there’s an end. If you don’t wish to embarrass me further, pray take me home.’

It was not an appeal he could refuse. With a sigh, Claud abandoned his attempt to extract the secret. Though he was by no means reconciled. The intelligence that it would upset the Countess had set him on fire to find it out. But his cousin again intervened, moving to the other girl again and taking her hand.

‘Poor thing, I am so sorry. We have been dreadfully rude—the shock, you know. I dare say you must be feeling excessively uncomfortable.’

To Claud’s intense annoyance, his cousin next turned on him.

‘I do think you might have listened when she told you she wasn’t me, Claud. Poor Miss Merrick has been disgracefully inconvenienced, and Mama distressed—and it is all your fault!’

‘I am well aware of that. Haven’t I said so?’ He took the girl’s arm and pulled her away from Kate. ‘Besides, I’m going to make her reparation.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know yet, but I shall think of something.’

Kitty warmed to him. Indeed, his presence close beside her gave her courage. If his fat aunt Silvia had repudiated her—indeed, her gaze continued to veer towards Kitty at intervals, brimful of revulsion!—at least Claud had the decency to stand by his mistake.

‘All I want is to be returned to the Seminary,’ she urged, adding bitterly, ‘I only wish I had taken one of the posts offered to me weeks ago, and then this would never have happened.’

‘Post?’ repeated Claud.

‘What sort of post?’ asked Kate.

Kitty lifted her chin. ‘I am meant for a governess. We are all raised for it at the Seminary.’

‘Oh, poor thing!’ uttered Kate, distressfully. Then her face brightened. ‘I know! If you have not yet found a post, perhaps we could help you. Claud, you might recommend her to someone of our acquaintance.’

Claud snorted. ‘Don’t be so feather-brained, Kate! Present for a governess to some matron I know a girl who looks exactly like you?’

A shriek from the sofa brought his head round, and he winced. His aunt had once again bounced up.

‘Upon no account! Dear heaven, only think of the scandal if the girl appeared in town in such a guise! Devenick, I forbid you to help her. Or, stay! You had best see the woman at the Seminary and tell her that the girl must be given a post in a country establishment, among people who will never show their faces in town. Perhaps a well-to-do tradesman, who could never find a place among the ton. Yes, that will be the best plan. You will see to it, Devenick. I rely upon you.’

‘Lord, ma’am, I can’t do that! Who am I to dictate the girl’s future? Or you, come to that.’

To his dismay, Lady Rothley surged out of the sofa and came to him, throwing out imploring arms. ‘My dear, dear boy, if you knew the agony of mind into which I must fall if this dreadful business should be dragged up all over again, you would not hesitate. Believe me, if anyone has reason to beg your aid in this, it is I. As for authority, your mother took that upon herself long years ago. I tell you, if you do not do as I ask, you risk the worst of Lydia’s displeasure!’

Claud evaded her, shifting away to the other end of the mantelpiece, and pulling the girl with him. ‘Yes, that’s all very well, ma’am, but there’s something devilish havey-cavey about all this, and I am not at all sure—’

‘For heaven’s sake, Devenick, do you wish to drive me demented?’

In a good deal of dudgeon, he watched his aunt totter back to the sofa, Kate fussing about her. He glanced at the girl, whose wrist he had hold of, and realised she was trembling. There was strain in her white face, and the brown eyes looked enormous. A guilty pang smote him, and without thinking, he let go her wrist and put his arm about her, giving her a hug.

‘Don’t look so worn, young Kate—I mean, Kitty!’ he corrected himself, remembering. ‘Haven’t I said I won’t let it harm you?’

Kitty looked up into the even features, and a tired sigh escaped her. ‘She is right, sir. If I were seen in town, the resemblance would be remarked. I shall speak to Mrs Duxford myself.’ She looked across at the afflicted matron. ‘I have no wish to embarrass you, ma’am.’

Kate answered, for the aunt was engaged in moaning softly and rubbing at her temples. ‘You are very good, Miss Merrick. I only wish there was something we might do for you.’

Kitty moved out of Claud’s protective arm, and took a pace towards the sofa. ‘There is one thing. If—if your mother will only tell me that I am indeed a member of this family?’

Claud was beside her. ‘That much is abundantly plain!’

‘Claud!’

‘Well, it’s true, Kate. And you needn’t look censorious, for I know very well you want to know how it comes about just as much as I.’

Kitty put out a hand. ‘Pray don’t! I do not care if she does not wish to explain the exact relationship, for I have long suspected there had been a scandal. Only—’

She got no further. A loud groan issued from the aunt’s lips, and she waved podgy hands. ‘Take her away, Devenick! I cannot bear to look at her!’

Kitty’s brief moment of valour was over. The blow struck hard, and she shrank away, feeling all the force of that rejection she had known when persons she only vaguely recollected—strangers to her—had removed her from the place she had called home and dumped her at the Paddington Seminary, leaving her horribly alone.

As if through a cloud, she heard voices, saw Kate’s features close to hers, speaking words that had no meaning. She sensed beside her the presence of Claud, and moved as he directed her, going where he led with neither interest nor attention. Only when she was outside the mansion in the fresh air, and being urged into the curricle, did Kitty come back to herself. And to the full realisation of what had happened.

Having packed the girl into his curricle and taken up the reins, Claud did not immediately instruct Docking to stand away from the horses’ heads. His mind was sorely exercised by the revelation of the existence of a family skeleton, and he sat irresolute, wondering what were best to do. If his aunt Silvia supposed he would meekly bury the finding under the carpet, she had much to learn of him. Particularly in light of the fear she had exhibited on the notion of Lady Blakemere getting wind of the matter.

A surge of tingling exhilaration rose up inside him at the thought of what this could do to the woman who had long been his Nemesis. She might be his mother, but he had long ago given up addressing her as such. Lydia, Countess of Blakemere, had harried him from his earliest years, and he could not regard her with anything but revulsion. Along with his sisters, he had been terrorised by her frowns and castigated for every fault of character—of which, according to the Countess, he had more than his fair share. He had thanked his stars, and his father’s insistence—likely the only time poor Papa had succeeded in standing out against her!—for his schooling at Eton, which had toughened him to withstand the creature just as soon as he was old enough to do so without fear of retribution. Two of his sisters had escaped into matrimony—not that they’d had choice of who they married!—and it was upon the head of poor Babs at seventeen that the wrath of the Countess now fell. There was little young Babs could do against her. But for Claud, always on the lookout for vengeance, an opportunity such as this was manna from heaven. The family skeleton come home to roost!

At this point in his ruminations, it was borne in upon Claud that the skeleton was emitting suspiciously doleful sounds. Turning his head, he found Kitty valiantly attempting to stifle her sobs. Tears nevertheless gathered at her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Stricken with renewed guilt, Claud cursed.

‘Don’t cry! Told you I won’t let it harm you, didn’t I?’

Kitty gulped and sniffed, shaking her head in the hope that he would realise that she could not speak. It evidently did not occur to him that she was less hurt by the possible consequences than her reception in the Haymarket house.

‘Where’s that handkerchief I gave you? You’d best find it, for I haven’t another on me.’

The reminder served to send Kitty’s fingers digging into her pockets. One hand came out clutching the handkerchief. In the other was a package tied up in brown paper. Kitty stared at it uncomprehendingly.

‘Here, give me that!’

The handkerchief was snatched from her hand, and next instant, her chin was being grasped in a set of gloved fingers and Claud was wiping away her tears. As if she had been a little girl, he held the square of white linen over her nose and requested her to blow. Too startled to protest, Kitty did as she was bid, and then stared into the blue eyes as they inspected her face.

‘There, that’ll do. You’d best keep this.’ Claud released her chin and stuffed the handkerchief back into her fingers. Then he noticed the package she was holding. ‘What’s that?’

Kitty looked down at it. ‘I cannot remember.’ And then she did. ‘Oh, it is the hose I purchased for the new girl.’ Recalling the toothbrush and the tin of toothpowder, she dived a hand into her other pocket and found the other package. ‘Thank goodness! The Duck would scold me dreadfully had I lost it!’ It then occurred to her that Mrs Duxford was going to have far too much to scold her over without concerning herself about toothpowder and white hose. A wail escaped her. ‘Oh, what am I to tell her? How long have I been absent? The Duck will kill me!’

‘What is all this about a dashed duck?’ demanded Claud, at last signing to his groom and instructing his horses to start.

Too agitated to be other than forthright, Kitty explained. ‘She is the lady who is in charge of the Seminary. Mrs Duxford, only we call her the Duck. Not to her face, for she would be excessively displeased. Not that it matters, for I don’t know how I am to explain this. I dare say she will turn me from the door if she hears that I ran off to London with you!’

‘Must she hear of it?’ asked Claud, turning the horses out of the Haymarket and heading west. ‘Can’t you make up some tale that will satisfy her?’

‘When I have been absent for hours and hours? What should I say? And what if someone had seen you drag me off like that? They would be bound to tell her.’

‘Then you will have to tell her the truth.’

‘She would never believe it. What is more, I could not blame her. Whoever heard such a rigmarole as you have landed me in?’

Relieved that Kitty no longer showed any disposition to weep, Claud yet had no solution to offer. ‘Well, I admit it’s a thought fantastic, but I’m sure you will come up with a likely explanation.’

‘It’s well for you to say so,’ declared Kitty, incensed. ‘Do you suggest I tell her that you forcibly abducted me?’

‘You know very well it wasn’t an abduction,’ argued Claud, aggrieved.

‘Well, whatever it was, you promised you would compensate me.’

‘I intend to.’

‘How? The least you can do is help me think up an excuse. You ought to be glad that I am nothing more than a governess, or you would be obliged to make reparation by marrying me.’

‘What?’

The horses suddenly shot forward, and Kitty was almost thrown from the curricle. She clutched the seat as the groom behind issued a warning.

‘Take care, guv’nor, or you’ll have us over!’

But Claud was already bringing his cattle under control. Cursing, he turned wrathful eyes upon Kitty. ‘What the deuce made you say a thing like that? Made me jump nearly out of my skin!’

A giggle escaped Kitty. ‘I didn’t mean that you should marry me. But I cannot say I am sorry you got a horrid shock, for it serves you right for what you have put me through today.’

Claud was in no mood for this sort of thing. ‘If you think I did what I did for the pleasure of it, you’re mistaken. Last thing on my mind was to spend the day ferrying my cousin back and forth to no purpose.’

‘But I am not your cousin,’ objected Kitty.

‘As things stand, it looks deuced likely that you might be!’

This untimely reminder served to throw Kitty back into gloom. ‘I wish you will not talk about it. It serves no purpose to recall it to my mind, for it is clear that the scandal is too dreadful to be talked of, and there is nothing to be done about it.’

‘Oh, isn’t there?’ Claud swept round Hyde Park corner and turned north. ‘I’m hanged if I let it lie, if it’s going to annoy my mother.’

Kitty gazed at him in the liveliest apprehension. ‘What do you mean to do?’

‘I don’t know yet.’

‘Why should you wish to annoy your mother?’

‘Ha! You don’t know her, or you wouldn’t ask!’

‘Is she horrid?’

‘Loathsome!’ declared Claud, not mincing his words. ‘If you’d to choose between my Lady Blakemere and this Duck you speak of, you’d run to your Duck and hide behind her skirts.’

Kitty eyed the jutting chin in a species of wonder. For all his vehemence, he did not look as if he was in the least afraid of his mother. As for the Duck, Kitty knew her for a just and well-intentioned woman. And she had her moments of kindness. This Lady Blakemere sounded perfectly dreadful. Kitty was glad she would never be called upon to meet her.

It occurred to her that the curricle was travelling so rapidly, despite the press of carriages and people, that in a short space of time she would be leaving the metropolis forever. And with nothing to show for her visit but a headful of unkind memories. It was most unfair! She recalled Claud’s promise to compensate her. Did he mean to give her money?

A riffle of excitement bubbled up, followed immediately by a depressing thought. What was the use of his giving her money when she had no means of supplying herself with the things she craved? There was no shop in Paddington where she could purchase the sort of gown she wanted. Nor would the local dressmaker be persuaded to make it up for her—even could she furnish herself with the material.

The daring idea surfaced, and Kitty turned quickly to Claud. ‘There is one thing you might do for me.’

His head snapped round, frowning suspicion in his eyes. ‘Oh, is there? As long as it has nothing to do with matrimony—’

‘Of course it has not.’ Kitty drew a deep breath and plunged in. ‘Only will you buy me silk stockings and a spangled gown?’

The blue eyes popped. ‘Silk stockings and a spangled gown! Have you run mad?’ He noted a burgeoning sparkle in the velvety eyes. ‘Gad, you mean it! But you are going for a governess. What in Hades are you going to do with a spangled gown?’

‘It is just that I have longed to possess such a gown,’ said Kitty, breathless with hope. ‘Only I had never the means to pay for it.’

‘But when are you going to wear it? Besides that it ain’t the thing for a governess.’

‘I don’t care if I never wear it!’ Kitty declared. ‘If only I might have it, I could be happy for the future.’ She brightened. ‘I have just had a famous notion! It will give me all the excuse I need for Mrs Duxford. I will tell her that I came to London expressly to purchase it.’

Claud thought this over and found a flaw. ‘But you said you couldn’t afford it. Don’t she know that?’

Kitty summarily dismissed this. ‘I shall say that I have been saving my money for the purpose. Oh, and I can say that I have hopes of being invited by one of my two friends, for they are both married—at least, one is already, and the other will be shortly. It is not unlikely that either Prue or Nell will ask me to stay.’

‘Not if you’ve gone as a governess,’ objected Claud.

‘I wish you will not keep making difficulties!’ declared Kitty, annoyed. ‘I thought you wanted to make me reparation.’

‘So I do, but we’re going in the wrong direction.’

‘You may turn around then!’

‘Yes, but it’s already past noon and I’ve got to drive you all the way to Paddington. Besides, I’ve an engagement this evening.’

Kitty’s bosom swelled. ‘How abominably selfish! It is your fault I am in this mess, and you even suggested I may be your cousin after all, and it is not as if I am asking for the moon.’

‘No, but—’

Kitty swept over him. ‘If you refuse me, it will be the horridest thing imaginable, for it is only a spangled gown and a pair of silk stockings. Unless you have not enough money either to pay for such things?’

Claud slowed the carriage. ‘I can stand the nonsense, never fear. It ain’t that at all. Only I don’t see how I’m to do it without the confounded mantua-maker thinking you’re my che`re amie. A man don’t otherwise take a female to buy gowns unless he’s betrothed to her, or they are at least related.’

Kitty digested this in silence for a moment. The curricle had drawn in to the side of the road, which at least indicated willingness. If she let this opportunity slip, there might never be another. Desperately she searched her mind, and found a solution. She turned eagerly to Claud.

‘I know. You may pretend that I am Kate.’

About to reject this idea on the score that his cousin would scorn to wear the type of gown Kitty had specified, Claud caught the deeply hopeful look in her face and the words died on his tongue. If he thought poorly of her choice, why should he dash the girl’s only hope of pleasure? She had little enough to look forward to. It would make him late for the last ball of the season, but that couldn’t be helped.

‘You win, Miss Merrick! Let us repair to a mantua-maker.’

Concealed from the eyes of the curious in a private parlour at the White Bear inn, Kitty sat in a happy daze as she partook of the luncheon provided for her by her abductor. It was a trifle stuffy in the little first-floor room, and Claud had been obliged to force the casement window open to let in air. Kitty felt the benefit, for the table at which they were seated was fortunately set parallel to the embrasure, and she was able also to enjoy the comings and goings in the busy thoroughfare of Piccadilly below.

Although she much enjoyed the selection of delicacies placed before her, together with sturdier pasties of which Kitty partook only sparingly, this luxurious entertainment was not responsible for her contentment. Rather it was the thought of the made-up gown that was even now being adjusted to fit her full figure.

The establishment to which Claud had taken her had been disappointingly situated not in Bond Street itself, but in a little lane off the main thoroughfare. Its discreet entrance had been indistinguishable from the other doors except for a small plaque upon the wall. A narrow staircase had led them into a little salon, presided over by a female of French origin, who evidently knew the Viscount of old. She had treated Claud to roguish smiles and, upon hearing that she was to gown his cousin, a suspiciously knowing look that had made Kitty uncomfortable. She could only hope the creature’s inevitable reflections had been quieted by Lord Devenick’s glib explanation.

‘My cousin has taken a fancy to a style of gown that her mama refuses to let her wear, Madame, and so I have agreed that she may purchase it so that she may please herself after we are married.’

If Madame wondered why the lady did not make the purchase after the wedding, she said nothing of it, but immediately asked after the style proposed.

‘I wish for a spangled gown,’ had said Kitty breathlessly, fixing hopeful eyes upon the woman. ‘Have you got one?’

‘Bien sûr. We ’ave zis gown, and many uzzers.’

White muslins, sprigged, spotted and spangled, had danced before Kitty’s eyes as Madame’s assistant produced them for her inspection. In her imaginings from the drawing she had once seen, the treasured vision had been scattered with gold. But when she was shown a delicate white gauze, sprinkled over with silver threads and tiny sparkles of glass beading that caught the light, Kitty fell instantly in love.

‘Oh, this one, this one, if you please!’ she had cried, turning ecstatically to the man who had suddenly become her benefactor. ‘Can it be this one, Claud? Pray say I may have it!’

‘Have it, by all means,’ had come the welcome response. ‘Only hadn’t you best try it on first? No sense in buying the thing if it don’t fit you.’

Hardly able to believe in the good fortune that had come out of this disastrous journey, Kitty had allowed herself to be bundled out of the horrid pink gown and into soft folds of muslin that floated about her. To her intense disappointment, the gown had been a trifle tight across the bosom, and a little long at the hem. But her mirror image was so delectable that Kitty would willingly have put up with these inconveniences, had it not been for Madame’s suggestion that an adjustment could easily be made if mademoiselle were prepared to return later for the gown.

‘But I cannot! I must go home immediately, and I doubt I shall ever come here again.’

Kitty’s distress had been acute, but to her relief, the matter had been resolved by the resourcefulness of Lord Devenick, who had urged the mantua-maker to do the necessary alterations at once, while they repaired to an inn for a meal.

‘For I don’t mind telling you, Kitty, I’m as hungry as a hunter, and if I’m to drive all the way to Paddington and back, I’d as lief not do it on an empty stomach.’

As long as she might have the precious spangled gown, Kitty had no fault to find with this programme. And indeed, when they had left the little shop and set off in the curricle for the nearby White Bear in Piccadilly, she had discovered that she was also excessively hungry.

For some time, both parties were too preoccupied for conversation, Kitty’s attention being divided between the potted beef spread upon hot buttered toast and the mental picture of herself arrayed in the new gown, while Claud concentrated on replenishing his stores of energy. At length he pushed aside his plate, the huge slice of pigeon pie upon it considerably diminished, and sat back, apparently replete.

He did not immediately engage in conversation, but quaffed a tankard of ale, his frowning blue gaze so intent upon Kitty’s features that she could not but become aware of it. Disconcerted, she challenged him.

‘I wish you will not stare so! Have you not yet accustomed yourself to the likeness?’

Claud shook his head briefly. ‘Shouldn’t think I ever would. If I were to continue to see you, that is.’

‘Well, you won’t, so you may cease to look at me in that excessively rude fashion.’

‘I’m thinking,’ protested Claud, aggrieved.

‘About me?’

He took a pull from his tankard. ‘Got a notion revolving in my head. No, I won’t tell you what it is. Not yet, in any event.’

Curiosity gnawed at Kitty, together with a trifle of anxiety caused by the peculiar intensity of his speech. ‘But is it about me?’

‘Dash it, who else would it be about?’

Incensed, Kitty exploded. ‘Then why will you not say it? I think it is excessively mean-spirited of you to mention it at all if you don’t mean to tell me what it is. Has it to do with my likeness to Kate? Do you think you have guessed what your aunt would not reveal about me? Oh, tell me, Claud, pray!’

‘Lord, if it was that, of course I should tell you!’

He rose from his seat and began to shift about in the confines of the small parlour, wishing that he had held his tongue. The scheme revolving in his head was fantastic, but it would not do to say a word of it to the girl until he had thoroughly inspected its merits. It was difficult to think with those expressive eyes trained upon him. They were very like Kate’s, but with a velvet sheen that was lacking in his cousin’s. Even in repose—when Kitty had been sitting in a dreamlike state, unaware of his regard—they had been striking.

However, it was not her pretty features that had brought the notion sneaking into his head, but the effect of them upon his aunt Silvia, and the lively apprehension she had exhibited of Lady Blakemere’s reaction should the episode reach her ears.

Claud did not wholly believe that the idea had struck him, but there was no shaking it off. Was it because the girl had herself made mention of it? He had repudiated it then—in no uncertain terms. As well he might. It was madness! Only now that it had planted itself in his head, the temptation was so strong that he doubted he could withstand it. The Countess would be as mad as fire! It was too much to hope that she might go off in an apoplexy, but the blow would assuredly fall hard. Such exhilaration attacked him at the thought that Claud had all to do not to throw caution to the winds on the instant. Kitty’s voice checked him.

‘You look quite murderous! What are you thinking?’ He uttered a short laugh. ‘Thinking of my mother, the Countess.’ He was unaware that his lip curled in a manner that was uncharacteristically sardonic. ‘That’s enough to make anyone look murderous!’

Kitty gave a little shiver, her eyes fixed upon the horrid look in his face. He was the oddest man. All kindness one moment, the next a brutish unpredictable creature. What had his mother done to make him hate her so?

‘Is it your mother who wishes you to marry Kate?’

‘Aunt Silvia wishes for it too, but yes, the Countess took the notion. Only because Grandmama chooses to settle a dowry upon Kate. She pretends it is for Kate’s own sake, but I know better. The Rothleys may lack fortune, but they ain’t precisely paupers. Only the Countess had my father make my aunt an allowance, and she thinks to recover something from it.’

‘But it was kind of her to do that, was it not?’ Claud’s snort was bitter. ‘Don’t run away with that notion! Kind? Nothing of the sort. The Countess cares only for what Society may say of us. She sets store wholly by appearances, and my aunt was not to be suspected of being purse-pinched, regardless of the fact that everybody knows my uncle Rothley wasted much of his substance.’

This glimpse into the lives of a family of whom she was certainly a part threw Kitty into a combination of excitement and frustration. She longed to know more, yet the horrified reception of her advent convinced her that she had no right to pry. No right, and no reason either. What advantage could it be to her to learn the worst? There had been, in her insistence upon a past couched in mystery, a touch of romance. She had guessed at a hint of unlawful beginnings, convinced that she had been the outcome of an illicit liaison between a peer and an equally high-born married lady. Vague and hazy memories had been at root of her piecing together of this history. But gowned in Kitty’s colourful imaginings, it had never been tainted with the disgrace of sordid scandal. At a blow, Claud’s aunt Silvia had destroyed the comforting blanket of childish desire, and exposed Kitty for what she truly was—an outcast.

The bleak reality of her situation, which had been held at bay in the joy of her new gown, came in on her. All at once, she wanted to be back in the familiar surroundings of the Seminary, where if she was valued little, she was at least accepted. She pushed back her chair and got up from the table.

‘Should we not be starting for Paddington, sir?’

The rapid descent of her mood had not been lost on Claud. The forlorn look in those velvet eyes drew his instant compassion. The words were out before he could stop them.

‘We are not going to Paddington. I’ve thought better of that notion and have settled upon a new plan. We are going to Gretna Green.’

Chapter Three

Kitty gaped at him. Convinced she could not have heard aright, she uttered a fluttery laugh. ‘You cannot mean you wish to elope with me!’

Did Claud’s features look paler? Had she shocked him? She recalled his horrified reaction when she had merely mentioned his being forced to marry her to make reparation. But if he had indeed said they were going to Gretna Green, he must mean an elopement. He was frowning heavily, his blue gaze clouding.

‘I don’t wish to! At least—’

He broke off, cursing himself for an impetuous fool. He should have held his tongue! Only he hadn’t, and here was the girl, staring at him with those distressful brown eyes that were beginning to show hurt again. He moved to the table, grasping the back of a chair with both hands as if he might draw strength from it.

‘What I mean is, I didn’t intend to say it yet. Been thinking it over, you see, while we were eating.’

‘You have been thinking of taking me to Gretna?’

The disbelief in her voice was patent. He shifted his shoulders, acutely uncomfortable. ‘Not exactly. Thinking of marriage. Only said Gretna because I supposed you to be under age.’ It occurred to him to question this. ‘How old are you? Much of Kate’s age, I’d have thought. She’s nineteen.’

Kitty lifted her chin. ‘Well, I have the advantage of her, for I am one and twenty.’

‘Are you, by Gad?’ uttered Claud eagerly. ‘Then we needn’t go north, after all!’

She was obliged to dash this hope immediately. ‘I should have said almost one and twenty. My birthday is in July.’

Claud’s face fell. ‘That’s a pity. It will have to be Gretna then. Can’t marry you otherwise without the consent of your guardians.’

‘I have no g-guardians,’ objected Kitty unsteadily. ‘And Mrs Duxford would have a f-fit!’

Her pulse was behaving in a distressingly irregular fashion, and her brain was reeling at the realisation that Claud had indeed put forward the idea of marrying her. The protest bubbled up without volition.

‘And when I said it in your curricle, you nearly had a fit!’

‘I know, but—’

‘You said distinctly that I must not think of such a thing!’

‘Yes, because I hadn’t thought it over. Changed my mind since then.’

Kitty eyed him in mounting perplexity, sinking back down into her chair. He did not look as if he had taken leave of his senses, but then she scarce knew him. Except to be aware that he was both rash and impulsive. And both to her cost. Oh, he was mad! It was an impossible notion, she had at least brains enough to see that. She drew a resolute breath, gripping her fingers together in her lap.

‘You cannot have considered, sir. There can be no question of our being married. Only think what your aunt Silvia would say!’ In automatic mimicry of his obese aunt, she uttered, ‘Don’t do it, Devenick, I implore you!’

A shout of laughter was surprised out of Claud. ‘That’s very good, Kitty! Sounds exactly like her.’

But Kitty, whose talent in aping the voices of others was almost second nature, was hardly aware of doing it. She brushed it impatiently aside.

‘Never mind that! Only think of your mother’s reaction if we were to be wed, for your aunt distinctly told you I don’t know how many times that—’

‘Yes, and that’s just what decided me to marry you!’ declared Claud, pulling out a chair and reseating himself. He leaned across the table. ‘I don’t doubt the Countess will kick up the devil of a dust, for she’s bound to. But there ain’t anything she can do once the deed’s done.’

Appalled, Kitty blinked dazedly. ‘You cannot mean it, Claud! You know that I am the family skeleton. How can you possibly marry me? What about the scandal?’

Claud thumped the table. ‘That’s just it. We don’t know that there will be any scandal. If there was one, it must have happened eons ago. I dare say only the family would remember it, and—’

‘You are forgetting that I look just like Kate,’ interrupted Kitty. ‘Even if nobody remembers it now, they will do so the moment they see me.’

‘Don’t see that at all. In my experience, the ton’s memory ain’t long. They’ll be too busy blessing themselves at the likeness to be concerned how it comes about.’

‘That is exactly what will concern them, and the gossip will be hateful!’

‘It won’t. We’ll think up a tale that will satisfy people, and there’s an end to it.’

Kitty erupted. ‘If that is not just typical of you! It is exactly what you said to me when I asked you what I should say to the Duck.’

‘Yes, and wasn’t I right?’ he argued. ‘You thought of that spangled gown!’

‘That is nothing to the purpose. This is entirely different. What tale will we think up? What tale could there possibly be to account for my likeness to Kate, except that I am somebody’s natural daughter?’

Claud sat back, the frown returning to his brow. ‘Someone’s by-blow? Hang it, I suppose you must be! I wonder who it might be?’

Kitty gazed at him dumbly. Was that all he cared for? Had he no pride? It was all of a piece with his selfishness. Could he not see how she must suffer if people were to whisper about her dubious antecedents? She began at last to wonder why he had determined upon such a course. He was not in love with her. How could he be? Nor she with him, if it came to that. He was personable enough, the more so without his hat when the fair locks did much to improve him. But in character—well, suffice it that his attraction diminished rapidly the more she knew of it!

Only to have such an opportunity dangled in front of her nose—and by a self-confessed lord!—was altogether too tempting. Had it not been for that dreadful reception at the Haymarket house, Kitty could well have been persuaded into taking him at his word. But if Claud had no pride, she had little else!

‘It is useless to think of who might have fathered me,’ she said, not without a touch of resentment, ‘for I doubt we shall ever know. And I have no intention of going to Gretna Green. All I wish for is that you will deliver me safely to the Seminary.’

Claud eyed her with misgiving. She was looking a trifle stormy. Perhaps it was the manner of his offer—if one could call it such—that had offended her. She was a sensitive little thing, that much he had deduced from their short acquaintance. Should he give up the scheme? No, he was hanged if he would! He hurried into speech.

‘You can’t pretend you’d rather go for a governess than marry me, Kitty. Not that I’m a coxcomb, but it ain’t reasonable. And if I take you back to the Seminary, what else is there for you?’

‘And if I were to marry you, I might as well have been a governess, for I don’t doubt that your family will repudiate me, if Society did not.’

‘Aha! But they can’t repudiate you, can they? Mean to say, there you are, as like to Kate as makes no odds. No one can say you ain’t related, be it to the Rothleys, the Cheddons or the Hevershams. And you’re known to Aunt Silvia as well as the Countess, and I’ll lay any odds they know exactly how you are related to us. What’s more, it can’t be an accident that you were christened Katherine, for it’s a name common in our family. M’sister Kath is one, as well as Kate. Called after my grandmother Litton. Dare say if there’d been a Heversham girl, she’d be Katherine too.’

His words were torture to Kitty. She longed to ask about the names he was throwing out. Yet, the knowledge of having already been repudiated—and as a helpless child to boot—could not but whip up her resentment. And Claud expected her to expose herself to the censure of all these people!

‘I wish you will not talk of it! I told you before, I don’t care to hear about your family.’

‘Your family, you mean,’ corrected Claud.

‘They are not my family! If they are, they do not deserve to be, and I will not thrust myself upon them for any consideration in the world, so you may forget this silly idea of marrying me. I will not do it! And why you should have thought of it at all has me in a puzzle.’

But Claud did not intend to expound his reasons. Not the deep truth of them, at any rate. It was not for Kitty to recognise the violent pull of the vision in his head of his mother—utterly confounded! He had it all fixed in his mind.

‘Why, ma’am, what is the matter?’ he would say. ‘You wished me to make a union with my cousin Kate. To all appearances, I’ve obeyed you. This girl is undoubtedly my cousin, too, and as you can see, she is Katherine Rothley in all but name.’

Glee enveloped him as he imagined the features of the Countess, contorted with rage and chagrin—as they would be, by Jupiter! It would be worth any inconvenience, any unfortunate consequence, only to pay her back for the ills he had endured at her hands.

But it began to look as if Kitty was beyond persuasion. He searched his mind for arguments to sway her. He must do so, for now that the scheme had come to him, he was loath to give it up. She had averted her gaze, and was sipping at the remains of the lemonade she had drunk with her luncheon. There was no denying she was likely to be a handful, though she was a comely piece. Not that he had doubts of being able to handle her. He might be obliged to take drastic measures now and then, but it would not be beyond his power to gain the mastery over her, rebellious though she undoubtedly was.

‘I suppose you realise,’ he said conversationally, ‘that there’s little you can do about it, if I do choose to take you to Gretna Green.’

Her head jerked round, the brown eyes round with shock. ‘You would not dare to force me!’

‘Why not? Abducted you easily enough once, as you insisted on calling it. I can readily do so again. Only I should much prefer not to have to go to so much trouble.’

Kitty stared at him, her pulses in disarray. Why had she allowed herself to forget what a brute he was? That stubborn chin was jutting dangerously, and the blue eyes held an inflexible glint. She quailed inwardly, and could not keep the dismay from her voice.

‘But why should you wish to? I don’t understand!’

Claud uttered a short laugh. ‘Isn’t it obvious? If I’m married to you, the Countess and my aunt will have to give up the notion of my marrying Kate. And I’ll tell them the family owes you something and I’m repaying it. No denying you’d be a deal more comfortable married to me than slaving as a governess.’

Kitty was far from denying it. But she had been brought up to recognise right from wrong, and this was indubitably wrong. She hardly knew that she spoke aloud.

‘Nell would counsel me to refuse, I know she would. Indeed, even Prue would say I must not do it.’

A vague recollection of having heard these names before came to Claud. ‘Don’t know who they may be, but why should they object to me?’

‘Not to you! Nell and Prue were my dearest friends at the Seminary, only they both went out as governesses and Prue has married Mr Rookham and Nell is betrothed to Lord Jarrow.’

‘Why did they go as governesses then, if they planned to be married?’

Kitty tutted. ‘You don’t understand, sir. Mr Rookham hired Prue to look after his two little nieces, and Nell went as governess to Lord Jarrow’s daughter.’

‘Good Gad! D’you mean to say they both married their employers?’

‘Well, Nell is not married yet, but was it not the most romantic thing imaginable?’

‘I don’t know about that, but I can’t see why either should put a bar in the way of your marriage, if that’s the way of it.’

Kitty sighed. ‘Had you been another man, perhaps they would not. But I know they would say I must not marry you in the circumstances. Though I must confess it is what I have always wanted.’

Claud blinked. ‘You always wanted to marry me? But you didn’t know me!’

‘I wanted to marry a lord,’ explained Kitty, adding wistfully, ‘Indeed, I have believed all my life that it was my true destiny. I could not believe that I was meant for a governess.’

‘Well, you couldn’t choose better than me,’ put in Claud briskly, ‘for I am a viscount, you must know, and heir to the Earldom of Blakemere.’

Kitty’s heart skipped a beat. ‘An earl? Oh, no!’

‘What’s wrong with an earl?’ demanded Claud, nettled.

‘Nothing indeed. Except that it is too much of a temptation!’

She smiled abruptly, and Claud was conscious of a faint warmth at his chest. She was a taking little thing, there was no doubt of that.

‘It would be like Cinderella,’ Kitty told him. ‘You could change my life at a stroke. You have no notion how much I have yearned to go to parties and balls, and to wear such gowns as I have seen in the Ladies Magazine.’

Claud knew a cue when he heard one, and lost no time in pursuing his advantage. ‘So you may. In fact, you can do just as you like, provided you don’t expect me to change my way of life. As for gowns, I’ll buy you a dozen, if you wish.’

‘A dozen!’ Kitty’s pulses were rioting. She could not help a breathless question. ‘Are you rich?’

‘Don’t know what you’d call rich. Mean to say, in your situation, I should suppose anything above a thousand a year would be a fortune.’

‘A thousand a year? I would give my right arm for a thousand a year!’

Claud grinned. ‘No need for such a sacrifice. You may have twice that and more just for your pin money. I’ll stand the nonsense for any other gewgaws you choose to buy. Spend as much as you like.’

‘Oh, don’t,’ begged Kitty, a catch in her voice. ‘You must not tempt me so! Why, you must be as rich as Croesus!’

‘Since I don’t have a clue who he may be, I can’t comment. But I’ve a fair fortune to hand, and that’s without the Earldom. I’ve a place here in London of my own as well as the family house—which will be mine too at some distant date—and m’father gave me one of the smaller estates to live in when I came of age, so you won’t live with the family, never fear.’

‘How many estates are there?’ asked Kitty, awed.

‘Can’t remember offhand. Four or five, I think. Unless you count the hunting box as well. It’s why they’re content for me to marry Kate, for I don’t need more. The Countess knew what she was doing when she married m’father, that’s certain.’

It was more than Kitty could withstand. Dazzled by the vision of herself as mistress of all this wealth, she was no longer capable of clinging to the hideous reality. After all, she had a right to accept, had she not? She belonged in the family that contained Claud. How and why seemed less important now. Why should she not benefit? It was not as if she had looked for it. If her dream had come true, it must be what Fortune intended. The sneaking little voice of conscience that whispered of a horrible mistake was crushed. Opportunity was knocking on the door, and it might never come again. Fatal words fell from her lips.

‘It is of no use! I cannot possibly resist you!’

To her disappointment, Claud showed no sign either of pleasure or relief. ‘That’s settled, then.’ He dug a hand into his fob pocket and pulled out a watch, flipping open the lid. ‘Deuce take it, it’s past three! We’d best make a start as soon as may be. Only if I’m to go all the way to Gretna, I’ll need more luggage than I’ve got with me, for I only had enough for one night. We’ll be five or six days on the road there and back at the least. Ain’t even got my driving-coat, and I’m bound to need that. Never know what the weather’s going to do. Can’t start on a long journey without a bath and a change of clothes, what’s more. I’d best repair to my lodging and pick you up again later. I’ll have to forgo the party tonight, but it can’t be helped.’

Kitty listened to him in growing dudgeon. Had he no thought for anyone but himself? Did it not occur to him that she might have needs too? She lost no time in placing these before him.

‘Have you forgot that I have nothing but the clothes I stand up in?’

‘What are you talking about?’ demanded Claud. ‘Haven’t I bought you that spangled gown?’

‘If you suppose I can travel all the way to Scotland in a spangled gown, you must have windmills in your head! And what is more, you never got me the silk stockings you promised!’

‘We’ll pick them up from that Frenchwoman.’ But he scratched thoughtfully at his chin. ‘Pity we didn’t think of getting your clothes before we left Paddington.’

‘How should we have done so when you were abducting me?’ uttered Kitty with scorn. ‘Besides, none of my clothes are suitable for a viscountess. Indeed, there is little at the Seminary that I care to keep, except perhaps one or two personal items like the letters from my friends.’

‘We can fetch those after we’re married,’ said Claud, dismissing this. ‘Nothing for it but to get one or two more gowns from that mantua-maker.’

In the event, this programme proved inadequate. Repairing to the little salon off Bond Street, Kitty found herself in possession of two additional gowns, both muslin, one plain and one spotted in black, and a thick cloak to wear upon the journey. But Madame was able to supply neither silk stockings nor those essential items of underclothing of which a young lady going upon a journey stood in crying need. When Kitty, prompted by Madame, also mentioned hats and shoes, it was borne in upon Claud that his blithe intention to enter upon matrimony was going to prove a good deal more complicated than he had anticipated.

Already shaken by hints from the mantua-maker that she had divined his purpose, he came within an ace of abandoning it altogether. The remembrance of the inevitable confrontation with the Countess strengthened him, however, and he had the happy notion of paying one of Madame’s sewing-women to take Kitty beyond Bond Street and into a less fashionable arena further north where a plethora of shops of every description might furnish all she required. Meanwhile he could attend to his own needs.

Armed with a roll of bank notes—which was more money than she had ever dreamed of—Kitty spent an exhilarating, if bewildering, couple of hours shifting from one thoroughfare into another. The woman who accompanied her, delighted to be released from incarceration below stairs at the salon, entered into her requirements with great enthusiasm, bustling her from shop to shop and bargaining in a merry way with the tradesmen. Kitty could only be glad of her escort, for she had no idea where she was, nor how to choose of the myriad wares offered for sale. The streets were so busy that passers-by could not but jostle her, and her confusion grew as she was led past all manner of window displays and enticing signs. Fishmongers rubbed shoulders with snuff makers, and busts with glass eyes stared out at her to show off the wigs of the perruquier. The milliner she visited was placed beside an apothecary’s with curious bottles of remedies; the shoemaker was found beside a jeweller’s, and the discreet requirements of her toilette were next door to a shop selling exquisite lamps of glass and alabaster.

By the time Kitty returned to the salon, exhausted, both she and her companion were burdened with so many packages that she was unable to remember what was in them. She plonked down upon a chair proffered by Madame to wait for Claud’s return, daunted by the rapidly gathering apprehension that he would scold her for having spent so much money. But time passed, and his lordship put in no appearance.

Madame, whose expression became more pitying as the afternoon wore on, suffered her assistant to shift the packages out of sight behind a curtain while another customer was served, and at length had a dish of tea brought for Kitty’s refreshment. She sipped it gratefully, desperately trying to hide her growing dismay under a cheerful front. What would she do if Claud had chosen to abandon her? No matter how many times she told herself stoutly that this was unlikely, the horrid thought would keep obtruding.

But just as Madame was making noises about closing the shop, and Kitty had begun desperately to think of how she could get herself back to Paddington—never mind explaining the money she had left and the acquisition of so much finery!—a commotion below signalled the arrival of her betrothed.

Only it was not Claud, but his groom Docking, sent in his stead to collect Kitty and drive her to his lordship’s lodging in Charles Street. This proved to be a roomy apartment occupying the better part of one floor of a large mansion. Kitty was unloaded into it, together with all her packages, and into the hands of a disapproving individual who introduced himself as Mixon.

‘I am his lordship’s valet, miss.’

Mixon showed Kitty into a masculine bedchamber, with a dwarf bookcase and a whatnot, besides the bed and the press. It served, so the valet informed her, for accommodation for any of his lordship’s friends who might happen to stay the night. There was, to her chagrin, no sign of Claud himself.

‘Where is Lord Devenick?’

The valet bowed. ‘His lordship has gone out for the evening. He requested me to make you comfortable. A meal has been ordered and will be served presently.’

Kitty gazed at the man, stupefied. ‘Gone out for the evening? But we are supposed to be—’

She broke off, suddenly and acutely aware of the invidious nature of her position. She could scarcely discuss her elopement with his lordship’s valet!

Mixon coughed. ‘His lordship informed me that you are taking a journey, miss, but he thought it rather too late to set out. It is his wish that you rest yourself, ready for an early start in the morning. As for these, miss—’ indicating the packages littering the bed ‘—would you wish me to lend you one of his lordship’s portmanteaux?’

But Kitty was in no mood to think about packing. In vain did she strive to repress an enveloping sense of outrage and indignation. She was to rest, while his horrid lordship disported himself at some jollification! Had he not complained of having to miss a party? Not content with leaving her for hours to wait for him at the mantuamaker’s, he not only neglected to fetch her himself, but left her—a stranger to the town and his betrothed to boot!—without explanation or reassurance, to the ministrations of his valet and her own devices. He was the most selfish creature she had ever met in her life! And nothing would induce her to marry him.

Attired in silk breeches of his favourite green and a coat of similar hue over a fancy flowered waistcoat, Claud had just come off the floor after a dutiful country dance with his sister Lady Barbara Cheddon, just out this season, when he was accosted in the outer gallery by his cousin Kate.

‘Claud, I must talk to you alone!’

Lady Barbara pricked up her ears. A pretty, fair-haired creature, whose even features closely resembled those of her brother, she was correctly and demurely gowned, like her cousin, in the ubiquitous white thought suitable for debutantes, but augmented with a half-robe of lilac net. Noting how his cousin was similarly elegant in a vest of crimson velvet, Claud was assailed by a vision of that overblown spangled gown Kitty had insisted on buying. He made a mental vow to oversee her wardrobe for the future. His attention was drawn swiftly back to his sister.

‘Secrets? Fie, Kate! But if it is about your betrothal, you need not mind me, for I know all about it.’

‘That’ll do, Babs!’ scolded Claud, casting a quick glance about to make sure that his mother was nowhere within earshot. The gallery contained several odd groups seeking relief from the heat, who stood about chatting and fanning themselves, but there was no sign of the Countess of Blakemere. Relieved, Claud returned his attention to his sister. ‘It ain’t that at all. Besides, we are not going to be betrothed.’

Claud came under the beam of his sister’s questioning blue gaze. ‘But Mama says you are, and if she wants you to marry, I don’t see how you couldn’t.’

‘You’ll soon see how,’ he declared, with more force than he intended, impelled by the image that had been revolving in his mind all evening.

‘Even your mama cannot force us,’ Kate put in, her voice low.

Babs looked from one to the other, and Claud detected scepticism in her eye. ‘How will you withstand her? Mary and Kath couldn’t. And I should suppose I shall find myself obliged to marry whomever she chooses for me too.’

‘Never you mind how,’ said Claud dismissively.

‘But I do mind,’ objected his sister, ‘for if you have a means of holding out against Mama, I want to know of it. I feel sure she is thinking of Lady Chale’s youngest for me, and I can’t bear him.’

The Countess of Chale had the distinction of holding the last ball of the season, and the entire first floor of the mansion had been given over to the accommodation of her many guests. A vast saloon, done out in blue with white trimmings in the Adams style, had been formed into a ballroom, the furniture having been set apart in another room for the accommodation of those who were not dancing. The drawing room was as full as it could hold of chattering fashionables who had wandered in from the adjacent dining room next door, where the supper tables were laid out with a succulent feast of patties, sliced meats and a variety of sweets. And two further smaller rooms were given over to the dedicated card players, who could be seen from a distance, grouped around green baize tables.

Contrary to his expectation, Claud was not enjoying himself. Far too many members of his family were in attendance for his liking. There was all too much danger of making a slip and mentioning Kitty, and he was only too well aware that it was upon the subject of his disastrous mistake that Kate was clamouring to talk to him in private. Since he was determined to keep his intentions to himself, he had rather not engage in conversation about the chit. With a vague thought of holding his cousin at bay, he responded more sympathetically to his sister.

‘Don’t suppose the Countess is thinking of turning you off just yet, Babs. Only seventeen. Besides, she’ll be looking for a fellow a thought more eligible than a younger son.’ His tone took on sarcasm. ‘Never forget, m’dear, you’re not only the daughter of an earl, but the granddaughter of a duke.’

‘As if any of us cared for that,’ put in Kate scornfully.

‘No, Claud is right. It is exactly what Mama cares for. Only she says there are no eligible heirs just at present, and she is looking instead at a younger son with good prospects.’

‘You don’t say so!’ exclaimed Claud. ‘If that don’t beat all! Never knew she was so mercenary, as well as all else. It’s only Kate’s expectations from Grandmama that made her take the notion of our marrying into her head in the first place.’

‘Yes, and Lady Chale’s youngest son is to inherit his godmother’s money, which is said to be a fortune. Only besides having a face like a frog, he is the most tedious young man of my acquaintance!’

‘If you don’t choose to marry him, Babs, you need only hold fast to your refusal,’ said Kate, adding hastily, ‘But will you please excuse us? I have something urgent to discuss with Claud.’

‘It’s well for you to say that,’ retorted Babs, ignoring the request, ‘for Aunt Silvia would never go to the lengths Mama would, and I dare say Cousin Ralph could persuade her to let it alone if you asked him. Whereas Claud—’

‘Has more gumption than you give him credit for!’ he interrupted, incensed. ‘Only it ain’t a particle of use thinking the Countess would take notice of anything I said, for she won’t.’

His sister clasped both hands fondly about his arm. ‘That’s what I meant to say, Claud. I know you can’t be blamed if she won’t listen to you. Why, she calls you a nincompoop and says you haven’t a brain in your head.’

Claud removed her hands from his arm. ‘Obliged to her! And I’ll thank her to keep her insulting opinions to herself, the insufferable witch!’

‘Hush!’ warned Kate, leaning close. ‘She is coming out of the ballroom.’

Lady Barbara promptly left them, slipping through two groups of guests to enter the drawing room by a door around the corner of the gallery and diving out of sight among a coterie of chattering maidens.

‘She has seen us!’ uttered Kate, sotto voce. ‘She is coming this way.’

Wishing he might follow his sister’s example, Claud turned to confront his formidable mother, unable to suppress the inevitable rise of mixed emotions that invariably attacked him in her presence. Defiant he might be, but no weight of years had served to subdue the tight knot of apprehension that settled in his stomach, overlaid with—in his own view—a justifiable sense of outrage. Such derogatory remarks as that relayed by his sister had been commonplace throughout his life, hedged about as he had been by rules and shibboleths that would have driven a saint into rebellion. Transgressions against which had been summarily, and painfully, dealt with.

On this occasion the Countess, as he immediately divined, was disposed to be lenient. She was attired in the grand manner, in an open robe of white muslin spotted in her favourite blue, with a draped sash trained to the floor at the back, epaulettes to her sleeves and a turban headdress from which rose three tall plumes. But there was approbation in the strongly aristocratic countenance, with the high wide brow, the straight nose—the only feature bequeathed to Claud who otherwise favoured his sire’s pleasant looks—and the thin-lipped mouth, which in Claud’s memory was usually pinched in disapproval. Lady Blakemere actually smiled as she reached him.

‘Well, children?’ The perfectly modulated voice was the epitome of good breeding. ‘I am glad to see you enjoying one another’s company. I hope you have saved a dance for your cousin, my dear Katherine?’

This last did not fail to fan Claud’s irritation. Alone of their elders, the Countess refused to use the pet names that served to distinguish her niece and her own eldest daughter. Lady Blakemere instead addressed her child as Lady Katherine in public, just as she spoke of her sister as Lady Silvia, raising her over the despised Rothley, mercifully deceased, who had been ‘a mere baron’.

Claud watched Kate curtsy as she answered, ‘I believe we are engaged for a country dance later in the evening.’

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