Chapter One
“Is Hecate ready, Aunt?”
An older woman sat in a delicately ornate chair beside Kitty’s vanity, and watched her as she put the finishing touches to her toilette for the evening. “I think so. She shooed me out of her room and told me to come and visit you, since she couldn’t dress with me observing her.”
Kitty chuckled. “Yes, that’s her. Always preferring her privacy.” She dipped her finger into a tiny pot of rouge and delicately applied the rosy hue to her cheeks. “Although I’m very happy she’s come out of her shell so much here in London.”
Finishing with a light touch of powder, and then pausing to whisk away any stray particles, Kitty turned away from the mirror for a moment. “None of this would have been possible without you, Aunt Venetia. I know you don’t like to be thanked, but I do hope you know how very grateful both Hecate and I are that you’ve been so generous with your time…” she glanced down at her gown, “…and your money.”
“Darling, no mention of that. Too crass.”
“And I would never dream of doing so were anyone else present, Aunt. But you must allow me to assure you of our awareness, our profound gratitude and our undying affection for you. I doubt either Hecate or myself ever dreamed of being able to participate in a London season. And I know Edmund and Rosaline also consider themselves in your debt for your many kindnesses.”
“Oh pooh.” Blushing, Lady Venetia raised her fan to her face. “Having you girls here has brightened my life. I’d forgotten what fun it was to chaperone two beautiful young ladies through London’s ballrooms, especially since neither of you are insipid debutantes.” She straightened her skirt. “I will also be honest—having auspicious relatives isn’t something to be sneezed at. Thanks to you, I can count on a Baron, a vicar, a FitzArden, and now Viscount Hayward, among my family members. Quite a coup, you know.”
“Goodness. I never thought of that,” blinked Kitty.
“And of course I’ve enjoyed every minute of watching so many gentlemen’s heads turning as you both pass by.” She wrinkled her nose in amusement.
Kitty smiled. “And we have enjoyed causing such a reaction, I can assure you.” She blinked. “Well, at least I have. I can’t speak for Hecate.”
Aunt Venetia’s brows lowered a little. “I do worry about that girl. She spends far too much time with unsavory people.”
“You’re speaking of the Indian family she’s befriended?”
“Yes.” Her aunt’s expression was not one of warmth. “It’s not the thing, Kitty. I wish you’d talk her out of it.”
Kitty shrugged. “You should know by now, Aunt, that there’s no talking Hecate out of anything. And besides, they do seem quite nice. Hard working, and all that sort of thing. I made sure there was nothing to do with money involved, of course. But I think Hecate is a little too intelligent to fall for any underhanded schemes. I can’t say I’m thrilled with their location, but since you encouraged Tandy to accompany Hecate when she visits, I feel much safer.”
“A footman is an absolute necessity, of course. But even so, I can’t help worrying. Suppose she should catch some awful foreign illness…”
“Dear Aunt,” Kitty stretched out a hand and touched the older woman’s knee. “Hecate is a grown woman. She is also very intelligent, although in an abstract sort of way. I believe she’s keeping an eye on the family until their father returns from soldiering in Europe.”
“Oh dear.” That information failed to soothe Aunt Venetia. “So many losses over there. And rumors of more big battles to come against the Monster.”
“Yes,” agreed Kitty. “We must pray for our dear Wellington’s success, of course.”
“Indeed. I hate to see the number of eligible gentlemen reduced by this stupid business.”
Kitty couldn’t really come up with an appropriate response to such a comment. It wasn’t that her aunt was flighty, because she was well-aware of her situation and made all her plans with great care. It could best be described as a view of the world from her perspective, rather than one of political and military necessity.
Lady Venetia Allington looked at world events and translated them into how will this affect me?
“Well put your worries to rest for tonight, Aunt,” said Kitty. “It will be a charming evening, I’m sure. After all, how much trouble can we get into at a musicale?”
She stood, a final glance into her mirror reassuring her that everything was in place.
“Don’t even think that sort of thing,” said Aunt Venetia. “Trouble will find all of us if we’re not careful.” She stood as well. “Speaking of trouble, will Mr. Seton-Mowbray be in attendance, I wonder?”
Kitty controlled a slight shiver of excitement at that particular name. “I have no idea, Aunt. Why do you ask?” She bent to pick up her gloves and reticule, happy her hands were steady.
“Oh, no reason in particular. Just that I noticed his attentions to you seemed…a little more than polite, shall we say, when we encountered him at the Inglesby rout.”
Kitty chuckled. “Mr. Seton-Mowbray’s attentions have never been polite, Aunt. He’s blunt to the point of rudeness, looks down on us mere mortals as annoyances, and has no sense of humor as far as I can discern. Other than his money, he really has very little to recommend him.”
Aunt Venetia nodded. “I suppose you’re right, dear.” She picked up her shawl and handed another to Kitty. “He’s an excellent match, though.”
“He might well be, but I see nothing appealing, and I doubt he’d even consider the possibility of an alliance with the lowly Ridlington family. He need look no further than the Cumberlands, the Clarences or the Spencers.” Kitty shrugged as they walked downstairs.
“Yes. And as you say, other than money, he doesn’t seem to have much to offer,” agreed her aunt.
Only those penetrating eyes, broad shoulders, a chin that looks stubborn, and a mouth that makes me think of things I shouldn’t…
*~~*~~*
The evening was shaping up to be one of unalloyed boredom for one or two of the guests, Mr. Max Seton-Mowbray among them. The star pianist, a Señor Marcovicci Bonatello, was…uninspired. Max decided that was the word that best described his performance.
Technically brilliant, every note perfect, but lacking anything lifting it beyond the ordinary. His sister’s abilities with this particular movement from one of Beethoven’s early sonatas left Señor Bonatello’s far behind. He sighed silently as his mind drifted to Grace.
She possessed a rare gift for music, seeming to be able to anticipate the next measure and play the current one accordingly. She painted images with notes as far as he was concerned; her performances always conjured up visions of one kind or another.
And yet few had ever heard her play.
It was becoming clear Grace needed to liberate herself from her self-imposed confinement, but damned if Max knew the right words or the right circumstances to provide her with the key.
A slight clearing of the throat to his right attracted his thoughts away from family matters and he turned his head slightly to see Miss Kitty Ridlington suppress a wince as she stretched her spine a little in a movement just short of a fidget.
He sympathized. These chairs were bloody uncomfortable for a lengthy piece of music. He doubted that situation would change even if the great Johann Cramer himself were sitting at the piano playing the same piece.
Finally, his patience was rewarded by the final bars of the sonata, and Max found himself rising and applauding along with the other fifty or so people in the room. Most of whom, like him, were probably welcoming the chance to stand and stretch, rather than expressing enthusiasm for the performance.
The murmur of conversation grew as the audience began the tedious process of filing out of the ballroom and into the reception hall where food and beverages would be served. With his customary adroitness, Max easily found himself beside his prey.
“Good evening, Miss Ridlington.” He glanced around. “And Miss Hecate? I believe I saw her earlier…”
Kitty dropped a slight curtsey. “Good evening, Mr. Seton-Mowbray. Yes, my sister is speaking with friends, I believe.” She looked off to her right. “Just over there.”
“Ah yes.” He noted the group was absent one Dancey Miller-James, and heaved a sigh of relief. “In that case, I declare my intention of seizing this opportunity to offer my arm as support and guidance through the starving throng.” He raised his bent arm, holding it out to her, his expression daring her to accept.
“How eloquent, Mr. Seton-Mowbray. And yet a simple may I escort you would have worked just as well.” She shot him a somewhat scornful glance. “I’m hungry too.”
“Good.” He merely grinned as she placed her gloved hand on his sleeve and allowed him to steer them to a couple of empty chairs. “Wait here, don’t let anyone take that seat, and I’ll fetch us a couple of plates.”
“Don’t forget the lobster patties,” she said as he turned to leave. “I adore them. Miss those and I will never speak to you again.”
“A terrible threat.” He chuckled. “Lobster patties it is.”
Adroitly balancing two plates, he returned minutes later, pleased to observe that Miss Ridlington had indeed managed to defend their seats from other guests.
“Your refreshments, Ma’am.” He bowed, gave her a plate and then took his own seat. “You will note the preponderance of lobster patties.”
She was surveying the mountain of little pastries with approval. “You certainly took me at my word, sir.”
He munched appreciatively for a moment. “The thought of being cut from your list of acquaintances struck terror into my soul. By the way,” he munched again. “You’re right about them. They are quite delicious.”
Both ate appreciatively, the silence between them oddly comfortable as they watched the ebb and flow of people in the room.
Then Kitty swallowed, and spoke. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” He turned his head and looked at her.
“Being quite unlike yourself.”
He blinked. “In what way?”
She barely restrained a snort. “Mr. Seton-Mowbray. We have crossed paths now more times than I can recall, at a variety of events, over what has to be close to a year or so. In all that time, in all those encounters, you have never revealed any desire to be charming or attentive. In fact, you have mostly appeared to be uninterested, often intimidating, and seldom conversational.” She considered the contents of her plate and carefully selected another treat. “And yet this evening, here you are, waiting on me, fetching me lobster patties, and generally acting in a most unexpected way.” She popped the confection into her mouth and murmured in delight for a moment. “I should add that I am not complaining.” She licked her lips. “But it is quite out of the ordinary.”
Max had a difficult time pushing aside the results of watching her tongue leave a sheen on those full lips. “Really.”
“Yes. Really.” She set her plate aside with a sigh. “So I shall repeat myself. Why are you doing this?”
“Because it gives me pleasure?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m sure there are many things that give you pleasure. But you had ample chance to explore this particular behavior before now, and you didn’t. So no, I won’t accept that reason.”
He shrugged. “You have found me out, Miss Ridlington.” He too set his plate on the small table behind them. “I have something of import to discuss with you.”
“Better,” she nodded.
He narrowed his eyes. “That is the truth, you know. It is important. And I’m not sure how to begin the conversation.”
“Well, when you decide, do let me know?” She sighed. “I can’t say I’m averse to missing the second part of the evening’s entertainment. Señor Bonatello must be having an off night.”
Max wanted to seize her, turn her over his knee and spank the daylights out of her. In fact, his fingers itched to do just that. But his control asserted itself and he merely shifted a little in his chair. “Impertinent, but apt, I suppose,” he drawled. “However, I realize this is neither the time nor the place for the conversation we need to have.”
“Then what do you suggest?” She gazed at him, her expression of mild interest getting even further under his skin.
“Drive with me tomorrow morning.”
“Oh my.” Her gaze grew assessing and she raised an eyebrow. “How easily misconstrued that would be.”
“Do you care?” He watched the interest replace the indifference in her eyes.
“As a matter of fact, no. I can’t say I care.” A quick smile lit up her face. “It’s time I did something quite awful, isn’t it?”
“Would driving with me be that bad?”
She thought for a moment. “If you left your footman behind, it might be. Especially if we were seen returning to the Park. As if from a longer drive…”
“From my home, for example…” He led her on, feeding the demon he sensed lay within her. He had his own demons; he felt qualified to judge hers.
“Quite, quite scandalous.”
“And that would be to your liking?”
She straightened. “I’m rather tired of the mundane, Mr. Seton-Mowbray. I have no expectations, and I’m much older than an Almacks debutante. I am not husband-hunting, since I intend never to marry. My family is settling into new lives, my brother has his own coterie of acquaintances, and my sister…well, Hecate is unique. I am…ornamental, I suppose. That’s all. So yes, I’m ready to be a little bit more than the delightful Miss Ridlington. I believe it might be entertaining were I to be known as the scandalous Miss Ridlington.”
“Then I hope you’ll allow me to assist you in achieving that goal, Ma’am.”
“Thank you, Mr. Seton-Mowbray.” Her smile was one he hadn’t seen before; a blend of enthusiasm and wickedness, lighting up her features into something remarkable. His body responded with a sharp bold of lust, rattling him from toes to eyebrows.
He swallowed. “Call me Max.”