‘Do you really mean what you said last night?’ asked Amelia, tucking her hands into her muff.
‘About what?’ asked Kitty wearily. The two young ladies were in Bond Street, where they had just been choosing new ribbon trimming to refresh their evening dresses. Kitty had spent another sleepless night and was hoping that some exercise in the fresh air would help to reduce her headache.
‘About not coming to London.’
‘Yes,’ said Kitty with feeling. She walked a little way, her brow furrowed, then added, ‘I am to blame. I have been carried away by our new life. I was too quick to make judgements without proper knowledge of the facts – and I can see no happy solution to the problem I have created.’ She sighed. ‘What about you, Millie? Are you ready to go home?’
She waited but Amelia did not reply.
‘Have you met anyone you would want to spend the rest of your life with?’ persisted Kitty.
The silence continued as they approached the corner of the street. Finally Kitty looked full at Amelia and saw tears in her eyes. ‘Why, Millie, what did I say?’ she asked in dismay. ‘Please do not cry or, the way I feel at present, I shall start as well.’
‘Let us look into this shop window while we compose ourselves,’ whispered Amelia. After a few moments, she added in a firmer voice, ‘Yes, I am aware of Mr Thatcham’s infatuation. He is most truly a gentleman but I cannot feel any special attachment to him.…’ She shook her head and sighed. ‘It makes my life so much more difficult.’
They looked at each other mournfully. ‘We were happier at home,’ said Kitty. She stared unseeing at a chipstraw bonnet with long pink ribbons. The next moment both girls jumped as a familiar voice spoke from just behind them.
‘Mesdemoiselles, are you choosing new bonnets ready for the Spring?’ They turned to see Etienne sweeping his hat off and bowing to them.
Mindful of Caroline’s scold, Kitty felt her cheeks going pink. If she was the subject of gossip, the people passing by must be watching out for any sign of indiscretion. A quick glance at Amelia reassured her that Millie was showing a more cheerful face than the moment before.
Etienne was politeness itself. He insisted on carrying their parcels for them and on accompanying them home. He kept up a lively conversation, telling them about a wonderful new opera singer he had heard at a concert the previous night. He was in the middle of this story when Kitty’s eyes were drawn to a tall figure coming out of a shop just ahead of them. She had come to know Theo’s height and broad shoulders now.
He looked in their direction. His eyes bored into hers, then narrowed as he glanced at her companions. He bowed slightly and turned away. It felt like an icy hand on her heart. To add to the chill sweeping over her, Kitty saw Miss Harling and her lady companion approaching from the other side of Theo. Miss Harling’s eyes darted from Kitty’s face to Theo’s. She took on a smug look. Without even bothering to acknowledge Kitty, she greeted him loudly and affectionately.
Etienne had led Kitty and Amelia past by this time, so Kitty could not see how Theo responded to this. Her feelings were in turmoil. She could not bear to think she had lost his good opinion. He was the person whose views she respected the most and there would be no pleasure in going to parties and events if she could not share her ideas with him.
In her misery, she found it hard to listen to Etienne’s amusing chatter. He made no comment about their meeting with Theo until they had left Amelia at her front door. But as they walked back from Green Street towards Grosvenor Square, he suddenly said, ‘When we met Mr Weston in Bond Street, he did not behave as a friend. He was very cold.’
‘He is known to be moody,’ responded Kitty in a neutral tone. She had no wish to discuss Theo with Etienne.
‘Or else he is conscious of something bad and wanted to avoid any questions.’ Etienne gave her a searching look. ‘Miss Towers, again you are very pale. Are you quite well?’
‘It is just these city streets,’ she assured him, ‘You know I am used to life in a small town – and we frequently ride or drive in the countryside.’
He beamed at her. ‘So.… Now I know what will please you. I will take you for a drive to Richmond Park.’
‘If my aunt permits,’ stammered Kitty, dismayed. What would Caroline say?
He laughed. ‘But of course she will permit it.’
And so it turned out. Lady Picton was delighted to learn that the friendship between her great-niece and the grandson of her dear schoolfriend was progressing so well.
‘You make a very handsome pair, my love,’ she assured Kitty. ‘If only that young man had sufficient wealth, I do declare I would consider him a perfect match for you. Of course, he is French but from a very old family.’
‘Caroline says he is a dangerous flirt, ma’am.’
‘Oh, pooh! What does she know? When I was young, we were not so namby-pamby in our notions, I can tell you. Next she will be saying that driving out in an open carriage is not the thing to do.’ Seeing that Kitty was still doubtful, the old lady tapped her cane on the floor and added in a sharp tone, ‘Before she passes judgement on Etienne, Lady Caroline would do well to consider some of her other friends. One or two of those young men have reputations that do not bear scrutiny. Take Julius Hethermere’s son – what’s his name, now—?’
‘Theodore Weston, ma’am.’
Lady Picton gave her a shrewd glance. ‘I see he has wasted no time in making your acquaintance! Well, he’s been raking around town for years. He was a dangerous flirt, if ever there was one. Then he went to be a cavalryman and became a hero.’
‘It is plain he misses his military career,’ agreed Kitty, laying out her new ribbons on the little work table and opening her sewing-box, ‘he must have looked splendid in his uniform.’
‘Maybe so, but keep a proper distance, if you please. He has broken enough hearts – a handsome boy of course, takes after his mother.’
‘I notice he has a very changeable temperament,’ Kitty said, looking down at the tangle of threads in her sewing-basket. She added thoughtfully, ’I wonder if it is because of his wounded leg that he is so moody.’ She pulled gently at a length of green silk and began winding it round a paper. She glanced up to see her great-aunt watching her with her head on one side. Kitty continued to sort and wind the silks. She knew her cheeks were red.
‘Since it interests you so much,’ snapped Lady Picton at last, ‘it is common knowledge that his father prefers the younger son – this young man’s half-brother. His own mother died when he was small.’
Kitty looked up at this. ‘How sad, ma’am. It is as if he lost both parents.’
Her aunt made a sound between a grunt and a snort. She seemed ready to give Kitty a lecture on avoiding rakes when there was a welcome interruption. Broome came in with the sherry. There was silence while he set out the decanter and glasses. Kitty laid aside her work to go and pour out a glass for Lady Picton. She met her aunt’s eyes as she put the glass down. Lady Picton nodded. ‘So when will you go for this drive with Etienne?’
‘The day after tomorrow, ma’am.’
‘Very well. Now, if you will be so kind as to write a note for me to my friend, Jane Clemence, you can take it round as you go for your walk this afternoon. I must thank her for this new novel she has sent me, The Necromancer’s Revenge. It is most entertaining and passes the time wonderfully. You should try it as well, my love.’