Chapter Fourteen
“If you apologise one more time, I swear I will do something awful.” Max glowered at Kitty over the dining table in the small parlor.
She sniffed. “I’ve never done that before in my life, I swear.”
“You mean you’ve never cried?” His eyebrow rose. “I find that somewhat hard to believe, my dear.” He sipped his wine and watched her face in the candlelight.
“Only as a little girl,” she answered. Turning to her food, he realized that topic was closed.
She was pale still, but composed, her crying episode having ended with her pulling away from him, wiping her nose and determinedly striding up the stairs, announcing she needed a brief rest. It had lasted all afternoon, so he guessed she’d fallen asleep. They’d not met until the dinner gong.
He had to admire the strength that held her together and also admit he was surprised by it. Kitty, to all outward appearances, was a beautiful woman who possessed all the graces, had a modest amount of financial backing, and decorated the salons of theTonevery bit as successfully as her peers. To find her capable of handling everything the last twenty-four hours had thrown at her, and keep her countenance through it all, well it was extremely impressive.
Her collapse after all was done…merely showed how she had been affected, and demonstrated what she’d kept hidden during the times of crisis and decision.
“You are silent,” she said. “You must be tired too. I did manage to rest, but you’ve been up for hours, haven’t you?”
He nodded. “I was just thinking about today. Not a usual day in my life, or yours I’d suppose.”
She managed a chuckle. “Max, if my days were like this on a routine basis, I would probably have ignored this delicious dinner and gone directly to the brandy.”
He grinned. “I understand.” He sipped his wine. “Your aunt was all right?”
“She was. But it was probably best you were elsewhere when she arrived. Aunt Venetia, it would seem, responds to emergencies with temper. She needed someone to blame.”
“Me?” said Max.
“I’m afraid so.” Kitty shrugged. “From Hecate’s accident to us being here together, you were the villain in the drama.”
“How long will it last? Should I worry?”
She looked up at him in surprise. “Good lord, no. She means no harm. By tomorrow she’ll be worrying about Hecate, of course, but also trying to assess the damage to her reputation by it all.” She put down her knife and fork and touched her napkin to her lips with a satisfied little sound. “That was excellent, by the way. You have a marvellous chef—his creations are delicious.”
“He is a she, and she’s been here at Mowbray House since my grandfather’s time. Started as an undercook or a potato peeler or something.”
Kitty laughed, as he meant her to do. It was a sound that warmed him, which—upon reflection—should have disturbed him, but didn’t.
“So Lady Allington wasn’t too concerned that Hecate had left?” He pursued the topic, since it would be relevant when it came to his and Kitty’s status in town.
“She was,” Kitty shook her head. “I wouldn’t want you to think she wasn’t distraught. She loves Hecate—everyone does—and she’s promised to keep footmen at the ready to send messages to and from Ridlington if necessary.” She paused. “She’s a good woman, Max. I wouldn’t be here without her help. She didn’t have to welcome Richard and myself the way she did, nor did she have to offer us financial support, but she did that as well. I do believe she has her own way of dealing with things, though. And in this case, she knows Hecate is better off with her family at Ridlington. Thus she will spend more time working on how to present matters to London, than dashing down to the country where she knows she will be of little use.”
“She is a practical woman. A rarity in town.” He finished his wine. “And since you mentioned him, where is your brother? Of all the people to punch me in the face this morning, I would have expected his fist to land the first blow.” He rubbed the sore spot absently.
She examined his chin. “You can barely see the bruise.”
“A great comfort. Thank you for mentioning it.”
“I was just pointing out…”
He raised his hand. “My bruise is nothing. I’ve had worse. Where’s Richard, Kitty?”
He saw her pause, and look away from his gaze.
“Kitty?”
She squared her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
He frowned. “Doesn’t he have rooms with Lady Allington?”
