Chapter Twenty-Two
Kitty awoke to the sobering knowledge she was alone in the big bed.
Stretching out her arm she felt cold linens…Max must have risen quite some time before. It was barely eight o’clock, but she couldn’t go back to sleep. There was no warm body to snuggle into.
That thought sent another in its wake. What would she do when there was no more Max? She had no illusions. He’d taken her as his mistress and it had been an outrageous maneuver that had become a marvellous experience for her. And for him as well, she hoped.
But all things must end—especially the tenure of mistresses.
It would be time to go home to Ridlington and perhaps reassess her life. She could not imagine continuing to reside in town and risk meeting Max at social occasions, or hearing about his latest mistress.
No, that would kill her—rip her heart right out of her chest and render her quite dead.
Unbidden, tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she pushed them away and swung her legs out over the bed. She refused to start the day by being maudlin and weepy. Two sentiments she’d abhorred in others, and ones she did not intend to indulge in herself.
Today was a new day, and there were new opportunities for inquiries about the carriage accident. If she could return to Ridlington with an adequate answer as to why Hecate was so badly injured, it would be a wonderful achievement.
Walking into the parlor and finding herself alone wasn’t quite so wonderful, but she remained hopeful, accepting tea from Deery.
“Mr. Max asked me to let you know he had some urgent matters to deal with early this morning, but that he hopes to be back no later than ten.”
“Very well,” she nodded. “Thank you. Is Mrs. Chaney about yet?”
“I have not seen her as of this moment, Miss Ridlington.” Deery placed a warm scone in front of her. “Cook thought you might fancy these this morning. It’s quite chilly outside.”
“Oooh, how lovely. Cook had the right of it.” She buttered a scone and liberally added blackberry preserve. “I hope Mr. Max wrapped up warmly.”
“He did indeed. I saw to it myself. Since he was riding, it was most important.” Deery nodded.
“He didn’t take the coach?”
“No, he said it would be faster by horse.”
“Goodness, he must have been in a hurry,” remarked Kitty. “And early too.”
“Indeed, Miss. Although Mr. Max is never averse to an early morning ride.”
Kitty’s mind whirled down completely disgraceful paths, but she hid her blush behind another mouthful of scone. “Please compliment Cook for me, Deery. And if she made the blackberry preserves as well…I think she deserves a nice bonus and I shall speak with Mr. Max about it as soon as he arrives home.” She smiled at the man.
Who, to her surprise, smiled back. “Thank you, Miss. Cook will be most pleased to know her efforts were appreciated.”
It was somewhat surprising, mused Kitty, finding herself completely alone at Mowbray House. Grace had not put in an appearance at the breakfast table, and thus Kitty had been reduced to her favorite corner of the library, and a book.
She wasn’t averse to a morning’s reading in front of a nice fire, but with the advances they’d made in their pursuit of the truth—well, she’d hoped for a slightly more active and interesting time of it.
However, it was barely half an hour later when she heard a slight hubbub in the hall, and could only hope it was Max returning. And that he might have some news or plans to alleviate her frustrated isolation.
Her prayers were answered.
“Kitty?” He spoke her name as he walked in to the library. “Here you are. Good.” He crossed the room, grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her up, giving her a hard smacking kiss on the mouth.
“And good morning to you as well,” she said in surprise as he released her.
“Right then. We have a lot to do this morning. So you should go and dress. Or change your hat. Or whatever women do before going into town.”
“We’re going into London?”
“Yes we are.” He was grinning at her, a look of restrained exuberance on his face.
