“Impossible,” he responded with a smile, “for then I’d be shallow, too.”
“We don’t squabble, do we?”
“We don’t. Thus far we haven’t fought, either, which is probably as well. I suspect you’re a fiery warrior.”
“I’m not meek. I doubt I could ever be.”
“I have no complaint.”
She rang for their final course. “Nor have I. I feel as if I won a lottery.”
“We did both gamble,” he agreed, “but not so blindly. I knew you were a dear friend of Ruth Lulworth’s, and you must have known something of me from them.”
Kitty waited until the sweet course was laid out, along with dried fruits and nuts.
“Let’s see,” she said, taking some pear tart. “You were not objectionable—”
“High praise!”
“But unlikely to abandon your London ways.”
“True.”
“But you had Andrew Lulworth’s approval as a good man, and that was enough for me.”
“We still could have been incompatible.”
“Which was why I wanted to delay the wedding. I was expecting a week to learn about you, but you made haste back to Town.”
“I was terrified of Isabella.”
“Ha!”
“Truly. I couldn’t discount the possibility of her sneaking into my bedroom one night, stripping naked, and then screaming for help. It seemed much wiser to be out of reach. I didn’t think of it from your point of view.”
“We must get Isabella away from the dowager.”
“Perhaps the Hartleys will be kind, warmhearted people with whom she’d like to live.”
“A mere baronet?” Kitty asked. “The worst of her might come from the dowager, but she has a fine opinion of herself. A visit, perhaps, but not a home. She needs a grand marriage, and unless we can free her from the dowager, as soon as possible.”
“I’ll not force her to it.”
“Of course not. But if a duke proposes...”
“As long as it’s not a royal one!”
Kitty chuckled, and they spent the rest of the meal harmoniously discussing future plans. But Kitty wondered if he, like her, was thinking of the time between—the winter, when she would be tussling with Beauchamp Abbey, and he would be mostly in Town, entangled in plots and mayhem.
A bit more Shakespeare. Something about a winter of discontent. The countryside in winter. Stark trees against frosted fields, and chilly journeys to even the closest places.Despite the Dutch stove, her breath would frost in the Abbey as she went from room to room, and if the weather turned really bad, she could be trapped there for days or even weeks by snow and ice. She thought wistfully of the neat town house, which would be easy to keep warm and where shops and amusements would be only streets away.
I have such pleasures for now,she reminded herself,and I will enjoy every moment.
Braydon had hired a livery carriage to take them to the theater, so they didn’t have to take their chance on a hackney. It came provided with hot bricks, so that in her velvet cloak Kitty was comfortable all the way. Edward and Henry had gone ahead to ensure their box was ready for them, and they’d stay as personal attendants.
The outside of the theater was lit by brilliant gaslight, and the same greeted them inside. Kitty wrinkled her nose at the smell, but it wasn’t too bad, and the brightness was magical. They had come for the play, but the pit and high gallery were already filled by people who’d come for the earlier parts of the program. Kitty wanted to put her hands over her ears. The intermission chatter approached cacophony.
Nearly everyone was in sober colors, but most particularly in the rows of boxes. Kitty was thankful for theblack gauze and velvet, for her unmodified blue might have seemed too bright, and her blue cloak would have been disastrous.
