The maid dashed in then. “That’s kind of you, ma’am, but I wouldn’t have minded.”
“Bob,” the cook said to the lad, who was topping up a copper of water, “take out the dog for Mrs. Cateril.”
The boy leapt to the task with eagerness. Kitty thanked the cook, who had a twinkle in her eye. “He’s my sister’s son, ma’am, and a good worker. You must ask for him if your dog needs attention.”
“You’ll be wanting your washing water, ma’am,” Sukey said. “I’ll be right up with it!”
Kitty almost offered to carry it up herself, but she was conscious of the remote possibility that she might become Viscountess Dauntry, so she thanked the maid and returned to her room.
In her experience, servants didn’t admire nobility who did for themselves. She’d heard such people referred to as not knowing what was due to their station, as if they were disturbing the order of the universe. The exception was men with their dogs, horses, and guns. They were allowed to muck around.
Good for the gander, good for the goose,Kitty thought. The makings of the fire were at hand, so she knelt down, cleaned out the ashes, and laid the kindling and wood. She was working the tinderbox when Sukey came in with the jug of steaming water.
“Don’t you be doing that, ma’am!” she exclaimed, as if Kitty were a child likely to set the house on fire.
She put down the jug and claimed the tinderbox. Kitty retreated as Sukey fiddled with the arrangement, as ifKitty had done it wrong. Only then did she strike a flame, ignite a wax taper, and light the fire.
“There,” Sukey said, as if she’d snatched victory from disaster. “Now, ma’am, do you need me to help you dress?”
“I will,” Kitty said. “But come back in a little while. I need to wash first.”
And decide what to wear,she thought as the maid left. She doubted that Lord Dauntry would keep the appointment, but if he did, she’d do her best. That included a suitable appearance.
As she washed, she wished she could wear the gray so as not to be seen to be trying to hide the truth, but that wasn’t even possible. The gown had been so smeared with dirt, some of it stinking, that it had been put to soak in the laundry tub overnight. It might never be wearable again, and she couldn’t regret that.
So, the fawn with simple black braid, or the russet with military trimming? She longed to be out of mourning, even if unfashionably, so she chose the russet. Perhaps its being out-of-date would count in her favor. Sukey returned and helped her on with the stays and gown. Kitty released her then and sat to brush her hair.
She was still working at it when Ruth knocked and came in. “I’d forgotten how magnificent it is.”
“I’ve often thought of cutting it,” Kitty said, working the brush through the long, springy thickness, “but Marcus liked it. Unfortunately, he often said so. When I mentioned cutting off a foot or so, Lady Cateril protested that I no longer cared a jot for him.”
“That woman has taken mourning to extremes,” Ruth said, taking the brush. “You’ll be better off away from her. Do you remember how we used to do this for each other? I always envied you the length and thickness of your hair.”
“And I envied you your blond.”
“Yours is a richer color.”
“Red and restless. That’s what Marcus said.”
“He knew you well, but it’s darker than most red hair, so perhaps not so wild. Marriage must have settled you.”
“Of course, but...” The habit of keeping secrets was hard to break, but she wanted to tell Ruth a bit of it. “It was probably a complaint. Marcus’s injuries meant there were many things he couldn’t do. Travel far, walk far, sit in a theater for hours. Dance. Sometimes I was restless for new experiences.”
Ruth rested a hand on her shoulder for a moment. “How shall I dress it?”
“Plait it tightly and pin it up. It doesn’t show under the cap.”
“You’re not wearing a cap today.”
“I’m a widow.”
“You’re almost a bride. I’ll arrange something.”
Kitty almost surrendered, but said, “No.” She met her friend’s eyes in the mirror. “There’s no point, Ruth. When I chased Sillikin yesterday, I encountered a rider. I’m sure it was Lord Dauntry, so he saw me at my worst. He must have guessed who I was. He’ll probably not even come.”
Ruth did look dismayed, but she said, “He’s written to say he’ll be here at ten.” Seeing the expression on Kitty’s face, she asked, “Why don’t you look relieved?”
“I’m wondering why.”
