Ruth had run out of space and turned the page to write diagonally.
If you agree to consider the match, he will arrange your journey here at his expense, and your journeyhome if you decide he will not suit. You need only reply to me for all to be put in hand, but remember, it must be soon.
I don’t know this man well, Kitty, and I fear my ardent desire to have you nearby influences me, but Andrew believes you should at least consider this,and his judgment is sound.
That was it.
Ardent desire.
Yes.
Kitty rose and paced her room, Sillikin in her arms.
Escape!
But through marriage.
She hadn’t rushed into her first marriage, but she’d been swept along on a torrent of ecstatic romance, with no one attempting to slow her down. Her parents had been dazzled by her being wooed by a member of the nobility. If they’d suffered any doubts, Marcus’s wounds and true adoration had silenced them. Marcus had wooed her so desperately, with gifts, flowers, and passionate entreaties, that she would have had to have been made of stone to refuse him.
Here was a very different situation. The offer was cool, the promises minimal, and there were no tempting gifts. The man was a stranger, but she must decide in a moment, and this time she had no one no advise her.
“I must go to Ruth.”
With that, everything became clear. She must go to Ruth, for advice and for the joy of it. Once in Beecham Dab, once she met Lord Dauntry, she’d know whether to make this marriage or not. Mere travel there wouldn’t commit her.
“How to escape?” she muttered. One thing was sure:Lady Cateril would never tolerate Marcus’s widow marrying again.
She thought she had enough money to cover the cost of a coach ticket to Gloucestershire, but how to escape the house? She was devising complicated ways, some inspired by novels, when she came to her senses. No one here knew about the offer of marriage. She could simply ask to visit her old friend.
She hugged Sillikin. “I don’t know why I haven’t done that before. I’ve allowed us to be glued here by Lady Cateril’s grief, but even she can’t object to a short visit to an old friend, can she?”
Chapter 3
Lady Cateril frowned but didn’t argue against the journey. Lord Cateril, John, and Sarah all declared it an excellent idea, and Lord Cateril insisted on arranging her travel at his expense. Thus Kitty set out three days later in the Cateril coach, drawn by four post-horses. She was attended by a middle-aged housemaid for propriety, and the Cateril estate steward to see to all the arrangements on the way.
Such grand travel wasn’t strange to her, but in the past she’d always been with Marcus. It did seem odd to have such arrangements only for herself, but she was grateful for them. The coach was well sprung, the squabs thick, and the carriage was warmed by hot bricks, with new ones brought at every change of horses. When they paused for refreshments or to dine, the innkeepers bowed low and the inn servants rushed to please in order to deserve generous vails when they left. Kitty couldn’t help thinking that as Viscountess Dauntry, her life would continue in this way. As a governess or companion, it would not.
The maid, Tessa, never spoke unless spoken to, and occupied herself with knitting. Mr. Jones occasionally exchanged pleasantries but seemed content with his book. Kitty sometimes read, but for the most part she watched the world go by, enjoying liberation. She’d seen so little of England.
She’d been born and raised in Coventry, then attended school in Leamington, a short distance away. When she and Marcus married, he’d wanted to live in London, so, despite his mother’s objections, they’d set up their household there. Kitty’s entire married life had been spent in London, apart from the annual pilgrimage to Cateril Manor for Christmas. They wouldn’t have made that journey except at Lady Cateril’s insistence, because Marcus’s wounds had made sitting in a coach for a long distance agony. He’d passed the journey in an opium haze and then suffered the results of taking so much.
Her last long journey had been in the cortege that had taken his body back to Cateril for burial, and she didn’t remember much of that. She had grieved. Sometimes Lady Cateril seemed to doubt it, but she had. She always would. But she knew better than most how difficult life had been for Marcus. She couldn’t regret his choice.
She shook off unhappy memories, but she wished she’d made this journey in summer. Now, in late November, the leaves had fallen from most of the trees and the sky hung gray and low. As they passed through towns and villages, she saw that the people were as somber as the weather. She’d read in the papers that people at all levels of society were keeping to sober dress as a sign of their sadness over the princess’s death, but was surprised to find it still true weeks later. How long would it persist?
All the same, the changing scenery was interesting simply for being new to her. Over the day, the shackles of the past eighteen months fell away and she rediscovered a sense of lightness. She’d always been naturally lighthearted—yes, even romping. Her merry nature had probably been what drew Marcus to her. Perhaps he’d reached through her for the adventurous young man he had been. During her marriage she’d played the lightpart more and more to counterbalance Marcus’s deepening gloom.
As the daylight faded and they approached their stop for the night, Kitty realized she wouldn’t, couldn’t, return to Cateril Manor, where Lady Cateril tried to impose gloom on everyone.Let there be light!
Life as a governess or companion could be as bad, however. Therefore, unless Lord Dauntry was a truly intolerable person, shemustmake this marriage.
But would he still propose it when he met her?
Ruth had admitted that she’d exaggerated Kitty’s qualities. Perhaps she’d also falsified her appearance. Lord Dauntry, like Henry VIII with Anne of Cleves, could take one look at her and decide they would not suit. She’d heard that the Prince of Wales had had the same reaction to Caroline of Brunswick, but he’d not had the power to do anything about it.
Once they were settled in the Red Horse, Kitty surveyed herself in the mirror in her bedroom. Her nose and chin were definitely too assertive for a lady, and gray stole color from her complexion. In a reverse effect, gray made her reddish hair look brash, and her curls, as usual, were trying to riot.
“I’d look better in colors,” she said to Sillikin. Perhaps the wag of a tail was encouragement.
