Would that be to fall straight into Kit Kat’s enchantments and become another adoring fool?
***
Again they were in an awkwardness. Kitty was tingling with expectation but also fretful about the hows and whens. She wanted to suggest they get it over with, but there was something odd in his manner. She didn’t want him to think her a shameless hussy.
When they entered her boudoir she saw the pretty gaming table with the marquetry chessboard on the top. She had no intention of playing chess with a man like Braydon. She fiddled with the top and found how to flip it to reveal a baize-covered surface with indentations at the corners to hold the players’ coins or counters. “Do you play cards?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Some have moral objections. We could play piquet.”
“I have an excellent memory for cards,” he warned.
“Then I’ll hope for luck, but as my husband is responsible for my gaming debts, it hardly matters. In any case, I’ve only ever played for penny points.”
She took out the cards and counters, but he said, “Counters aren’t much use in piquet. There’s paper in your desk.”
She hadn’t yet explored the walnut writing desk, but indeed there was paper, and he brought a sheet to the table, along with a silver inkpot and a pen. The paper was monogrammed. She picked it up, surprised that it looked so fresh. The imprint read KD. Kathryn Dauntry, her new name.
“Mine?” she asked.
“I purchased it in Town.”
“Thank you,” she said, absorbing his thoughtfulness.Or was it simple efficiency? She could ask,What if I’d jilted you?He would have responded,It was only a small amount.How did she know him so well and yet not understand him at all?
As he shuffled the cards, she wondered if many wedding nights were as awkward as this. She supposed most couples had courted for some months and were ready when the time came. She’d heard of one couple who’d scandalized their servants by rushing upstairs as soon as they entered their house, shedding clothing as they went. Such impetuous passion sounded like fun, but there’d be nothing like that tonight.
She remembered hearing about the Regent’s wedding night. He hadn’t been the Regent then, only the Prince of Wales, obliged to marry before Parliament would pay his debts. The marriage had taken place in Germany by proxy, but when he’d met Caroline of Brunswick, he’d taken an instant dislike of her.
Braydon suddenly asked, “Do you like cognac?”
“I’ve only ever drunk it for medicinal purposes.”
“Then I hope it wasn’t the finest. Cateril didn’t drink it?”
“He was a claret and ale man, but he didn’t overindulge.”
Opium. That was another matter.
“I’ll get some.”
It was as if he wanted to escape.
It was said that the Regent’s bride had been unclean and uncouth, which was possibly true, for she’d behaved oddly ever since, creating scandals all around Europe and supposedly taking lovers. They must have consummated the marriage, for Princess Charlotte had been the result, but they’d soon separated.
Kitty fiddled with the quill pen. How had Caroline been so intolerable that they’d never conceived otherchildren? It was a simple enough business, and if they’d done their duty, there wouldn’t be such fears about the succession.
She put the pen down. She couldn’t imagine why she would be intolerable, and she’d thought she’d felt the earthy desires between them at times, but clearly there was a reason for wooing and courtship. This situation was odd.
He returned with a decanter and two glasses and poured some brandy for each of them. Then they began the game.
It had been some time since Kitty had played, and he was good. Very good. She didn’t think it was entirely his memory. He knew what to do with what he remembered. She began to enjoy the challenge, even though she was losing. She was having to stretch her mind.
“Ten shillings down,” she said later, placing her cards on the table. “My luck was insufficient to overcome your skill. You could make your living as a card sharp.”
“‘Sharp’ implies cheating,” he objected, but mildly.
“Perhaps any extreme talent is.” She sipped more brandy. The fine cognac was far more pleasant than the brandy she’d drunk before, and this was her second glass. “Is it fair if a strong man fights a weak?”
