“I truly am, Miss Parish.”
“Then you do not despise people like my father… mill-owners?”
“Heavens, no! Where would we be without men who make things? There is a virtue in the old ways, of hand-spinning and weaving, and some goods, like lace, are works of art in their own right, but using machines to speed the process and produce goods cheaper — that is a great benefit to society, is it not? It means that those with less money can still have warm clothes and blankets. No, I do not despise your father, Miss Parish. In fact, it is my ambition to be just such another as he was, if I can.”
They had reached the top step, and Davis already had the front door open to receive Miss Parish, yet Kent was unwilling to relinquish her. He still held her hand, gazing at her lovely face as those clear eyes looked straight back at him. There was no deception in her, he realised, no artifice at all. She was exactly as she seemed to be, a straightforward, unassuming girl.
He raised her gloved hand to his lips. “Thank you for your company, Miss Parish.”
And there for the first time that day was the blush and the lowered eyes. He collected his horse from the groom, mounted and, with a cheery wave to Miss Parish, rode off down the drive, quite delighted with her.
***
Katherinewatchedhimgo,the warm glow inside whenever she was with him making her smile. Such a lovely man, and if only— But there was no point pursuing that train of thought. She might be deeper in love with him with every meeting, but he had no such feelings for her, that she understood. Katherine had been courted with some intensity at Branton, and Mr Kent Atherton’s casual friendship was nothing like that. Whole weeks might pass by when he made no effort to seek her out, and when he did, his conversation was all on the subject of machinery and manufacturing, with nothing personal about it at all.
As she turned to enter the house, she found Aunt Cathcart standing in the hall, an unreadable expression on her face.
“Aunt?” Katherine said uncertainly, wondering if she had inadvertently transgressed again.
“Were you riding alone with Mr Atherton?”
“No, aunt. Emily and Mr Lucas were with us until it came on to rain, but then Emily was anxious to get home.”
“And Mr Kent very obligingly escorted you home. I see. Come, child, let us get you out of those wet clothes. Davis, send Marler up to Miss Katherine’s room.”
Katherine meekly followed her aunt upstairs, and allowed herself to be peeled out of her wet habit. When Daisy arrived, Aunt Cathcart thrust the habit and hat into her hands.
“Take that downstairs and see what you can do with it,” Aunt Cathcart said. “I shall find a clean gown for my niece.”
Daisy bobbed a curtsy and disappeared, while Aunt Cathcart rummaged through Katherine’s gowns, emerging with a pretty blue muslin that was normally kept for visiting. She bustled about, fastening the buttons, and all the while keeping up a patter of seemingly innocuous questions. Did Mr Kent ride with them very often? Did he usually accompany Katherine home? Did she talk to him? What did they talk about?
Katherine hesitated over that one. She knew her aunt disliked any reference to her father’s occupation, but she had to answer honestly.
“About Branton, mostly.”
“Branton? What aspect of Branton?”
“The mills and manufactories,” Katherine whispered.
“Themills!You talked to a gentleman about mills?”
“He asked me, aunt. He is interested in such things… machines of all kinds.”
“Ah.” She paused, a little frown on her face. “Come, sit down, child, and let me see if I can do something with this wet hair. You like Mr Kent, I think.”
Katherine blushed, of course. Oh, her unruly cheeks were such a trial to her!
“Well, that is not so surprising,” her aunt said. “He is very… gentlemanly. Naturally he is unfailingly courteous to you. He treats you exactly as he would treat Aveline… or any other lady.”
“He is very kind,” Katherine said in a low voice.
“Kind… yes, he is kind to you, out of respect for your uncle. But you must not allow your imagination to run away with the idea that his… hiskindnessmeans anything more than politeness.”
“Oh, no, aunt! I would not… I have never… I have no expectation of… He is just being friendly.”
“Precisely. After all, he is an earl’s son, and just because his status has shifted somewhat of late, does not mean that he would look so low for a wife. He has not yet been formally presented at court, for he only came down from Cambridge last year and the family stayed at home this spring on account of the Dowager Countess, but next year, when Lady Olivia makes her come-out, Mr Kent will spend the full season in town. There he will meet the daughters of the nobility and that is where his wife will come from, when he chooses to marry.”
“Yes, aunt. I understand.”
