The accusation hurt nonetheless. “I know, Beth.” She tried to force a smile, but it wouldn’t come.
Another maid arrived with the two vases of water she had requested. Katherine directed her to her own sitting room and moved to leave the room, picking up her basket of roses.
She paused at the door. “I don’t think we should talk any more about this for a while. I only want what’s best for you, but you can’t see that right now.”
Elisabeth wrung her hands for five seconds before she jumped up and followed Katherine across the hall. She had never seen such a stricken look on her sister’s face. At the moment William was forgotten. She had to make amends to Kit.
She shooed the maid out of the large room filled with Chippendale furniture, handsome with covers that Kit herself had embroidered. She then commenced to pace across the thick diamond-patterned carpet that covered the floor from wall to wall. Katherine ignored her as she began to arrange the roses.
“You’re not dried up!” Beth exclaimed. “And you’re certainly not old!”
Katherine glanced up, but she still couldn’t manage to smile. “But I am occasionally a prune?”
“No, not a prune, just—just prim and proper, which is as you should be.”
Now Katherine did smile. “I got this way having to entertain all those old German and Spanish diplomats at the palace. As soon as it was learned I spoke both languages so fluently, I never lacked for dinner partners.”
“How boring,” Beth sympathized.
“Never say so. It was fascinating, learning about other countries at first hand, almost as good as traveling, which Father refused to let me do.”
“Didn’t you ever get to entertain any dashing Frenchmen? You speak French as well as a native.”
“But so does everyone else, love.”
“Of course,” Beth said, continuing her pacing.
It wasn’t enough. Kit had smiled, but there was still hurt in her eyes. Oh, those horrid, horrid words! If only she had Kit’s control. Kit never said anything she didn’t mean.
A turn about the room brought her close to the window facing the street. The coach drawing up below looked familiar.
“Is Father expecting Lord Seldon?”
“Yes. Has he arrived?”
Beth turned away from the window, nodding. “I never did like that pompous old goat. Remember when we were children and you poured that pitcher of water out the window onto the old fellow’s head? I laughed so hard—”
Beth stopped, seeing that mischievous look enter Kit’s eyes. God, it had been years since she had seen that look. “You wouldn’t!”
Katherine picked up the second vase of water and walked slowly to the window. Lord Seldon was just being helped out of his coach by a liveried groom.
“Kit, you shouldn’t,” Beth warned, but she was grinning from ear to ear. “Father had a fit the last time. We both got the birch.”
Katherine said nothing. She waited until the unsuspecting Lord Seldon had reached the door just under her window, then tipped over the vase. She drew back, a second passed, then she burst into giggles.
“Good Lord, did you see his face?” Katherine said between gasps. “He looked like a dead fish.”
Beth couldn’t answer at first, for she had thrown her arms around Kit and was laughing too hard.
Finally: “Whatever will you tell Father? He’s going to be furious.”
“Yes, undoubtedly. And I will assure him I will dismiss the clumsy servant responsible for such an outrage.”
“He won’t believe you.” Beth giggled.
“Of course he will. He won’t know the difference. He doesn’t concern himself with domestics. And now I must go see to Lord Seldon. I can’t have him dripping all over my foyer. Pray for me, love, that I can deal with him with a straight face.”
Lady Katherine St. John sailed out of the room to do what she did best: soothe and manage. She had also managed to relieve the tension between her and her sister.
