With whom did he have affairs, if he did? Who were these women available for carnal exploits?
And he’d admitted to being in love atleastonce. Was he in love now? Or was he in love every time he had one of these alleged affairs?
But he’d made that admission to her the way someone under attack might draw a sword.
“There’s also some speculation about his income,” Lady Wisterberg continued, relentlessly. “I have heard that he has declined to participate in a few excellent investment opportunities lately, the sort he normally would leap upon, and the whispers are that it’s because he’s been in some sort of financial difficulty. Perhaps because of lavishing women with gifts, who knows. Furthermore, his town house isn’t even currently habitable, thanks to a fire. Though, granted, he owns it, which is no mean feat. But his fortune was never family money. Which means he mustworkfor it.” She’d lowered her voice for the word “work” as though it was an epithet worthy of the jar. “For all that he is a baron, he’s a plebeian. Not far removed from peasants.”
“So am I,” Catherine nearly said, but refrained. Lady Wisterberg, in her zeal to lecture, had clearly forgotten.
“And...” She paused, seeming to consider whether she ought to go on. “All right. I’ll say it.” She cleared her throat. “There are rumors he has an illegitimate child.” She said this sotto voce, though no one was listening but Catherine.
Catherine went mute with shock.
She could hardly say, “Well, yes, I’ve heardthem. The night he called a man a bastard and was punched in the face.”
But this was increasingly chilling and sobering. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire” was an adage for a reason.
Catherine held herself absolutely still. As if in so doing she could prevent this unwanted new information from sinking in.
In their parish alone she knew of several girls who had “gotten in trouble.” It was considered a tragedy for all when this happened. People known as “rakes” were usually involved and for the most part suffered few consequences.
Had a man who was purportedly so concerned with the welfare of children created a fatherless child?
Nevertheless, it didn’t mean it was true.
But it occurred to Catherine that shehadbeen lucky. That if another man had discovered her alone on a verandah he might have responded to her very differently.
And surely this was a mark in Lord Kirke’s favor? Surely this supported her own view of him as a fundamentally decent man, regardless of rumors?
Having clearly thoroughly subdued and thoroughly chastened her charge, Lady Wisterberg’s tone shifted to more sympathetic.
“He might be a skillful politician, but when a pretty girl has only a modest dowry her reputation cannot withstand even a bit of tarnish. He is nearly the last man in the world you ought to dance with if you want a successful season. If you do it again, you’ll definitely wind up in the gossip sheets and not in a nice way. Your waltz with him could easily have gone theotherdirection, my dear, if you wereany less charming or obviously innocent. We can seize this moment, and turn the ton’s aroused curiosity into new friendships. But your behavior must be impeccable—impeccable!—from now on. Do you understand?”
After a moment, Catherine nodded dazedly.
“I think we can find you a nice heir,” Lady Wisterberg concluded confidently, and gave her shoulder a little pat. “Lord Vaughn seems just the thing.” Her eyes gleamed shrewdly.
She had learned of Lord Vaughn’s interest in Catherine from Lucy.
Lucy was startled by Catherine’s sudden rise in fortunes and the means by which it occurred, but in the race for Mr. Hargrove’s affections, it looked as though she was ahead by at least a nose by the end of the ball. If Lucy was a little envious, she had little to complain about, given that the sudden flurry of invitations they had come away with from the ball—to picnics, to an afternoon tea, to two more private assemblies—included her, too, at Lady Wisterberg’s insistence.
And the rest of the night, until they departed in order to meet The Grand Palace on the Thames’s curfew, Catherine had danced every dance. Six of them.
This wasexactlywhat she’d dreamed of when she’d come to London. What she’d hoped to be able to report to her father when she returned home.
It was truly a pleasure to dance—she loved to dance!—and to such wonderful music, among such beautiful people, for the rest of the evening. But the names and faces of the young men blurred together. Kirke had somehow flooded her senses and her thoughts. None of the others could get much of a purchase in her imagination, which seemed ironicand unfair, since this was the moment she’d been waiting for all season.
And it seemed downright ungrateful to crave a moment alone in the ballroom when she’d yearned to be anything but since she’d arrived in London. But she wanted some privacy to tuck away in her soul, like keepsakes of certain sensations before they faded: the press of Lord Kirke’s hand on her waist, the heat of his fingers wrapped around hers, and his eyes on her, hot, fixed, and enigmatic. So that she could pore over them again and attempt to conjure the powerful, inadvisable longing they kindled in her body—that simultaneous rush of power and weakness. Of fear and exultation. For she sensed she might never feel that way again.
Chapter Twelve
Once Lord Kirke had set her season in motion like a spun roulette wheel, he’d receded from her life until he was merely scenery on the edge of it.
As the week went on, Catherine’s flagging hopes were revived by a strategic flurry of teas, impromptu picnics, and turns about Rotten Row with Lucy in a carriage belonging to a friend of Lady Wisterberg, all arranged in the spirit of making sure everyone got a look at the first girl with whom Lord Kirke had danced in longer than anyone could remember (though Lady Wisterberg didn’t put it that way). Lady Wisterberg even decided to hold a party at her town house a few weeks hence, which would of course benefit both her and Lucy. Invitations were sent out straightaway, and Lady Wisterberg had aimeddaringlyhigh—she’d invited young Lord Vaughn and his parents, the Earl and Countess of Vaughn, and many an unmarried heir under the age of thirty, and lots of the finest young ladies, too.
Such a party had never been held in Catherine’s honor before. She was dizzied to learn that most of the invitations had been accepted withindays. Days! From heirs! People with titles! Lady Wisterberg made it clear to her that this was an honor indeed. Catherine’s heart now seemed in a perpetual state of racing.
Surely this social whirl was a harbinger of adazzling future? And even though she understood her popularity was rather of the manufactured sort, she was still prepared to enjoy it thoroughly and to take advantage of her opportunities. One did not look gift horses in the mouth. For while Lord Kirke had set it in motion, it really did seem as though people were prepared to like her, perhaps because she was prepared to like them.
