Regency Debutantes (55 page)

We shared a few kisses,
he had said,
nothing more.
Was that all it had been to him? Didn’t he too feel that the world had turned upside down? Clearly not. But then he was a rake. Everyone said it. A man who was used to taking what he wanted from women and moving on. Just the thought of that was enough to turn her blood cold. She should be glad that he was behaving with the utmost respectability. And then she remembered the dark smoulder in his eyes when he kissed her, the gentle insistence of his lips upon her, and the tenderness of his touch…and she knew that against all rhyme and reason, what she really wanted from Nicholas Maybury was not in the least respectable.

‘Oh, it has been an age since I was in Brighthelmstone. Such a good idea of m’grandson. To escape from the infernal smells
of the town will be a blessed relief. I only hope the sea air is not too cold. At my time of life one cannot be too careful about catching a chill.’ Lady Maybury drew her shawl around her as if she already felt the gusting of the bracing sea air, instead of the stifling heat of London. ‘Are you finished, my dear?’

Kathryn was engaged in yet another portrait of the dowager, this time a sketch in charcoal and chalk. She bobbed her head to the side, considered the work carefully, and, after a stroke here and a smudge there pronounced that she was.

The briefest of knocks sounded upon the library door behind Kathryn and then footsteps sounded upon the wooden floor.

‘Nick!’ Lady Maybury’s face illuminated as her grandson came forward to sweep a kiss to her hand.

‘Grandmama,’ and, turning to the slight figure half-hidden behind the large wooden drawing board, ‘Kathryn.’ He made to politely lift her hand, but she pulled it back before he could reach it.

A smile lit her face as she set the board down on the floor and wiped her palms on the dark stained apron covering her dress. ‘I’m afraid that I’m quite covered in charcoal.’ As if to prove her point, she extended one hand and several slender fingers dangled temptingly in front of his face. It was clear to see that Kathryn was telling the truth, for her hands were indeed ingrained with a thick black dust.

‘I’ve seen cleaner hands on a climbing boy,’ he laughed and, before she could protest, plucked the dirty little hand into his and kissed it. ‘Let it not be said that Lord Ravensmede could be deterred from his manners by a few grains of charcoal.’

‘Your manners are quite impeccable, sir. I don’t think you need worry that such an accusation could be levelled at you.’

Her grin was less than ladylike, but it smote Ravensmede’s heart just the same. Several wild curls had escaped her chignon and were draping artlessly around her throat, the grey eyes were clear and bright, and her skin, beneath the daubs and smudges of black dust, was of a creamy luminescence. There had been
too many days of polite formality, too much self-restraint. Before her appeal the Viscount’s will-power began to crumble. In a moment of weakness he touched one thumb tenderly to her cheek, and then, suddenly conscious of exactly what he was doing and his grandmother’s perceptive gaze, said lazily, ‘More charcoal.’ A large snow-white handkerchief was produced and he quickly wiped at the offending mark. ‘That’s better.’

Lady Maybury’s mouth shaped as if to catch flies, before she snapped it shut. Kathryn said nothing, but could not prevent the flood of colour that warmed her face. The skin that he had touched with such betraying intimacy burned as if branded.

Ravensmede replaced his handkerchief, unwittingly transferring a small quantity of charcoal dust on to the pocket of his coat in the process, which he then proceeded to inadvertently share between his chin, and his cheek. He wandered away from the faded green scrutiny and feigned an interest in a shelf of books. At the other side of the room he could hear the scrape of Kathryn’s chair and the movement of the drawing board upon a table.

‘If you would be so kind as to excuse me, my lady, I’ll attempt to remove the worst of this mess. A good shake of my apron outside and a hand scrub should suffice. And then I’ll wipe the floor in here just in case—’

Lord Ravensmede glanced up from the book he had just extracted from the shelf. ‘My grandmother employs servants to do that, Kathryn; you are not one of them. Is that not so, Grandmama?’

Lady Maybury looked from her grandson to her companion. ‘Yes, of course.’ Then, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, ‘Mary won’t mind a little extra dust to sweep in the morning. Don’t bother the gel just now.’

‘Very well. I’ll go and clean myself up. I’ll come back later when you have need of me.’ Kathryn started towards the door.

‘Kathryn.’ The single word stopped her progress immediately. ‘We plan to discuss our forthcoming trip to Brighthelmstone. I would have you here.’

Kathryn had frozen halfway across the library floor. When she turned around, Ravensmede could see the deepening colour of her cheeks.

‘Fustian, Nick! Must you always be so high-handed? I don’t know where you get it from. Let the gel tidy herself. We can wait for her return before we start upon the plans for Brighthelmstone.’ Lady Maybury peered down the length of her short little nose at her grandson. ‘Besides, I can’t think of a thing until I’ve had some Madeira and cake. Be so kind as to ring the bell.’ She turned to Kathryn, who was still standing rather awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. ‘Well, what are you waiting for, gel? Off you go.’

The door closed quietly behind the slight figure and the dowager and her grandson were left alone. Neither spoke. The slow steady tick of the grandfather clock marked the passing of the seconds.

And then the faded green gaze fixed its focus upon Ravensmede. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’

‘Nothing’s going on.’

‘You seem uncommonly concerned with m’companion.’

A dark eyebrow arched. ‘I’m merely being polite.’

‘Polite, my foot!’ sniffed the old lady. ‘You fancy the gel!’

Ravensmede laughed. ‘You’ve been reading too many romantic novels, Grandmama.’

‘Don’t try to flannel me, boy, I’m not so old that I can’t see when a young man’s ardour is up, even if he is m’own grandson.’

‘Whatever I feel about her is irrelevant—she’s your companion, nothing more.’ The broad shoulders shrugged.

‘I’m trusting you to remember that, Nick,’ she said and fixed a belligerent eye on her grandson. ‘I’ve put in a lot of effort to establish Kathryn in the eyes of the
ton.
Got plenty of respectable young gentlemen interested in her. Won’t be long before one of them makes her an offer.’ She sniffed. ‘But one whiff of scandal and that will soon change. I don’t want you ruining things for Kathryn, or for myself.’

‘I’ve no intention of ruining anything,’ Ravensmede drawled. ‘As I said before, my interest in Kathryn is purely philanthropic.’

‘Then you should take care to remember that until I can find her a husband,’ said the dowager.

The thought of Kathryn marrying one of Lady Maybury’s young gentlemen did not please the Viscount. His grandmother clearly had the bit between her teeth and was progressing her plan at an all-out gallop. It was time that Ravensmede slowed things down a little. ‘Have a care you don’t tire both Kathryn and yourself out, Grandmama. I’ve never seen you attend so many balls and routs as in these last weeks. When was the last time you spent the evening in?’

‘Stuff and nonsense!’ declared the old lady with a considerable degree of venom. ‘I’m not in m’coffin yet. Why should I want to be sitting in here all evening when I can be out enjoying m’self. And as for Kathryn, the gel’s as strong as a horse. We’ll go out every night if we damn well choose!’

‘You already do. But just think, if you make yourself ill what will happen to your plans for Kathryn then? She cannot go out alone.’ That made Lady Maybury think; he could tell by the closed look that settled upon her face.

‘It won’t be for much longer,’ she said. ‘I’m very close to success. Indeed, if it were not for our holiday to Brighthelmstone I would be expectant of her receiving a proposal in the next few weeks.’

Ravensmede secretly blessed the forthcoming trip.

‘Mr Roodley and Mr Williams have both been attentive and I have been warned that Lord Stanfield and Lord Raith have expressed more than a passing interest in my gel. She’ll make a good marriage before this Season is out, or I’ll eat my hat.’

‘Roodley and Williams would bore Kathryn silly within a week of their company. As for Stanfield…the man’s one of the biggest lechers in the country. And Raith’s old enough to be her father. Are any of them really a suitable match?’ Ravensmede
flashed a lazy smile. ‘I don’t think so, and when you think about it, neither will you.’

Her ladyship cast him a determined look. ‘I fully intend to catch her a husband, Nick.’

Ravensmede examined his nails, as if the matter was of such little importance to him. ‘I fail to see the rush. Couldn’t you just take her home to the dower house at Landon Park with you, and bring her back again next year?’

‘The gel’s four and twenty! Another year shan’t be in her favour. I have Kathryn’s best interest at heart when I say that I mean to secure her an offer as soon as possible.’

A wave of disgruntlement swept over the Viscount. The thought of Kathryn Marchant married to another man goaded him to irritation. For all that he’d sworn he would not touch her, for all his good intention for friendship and nothing more, he knew them both for the lies they were. Nothing and everything had changed from that moment at Lady Finlay’s ball. He wanted her as much as ever—no, if he was honest, even more so. Then, her standing had been little better than a servant, and now, thanks to his grandmother, she was an eligible young lady on the marriage mart. Eligible to everyone other than himself. He gave a dry little smile and continued to sip his Madeira.

W
ith a tap at the door, Kathryn walked into the room. She had changed into one of her new afternoon dresses and tidied the wayward curls of her hair. Her hands were still pink from being scrubbed with soap, but all signs of the black dust had disappeared. As soon as she entered she had the feeling that she had just interrupted an awkward silence. ‘I hope the Madeira has refreshed you, my lady.’

‘Never more so,’ replied her ladyship. ‘I was tempted by a second slice, but managed to resist.’ She passed Kathryn a slice of sponge cake on a delicate painted plate. ‘Help yourself to Madeira, my dear.’

Kathryn did as she was bid and then settled herself down in the empty chair next to the table. It was positioned beside the dowager and directly opposite the Viscount, so that she could not help but obtain an excellent view of his face. He certainly looked to be pondering something. She wondered what his grandmother had said to make him so. Perhaps more strikingly, though, he had a faint thumbprint of charcoal dust upon his chin and a smaller but similar mark upon his cheek. Her eyes flitted towards Lady Maybury who seemed to have observed nothing out of the ordinary with her grandson’s appearance. Kathryn’s fingers twisted at the skirt of her dress. What to do?
She couldn’t let Nicholas leave the house like that—he’d be a laughing stock within five minutes. But to point it out when his grandmother had failed to do so was to risk embarrassing both the dowager and her grandson. Perhaps Lady Maybury would notice before that time came. True to form, the old lady was suffering none of her grandson’s silence.

‘Well?’ A haughty brow rose. ‘We are waiting for your discussions on Brighthelmstone.’

Ravensmede seemed to shake the contemplative mood from him, and started to recount the arrangements he had made. ‘My servants shall travel down tomorrow to ensure that all is ready for us upon our arrival. We will leave on Thursday, take a leisurely journey with one overnight stop on the way down, thus arriving on Friday. No point in making the journey uncomfortable for you.’

His grandmother made what sounded to be a snort of disgust at this point, but he ignored it and continued undeterred.

‘Once in Brighthelmstone I’ve rented us a house for the month. I’m told it has a good position with unimpeded views of the sea. It’s on The Steyne and not far from the Prince’s Pavilion.’

‘Sea views?’ Kathryn could not keep the excitement from her voice.

Ravensmede’s mouth curved into a smile, the first since she had returned to the room. ‘They’re reported to be most scenic.’

Her face lit with delight. ‘I can scarcely wait.’

‘You will be taking your sketching and painting materials?’ He was looking at her with an unfathomable expression.

She smiled. ‘Of course! Nothing could stop me. You know how I treasure them.’

His voice was a low husky murmur. ‘Yes.’

Their eyes met across the table and held.

‘Kathryn, my dear,’ Lady Maybury interrupted. ‘Do you think I have enough shawls? I should so hate to catch a chill. They do say that the sea air is rather invigorating.’

‘Perhaps we could check this afternoon, and if you’re not
happy we could go shopping for some more.’ Kathryn ignored the flush that had leapt to her cheeks and turned her attentions to the dowager. ‘Are you warm enough just now? If not, I could fetch you a thicker shawl.’

‘I’m pleasantly warm and cosy,’ said the old lady.

A subtle knock at the door and a footman appeared. ‘Lady Kiddleby to see you, my lady. I’ve taken the liberty of showing her to the drawing room.’

The dowager’s brow wrinkled. ‘Frances here? I wasn’t expecting her.’ She turned to Kathryn. ‘This is not like her at all. I had best go to her at once. Come along, gel.’

The footman gave one delicate cough. ‘Lady Kiddleby asked that she see you alone, my lady.’ He coughed again. ‘Her ladyship appears somewhat distressed.’

‘Dear, oh, dear,’ muttered Lady Maybury. ‘No doubt Harriet has been upsetting her mama again. This shouldn’t take long.’ She drew her grandson a warning stare. ‘I trust Nick shall not make a cake of himself in my absence.’ She stared at him a moment longer before rising from her chair and leaving.

A silence.

The moss green eyes were on Kathryn.

‘Would you like another glass of Madeira? Some more cake, perhaps?’ She lifted the bottle.