Sarah Mallory - To Catch a Husband...

‘Did she indeed?’ Again those coal-black eyes quizzed Kitty. ‘I suppose our meeting slipped her mind. It was quite a trivial event, after all.’

Trivial! Kitty’s eyes blazed with fury. She had been picked up and dropped, quite callously, into cold, muddy water that had quite ruined her gown and boots and stockings. If Godmama had not been so generous she would even now be obliged to walk out in skirts stained quite six inches deep at the hem!

‘You are right.’ She threw the words over her shoulder as she and Lord Harworth led the way back to Portman Square. ‘I had quite forgotten you, Mr Blackwood.’

Kitty turned her attention to her escort, forcing herself to converse with Lord Harworth as they made their way back to Lady Leaconham’s house, but all the time part of her mind was racing with conjecture about Daniel Blackwood. Just to know he was behind her made her spine tingle, as if he might pounce upon her at any moment. What was he doing in London, and what had happened to the rough country voice he had used in Yorkshire? She thought she knew the answer to her last question and her conscience pricked her when she remembered how uncivil she had been towards him. She had assumed he was a rough labourer and he had responded in kind. She deserved that trick, she acknowledged, but she had not deserved his subsequent treatment of her! Her indignation grew with every step and by the time they arrived at Lady Leaconham’s door Kitty was full of righteous fury. When they entered the hall she left all the explanations to Miss Harworth and stalked past the wooden-faced butler to hand Titan over to a hovering footman. By the time she turned back the rest of the party were divesting themselves of hats and surcoats. Daniel took advantage of the confusion to step up to her.

‘I have long wanted to offer you an apology, Miss Wythenshawe,’ he said quietly. ‘My actions when we last met were inexcusable.’

‘I do not want your apology!’ she said in a fierce whisper, and immediately regretted her incivility.

‘But I would like to make some recompense to you—I fear I ruined your gown—’

A mixture of anger and remorse combined in Kitty and she answered recklessly, ‘My gown is of no consequence. I have trunks full of clothes, so you need concern yourself no further with me!’

With that she put her nose in the air and sailed into the morning room.

***

‘After you, Blackwood.’

Lord Harworth was standing back, waiting for Daniel to follow the ladies.

‘Thank you, I really do not—’ Daniel bit off the words. He wanted to tell Harworth to go to the devil and storm out of the house, but that would be the height of incivility, and, however little Miss Wythenshawe might think of him, he had been brought up a gentleman and would act like one. Curbing his temper, he nodded and strode into the room, forcing himself to smile and say everything that was required of him, but all the time he was aware of Kitty standing in the corner, biting her lip and darting fiery looks at him from those stormy green eyes. He had offered her his apology and it had been rebuffed. He clenched his jaw, smiling with even more spurious interest at something Ann Harworth was saying. If the chit could not bring herself to act in a civilised manner than he would have to show her how it was done!

Kitty could barely suppress a sigh of relief when at last the visitors took their leave and it was the greatest trial for her to sit quietly while her godmama declared herself delighted with the success of the visit.

‘And what a sly little puss you are, my love,’ Lady Leaconham chuckled, tapping Kitty’s knuckles playfully with her fan. ‘I send you out for a little walk and you return with two eligible gentlemen in tow!’

‘Mr Blackwood is not in the least eligible,’ protested Kitty.

‘He is my nephew’s guest, is he not? To be sure a mill-owner’s son is not what your mama would like for you, but he is very gentlemanlike, and he is related to some of the wealthiest shipping families in Liverpool.’

‘It smacks of trade, Godmama.’

‘It smacks of a fortune, my dear,’ responded Lady Leaconham drily. ‘However, I will grant you that a man like Mr Blackwood should only be considered as a last resort. Lord Harworth would be a more prestigious match for you.’

‘He is indeed more what Mama had in mind,’ agreed Kitty. ‘But is he not a little … old, Godmama?’

‘At eight-and-thirty? Not at all, my love. It makes it all the more likely that he is looking in earnest for a wife. But we must be practical. Every cap in Town will be set at such an eligible parti. However, not every young lady will have an invitation to the Harworth ball, so I have great hopes for Friday, my love. Great hopes indeed!’

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