Elizabeth Bailey - Kitty

Besides, he was a brute! She recalled the rough treatment she had received at his hands—and the recent threat—with a resurgence of outrage. Oh, but she would serve him out for it! Only wait until he discovered his mistake. For discover it he must, sooner or later. However much she resembled his cousin—

The thought died. Kitty’s pulse did a rapid tattoo and shot into a wild thumping that echoed in her ears. Why had she not thought of it at once? If she was this alike to an unknown female, there could be only one explanation. She had stumbled inadvertently upon a member of her lost family.

Buried in his own thoughts, Claud, Viscount Devenick, paid scant heed to his cousin beside him, although she came within the scope of his ruminations. His temper had cooled, but he was at a loss to account for Kate’s freakish conduct. Not that he would question her again. If she meant to persist with this ridiculous masquerade, it would only drive him up into the boughs. Thank the Lord she had ceased her nonsensical arguing. Did she think he truly would have gagged her? Should have known him better. Clearly she did not, as this escapade proved. Silly chit hadn’t trusted him!

He reminded himself that she was only eighteen and just out this season. From the vantage point of five and twenty, it was clear how readily this escapade could put the cat among the pigeons. Faced with a niece who ran away rather than marry her cousin, ten to one his mother would force him to the altar on the pretext that Kate had blasted her reputation.

Not that he was such a nodcock as not to realise why Lady Blakemere had taken this notion into her head. If it hadn’t been for Grandmama’s promised legacy to the girl to give her a decent dowry, the scheme would not have occurred to the Countess. As if he hadn’t enough money of his own! And all his mother would keep saying was that the Dowager Duchess’s money ought to be kept in the family. A pity he had no brother instead of three sisters. It would have made sense for a younger son to dangle after the loot. But not for Claud to tie himself up in matrimony to Kate, of all girls under the sun!

She was comely enough, but what man wanted to wed his cousin? Besides, she was a thought too much of a milk-and-water miss for his taste. Which made her conduct today all the more incomprehensible. He’d never known the chit to be so flighty, nor to face him down as she had. A faint stirring of interest rose up. Perhaps there was more to young Kate than he had thought. He turned to glance at her, and found her studying him, her dark brows lowering. Claud shot instantly to the attack.

‘What are you scowling for? You should be grateful to me.’

She continued to stare at him, a pout forming on her lips.

‘Lost your tongue?’ demanded Claud crossly. ‘Answer me, can’t you?’

It was too much. Kitty lost her temper.

‘Answer me, can’t you!’ she echoed, in almost exact imitation of his tone. ‘Why should I answer you, when you can think of nothing better to do than to threaten me? Is it not enough that you have dragged me by force into your carriage?’

‘That was your own fault, Kate. Why couldn’t you come quietly? Fought like a wildcat!’

‘And I would do so again!’

But to his utter bewilderment, the chit abruptly burst into tears. Claud was thrown into instant disorder. He hadn’t meant to make her cry.

‘Hey, no need to turn into a watering pot!’

‘Yes, there is,’ sobbed Kitty, hunting frantically for her pocket-handkerchief. ‘You don’t know what you’ve done, and I can’t tell you. Except that it is terrible!’

Unable to find the handkerchief, Kitty recalled that she’d had it in her hand when this infamous Claud had come upon her. It must have been lost in the struggle. She sniffed, turning on her abductor.

‘And you made me lose my handkerchief!’

He transferred the reins to his left hand and dug the right into a pocket of his frock coat. ‘Here.’

Kitty snatched the snowy white pocket-handkerchief he presented to her and defiantly blew her nose, wiping away her tears. The desire to weep was receding, but she did not return the handkerchief, instead jerking it between her fingers in a nervous fashion. The wind had begun to make her feel chilled, reminding her of the woeful lack in her costume. She looked round at the author of her plight.

‘Do you realise that you have brought me away without a stitch to wear besides this gown?’

The blue gaze travelled briefly down her person and returned to the road. ‘Beats me why you’d want the thing! Where did you get it? You look like the farmer’s daughter in her Sunday best.’

‘How hateful of you to say so! I know it is not fashionable, but—’

‘If you take my advice, you’ll burn it.’

‘Burn it!’ shrieked Kitty, outraged. ‘It cost me three whole shillings!’

He looked round again, a critical frown between his fair brows. ‘You were robbed. Mind you, I can’t think why you didn’t provide yourself at least with a cloak. Featherbrained, that’s what you are, young Kate.’

Kitty glared at him. ‘Why should I take a cloak merely for a trip to the shops on the Green on a day like this?’

But Claud was not attending. It had been borne in upon him that his idiotic cousin was shivering. Why she must need escape without proper preparation, he was at a loss to understand. Silly chit hadn’t a brain in her head. Thank the Lord he had held steadfast against marrying the wench!

He slowed the carriage, and called over his shoulder to the groom. ‘Docking, is there a blanket in this thing?’

‘Under the seat, me lord.’

Kitty, who had been lost in the realisation that everything she owned was at the Seminary, came to herself as the carriage was pulled up. Her abductor was rummaging under the seat, and Kitty briefly thought of taking a chance and jumping down. Only he would be bound to come after her, and would have no difficulty in catching her. Besides, how in the world would she manage, left in the middle of the highway, with no notion where she was and no means of getting herself back to Paddington?

Claud straightened, and shaking out the blanket he had found, slung it carelessly around Kitty’s shoulders.

‘Wrap yourself in this.’

Regretfully abandoning the opportunity for escape, Kitty huddled herself into the new warmth. Gratitude swept through her, and without thinking, she smiled at Claud for the first time in this nightmare journey.

‘Thank you.’

For a moment, Claud stared at his cousin’s features, oddly troubled by the look that accompanied the smile. It vanished abruptly.

‘Oh, Lord! What in the world will the Duck say when she finds me gone?’

‘Duck? What duck?’ demanded Claud, bewildered. ‘What the devil has a duck to say to anything?’

But Kitty, reminded by the idea of Paddington, had realised that in all the horror of her capture, she had forgotten Mrs Duxford. She was supposed in the afternoon to mind the pupils who were practising the pianoforte. When it was found that she had been missing throughout, the Duck was bound to think she was up to mischief. What if it was discovered that she had left the village in company with a strange man? Suppose someone had seen him forcing her into his curricle? She would be utterly ruined.

Almost the thought of Mrs Duxford’s inevitable rage made her wish she might never go back. Only the apprehension of what might be awaiting her in the immediate future was worse. If indeed, this abominable Claud’s cousin Kate was so very much her image. It must be her family! She had longed to find out the truth of her background—believing all these years that it had been kept from her deliberately. But now that the opportunity had arisen, she was more afraid than she had thought possible. They had not wanted her. How would they react if she were thrust upon them?