Page 68 of A Lady's Guide to Scandal

‘I suppose you think I was too harsh,’ Kitty grumbled, not quite yet ready to see Cecily’s side.

‘I think you were foolish,’ Aunt Dorothy corrected. ‘She is a young lady in the first blush of love. And she’s your sister. Talk to her properly.’

She kissed Kitty’s cheek in farewell.

‘Good luck tonight,’ she said softly, pressing Kitty’s hand. ‘I shall be thinking of you. And … wish me luck. For the journey,’ she added hastily, seeing Kitty’s brow furrow. ‘It’s further than I have travelled in a while.’

‘Of course,’ Kitty murmured, brushing her aunt’s cheek with her own. ‘Have a wonderful time with your friend.’

Aunt Dorothy nodded, picked up her suitcase and left. Kitty curled up in her aunt’s armchair, sulking. She supposed she had been quite frightfully unsympathetic, but she had been caught entirely off guard. Cecily had never before expressed any interest in romantic feeling, and as Kitty had deemed her far too young to consider marriage anyway, she had quite discounted it as a possibility. And by God, could she have chosen a more inappropriate person to do it with! Throwing her cap at any titled man was dangerous – with all the questions the family would feel honour-bound to ask about Cecily’s background – but the Montagus were notoriously protective about their noble line.

But that should not matter. Kitty had clearly been neglecting her for Cecily to keep such a frightfully large secret from her – too wrapped up in her own dramas to pay more than a second’s attention to her. By the time Cecily came home from her walk, Kitty was quite convinced that she was, perhaps, the worst and most unkind sister ever to have lived – so much so that, when Cecily declared herself simply too tired to attend the Hastings ball that evening, she capitulated quite easily. After all, it was a longer carriage ride than usual to the Hastings’ manor in Kensington, and while Kitty would prefer to have Cecily with her on such an important night, the Sinclairs would be company enough. Besides, it was the least she could do after being so beastly to Cecily that morning. Cecily should be allowed her rest.

Of course, had she known what Cecily had really spent her afternoon doing, she would not have been quite so kind.

32

The problem with these fancy dresses, Kitty thought with some indignation as she jolted towards Kensington in the Sinclair carriage, is that they make one utterly beholden to the weather. Back in Biddington, wearing her usual cotton gowns, she used to charge through life, come hailstone, fire, or brimstone. But here, one had to be more careful – especially when a storm was brewing, as it clearly was tonight.

Despite feeling less than celebratory, Kitty had felt it important to dress for the occasion of her proposal nonetheless, and was wearing her best blue crêpe gown and her favourite gloves. They were ridiculously impractical: cream-coloured, made of soft buttery fabric, with a row of tiny buttons running from elbow to wrist, and she loved them all the more for their high society decadence.

Taking courage from them now, she tottered out of the carriage after Mrs Sinclair, one hand pressed to her head to keep her curls from being upset by the wind, and one hand holding tightly to her cloak. The evening was going to be a trial.

Pemberton found her almost immediately.

‘Miss Talbot,’ he called out to her. Then, a little critically, he added, ‘Why do you look so bedraggled?’

‘It is very windy outside,’ she pointed out, not sure how she was meant to avoid looking bedraggled after walking through a gale-force wind.

He frowned – in disapproval, or disbelief, or both.

‘Well,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I suppose it can’t be helped. May I escort you to the gardens? They are quite beautiful.’

He was going to do it straight away, then.

‘Yes,’ Kitty heard herself say as if from a great distance. She took his arm, and they walked together into the gardens, which were brightly lit and still busy, though the night air was quite as windy as it had been just a few moments before. Ignoring this – as if he could prevent it being so by not acknowledging it – Pemberton led Kitty to a bench in a secluded corner where they sat next to each other. He reached over and took her hand in his. She fought the urge to shake it off. She did not want him to touch her, she thought hysterically. How could she marry someone she did not want to touch her?

‘Miss Talbot,’ he said with great gravitas.

This was it.

‘Miss Talbot,’ he repeated. Strangely, despite the wind, there seemed to be an echo within the garden, for though Pemberton’s mouth was not moving, she could hear his calls of ‘Miss Talbot’ repeating faintly.

‘Miss Talbot!’

Not an echo. Kitty looked up to see Captain Hinsley hastening towards them. What on earth … Drawing closer, Hinsley looked from Kitty to Pemberton and back again.

‘Oh hell,’ he said despairingly. ‘Devilishly sorry to interrupt – may I speak with you for a moment, Miss Talbot?

‘Now?’ Pemberton blustered, but Kitty was already getting up.

‘An emergency, is it?’ she asked eagerly, as he pulled her a few steps away.

‘Have you seen Lady Radcliffe?’ he demanded as soon as Pemberton was out of earshot.

‘Lady Radcliffe?’ she said, confused. ‘No, not since last night.’

‘Blast. Pattson said she’d be here, but she must not have yet arrived—’ He broke off and cursed, looking most agitated.