A Regency Baron's Bride. Sarah Mallory. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Sarah Mallory
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия: Mills & Boon M&B
Жанр произведения: Историческая литература
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781474037907
Скачать книгу
and the debate.

      Lady Leaconham said much the same thing and, while she agreed that they would no longer use cane sugar from the West Indies, she begged Kitty not to voice her opinions in public.

      ‘It is a very worthy cause, I am sure, and I have read that Mr Wilberforce is very eloquent on the subject, but it is not something to be discussed in my drawing room.’

      ‘I beg your pardon, Godmama,’ replied Kitty, anger bringing a warm flush to her cheek, ‘but it should be discussed in every drawing room!’

      ‘Well, perhaps when you are with your close friends,’ conceded Lady Leaconham, ‘but it makes people uncomfortable to think about it, and that will make them shy away from you. My dear, the reason for you being here is to find you a husband, and we shall not do that if you do not conform. And while we are talking of such things, perhaps I should just drop you a word of warning.’ Lady Leaconham began to fidget and pluck at the skirts of her gown. ‘I have been very careful not to be too explicit about your circumstances.’

      ‘My … circumstances, Godmama?’

      ‘The fact that you have no fortune, my dear. It is nothing to be ashamed of, and you have such pretty manners that people cannot fail to like you, but we do not want to prejudice anyone against you.’

      ‘Are you saying that people will not wish to be acquainted with me if they know I am poor?’ said Kitty baldly.

      ‘My dear, there is no need to be quite so blunt,’ protested Lady Leaconham. ‘All I ask is that you refrain from discouraging eligible gentlemen by being too truthful—about your country upbringing, for example—or expressing your more … liberal views.’

      Kitty bit her lip. She very much wanted to say that she did not want a husband if he did not share her opinions, but then she had a vision of poor Mama and Aunt Jane, sitting in their cold little cottage, struggling to set their stitches in the failing light and unable to afford to buy good candles and coal from their meagre income. They had scrimped and saved, forgoing all luxuries to send her to London. The more she thought about it the more she realised that, having spent their savings on this trip, Mama and Aunt Jane were now in a very perilous position, for if they could no longer make a living from their sewing then they would have nothing at all to live on. Fearful visions of them being thrown onto the streets began to haunt her. She must not let them down. Kitty fought down a sigh: her resolution to marry well had not seemed quite so problematic when she had been in Yorkshire.

      Kitty saw that Lady Leaconham was regarding her anxiously and she gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Very well, Godmama, I promise you I shall try to avoid saying anything that would make you uncomfortable. I will do my best to do my duty.’

      Lady Leaconham gave a very audible sigh. She smiled and patted Kitty’s cheek.

      ‘There. I knew you were a good girl! Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you that your new walking dress has arrived.’

      ‘Another dress? Oh, ma’am, you are spoiling me!’

      ‘Nonsense. We were agreed that you should have a new one, were we not? After all, you walk out every morning when you take Titan for his exercise.’

      Kitty laughed.

      ‘No one sees me at that time in the morning, Godmama!’

      ‘Nevertheless you cannot have too many walking dresses. And when I was with Madame Sophie last week I saw the most beautiful sprigged muslin that I knew would look lovely on you. It is for our picnic tomorrow. I want you to look your best for Lord Harworth.’

      ‘But I am sure Lord Harworth has no interest in me, except as his sister’s friend.’

      ‘Perhaps not, but there is no harm in your looking your best for the picnic,’ responded Lady Leaconham. ‘And since you will be together for most of the day tomorrow, it would do no harm to make yourself agreeable to him, now would it? After all, he is by far the most eligible bachelor we know, and even if he is only a baron think how happy your mama would be if you were to become Lady Harworth!’

      With her godmother’s words ringing in her ears, Kitty rose the next day and made her preparations for the picnic. She dressed carefully in the new gown of pale primrose, its bodice embroidered with tiny flowers in a deeper lemon, and she allowed Meakin to style her hair so that her glossy dark curls would peep out beneath the shady brim of her villager straw hat. When a servant scratched upon the door to tell her Lord Leaconham had arrived and that Lady Leaconham was waiting for her in the morning room, she took a final look in the mirror, picked up her parasol and hurried downstairs.

      ‘My dear, you look charmingly,’ smiled Lady Leaconham as she entered the morning room. ‘Well, Garston, what do you think of my protégé now?’

      ‘By Jove, Mama, she’s a veritable diamond!’ declared Lord Leaconham. ‘Been thinkin’ so for a while now.’ He raised his quizzing glass to stare at Kitty, who wished she had draped a neckerchief around the low neckline of her gown.

      ‘Yes, well I am hoping we can fix Lord Harworth’s interest,’ put in Lady Leaconham, adding pointedly, ‘It is not so important for him to find a rich wife.’

      ‘Dash it, Mama, he is not that much wealthier than me!’ muttered Garston but his mother was not listening.

      She swept up, put her arm through Kitty’s and carried her towards the door. ‘The carriage is here—shall we go?’

      In recognition of the sunny weather, Lady Leaconham had elected to travel in the open landau, and once the busy streets were left behind Kitty had to admit that it was very pleasant to be bowling along with the sun shining down upon them. There was just enough breeze to make it necessary for her to pull her Norwich shawl about her shoulders, which had the added advantage of screening her décolletage from Lord Leaconham’s admiring gaze. She was not sorry when at last they reached the steep hill leading to Chipping Barnet, where they were to part company with the young lord and she had the impression that her godmother, too, was relieved he was not now accompanying them further. Lady Leaconham had taken the precaution of hiring outriders, two liveried servants on horseback who would accompany them to Wormley and as they drove away from Barnet she now declared herself perfectly satisfied with their escort.

      ‘And who knows,’ she ended with a hopeful little smile, ‘you are looking so pretty today, my dear Kitty, that Lord Harworth might decide to accompany us on our homeward journey!’

      Kitty said nothing. She could not recall Lord Harworth paying her any particular attention, and she hoped for nothing more from the day than a pleasant time spent in congenial company. The image of Daniel Blackwood flashed into her mind and in an unguarded moment she hoped he would be there. She quickly stifled the thought: she had come to London to find and marry a gentleman, not a blunt Yorkshire manufacturer!

      Wormley Hall was a beautiful old manor house set in large grounds that had been landscaped some fifty years ago. The trees had matured, the gravel paths and artificial lakes were somewhat overgrown and the whole now possessed the beautiful, slightly neglected air that was fashionably romantic. Several carriages were drawn up on the drive when they arrived and it was not long before Kitty was being introduced to Lady Harworth’s guests, those considered worthy of sharing the treat of an alfresco dinner. Several young people were present and Ann soon carried Kitty away to join them.

      ‘I am so glad you could come,’ she declared, linking arms with Kitty. ‘I do so love to eat out of doors. We are going to dine down there.’ She waved her arm in the direction of the lake, where a dozen or so servants were following a lumbering wagon to the far bank. ‘But before we walk there Mama wants to show everyone the formal gardens.’ Ann giggled, then lowered her voice. ‘Mr Grant has written an ode that he is going to read to us.’

      Kitty followed her glance towards a very thin young man with a mop of brown hair. He was even now poring over a notebook.

      ‘Do not expect too much, Miss Wythenshawe,’ laughed another member of the party, a stocky young man with a florid complexion. ‘Julian’s poems are never