Chapter 18

To be a chess piece in someone else's game was not a position that Kitty had ever desired for herself; in truth, it was not even something that she had considered to even be possible. She had always known that fathers and brothers tended to marry off their daughters and sisters in the most advantageous way possible, but that was the extent of it. She had never entertained the notion that she might have the wherewithal to play a part in a scheme of actual consequence, rather than girlish shenanigans.

She sat, preparing the viscountess' letters to be read and answered, the portable writing desk opened and placed in its customary spot upon the small side table in the drawing room. At any moment, Lady Veronica would enter and take up her seat in the chair diagonal from Kitty, and they would begin the day's business. As she waited, she allowed herself to look about, taking in her surroundings.

The drawing room was one of the few rooms still open, the others mostly closed off to save on heating costs. A fire burned low in the grate, and Kitty had scooted the table as close to it as she dared. Even so, her fingers regularly stiffened from the cold, and she had taken to wearing fingerless mitts indoors at all times.

It was an incongruous scene, Kitty wrapped up in her thickest shawl, her feet stuffed into fur-lined walking boots, occasionally blowing on her fingers to keep them flexible; all the while she was surrounded by fine furnishings and paintings, the trappings of wealth.

And yet, none of it does a thing to keep me warm, she grumbled inwardly. The thick rug beneath the settee in the centre of the room caught her eye, cream with red flowers and Oriental patterns. Well, perhaps you do, she amended silently to the rug.

It was positively foolish to think of wearing one of her dresses from the time before she came to live with the viscountess now. They were pretty enough, but she would surely turn into a Kitty-shaped block of ice if she dared. Most mornings, she fairly launched herself eagerly into her thick, plain dresses.

The door to the drawing room opened, and Lady Veronica entered, cutting off any nostalgic remembrances on Kitty's part. As always, Quincy followed closely on his mistress' heels, little pink tongue lolling out as he bounced along behind her. This, too, was part of their daily ritual, in which Lady Veronica would take her seat, and then roundly admonish Quincy that he could not expect to be sat on her lap. Once this was completed, the viscountess would reach down and unceremoniously scoop the little pup up, and deposit him on her lap, which he would accept as his due.

Kitty did not object to the dog holding court per se, but she did object to the way that he stared at her with his beady little eyes.

"It seems that we have been noticed," Lady Veronica said, having taken the pile of letters and rifled through them. "The ton have begun to remember me."

"As if they could ever forget," Kitty said smoothly, retrieving the foolscap of paper from within the little writing desk, pen knife, and a fresh quill.

Lady Veronica gave her a withering look, which Kitty roundly ignored. It was their custom: They traded barbed compliments that could be taken any number of ways, always with a thin veneer of flattery. If they were to exchange actual words of fondness, Kitty would be instantly alarmed.

With precise little strokes, Kitty began cutting down the quill as Lady Veronica spoke, only paying half-mind.

"Lord Bannister wishes to pay his compliments, of course he does… Lady Tyrell has invited me to her Christmas fete , that might prove useful. Ah, here we are," she said, retrieving a plain little letter that Kitty had put far back in the stack. "This is one that I have been expecting."

Kitty handed over the pearl-handled letter opener wordlessly, only glancing over as Lady Veronica sliced past the wax seal. She had recognised neither the name on the return address, nor the seal; as per Lady Veronica's instruction, this put them behind those of rank, whose letters were clearly of higher importance.

"It seems Sir Alexander Wright has accepted my invitation," Lady Veronica said, her eyes still roving over the written lines.

"Sir Wright? I'm not sure I know him," Kitty said, shaking the stoppered bottle of ink. They had taken to making their own ink at home for household lists, reserving the fine gum arabica for sending letters and cards.

"I'm not surprised," Lady Veronica said, still half-reading. "His title is younger than you are." She gave Kitty a significant look. "It was a reward for services rendered to the Queen Mother," she explained, "namely long-suffering years keeping the Regent from trouble."

"I'm not sure whether to pity him or demand that he return his title for a job poorly done," Kitty said, her pen hovering expectantly.

"Well, in any event, he took his generous pension and limited holdings, and has expanded them significantly. Unlike the others, he won't be easily swayed by sentiment or scandal," Lady Veronica continued, watching Kitty as she scratched out some quick notes.

"How shall you approach him, then?" Kitty asked, dipping the quill and tapping the excess ink off.

"Well, it would seem that his time with the Prince Regent has worn off on him: He has an insatiable appetite for good food, good wine, and pretty girls," Lady Veronica said casually, running her fingers through the fur on Quincy's head.

"I suppose the real challenge, then, is how to make a dinner sufficiently grand—wait, pretty girls? " Kitty asked, realisation dawning. "Oh, you can't possibly mean to serve me up on a platter at this dinner!"

"Honestly Catherine, the stage is missing a virtuoso theatrical performer in you," Lady Veronica sighed. "Of course not; he simply is susceptible to a pair of fluttering eyelashes and charming smiles. If he has the opportunity to think that he is saving a hapless, helpless, charming young lady from ruin, then he will leap at the chance."

"I'm…not sure how to feel about this," Kitty said, ink-laden quill resting on the page, causing an inkblot.

"I should hate to think you've forgotten how to be a charming ornament to a dinner party," Lady Veronica said with a sidelong look at Kitty. "Of course, you have permission to wear one of the gowns you brought with you. Just this once, mind!"

That was a tempting prospect. It seemed silly, a shallow and flippant thing to be so taken with the prospect of wearing a pretty dress again that she was willing to do the very thing she had been trying to escape.

This is on my terms this time , Kitty thought. And I do not do it for my own selfish ends, nor even Lady Veronica's; we both simply wish to save Seth's legacy. A stricken look passed over her face when she invoked Seth's name before she could stop it, and Lady Veronica clearly saw it.

"I know that I have asked much of you," she said, her face soft and serious for once. Risking Quincey's displeasure, she leaned forward, putting one hand on Kitty's forearm. "I will understand if you do not wish to be party to this; truthfully, I have no real right to ask it of you, and will not think less of you should you decline."

"No, it's not that," Kitty replied with a shake of her head. "It's just…well, I know the staff are rather anxious about their positions and wages, and I should feel very guilty if I were to dine in splendour when they have done so much to see us through."

Lady Veronica withdrew, sitting up straight against the back of the chair again. "You have become quite close with them." It was less of a question and more a statement of fact.

Kitty hung her head a little, wavering back and forth, sure that Lady Veronica would tell her off. Instead, the viscountess appeared thoughtful, absently playing with the little triangles that were Quincey's ears.

"I will not fault you for this, for it is a poor mistress indeed who is cold and unfeeling to her servants," Lady Veronica said quietly. "And their loyalty is the greatest asset they have, one that must be cultivated carefully. I know that there is a fashion for cruelty and depravity to them sometimes, to treat them as if they are not entirely human, but this is a folly, I say. They are a resource that must be jealously guarded."

Kitty stared. This was not what she had expected, not at all. Though Lady Veronica's motives were perhaps not as pure as one might have wished, there was no denying that she meant what she said. Kitty knew that Lady Veronica had quietly sold a painting and a pair of pearl earrings to ensure that every servant she had to dismiss left with a pocket full of wages to tide them by. She thought it had been done simply to keep them from gossiping, but now…

"But you need not worry," Lady Veronica said, her face lifting in one of the rare, few smiles that Kitty had ever seen her make. "My son has not forgotten me; he has deposited quite a sum into the household account, and given the bank instructions to allow me permission to draw upon it as needed."

"Your son?" Kitty breathed. "He is…he's well, then? He's alright?"

"It would seem so. I've had far fewer letters than I would have hoped for, but that is his way—he has always preferred to make himself known through actions rather than words," Lady Veronica said, eyes distant and gentle.

I know , Kitty nearly blurted, but bit down cruelly on her tongue to stop herself from speaking out of turn. The pain was bright and sharp in her mouth, helping her to focus on the matter at hand. She couldn't get sentimental over a few sovereigns in the bank; she had a real duty to do, something that could be of material use to her beloved Seth.

"Then let us begin," she said instead, determination making her voice strong. "If this Sir Wright must be charmed with luxury and petticoats, then that is precisely what we shall do."