Chapter 26

It seemed cruel, perverse almost, to think of attending a ball with the question of Sir Wright's proposal hanging over her, but Kitty found herself preparing for one all the same. The ballroom at the Cluett home was not modest by any stretch of the imagination, but Lady Veronica seemed in real distress that it may not be grand enough for the party she had planned. Kitty could see the distress on Seth's face at the mention of hiring public assembly rooms for the evening, so she had stepped in and pointed out that it was better to have an over-crowded ballroom than one that looked empty.

So it was that the ballroom was thrown up, fires lit within the twin fireplaces at either end at all hours of the day to warm it in preparation. White dust sheets were pulled from the furniture, floors polished, the chandelier shined to diamond-like brilliance. Cook was exceedingly happy, for she had a whole retinue of underlings to bark orders at now. A housekeeper and a legion of footmen had been brought on board with all haste, too, and Kitty found much of her duties no longer necessary.

By rights, she ought to have been relieved, but the truth was that she was now suffering from an affliction of boredom. This left her with far too much idle time, time in which she endlessly contemplated what answer to give to Sir Wright. Lady Veronica had pressed her, subtly and overtly, as to what answer she might give.

"I do not simply want to be transactional goods," Kitty had protested.

"Catherine, all marriages are transactional," Lady Veronica sighed in return. "Why else do you think we have marriage contracts?" When Kitty had nothing to say to that, she had continued, "The trouble is that you are only seeing it from one side of the mirror right now; I'd have thought that you'd have learned to turn a situation to your favour after all this time with me."

So Kitty was sat before her dressing table, staring at her reflection. She was wearing a gown, a new gown even, and had silk flowers and pearls in her hair. Her dress was of a changeable silk, pink and warm gold, with velvet trimming and sleeves. The bodice was cut close and pleated in a flattering manner, with the skirt falling elegantly away from Kitty's waist.

It was thoroughly into January, December having passed in a whirlwind of visits and paying calls to ensure that everyone in London still remembered the Cluett name. Kitty was aware that she ought to be dressing in a palette more suited to the season, but it was so long since she'd had a new gown that she figured she deserved one that she liked.

She was also exceedingly aware that she was expected to give her answer tonight, for she had promised Sir Wright as much. In truth, she still was not completely decided, but she could not delay any longer. She had been able to cry off for as long as she could, citing the business of the holiday season and needing to call upon her parents. Sir Wright, too, had called upon her father, and Kitty shuddered to think of his sneers and ill-disguised jibes at their reduced home.

At last, Kitty knew that she could tarry no longer, and with a sigh, began pulling on her champagne-coloured gloves, sliding them up her arms. It felt odd to be wearing dancing slippers again, a dark pink with little gold and diamond buckles on the toes, and she allowed herself a moment to become steady.

As she left her room, something about the action of shutting the door felt final in a way she had not expected. Perhaps it was because her days in this house were numbered, one way or another. Everything felt precious to her again, all of the furnishings and places where Seth had spent most of his life were now a part of her, too. Kitty walked slowly down the hallway, the noise from below tumbling chaotically up the stairs.

The bannister and railing along the upper gallery had been wrapped with ribbons and flowers, a shout of defiance against the grey winter outside. With one hand lightly trailing along the bannister, her gloved fingertips occasionally running over the blossoms, Kitty made her way slowly down the stairs, the short train of her dress cascading after her. So preoccupied with her own thoughts was she that she did not notice at first that someone was awaiting her.

Two someones, in fact.

At first, her eyes were full of Seth, and Seth alone. His wide shoulders were visibly tense, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He looked incongruous in his black evening jacket and crisp white waistcoat, but with his hair still too long to be fashionable; he'd tied it back into a short que. He seemed as if he had been at the point of pacing, but caught himself when he spotted Kitty.

A smile broke across his face that warmed his dark eyes instantly. For just a moment, there was no one else but them in this moment, simply Kitty and Seth, with nothing to weigh them down or pull them apart. Kitty had been told more than once that her smile was infectious , impossible to resist; now, she found herself on the receiving end of just such a smile. There was pure, unadulterated joy in Seth's face at seeing Kitty, and she was tempted to let go and fly down the stairs to him, to wrap each other up and simply refuse to let go.

But she could not, and the primary reason for her not doing so was standing just behind Seth.

Sir Wright watched this display dispassionately, his nearly colourless eyes observing coolly as if it were of no more consequence than a scene in a theatrical. Kitty suspected that a large part of her attraction for him was that he was well aware of her true feelings for Seth. He did not seem perturbed that her cheeks had grown warm, nor that her eyes were surely sparkling at Seth.

With an inner ruthlessness, Kitty tore her gaze from Seth, instead refocusing on Sir Wright. She did not further acknowledge the true object of her heart's desire beyond the dip of a lady's bow.

"My Lord," she murmured, and then breezed right past him as if he were of no more consequence than an acquaintance on the street. Please, dear-heart, forgive me , she continued inwardly, I do it all for you. I wish you could know that .

"Ah, Miss Johnson," Sir Wright said, taking the hand that Kitty offered him proprietarily. He bowed over it, daring to brush a kiss across her gloved knuckles. Kitty did not miss the fact that his cold eyes flicked to Seth as he did so, but she did not give him the satisfaction of looking as if she cared, nor even noticed.

"Sir Wright, how kind of you to be waiting for me," she said instead, a smile with as much substance as a sugar sculpture plastered across her face.

"I wished to escort you into the ballroom; I assume you do not object," he replied smoothly.

"I suspect you do a great deal of presuming, Sir," Kitty shot back, punctuating it with what she hoped was a teasing smile. All of her skills at flirtation seemed to wither in his presence, but she was determined to make an effort.

Sir Wright straightened to his full height, looking down his long, pointed nose at her. "Perhaps," he allowed. He offered her his elbow, which she looked at for a moment before accepting. She could not stop herself from shooting a glance of her own to Seth, who watched with an inscrutable expression.

Long, cold fingers covered Kitty's hand on Sir Wright's elbow, his left hand covering hers. She could feel them through the silk of her gloves, and she had to resist the urge to shiver. Tilting his head toward her ear, Sir Wright murmured, "I shall also presume that many things will become clear tonight."

Kitty did not know what to say to that, but felt a coil of stone-like dread in her stomach. She did not give him the satisfaction, humming noncommittally in response. He seemed to take this as some sort of tacit agreement, and smugly led her through the house.

There was a veritable crush of people all filtering into the ballroom, stopping to pay their compliments to Lady Veronica. The house was festooned with candles and flowers at every available nook and cranny, which made for a warm, heady scent. There were more than a few curious looks directed to Kitty's way, and she noted the way that the crowd seemed to part before Sir Wright as if he were Moses at the Red Sea. They all knew that he had the ear of the Prince-Regent, and he wore that fact as proudly as if it were a dignitary's sash.

Kitty recognised some of the faces, some of them people that she had counted among her outer circle of friends. They viewed her with suspicion now, from behind raised hands and fans, eyes slitted and lips whispering. This left little doubt in Kitty's mind that her second re-entry into society was going to be turbulent at the least.

"It would seem that we are attracting more than the usual amount of attention," Sir Wright commented blithely as they proceeded.

"They're probably trying to figure out why a man of your standing is out in polite society with a lady's companion on your arm," Kitty responded bluntly. "To say nothing of the fact that my father's fall from grace is very public knowledge now."

"Mm," he agreed, not contradicting her in the slightest. "I have decided you are fashionable, however, so that will be rectified in short order."

"Because you decided?" Kitty retorted.

"Do you doubt it?" Sir Wright asked, deigning to look down at Kitty. Something almost like a smile was playing about his mouth. Kitty had a sneaking suspicion that Sir Wright could be goaded into nearly anything if he perceived it as a challenge.

Kitty only shrugged nonchalantly in response, which seemed to amuse and vex Sir Wright all at once. Inwardly, she grimly smirked, Perhaps Lady Veronica is right, and I might be able to turn a bad situation more to my favour.

It was a sad consolation prize, but it was all that Kitty had left to her.