“Aviscount,” Betty said, on a squeal. “Oh, sister, I’m so happy for you!”
Kitty’s cheeks burned. “He is paying one of my client’s bills. Hismistress’sbills. That is all.”
Betty snorted. “Don’t try to fool me, sister. I can tell from the way you describe him.” She clasped her hands together, placed them beside her face, and spoke in falsetto. “His deep-brown eyes and perfectly cut—”
Kitty smacked her sister’s hands. “It’s not like that.” Then she giggled. “Well, perhaps it is a little.”
She would admit that much because it was not as if she had any chance of attracting the serious attention of a lord. Not when her competition were women like Miss Griffith. Compared to the confident, sultry actress, Kitty was practically a stuffy old maid.
Betty’s face lit up. “Perhaps I will have a viscountess as a sister. Can you imagine our mother’s face?”
They stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter again.
“I needed this,” Betty said, wiping her tears away with a handkerchief. “I’ve missed you.”
Kitty hugged her sister tightly. “I’m only a few minutes away by cab. It’s not as if I’ve moved to the Continent.”
Betty held on to her. “I know. It’s just…”
Kitty pushed back and studied her sister’s face. “What is it?”
Betty bit her lip. “Mother and I have been fighting more than usual. She doesn’t approve of one of my suitors.”
A hundred questions burst to life in Kitty’s mind, but something on her sister’s face made her insides twist, so she squashed them and simply said, “Oh?”
“Reg is a bit…unusual.” Betty crinkled her nose. “He might not have a title or lands, but he’s sweet and romantic.” She sighed dreamily.
“It must be serious, for you to refer to him in such a casual manner,” Kitty said. “When did you meet?”
“Well… this morning. I was strolling in the park with Mother when he approached.”
Kitty gasped. “What? Sister, that is much too sudden.”
Betty’s face shuttered. She slid out of Kitty’s grip and stood. “I should get back home before Mother realizes I’m gone and throws a fit.”
Kitty didn’t want to let her sister leave, as much as she itched to return to the dress she’d been sketching. However, pushing Betty would only make her sister dig in her heels. Like all Carter women, Betty was stubborn. Whatever was troubling her, Kitty had to wait until Betty decided to tell her. But as she escorted her sister downstairs and summoned a cab, she couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Blaylock was the only thing she needed to worry about.
Chapter Eight
The evening afterDr. Rysel’s visit, Cordon opened the door to Miss Carter’s shop and found her hunched over a workbench, her head dipped, with the sound of pencils scratching, suggesting she was focused on something.
He strolled behind her and peered over her shoulder at the dress she was sketching.
“It’s lovely,” he said.
She yelped and splayed her hands over the image, as if trying to protect it from his prying eyes.
It was too late. He’d seen everything and was impressed. The dress had a color and shape he hadn’t seen a lady wear in decades. He wanted novelty, and once again, she gave it to him.
“W-What are you doing here, my lord?” she asked. Her fingers were stained with splotches of different colors, like a painter’s palette.
He ignored the question and held out his hand. “May I see it?”
She drew in a sharp breath, then carefully spun the drawing around. “What do you think?”
“Fantastic. Stunning. Marvelous,” he said. Her cheeks reddened with each word of praise. The cherry scent of her blood took on spicy hints of embarrassment. At the same time, the waver in her voice and the way she rocked back and forth wereclear signs she was not in the mood for the seduction he had planned.
“Thank you,” she said.
