He straightened. “Miss a chance to meet the lovely woman who raised you? I do not think so.” He rose in a smooth motion and dipped into a bow just as Mrs. Carter arrived at the table.
“Why, such manners,” Mrs. Carter said, flicking open her fan and waving it so that the loose, yellow curls around her face bounced. “Introduce us, Katherine.”
“Yes, sister,” Betty said. The sullen set of her features suggested she would rather have been anywhere else. “Who is this handsome gentleman?”
Kitty felt as if her skin were being stretched from her scalp. “Lord Grayson, may I introduce my mother and sister? Mrs. James Carter and Miss Beatrice Carter. Mother, Betty, it is my pleasure to introduce Cordon Shaw, the Viscount Grayson.”
The way Kitty’s mother’s jaw dropped open was comical, but Kitty felt too raw inside to laugh. Of course, Cordon’s arrival would send her mother into a frenzy. This was what her mother had always wanted, to feel as if she belonged in his social set.It would likely never happen, but that didn’t mean Mrs. Carter would ever stop trying. With each attempt, the family fell deeper into debt. But that apparently didn’t matter.
“M-My lord,” Mrs. Carter stammered, before dropping into a deep curtsey. “We would be honored if you would join us.”
“Please, Mrs. Carter,” Cordon said. “Your graciousness is matched only by the beauty and skill of your daughter.”
Mrs. Carter sprang upright and stared at Kitty as if she’d sprouted a second head. “Katherine’s skill?”
“Why, yes,” Cordon said. “Did you not know of Miss Carter’s prowess?”
“You are certain you are referring to my daughter?” Mrs. Carter asked. Then, as if realizing the awkwardness of speaking while standing around the table, she gestured for Betty to sit and did the same, all while staring at Cordon like a glowing beacon in the night sky. Rather than let Mrs. Carter see Kitty’s irritation at her mother’s admiration, Kitty stared into her teacup as Mrs. Carter peppered Cordon with questions, forcing him to speak at length about matters that were as dry as stale biscuits to Kitty but seemed only to endear the viscount to her mother more.
“What of young Miss Morgan?” Mrs. Carter said when Cordon took a sip of tea. “Has she done anything else to bring shame to her family?”
Miss Morgan had been caught in a compromising position with Baron Northwood, but Cordon had no intention of making that particular situation more difficult for the couple.
“I’m afraid I have never been one for gossip,” Cordon replied. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his forehead, although it was quite cool outside.
Mrs. Carter fluttered her hands. “Yes, of course, my lord. Why, I often say the same myself. What about you, Betty?”
A gust of wind buffeted the table, nearly plucking Cordon’s hat. Were it not for him slapping his hand atop his head,he would have been rendered hatless. Betty was not so lucky. Her bonnet whipped away. She lunged after it, but Mrs. Carter caught her wrist. It happened quickly, but Kitty did not miss the stern glance her mother gave Betty. A servant ran after the bonnet and returned it to Betty, who put it back on.
“Your coat is absolutely stunning, Lord Grayson,” Mrs. Carter said. “Who is your tailor?”
Kitty tensed and nudged his leg beneath the table. Her mother could not learn that her daughter had taken male clients.
Cordon looked down at his suit. “Monsieur Opal.”
Mrs. Carter patted Betty’s hand. “What do you think of Lord Grayson’s coat? Is it not fine?”
The young woman crossed her arms. “You look very fashionable, my lord.”
Kitty held back a snort. That was the furthest thing from the truth, which Betty knew, judging from the way she spoke, as if every word were being pulled out of her by force. Kitty remembered how difficult it had been living with her mother. She sympathized with her sister, who no longer had Kitty to deflect Mrs. Carter’s attention.
“Betty has been preparing for her debut,” Mrs. Carter said.
Kitty sipped her bitter tea to keep from speaking. This was a topic she dared not discuss or she would risk causing a scene.
The table was silent for a long moment, until Betty jolted upright, as if Mrs. Carter had kicked her beneath the table.
“I am very excited,” Betty said, in a tone that suggested the exact opposite.
“There you are,” an unfamiliar voice said. “I thought I heard your voice, Miss Beatrice.”
Kitty had been so focused on her mother and sister that she hadn’t noticed anyone approaching their table. When she looked up, she felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her.
Mr. Blaylock stood with a hand on Betty’s chair. He wore a black frock coat, loose-fitting beige wool trousers, and a tall top hat. Struck through his cravat was a pin with a silver spider. He smirked, and the hairs on Kitty’s neck stood up.
“Ah, Mr. Blaylock,” Mrs. Carter said. She smiled tightly. “Howlovelyto see you again.”
Her not inviting him to join them spoke more to her disapproval than her words. Unfortunately, Mr. Blaylock was not so easily dissuaded, and soon, a servant appeared with another chair.
