“You must just keep in the forefront of your mind what the consequences of your giving in would be,” Kate said. “A lifetime with the marquess.”
Thelma shuddered. “Sidney wants me to go away with him,” she said. “I think it is the only way, Kate.”
“To Gretna?” Kate said. “Oh, no, there must be another way. Your reputation would be ruined forever. You would never be received again.”
“I don’t care,” the girl said recklessly. “I have no wish to be received.”
“And Mr. Moreton?” Kate asked. “Will he be content to spend his life cut off from the class into which he was born?”
“Yes,” Thelma said defiantly. “He loves me.” But she looked doubtful and thoroughly miserable. “Will you come with me, Kate?”
“If you go, yes,” Kate said after a short pause for consideration. “But don’t rush, Lady Thelma, please. Give it time. Give it thought. Life can be a long business if one does something irrevocable and then discovers that one has made a mistake.”
Thelma stared down at her hands and said nothing. Kate was wildly wondering if she could speed up her attempt to find Lord Lindstrom. If she could only prove that the present Earl of Barton had no claim to his title or his fortune, the future would look very different for Thelma. Far from being hurt by such a discovery, the girl would probably be relieved. And there would be far fewer objections then to her marrying her Mr. Moreton—if that young man would still want her after such a disgrace.
Chapter 16
A week had passed in which life had settled to a humdrum but not unpleasant routine for Kate. Lady Thelma had become more friendly with the younger ladies, perhaps as a defense against the company of Lord Uppington. A few times a day she felt it necessary to have Kate by her so that she could talk from the heart, but for most of each day she was content to let her companion go her own way.
The girl had somehow succeeded in getting both her father and her suitor to agree to give her a little more time in which to make up her mind about marrying the marquess. Neither seemed at all anxious about her answer. Lord Barton doubtless trusted to the influence he had always had over his daughter’s life. Lord Uppington probably could not imagine that any woman in her right senses or out of them would refuse his hand.
Kate had written to her aunt to make inquiries about Lord Lindstrom and was impatiently awaiting her reply. She was trying hard not to expect too much. It was more than likely, she tried to persuade herself, that Aunt Priscilla would never have heard of the baron or would have no idea how one might contact him. It was in every way possible that even if her aunt did know Lord Lindstrom, he would turn out to be a different man from the one she needed.
In the meantime she plodded on with her work in the library and studiously avoided close contact with either the Marquess of Uppington or Sir Harry Tate. It had not been particularly easy to avoid the former. Lord Uppington had clearly set himself to seduce her. One afternoon when she had thought he was playing billiards with Lord Toucher he had come into the library, closing the door behind him, but she had been prepared. She had merely descended the library stairs quite coolly, walked over to the fireplace, and used the bell to summon the butler before the marquess had realized her intent. She had thought of some excuse to leave the room with Russell. The marquess, she imagined, had been furious.
Avoiding Sir Harry had been an altogether simpler matter. Apart from the fact that she had almost run headlong into him as she left the library with the butler on that same afternoon, they had not been near each other. He had not even led her into the dining room since their encounter on the beach. Kate could only conclude that the incident had embarrassed and disgusted him as much as it had her. She was very pleased to find that it was so. She ruthlessly ignored her feeling of restless boredom that might have been alleviated by a spirited exchange of insults with Sir Harry. Far be it from her ever to admit that she missed him. Obnoxious man.
On this particular afternoon Kate was again with everyone else. Lord Stoughton had arranged a boating party on the long lake to the north of the house. This time they were not to stop for a picnic at the rotunda but to row to the end of the lake and have tea there. The picnic fare would be fetched by land. There were only three boats, each of which would carry four persons. Kate remained behind at the rotunda with the older couples and Lord Barton until the boats should return to fetch them. Why all three boats returned, no one knew, when only six of them remained to be transported, but there was a great deal of laughing and teasing at the unnecessary rowing that one of the young men had done. Lord Barton stepped into the boat rowed by his son and was joined by his sister and brother-in-law. Sir Peregrine Lacey and his wife traveled with Mr. Moreton. Kate smiled at Lord Poole’s plea to have at least one passenger so that his return journey would not have been in vain.
She sat on the seat opposite him as he rowed, smiling indulgently at his outrageous compliments. It was true that she was wearing a muslin dress of the palest gray, by far her most glamorous garment. And she wore an unadorned straw bonnet rather than one of her more severe ones. But she still felt distinctly like someone’s poor relation. She was not about to believe that she rivaled the sun in brilliance merely because Lord Poole happened to say so. But it was pleasant nonetheless to be noticed, she thought perversely, reaching over the side of the boat and trailing one hand in the water.
“Lord Poole,” she said on impulse, “you must have spent a considerable amount of time in London, have you not?”
He looked gratified. “How can you tell, ma’am?” he asked.
Kate glanced at his starched shirt points, his skintight coat heavily padded at the shoulders, his striped silk waistcoat, his white-topped and tasseled Hessians, and smiled into his eyes. “You are so very fashionable,” she said. “Where else would you have acquired such town bronze?”
He bowed his head in acknowledgment of her superior judgment.
“Do you know a great many members of the ton?” she asked. “It must be quite wonderful to attend a London ball and see all the important people of our country gathered in one room.”
“Such amusements can become something of a bore, believe me, Mrs. Mannering,” he said with such studied indifference that she almost laughed. He reminded her of Sir Harry Tate except that Sir Harry’s air of ennui came entirely naturally.
“I was married before I could make a come-out,” Kate said with a sigh. “But my father frequented London as a young man. He met my mother there. He often speaks of his fashionable friends, though he has not seen many of them for years.”
“Indeed?” he said, looking at her with open interest.
“Yes,” she said. “Sir Henry Parnell is my father. I do not suppose you have heard of him?”
He shook his head politely.
“I wonder if you know any of his former associates,” she said. “Now, let me see. What are some of their names? Sir David Lawrence?” She had picked the name out of the air and was not surprised when he shook his head again. “Lord Lindstrom?”
“No,” he said. “I've never met the fellow. He rusticates in Devon, you know. Doesn’t like society. I have played cards with his son on occasion, though.”
“Indeed?” Kate said brightly. “Is not that amazing? And his son would be about your age?”
“A little younger, I would guess,” he said.
