“And what about the sailor and the mermaid? That ended in disaster, didn’t it?”
The queen of the fairies crossed her arms with a pout. “Oh, all right. Fine. No love potions. I’ll leave them alone—for now. But just you watch—I guarantee they’ll make a mess of it, when left to their own devices.”
Chapter Four
Kitty emerged on the edge of the lawn. A group of guests were playing croquet, but a burst of laughter drew her attention to a small group standing to one side. She smiled as she saw Charles Willingham chatting with Gwyn’s fiancé, Lord Locryn.
Charles had shown her increasingly marked interest of late, and Kitty was fairly certain he was on the verge of making her an offer. She should seriously consider accepting.
As ever, he was impeccably dressed. His guinea-gold curls shone in the sunshine, and his teeth flashed white as he chuckled at some amusing remark of Lord Locryn’s. He was a handsome, charming companion, always ready with a witty comment or flattering compliment. There was nothing wrong with him, per se. His manners were excellent, and he didn’t have a temper, or a fatal propensity for drink. He would make a perfectly acceptable husband.
But he didn’t seem to have any ambition beyond repeating the latest gossip and being seen in the most fashionable parts of town. He didn’t seem to understand her desire to do things like explore, read, or do anything that might improve her mind. Worst of all, he didn’t make her heart thunder in her chest or make her blood sing in anticipation of seeing him.
The way James did.
Her steps faltered. James was only a few paces behind her, and it was impossible not to compare the two. James was a man of substance, of darkness and hidden depths. With his lean strength and effortless grace, he made Charles look like a callow, untried youth.
Charles just seemed less, somehow. Less commanding, less worthy of respect or admiration. Kitty couldn’t imagine him arguing with her, or teasing her, or challenging her. If they wed, they’d doubtless live quite separate lives.
James moved to stand beside her and followed the direction of her gaze.
“God, you’re not seriously considering pretty-boy Willingham, are you?”
Kitty lifted her chin. “And why not? It’s high time I chose someone to marry.”
James snorted. “I’ve encountered puddles with more depth. His only thoughts are what he’s wearing for dinner, and which horse is going to win the next race at Newmarket.”
“Well, not everyone can be war heroes,” she said, stung. “And he makes himself agreeable company, whereas you are scowly and unapproachable, most of the time. You scare women half to death.”
He sent her a narrow-eyed glare. “I can’t help it if my face naturally settles in an unwelcoming expression. And I don’t suffer fools. Life’s too short to pretend an interest in which waistcoat’s going to be next season’s favorite.”
“It’s a good thing I knew you before the war,” she taunted. “Otherwise, I’d never guess that you can laugh.”
“I haven’t had much to laugh about recently,’” he growled.
She acknowledged that with a nod. “True. But life goes on. Andrew would have wanted both of us to be happy. And I’m trying. To be happy, that is.” She glanced back across the lawn. “Which is why I’m considering Charles.”
“He’s a shocking flirt.”
“At least he’s not a recluse, as you’ve been these past months.”
That earned her another scowl.
“I was recuperating. I wasn’t in the mood to see anyone.”
“Not even me, apparently,” she said, forcing a lightness into her tone to disguise the hurt.
“Willingham’s a gambler and a spendthrift. He’ll fritter away your dowry as soon as he signs the marriage certificate.”
“You think he’s only after my money?”
“Amongst other things,” he said darkly. His piercing gaze trailed over her face, then dropped lower for a brief but devastating, perusal of her body. Heat bloomed in her cheeks.
His lips curled up in a taunting jeer. “Willing-ham. How apt. He certainly is willing. And your name’s apt too. You’re worth quite a bit, Kitty Worth, now you’re the sole heir to your father’s fortune.”
Kitty gave a delicate shrug. “Charles has made no secret of the fact that he wishes to marry a woman with means. That’s not unusual; most society marriages are based on the same principle. Cash in exchange for a title. At least I know where I stand from the outset.”
She glanced sideways at him. “Some of us don’t have a title to entice people to marry us, Lord Leighton,” she paused to let that barb hit home. “Charles is pleasant enough. He would never be cruel.”
