Kitty understood what was expected of her. She understood that most gentlemen did not wish to have a serious discussion with her about the advancements of the day. She supposed they all had lively debates at their clubs. Lively debates where new questions, or even conclusions, were posited. But nobody seemed to wish to discuss withherHerschel’s fascinating paper on telescopes, or Carlisle’s examination of the peculiarities of the arteries in slow-moving animals, or Henry’s experiments on muriatic acid. She had suspected that it would be the case all along, but she’d been thoroughly convinced of it after she’d visited Penny Darlington at Newmarket.
Though she’d not been technically out, she’d been allowed certain entertainments under the watchful eye of Lord Mendbridge and Mrs. Wellburton. Along with the entertainments had come the gentlemen. It appeared, through those conversations at dinner or at dancing, that her sole value was her looks. And, she supposed, her dowry too. She might have arrived with complete emptiness between her ears and it would not signify. None of those gentlemen had shown her the truth more clearly than Lord Grayson.
Oh, she had been so struck by his person when she’d first seen him in the drawing room at Mendbridge Cottage. Tall, the sort of cheekbones a sculptor might dream up, and looking so urbane. His dress was impeccable and he wore it with such ease. She was not so foolish as to deny any reaction she might have had involving a fluttering of the stomach.
It was a pity he’d ruined the sensation by being so patronizing! Each time she’d attempted to discuss anything rational, he’d looked at her as if she were a puppy doing something charming. It was near-enraging—as he condescended to her, he at the same time proved himself to be the most uneducated person she had ever encountered. Even her maid was better read than he. Of course, one who spent as much time as he on his person would have little time for education. His neckcloths were a veritable building of the pyramids and likely took just as long.
She had pretended good humor over his condescension and had appeased her feelings by torturing Lord Grayson with questions he had no hope of answering. She had given him a book on Cardinal Wolsey and quizzed him on it ruthlessly. For all the entertainment of it, she still could not help but be offended at how he viewed her. How theyallviewed her.
Lord Grayson had taken every opportunity to steer the conversation away from anything approaching the intellectual to land firmly on her person. As she had listened to his ridiculous compliments, she had thought it was a shame he was so handsome. An injustice, really. Those chiseled features had been better suited to a learned man and not wasted on the dandified Lord Grayson.
Shedidwish to marry, to an intelligent man who would be intelligent enough to recognize her own intelligence. A man she could debate things with, as two equals. She could only pray that such a man existed. If he happened to be as handsome as Lord Grayson, so much the better. Though, it was not an absolute requirement.
“You will find somebody you like, Kitty,” her brother said. “Mendbridge says Lord Grayson was an admirer at Newmarket. I do not know the fellow and he is part of that ridiculous dukes’ pact, but on the other hand, he’s a Marquess and will be a duke. You could do worse than duchess, is all I say.”
Kitty turned away from her telescope and stared at her brother. “You are quite mistaken, Frederick. I am convinced I could in factnotdo worse than Lord Grayson.”
“Never mind him, then,” Frederick said. “The town will be teeming with suitable fellows. If only you would put your thoughts wholly on the matter at hand.”
Kitty knew well enough that it would not be possible to put her thoughts wholly on dressing and making calls and going to parties. On the other hand, she was not oblivious to the expense of a season, she would not insult her parents with outright defiance, and shedidlike dancing. Naturally, she was also not opposed to a good dinner. There must be some middle ground they might all comfortably stand on.
“Frederick,” she said, “I will be the dutiful young lady just out,ifyou do not attempt to suppress my natural inclinations altogether. You know of what I speak.”
“Lackington & Allen,” Frederick said.
Kitty nodded. Mr. Lackington ran the largest bookstore in London. No, not just the largest. It was the Temple Muse and carried over eight hundred thousand volumes. Lackington’s was the sun and the world revolved around it.
Over the past two years, she had maintained a correspondence with Mr. Lackington. She would write him a letter and give it to her father. Her father would review the letter, enclose a note of his own, and send it off to Mr. Lackington. Then a letter would come back to her father and be passed on to her. In that way, she’d had rousing debates on a variety of subjects and got important recommendations on books she ought to own. Kitty was determined to experience the establishment for herself and be introduced to the great man.
“You shall find me remarkably good humored and compliant if I have my visits to Lackington and Allen,” Kitty said, her chin jutting out in rock solid stubbornness.
“Finsbury Square it is, then,” Frederick said.
*
Giles Dermot, theMarquess of Grayson and eldest son of the Duke of Bainbridge, hurried down the stairs. As his funds had been entirely eliminated thanks to the devilish pact his father and his old cronies had dreamed up, he was entirely at the mercy of Dalton’s hospitality. This should have necessitated being prompt for a drink before going to the theater, but nobody could hurry LaRue. If his valet was not satisfied with the fall of his neckcloth, and he rarely was, then it would require starting over again with a fresh one. The lord did not own above forty-five cloths on a whim, it was a necessity when one employed such a temperamental scoundrel.
He passed Bellamy in the hall and the old butler stared at him as grim as ever. Giles had been in the house long enough to know that Bellamy’s annoyance had little to do with if his master would be inconvenienced by his houseguest’s tardiness. Bellamy would be irritated thatBellamywas inconvenienced. The old fellow had one aim in life—get the lords out of the house so he and his footmen could vandalize the wine cellar and make merry. Should one require anything late at night in Dalton’s house, one might do best to get it oneself. Ringing the bell would only bring a swaying and bleary-eyed footman to the door. LaRue called Dalton’s retinuethe barbariansand claimed he would not dignify the horde by using individual names.
Giles entered the library, that being the preferred room in the house for gathering. Dalton had already a glass in hand. “Prompt as ever,” his friend said.
“I’ve told you over and over, LaRue has his own timetable,” Giles said. “There’s no use trying to hurry him, I did it once and he descended into some sort of French madness. I did not get the whole of it, but crimes against mankind were thrown about.”
“Why don’t you just give him the wrong time?” Dalton asked. “Tell him you’ve got to be out the door an hour before you actually do?”
“I do not see how that will work,” Giles said. “He’ll know, somehow.”
“He did notsomehow knowthis evening. I said we would depart at eight, but we do not in fact go until nine. Here it is at half past the hour and for once you are arrived in good time. I suspect not all of the blame for your shocking habits can be laid at your valet’s door.”
Giles shrugged. He supposed Dalton was right, hecouldbe undecided about which coat would suit. “Well, in any case, very jolly that I am not late, is it not?”
“It is about the only jolly thing I can think of just now,” Dalton said. “We are reduced to attending parties to get a good dinner these days and I do not even have the funds to open my house in Brighton this summer. If we are not invited to a series of country house parties, we will broil alone in London. Or, God forbid, we’d have to fly to our respective family’s coups.”
“Yes, we are near penniless,” Giles said, “but I am sure we will not be forced to return to our father’s estates. The fates are not so cruel as that. I think this circumstance cannot go on forever. Once our fathers perceive that we cannot be forced to marry, they will give it up. The old cabal will have to satisfy themselves that they’ve had their way with Hampton, Lockwood, Ashworth, and Cabot.”
“I knew we’d be the last hold outs,” Dalton said. “Cabot was hopeless. A horse-mad gentleman develops a preference for a horse-mad lady. I did my best to throw them off, but I suspected all along it was a losing proposition.”
“So far, all of your propositions have been losing. You could not even keep Lockwood safely above stairs behind a sturdy locked door. By the by, there is a whispered rumor going about that Miss Darlington rode Cabot’s horse for the thousand guinea stakes,” Giles said. “Apparently, the ladies are all finding it highly romantic.”
