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Kitty eyed her. “He was rude and arrogant. How is that constructive?”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t wise of him,” Ree conceded.
“That is not all, Ree!” Kit got up and moved about in a frenzied pattern before she plopped back down.
“Is it not? What more is there? I must say, the earl has certainly been very busy floundering about, hasn’t he?” Ree’s eyes were alight with mischief.
“He says he is now my guardian, which he is not, and he says he will be my guardian till I marry.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. Papa did not say that he was appointed your guardian, did he? You told me he was merely supposed to launch you for a Season.”
“Quite right. No, he is not my guardian.” Kitty’s fist came down in her lap with vehemence.
“Right, then, nothing to worry yourself about,” Ree answered. “Although he may be considered one if he has control over your purse strings until you are one and twenty. Does he?”
“No, well, I am not sure.”
“Ah,” Ree answered.
“Ah? What do you mean, ah?” Kitty’s eyes narrowed. “When your father read the will, he never said a word about the earl or his grandmother being appointed my guardians, and he never said a word about me not having control over my own part of the inheritance.”
“Well then, go and see Papa at his office and get it all straightened out,” Ree suggested reasonably.
“Indeed.” Kitty sighed. “I am supposed to accompany the earl there today at three. We were to ride together.” Kitty made a most unladylike face and then stopped as a sudden thought came to mind. A sure light glistened in her eyes, and she said, “But … I have another notion, Ree. Indeed, I have an idea, and it is a famously good one!”
“Oh, Kitty, your ideas have a habit of going awry,” Ree said, giving her a ‘look.’
To which, Kitty giggled and said, “Not this one, goose, not this one!”
* * *
Clayton Bickwerth counted the mound of bills in his hands and grinned broadly, well pleased with himself. Luckily he had managed to discover when Smilin’ Jack would be taking his practice bout and had quietly stood at a rip in the tent and watched him. He had gone through several moves with his boxing partner during that practice, and Clayton had decided the newcomer had both speed and youth on his side.
High odds were being given on the excited crowd’s older favorite, Big Tom Brody, but Clayton had decided to go the other route. Having had the opportunity to observe the strong newcomer’s skills, Clayton placed a hefty sum in favor of Smilin’ Jack over Big Tom.
The boxing match had been touted all over the county, and there had been a large and eager betting crowd gathering for days. Thus it was, when the match was at an end, Clayton found his winnings had made him ‘plump in the pocket’. Yes, but for how long, he worried silently.
“Well done!” Harry said, a jovial smile lighting his face as he came up to give Clayton’s shoulder a shake. “I had my money on Big Tom, but I’ll say this, it was a good match and well worth the little loss I took to see those two up against one another.” He eyed Clayton speculatively. “Come on, I’ll stand you a tanker of ale over at the Bull, and you will tell me what you saw in Smilin’ Jack that I missed.”
Clayton liked Harry well enough, but he had other plans.
He had received a serious blow. He had thought he was well on his way to securing Kitty’s hand in marriage. She, he had believed, was an heiress with a fortune to set him up in the lifestyle he wished to live.
Kitty was a beauty, and although he wasn’t in love, he di
d like the chit, and it would have been easy enough to call her wife.
He would, of course, have to curb her wildness and prepare her for the position he meant for them to have in society, but it would have been worth the effort. He had almost glowed when he thought of her fortune. Now, that hope had been dashed and he would have to cast out his lures elsewhere. Luckily, he knew just where to look.
Henrietta Harkins.
She was tall, and some, he believed, might even call her lovely, but she wasn’t his style. Her mother was an heiress, yes, but she had no lineage, and Henrietta’s father, though respectable, was a solicitor who was the second son of a squire.
Clayton had hoped to marry higher. Ah well, he didn’t have a choice, did he?
He was in debt. Serious debt, and if he didn’t marry soon, he would lose everything he had hoped to hold onto. His family estate, his London townhouse—everything.
Thus, with no time to spare, he set his sights.
