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“Dear Mr. Harkins, if I appear distraught, it is not about money. It is about … having to leave our home. This is really the only home we have ever known.”
“I understand, but I am sure you have thought about marriage? Once married, you would make a new home, and until then, you will be under the earl’s and his grandmother’s protection. You will do.”
“Of course, of course,” Kitty said, wanting to comfort him. “Thank you.”
Mr. Harkins then hurriedly took his leave.
Harry had sat speechless throughout, as had Nanny. Only Kitty had made unintelligible remarks at specific junctures of the reading of her dear uncle’s will.
She stood and worked her hands frantically as her mind took it all apart. Aware that Harry was watching her, she said defiantly, “I shan’t go off with a stranger. Harry, do you think I have to go off with a stranger?” Before he could answer, she turned to Nanny. “No one can make me!”
Harry cleared his throat and offered, “No, but it would appear that if you don’t, this nephew of his—the earl—won’t be allowed to inherit the estate and it will go to the next in line. Seems a paltry thing to do … not cooperate with him, unless he turns out to be a rum touch or something, and how can he be? He is an earl.” He regarded Kitty consideringly and added, “I am surprised by this will, but I will say your guardian was a knowing one, so why don’t we calm down and see what is to be done?”
She rounded on Harry, wagged a finger, and spluttered, “How … how can you take it so coolly?”
“Darling child, this was your Uncle Edwin’s dying wish,” Nanny offered quietly.
Kitty turned to her, and her shoulders slumped. “Oh dear … oh no … it was, wasn’t it? Now, what shall I do?”
“Come, sit with me, and we will all talk about this in a reasonable manner,” Nanny said.
Kitty couldn’t sit and instead paced. “If he is Uncle’s nephew, why have we never met him? Why was there never any mail from him?” She stomped her foot. “I don’t want to go to London. I don’t want a Season where I shall be paraded about like a leg of mutton—”
Harry chortled with laughter, and she turned a wicked glare at him. “It is all well and good for you to laugh, but ’tis true.” She stared at the ceiling as though praying and said more quietly, “Don’t you see? I shall be surrounded by high flyers … and won’t know how to go on, and besides all that, I don’t want to get married. At least … not yet.”
“By Jove, she has a point, Nanny.”
“Nonsense. If her uncle Edwin had not fallen ill, he would have leased a lodging in London and launched her himself.” Nanny turned to Kitty. “You should have at least one Season, Kitty. Your parents would have wanted that for you. I know that as much as Sir Edwin detested London, he had meant to do that for you,” Nanny said in a cajoling tone.
Kitty closed her eyes. She knew she was out of options. She didn’t have a choice, did she? She didn’t want this. Her uncle Edwin had gone to so much trouble on her behalf … even to the point of not allowing the will to be read for three months.
She had to honor his wishes.
She was neatly caught in a trap. She sank onto the cushy yellow damask chair and groaned. “I am heartbroken.”
Harry moved towards her and shook his head as he patted the top of her wild array of long curls. “You aren’t. What a bouncer that one is. Heartbroken, indeed. Be a good girl, and do what you must.” Because she glared at him, he said. “Look, I don’t blame you a bit for being out of sorts. I am, myself, a trifle baffled by all of this. I have never heard of such thing being put into a will and didn’t expect it from your guardian. However, he adored you and wanted the best for you, so, perhaps he saw something we are missing?”
She gave him a tentative smile. “Harry, I am a country girl, not a London debutante.”
“But you could be,” Nanny stuck in immediately. “You have been taught how to manage as a lady. You were given dancing lessons, and you have a natural wit. Oh my dear, you know how to use your tongue, for we have all been privy to it,” she teased, and both Harry and Kitty laughed at that. “My darling, we shall go on—I promise you.”
“Nanny, you are so good, for this affects you as well as me.” Kitty stroked her nanny’s arm.
“There is just one thing,” Harry said. “Don’t want our Kitty hurt, and speaking about tongues, there are quite a bit of sharp ones I am told amongst the beau monde.”
“Ah, Harry is worried about me being hurt.” Kitty smiled. “Well, if I go,”—she snapped her fingers—“I shall be no one but myself, and I shan’t allow such tongues to damage or hurt me, but I haven’t agreed to go … yet.”
“Yes, you have, unless you don’t mean to honor Sir Edwin’s wishes.”
“That was very calculatingly said,” Kitty answered him, one brow up. “Low, Harry, very low.”
“Yes, I thought so, but spot on.”
“Right then, you want me to do the chin up sort of thing, and so I shall—but I am not happy about it.” So saying she folded her arms across her chest while a silent tear slid down her cheek.
“There, there,” Nanny said. “It will not be so bad.”
“What won’t be so bad?” a friendly male voice called from the open doorway.
