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Her months with Nash paled into insignificance when compared with the deep, primal need she felt for Silverton. She loved Silverton with an intensity she’d not believed possible. He made her complete. He was everything she realized had always been missing from her life.
And he respected her.
But he could not make her his wife. Yes, she did accept that. She’d also pledged she would never even think about that other sphere of his life that could not contain her, as long as he continued to show her the affection he did each and every day.
But just one look. One quick look to see the look in Silverton’s eyes as he welcomed the woman he’d not seen for some months. The woman Silverton had chosen to spend the rest of his life with in respectable matrimony and whom Kitty imagined must therefore be beautiful and self assured, and, quite possibly, haughty and disdainful like so many of her class.
So Kitty leaned over the ivy-entwined barrier sandstone and stared down at the scene below, and found to her dismay that Miss Mandelton was none of those things.
The pair of dainty half-boots that touched the ground and the neat body dressed in a plain, dark green traveling gown with little embellishment were, Kitty saw, her best attributes. For the face that peeked out from beneath the poke bonnet was pale. Too pale for beauty. In fact, her complexion looked leeched of color. The nose was small but slightly too sharp for conventional beauty which, had her eyes been more compelling, might have been overlooked. Her brows were so pale as to be not even in evidence from this distance, and her manner was timid. She seemed to withdraw in fear as Araminta moved toward her.
No, Miss Mandelton was not a beauty.
But then, Kitty had already perceived this when she’d returned her little dog and had decided that a pleasing and kind manner were far more attractive traits than bold good looks.
She thought she would be ill.
Why had she not held fast when she’d counseled herself that it would be best if she never met the future Lady Silverton?
But they’d already met.
This was the young woman who would usurp Kitty’s position. Miss Mandelton looked like she had never received a kind word in her life the way she smiled tremulously as Araminta prattled her welcome. Kitty doubted Miss Mandelton had ever said an unkind thing to anyone, either. And it was that very timidity that would tug at Silverton’s heartstrings. Silverton, who couldn’t abide hurting anyone’s feelings.
This timid creature with her passive ways would have everything for which Kitty had longed her entire life: a loving husband—for indeed Silverton would grow fonder of his wife as she produced the children who would carry on the family line—and a family.
All her life, Kitty had longed to be part of a legitimate union with a husband who would be proud enough of wife and children that he would want to show them off. Not keep them secretly in the background, as her father had done to Kitty and Lissa and Ned and now, no doubt, the new baby.
And, as Silverton would have no choice but to do with Kitty and any children they might produce.
A great sob rose up in her throat which she choked back as she heard Silverton’s voice carry over the cool, quiet air, “Octavia, my dear girl. You have come at last.”
Kitty strained for any nuance that might suggest his true feelings—delight, perhaps. But there was just the warmth he might reserve for a familiar family friend.
The reflection gave Kitty no comfort. Miss Mandelton was going to marry Silverton and Kitty was not.
Her last sight of him before she turned away was as he gripped the young woman’s hands in both of his, his tone bolstering, confidence boosting; while Miss Mandelton responded, stammering with overt gratitude that it was indeed good to see him, too.
For, of course, Silverton was her knight in shining armor.
He’d come to her rescue just at the right moment before she was condemned to a life of lonely obscurity, a spinster, never knowing the joys of a loving husband and adorable children.
All those creature comforts which Kitty had craved her entire life.
And which, she now realized, she would never know.
She’d managed to stop sobbing by the time she returned to the fold, as Mr. Lazarus termed the overcrowded antechamber which housed their motley array of props and costumes.
In fact, she was quite dignified as Jennie rushed forward to give her a
strident serve as to how she’d abandoned them all, for Lady Debenham had just been in to inform them they’d be expected on stage in just under an hour as the last of their guests had arrived.
However, Jennie’s ire had turned to enthusiasm as she’d gone on to tell her that Lady Debenham had invited the actors to participate in the dancing for an hour after the performance.
“’Er ladyship’s mama didn’t like ‘er suggestion one bit. Said it was not respectable, but Lady Debenham would ‘ave ‘er way.” Jennie cocked an eyebrow. “Reckon she ‘ad her feelers out for our Bert. Wants to dance a gavotte with our ‘andsomest feller.” She giggled. “She’ll be jealous when Bert kisses the leading lady on stage. Lady Debenham’s got a reputation for being fast and loose, but she don’t care. What’s the bet she’ll be so bold as to ask Bert to partner her to make that old sourpuss Lord Debenham jealous?”
Kitty couldn’t care less what Araminta did or who danced with whom. She shook her head wildly. “I’m not dancing with anyone,” she muttered, aware of Jennie’s surprised gaze following her before the redhead shrugged and went off to gabble her excitement to someone else.
No, if Mr. Lazarus hadn’t purloined her at that moment, she might have picked up her skirts and simply bolted right out of the room and never come back.
