Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A Fortnight Later
Dear Miss Babbington,
I am to Huntingdonshire tomorrow to celebrate Julian’s birthday and hope that fate is benevolent in gracing me during the course of my stay with your charming presence.
I remain hopeful.
Anthony Philips
Kitty folded the letter and secreted it under her mattress.
It was true that a female should not accept the association of an unmarried man, but Anthony Philips never tread nor crossed the line of propriety.
His letters were polite not flirtatious.
He spoke of his family and his hobbies. He solicited her opinions.
Could he truly be the young man Julian described?
One who associated with high-flyers, whores, and mistresses?
Kitty blushed at her thoughts. Along with being resourceful, she was romantic and, when forced, practical. She did not want to marry Anthony Philips when she was in love with Julian so much it hurt. But her options were few.
Sir Jeffrey had resumed keeping his distance. Clara still had her position, and Father Dunlevy had announced he was staying in residence through June. Julian continued to visit every night, and Kitty had not summoned the nerve to ask him about gushing.
She grimaced at the word and smoothed her hand over her flat stomach under her dressing robe. She really must ask him.
Compared to the events of Easter, the last fortnight had come in like a lamb, and the sense of impending doom had skulked away. If only Julian wished to marry her. But she hadn’t brought up Anthony or marriage since their discussion lest he think she wheedled for a proposal.
She sought out Clara to help her dress for Julian’s birthday dinner, donning a blush-rose, close-bodied gown made over from one of her mother’s sacque gowns.
Her petticoat was cream, her bodice adorned with bows.
Her tight sleeves dripped with lace engageantes.
Kitty brushed the silk overskirt, wondering if her mother’s hand had touched the same spot and what she had thought when she did. She hoped they had been happy thoughts.
Clara brushed her hair from her forehead and pinned barrel curls from the crown to the back. She coaxed one curl over her shoulder. “See there,” she said behind Kitty in the looking glass. “That young lady is pretty as a penny.”
Kitty rode to Farendon with Father Dunlevy in the Babbington’s dilapidated coach. The silence was tense. Kitty rolled the ring on her finger.
“You will bring Mr. St. Clair to the point tonight,” he said as the coach crunched on Farendon’s gravel drive. “Or I will.”
Kitty looked up in surprise.
“Do not feign innocence with me, Katherine. I know.” His eyes were soft, unlike his tone.
“I blame myself. I assumed the young man was a gentleman given his breeding and would save you from Sir Jeffrey. I cannot think you would have allowed him liberties without the promise of marriage. But you have.”
Kitty looked away.
“You get what you expect in this world. And you expect a pittance. You deserve more and if you do not believe it, heed me well. I have not spent my life watching over you so you could throw it away on a boy who holds you in contempt. Who values you as a man does a serving wench. That is what you are, Katherine, in his eyes. A woman easily had and discarded.”
Kitty let the words sink in, shame flaming her face. At length, she said, “He is stubborn.”
“Yes. He is. And has you dancing to his tune like a puppet.”
Kitty hung her head. “Father, he did not force me. It is my fault.”
“Then do something to rectify your mistake. And if you think to let him off, to save him discomfort, think of the child you may be carrying.”
She reached for her handkerchief and realized she was too stunned to cry.
Father exited the coach and handed her down. “I will give you until the morning. Then it will be my responsibility.”
Kitty stumbled on the drive. “W-What if I find another to marry me?”
“Are you prepared to tell this other you come to the marriage possibly carrying another man’s child?”
Her stomach revolted at the image of giving herself to any man but Julian. And telling that man what she had done. She climbed the stairs to the Gold Drawing Room and at the entrance pasted a serene smile. Her mother had taught her the ways to hide fear.
She faltered, her gaze fixed on her mother’s pianoforte in the corner opposite the bank of towering windows draped in gold damask.
Georgiana saved her, walking her to Uncle William who introduced her to a woman with greying blond hair, all warmth and fragile beauty, Julian’s mother, the Countess of Tindall.
Kitty curtsied to Julian’s sister, Caroline, as beautiful as her mother.
Then, Oliver St. Clair, Julian’s brother.
Finally, Anthony Philips stepped forward, resplendent in dark blue which intensified the crystal blue of his eyes. He brushed a kiss to her hand.
Julian was late to his own birthday party.
One more year before I can tell the Earl of Tindall to go to hell. Though Julian had already told his father in other ways.
Julian took Farendon’s main stairs by two toward the sound of manly good cheer and animated feminine voices.
His legs were numb from the punishing course he had run to lose the anger brought on by Anthony’s visit.
His friend had heartily embraced him, wished him a most happy birthday, and then, “I’m going to marry that beautiful fairy of yours. ”
Fairy. Julian’s vision had gone dark pink.
Disturbing reflections had chased him through his exercise.
Julian had run faster. Kitty in Anthony’s arms. Kitty in bed with Anthony, whispering I love you.
Worse, Kitty crying out, her hair draped over Anthony in black abandon and coming courtesy of Anthony.
Kitty with child. Kitty with Anthony’s children.
Kitty mistress of Anthony’s six houses. Kitty becoming the Countess of Wetherden.
Kitty hosting parties, greeting Julian as a friend, introducing him to their children and guests he didn’t know because he didn’t know Kitty anymore.
Kitty growing older, lines etched about her eyes from smiling because she was happy.
Kitty with her grandchildren. Kitty a great-grandmother.
Kitty sitting vigil as Anthony went to the devil.
Kitty dying from a broken heart. Kitty’s grave, right next to Anthony’s.
A shared tomb with some poetic drivel inscribed.
Something from John Donne such as after one such love, can love no more.
Or whoever wrote the line of loving on first sight.
Over five miles, Julian had played out Kitty’s entire life.
He paused at the drawing room’s expansive double entrance. No one saw him standing there in his exercise clothes. Not Kitty who smiled into Anthony’s face while he lied to her about charities for the unfortunate. Otherwise known as high-flyers. Whores. Mistresses.
He strode to his room and ripped off his clothes.
Planting his hands to the dressing table, he glared into the looking glass.
He hadn’t shaved in what? A week? His hair had grown well past his shoulders.
He peered closer. Beneath his eyes were shadows from living on limited sleep.
Two usually, depending on how long he talked with Kitty and how many times he bedded her.
Julian shoved off the table. Why care about his appearance when all he did was study, exercise, and visit Kitty?
He was twenty years-old today. And Kitty was going to share a tomb with Anthony. And writhe her sweet, luscious body over Anthony’s philandering cock. Because his friend would never be faithful, and Kitty would stand by him, believing his lies to the bloody end.
Julian bathed and dressed in a frock coat of forest green, a red waistcoat, and buckskin breeches.
He didn’t shave. He didn’t queue his hair.
It was all inappropriate for dinner. He resembled a corsair ready for a fox hunt.
Let Kitty adore Anthony in his silk. At least his nails were clean.
He could compare his calluses to Anthony’s soft hands.
A second son who willingly dirtied his hands in trade versus an heir to a wealthy earldom.
Julian unscrewed the scowl from his face when he entered the drawing room and crossed to the most important person in the room now that Kitty was Anthony’s. His mother. In tasteless sentimentality, he hugged the air out of her lungs, kissed her cheeks, and praised her beauty.
Startled, she gulped for air when he set her back and appraised his appearance. Her eyes glassed over. “Julian, my son, you are a man full grown. And so handsome.”
Like Kitty, his mother always made him feel better than he ought. He loved her for it.
Oliver arrived to convey his wife’s felicitations for his health.
Julian grinned. “She still has not forgiven me for the engagement party, has she?”
“Never will,” his brother replied, looking him over. “The earl will be pleased to know you have transformed into the pirate he believes you are.”
“Be sure to embellish. I had a dagger and an earring.”
Oliver chuckled and poured him a drink. Julian busked Caroline’s cheek because he kept his enemies close. Father Dunlevy wished him happy and looked over at Anthony and Kitty with fatherly approval.
“I believe Katherine is enjoying herself as is the Earl of Wetherden’s son,” Dunlevy said.
If the remark was meant to solicit jealousy, it did not. Julian was past jealousy. He was not going to marry her. Anthony was.
His mother agreed with Dunlevy. “And such a lovely young lady. Most pretty manners. Don’t you agree, Julian?
” She appraised his reaction which was nothing short of indifferent, and said under her breath, “Anthony seems quite taken. He would do well to consider Miss Babbington for his future countess. Girls raised in the country make excellent wives and mothers.”
And lovers, Julian thought.