Chapter 12
Twelve
“You see, I can get up before noon,” Kitty declared as she disembarked from the dock, tugging on the ribbon on her bonnet with haughty self-satisfaction.
Norman—who was standing there, with his arms folded—glanced upwards to the sky. “I shall report it to the papers. Miss McGowan has risen in time for morning pursuits. A day of history.”
Kitty smiled. “I was thinking only about which game I would win next.”
He let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “Your arrogance has no bounds.”
“As it must be,” she replied carelessly.
Richard stepped forward, his shadow falling between them. ”What my daughter lacks in punctuality, she compensates for in delusion.”
Norman had no time to respond before a sailor appeared at their side, respectfully nodding toward him. “Good morning, Your Grace. The boats await. Each will accommodate no more than four riders and the driver.”
Jane, positioned next to Richard, spoke up. “Then that is settled. We shall ride together.”
Kitty gazed across the still lake, where there were only a few boats drifting, slightly rising and falling with the calm water.
The wind carried the pungent scent of fresh wood and damp ground, and the delicate caress of waterweed.
The sun sparkled on the flowing water, casting shining reflections dancing in the light.
“You have some experience with an oar,” Norman said as he extended his hand to Kitty.
“I have excellent balance,” she substituted, settling in without a problem. The boat rocked slightly, but she regained her balance. “And you, Your Grace? Can I hope you will not spill us over?”
“I do not tend to drown my guests,” he answered, sitting opposite her. “Especially, if I am to be wed to them. But if I am losing yet another wager, no promises are made.”
Jane sighed. “Does every instance need to be a competition with the two of you?”
Richard cleared his throat from the dock. “Mind you don’t test that theory, Katherine. I’ve no desire to fish your bonnet from the reeds.”
Kitty opened her mouth to retort, but Norman spoke first, his voice laced with amusement. “Fear not. I’ve yet to meet a challenge I couldn’t master.” His gaze flicked to Kitty. “Though some prove more... rewarding than others.”
Kitty leaned back against the wooden bench, feigning thoughtfulness. “I would say no, but then how would we fill the silence?”
The boat pushed off, and they were floating down the lake. The gentle rhythm of the water hitting the wood was soothing, almost like in—
“This reminds me of Venice,” Jane said. “Do you remember the carnival, Kitty?”
“How could I possibly forget? That gondolier who wore the plumed hat warbled for us so badly, we wished we could have thrust him into the canal.”
Jane giggled. “And still he followed along behind us for two whole blocks afterwards, believing he had won our hearts.”
“I would rather have given mine to the mask-maker we met,” Kitty chuckled at the memory. “At least he had some interesting stories to share about his romance-filled life.”
Norman, who had sat so quietly, finally spoke. “Is Marina Venetian?”
Kitty’s smile wavered. “How do you know of Marina?”
“Cynthia told me,” Norman replied, his expression blank.
Kitty pressed her lips, attempting to mask her annoyance at that. “She is Italian, yes. Although she spent a considerable amount of time in France as well.”
“And what,” he asked, his voice carefully light, “were these ‘unconventional habits’ which Lady Cynthia so eagerly suggested?”
Kitty hesitated before responding, carefully considering the next words that would come out of her mouth. “Marina did not believe in unnecessary restrictions. She was quite expressive, especially toward her husband and the love she had for him. She enjoyed masquerade balls and fine wine….”
He considered this, watching her intently. “And yet, you respected her?”
Kitty lifted her chin. “I did. She did what she pleased. I think there is something to be respected about that. It takes quite a lot of courage.”
Norman did not demur to her surprise. He simply nodded in the direction of a passing boat. “You observe Lady Talbot on that vessel? Her son, the fellow in the blue uniform, made a try to elope last summer with one of the governesses. His father bought her off.”
Kitty glared in the direction he gazed. “I wasn’t aware...”
“Most of them aren’t. And yet, that family is quite respectable.” He nodded his head in the direction of another group, a solemn expression on his face. “Lord Newbury’s family is another. Good name, but they were nearly ruined by his father’s investments. Debts their son had to repay.”
She ought to have been riveted—the entire ton certainly was—but the particulars slipped past her like the minnows darting beneath their boat.
What did catch her attention was the careful tone of his voice. The way he’d lowered it just so when mentioning the more salacious details, as if to say This is for you alone.
He’s doing this for me.
The realization settled over her like sunlight, warm and unexpected.
She had been braced for judgment—for the whispers that followed her like shadows—but Norman offered none of that.
Instead, he spun tales of far pettier scandals, as if to say, See?
You are not the worst of them. You are not even close.
Kitty hesitated for a moment whether to interrogate him on those debts.
She sensed that he was speaking out of something more personal than rumor.
But she did not pursue it, saying instead, “I am barely surprised. I met a great number of families in the continent whose fortunes were forfeit by misplaced trust.”
Norman’s mouth curled. “Ah, but Englishmen are honorable. We do not defraud.”
Kitty let out a small laugh. “That is a fine myth you make up for yourselves. As if shame stops at the Channel.”
He shook his head. “You’re saying foreign men are better?
“I am stating that I have met a great many respectable men and women abroad,” she snapped. “And that although titles are important, they do not weigh as much there. People mix freely across ranks much more easily.”
“Because they have no tradition.”
“Because they know that respectability is not necessarily hereditary.”
Norman breathed deeply, his good nature thinning but his tone still level. “You speak as if rank means nothing. It does not. It is duty, history, stability.”
Kitty leaned forward a little, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “Yes, such duty that it forces you to marry the last person you would choose for yourself.”
His eyes flickered, but he did not deny it. He merely gazed at her. “And you,” he stated in his controlled voice, “if you loved this so-called free and enjoyable society so dearly, why did you never marry a foreigner?”
Kitty paused a moment before answering. “Every time I considered it, I thought of my father. How, if I married, I’d have to leave him behind.
” She gazed out at the water, nostalgia filling up her lungs.
“I stayed unmarried because I felt I was being faithful to him. I thought that once we were back in London, I would be able to find a love like the one he had with my mother.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Norman spoke, almost wryly, “In our own way, then, we are both bound by duty.”
Kitty looked at him, surprised to see no mockery in his face, only a questioning, thoughtful acceptance. She did not know why that upset her more than his usual acerbity.
Jane, who had been more or less ignored through the conversation, let out a soft sigh. “You are both as stubborn as oxen.”
“Worse,” Richard declared from the dock, polishing his spectacles with exaggerated patience. “Oxen have the decency to plow fields. These two? They’d rather plow straight into each other’s pride until the sun sets.” He sniffed. “Frankly, it’s unsporting. At least let the rest of us place bets.”
Kitty’s mouth fell open. “Father!”
But then her head whipped around sharply, her eyes spotting Lady Mulberry out on the shore, wildly flinging her arms about. “It appears we are being summoned,” she shrugged, watching Lady Mulberry become more theatrical by the second.
The driver, seeing no reason to ignore a lady of her position, changed their course and drove the boat into the pier where Lady Mulberry was patrolling and fidgeting in.
As the distance between her and the boat lessened, she placed both hands on her hips and let out a theatrical sigh. “Well, this is simply rude. Off gallivanting without me!”
Norman crossed his arms. “Grandmother, the boats are filled to capacity. If you get in, we will be overfilled.”
“Oh, nonsense. I am not some great lummox of a man; my weight is nothing.” Not waiting for a response, she hitched up her skirts and got into the boat, rocking it alarmingly in the process.
Kitty held on to the side as a jet of water splashed over the edge, dampening her hem.
Jane let out a small shriek and grabbed Kitty’s arm.
“Lady Mulberry,” Norman said gruffly. “I warn you—”
“Oh, good heavens, cease being so theatrical, darling,” she jeered, fending him away. “If you were that concerned about the boat sinking, you should not have agreed.”
“There was no agreeing,” he muttered under his breath, causing Kitty to smirk.
Just as they were preparing to push off again, a voice shouted from the dock. “Grandmother! You can’t possibly be leaving me behind!”
Everyone turned to see Eleanor standing on the water’s edge, panting and holding onto her skirts. “I want to ride on the boat too, but I don’t have a chaperone. Grandmother, please come along!”
Lady Mulberry groaned out loud, swaying on her feet, lips pursed in doubt.
Jane cocked an eyebrow. “Well?”
Lady Mulberry scowled at her but finally exhaled and walked towards the dock. “Very well,” she declared. “But you all owe me for my sacrifices.”
With exaggerated elegance, she prepared to step off the boat, but the moment her foot left the wood, the boat wobbled dangerously.