Chapter 13 Kitty #2
Edward, leaning against a column with a disinterested air, suddenly straightened. “Might I suggest something as well?” he said, catching Madame’s attention. He motioned to a delicate green silk that caught the light. “No more faded colors for either of the ladies.”
I sighed with relief to have his support. “I wholeheartedly concur. I can’t stand any more frothy pink or white.”
“But as a young lady of good standing,” Aunt sputtered, shifting in her chair to examine the brighter hue, “paler shades are customary. Green might seem . . . bold.”
“Boldness becomes her,” Edward replied with a shrug, his tone light but his gaze steady. “Don’t you agree, Madame?”
But to which her did Edward refer? Not me. He seemed utterly captivated with my friend. I hid a grin.
“Indeed,” Madame said, her eyes glinting with approval as she examined the fabric. “The green would suit the young lady’s complexion beautifully. A gown in this shade could be quite striking, particularly for evening wear.”
Before I could reply, Madame handed the bolt of cloth to an assistant, who set it neatly aside for consideration.
I turned back to Edward and found him still watching Freddy with an expression far warmer than I could recall seeing in some time.
For once, the ever-present darkness in his eyes seemed to lift, even if just for a moment.
I let them go ahead, claiming interest in another fabric I had no intention of choosing.
Instead my mind wandered. I’d tried again that morning to access Grandfather’s office—locked, as always. No fresh word from India. No further clues. I was chasing a ghost while the rest of the world—Freddy, Edward, even Sebastian—seemed to be moving forward.
Fredericka tilted her head, laughing softly at something Edward whispered. Her fingers brushed his as he handed her a scarf. For a moment, I forgot my mission entirely. I was watching a beginning.
Despite my letters to Hyderabad, despite the distance between my brother and me, perhaps the answer to Edward’s grimness was closer than I realized.
Perhaps it lay not in the distant reaches of India, but here, among the threads of family and friendship.
Perhaps it lay with Freddy, with me, with the bonds we had yet to strengthen.
Casting Edward a glance beneath her lashes, Freddy held up the rose scarf in front of the mirror, a small smile forming as she observed her reflection. The vibrancy suited her; she almost looked like a different woman.
“I believe you will stun everyone at Lord Chudley’s garden party,” I told her.
She laughed nervously. “A garden party. I shall look forward to it.” But then she placed the scarf back onto the counter. “But, Kitty, your aunt told me he danced twice with you at the recent ball. Is this news true?”
Inwardly, I suppressed a groan, hoping she saw nothing of the dreadful caricature of us dancing together. “I’m afraid so.”
She glanced sideways at me. “I wonder what Mr. Sinclair must think of it.”
I froze at her comment—innocent or not. He had not said a word to me about the event, but he had joined our party in visiting the Herschel home later that week. My actions certainly had not frightened Sebastian away.
He was determined to woo me to secure his inheritance. I was equally determined to resist him.
Caught up in my musings, I didn’t notice Edward had slipped away. But moments later, he returned, carrying something behind his back, his face impassive.
Aunt’s lips pursed when she spotted him. “You’ve gone and found something frivolous, I suppose.”
Ignoring her, Edward stepped forward and presented a hat—a frothy blue concoction with a velvet ribbon and flowers woven into the brim.
“Fredericka,” he said, his voice gentler than I’d heard it all morning, “I thought this would suit you.”
Freddy gasped, her eyes darting from Edward to the hat. “Edward, I couldn’t . . . Aunt would never . . .”
Aunt made a small sound of disapproval, but Edward’s steady gaze on Freddy quelled her protest.
“Nonsense,” he said, pressing it into her hands. “Consider it a gift from an old friend.”
Freddy’s cheeks flushed as she accepted the hat, her fingers brushing Edward’s. She seemed almost at a loss for words, a rare moment where her usual composure melted.
I hid another smile as Edward settled the account with the modiste.
After a few more rounds of approvals and measurements, we finally decided the last order of additional gowns to be delivered to the colonel’s address, with Freddy holding her new hat as though it were a fragile treasure.
As we left the shop, she glanced shyly at Edward, who, for once, seemed as if he had no intention of teasing—or worse, as he had of late, brushing past her with that abject coldness. Instead, he held out his arm for her to take.
And for all Aunt’s clucking disapproval, she made no further comment when Edward sat next to Freddy in the carriage.
We hurried home, hoping to return before any callers arrived, while my thoughts turned a different direction. Securing my independence and finding my mother.
Dare I hope that Lord Chudley wanted me for myself?
A man with a title likely needed no fortune, having inherited his father’s estate in the countryside and a sizable home in town.
London society appeared to hold his name in high regard, and I had to admit his flirtations made our banter delightful—safe, light, expected.
He made sense. He might offer comfort, even a degree of independence. After the cartoon debacle, he still invited me to meet the Herschels. Surely that meant something. Only his sister gave me any qualms, but I expected she would marry and find a home of her own.
Could he be my only chance at freedom? Would he ever consider traveling to India one day?
And what of Sebastian Sinclair? He was a man bound to duty, his every step measured against the weight of his family name.
I was the bargain struck, the means by which he could appease his grandfather and satisfy the Company.
Whatever attentions he paid me must surely have been calculated—tools of a man accustomed to playing the part required of him.
I could not believe I mattered to him. Not truly.
And yet . . . sometimes I caught him watching me with a focus that felt unguarded, as if he were trying to read the secrets of my soul. Those moments unsettled me most, for they whispered of something more than obligation, and I could not bring myself to dismiss them.