Chapter 18 Kitty #3
For a moment, his polished demeanor faltered, and something flickered in his eyes. Anger? “I merely thought to—”
“To give me no choice,” I interrupted. “Please don’t mistake me for someone so easily swayed with your pretty speeches.”
Before he could reply, I pivoted and rejoined Sebastian, who waited only a few paces away. My pulse roared in my ears as I returned to my seat, but I kept my expression calm, ignoring my friends’ concerned glances.
“Do I insist on pistols at dawn to deal with Chudley once and for all?” Sebastian asked with an edge.
“Oh, do be serious,” I answered quickly, resisting the urge to swat him with my fan.
But from his fierce expression, something far more dangerous than what I’d seen at the disastrous garden party, I had the distinct impression that he was not jesting with me at all.
As I looked out over the crowd, I realized many faces were turned toward me—not the stage. A ripple of laughter moved through the audience as more heads turned to see what had caused the stir.
The applause for the next act had barely begun when I leaned toward Freddy. “I’d like to leave,” I whispered.
She hesitated and glanced at Edward, who gave me a questioning look. Sebastian, however, rose without a word.
“I’ll see to the carriage.” He sounded rough.
The ride back to the house was silent, save for the rattle of wheels against cobblestones. Freddy and Edward exchanged whispers, but I kept my eyes fixed on the passing streets, my heart still pounding as Freddy explained what we had overheard.
“I’ll take down Chudley myself,” Edward muttered as he glared out the frosted window of the carriage.
“You’ll do no such thing, Edward,” I responded.
“He took advantage of the situation, hoping to secure his fortune by the end of the season,” Edward folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll do more than scratch his cheek, I promise you that.”
Sebastian remained silent. Disturbingly so.
“None of it matters now,” I whispered. “Word will spread through London, and I’ll be ruined. Scathmore’s cartoon ensured that much already. No one will think twice before believing the rumors.”
Freddy’s brow furrowed as she leaned forward. “That awful cartoon? It was tasteless. Surely people will see through it.”
“No, they will not,” I said bitterly, recalling the cruel caricature of myself as a wide-eyed coquette, dancing with the earl. “It painted me as a flirt and a schemer. And now, after tonight . . .” My voice broke. “This will only confirm it.”
Edward stiffened. “London thrives on gossip, Kitty, but you are hardly the first woman to face such ridiculous talk. Scathmore’s nonsense will pass.”
“It won’t pass for me.” I clasped my hands tightly, trying to keep my composure as I recalled the previous caricature. “Tonight will only feed the flames. And dueling won’t change that, Edward. It won’t change how society views me.”
Nabob’s granddaughter—an heiress propped up by the very monstrosity that had torn her family apart.
The carriage jolted as it turned sharply, and silence settled over us once more. Sebastian shifted beside me but said nothing, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the confines of the carriage.
When we reached our house, Freddy and Edward descended first, leaving me with Sebastian and the driver, who held the horses.
Sebastian stepped down, then offered me his hand. “Let me escort you to the door.”
What must he be thinking? I was too afraid to ask. Too afraid to look at him. The humiliation of it all—I didn’t think I could breathe again with such disdain toward my family.
Wanting nothing more than to bury myself under the covers and shut out the world, I stepped into the dimly lit hall. Sebastian followed close behind me. His footsteps were deliberate, echoing softly against the polished floors.
“Kitty, wait—” His voice was low, almost a plea. I turned to find him standing just inside the doorway, the light from the chandelier catching the strain in his expression. “You’re not ruined.”
The words struck something deep within me, and I felt my composure crack.
“I daresay the ton will have their fun tomorrow morning,” I whispered.
“But at least you will leave soon and such rumors will not touch you. In fact, I suspect everyone will congratulate you for having endured the season unscathed—”
“Let them talk,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “You’re stronger than them, Kitty. And you do not need to face the ton alone.”
I stared at him, startled by the intensity in his gaze.
He stepped closer and lifted his hand to brush his fingers against my cheek, his touch hesitant, as though he fought against every rule ingrained in him.
“Kitty, I . . .” he murmured, his voice breaking. And then, as if drawn by something neither of us could resist, he leaned in.
His lips met mine in a fleeting, gentle kiss, his hand cradling my face as though I might shatter beneath his touch. It was barely more than a whisper, yet it stole the air from my lungs.
When he pulled back, his gaze held mine, steady and unflinching.
The creak of a floorboard shattered the stillness.
My breath caught as Edward stepped out from the shadow of the staircase. His gaze flicked between the two of us, his expression unreadable, though the tension in his jaw spoke volumes.
“Edward—” I began, my voice faint, but he shook his head and stepped back, retreating toward the drawing room.
“Good night, Kitty,” Sebastian murmured.
I turned and ascended the staircase, my heart racing with a mixture of exhilaration and dread.