Chapter 15 Kitty
Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH,
“LINES COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY”
The afternoon light streamed through my window, casting a glow over the dresses laid out on my bed. I fingered the lace hem of a mint muslin gown, Aunt’s pick for today’s garden party. But my heart wasn’t in it. Not in fashion. Not in company.
Dinner had been quiet the night before. Sebastian had said little, even when the colonel questioned him about his meeting with Wilberforce. Whatever had transpired, it had left him unsettled. I could see it in his silence.
And now this.
I had witnessed a new letter arrive this morning. Hitchens, our butler, had been careful to hide his expression when I asked after it, but his hesitation gave him away.
“India, Miss Grenville,” was all he had offered before retreating down the hall.
India. Again.
At long last, another letter!
Grandfather’s locked study door and curt dismissal of breakfast only deepened my curiosity. Could it be from Hyderabad? Or just another correspondence from Lord Sinclair or any of Grandfather’s business allies?
Freddy’s voice broke into my thoughts as she entered my room, already dressed in a blue gown.
“You’ll have to hurry, Kitty, or Aunt will surely fuss. She’s eager for us to make a grand impression on Lord Chudley’s guests.”
I nodded absently, still turning over the possibilities in my mind. No answers would come, not with Grandfather so silent. Thinking of our shared determination to exercise our free will, I passed over the tepid mint gown and chose something much more vibrant in a richer shade of emerald green.
A simple act. Yet important somehow, to break free of the opinions of others.
Aunt clucked as I descended the stairs, but Edward grinned when I reached the last step. Sebastian’s eyes widened a fraction, making me wonder what he might think of my choice.
Inwardly, I huffed as soon as the question crossed my mind. Did I really need to consider whether he liked the gown or not?
As we climbed into the carriage, I couldn’t shake lingering anxiousness. The mystery of that letter from India and its contents stayed with me, even as we approached Lord Chudley’s grand townhouse.
I wanted nothing more than to return and race into Grandfather’s study and rummage through every single desk drawer.
If he would not tell me the truth, I would uncover it myself.
Inside the house, Lord Chudley’s sister, Lady Anne, greeted us with a wintry smile, her probing gaze assessing my outfit. Our hostess was equally dismissive of Fredericka, who wore the jaunty bonnet Edward had purchased for her.
Only Sebastian garnered any lingering attention from Lady Anne.
“Mr. Sinclair, a pleasure to see you again,” she said as she held out her lily-white hand for him to take.
He did, raising it only slightly to drop the briefest kiss atop her gloved fingers.
“Is it true that you came recently from Calcutta?” she asked him while ignoring the rest of us.
“Indeed,” he answered easily. “Family business necessitated a visit to London.”
“Ah, Calcutta,” she said, her tone tinged with feigned curiosity. “I’m certain it has its charms, though one imagines the climate rather . . . oppressive. The sort of place that requires a particular constitution to endure, I’d imagine.”
“Lady Chudley, the allure of any place often lies in its contrasts. Calcutta is much like a fine wine—complex and perhaps not to everyone’s taste. I daresay that with some exposure, one might find it enchanting.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I hope our city life won’t overwhelm you.”
Sebastian also raised an eyebrow at her condescending tone. “Overwhelm me? If I recall, it was in London that I stumbled across street congestion caused by a flock of sheep crossing the road. Calcutta’s bustling streets may be chaotic, but they have a charm all their own.”
I giggled, which I attempted to cover as a cough hidden behind a fist. “Forgive me,” I said. “The dust in our streets is quite appalling.”
Oh, the daggers in her eyes.
I glanced at Sebastian and he grinned at me, twin dimples carved into each side of his face.
Lady Anne cleared her throat, drawing attention back to herself. “And you say you’ve been on business, for the East India Company? Pray, have you met the Duke of Wellington? You may find him quite knowledgeable on the Orient.”
Sebastian paused. “I’ve met with the Duke, along with Mr. Wilberforce and his colleagues.”
His frank admission in meeting with the abolitionist lit a spark in my mind. The duke was not known for his sympathy to India . . . but Mr. Wilberforce was. How would my hostess react?
“Wilberforce, you say? You met with Wilberforce?” Lord Chudley’s voice boomed across the hallway as he strode toward us. He wore cream trousers and a navy morning coat highlighting his athletic form.
Lord Chudley halted in front of the group, glancing at me with appraising eyes before turning his full attention back to Sebastian.
“Wilberforce is certainly a man of notable influence, but I trust you aren’t getting tangled in his lofty ideals, Mr. Sinclair.
The East India Company operates on a far more practical level than mere sentimentality.
You’d do well to remember that the real game is played in the drawing rooms and boardrooms, not among starry-eyed reformers.
I should invite you to dine with me and the Duke of Wellington at Brooks’s Club later this week.
That is a man with a balanced grasp of politics.
So, tell me, what did you really think of Wilberforce? ”
Lord Chudley’s dismissive tone about reformers made my skin prickle. Did he think Mr. Wilberforce’s work was so insignificant, despite all the lives it sought to change?
“Mr. Wilberforce is most passionate about his causes,” Sebastian replied after a pause, before casting me a sidelong glance as if to gauge my reaction. “I find his concern for his fellow human beings admirable.”
Lord Chudley arched an eyebrow. “I do hope you find yourself more inspired in the company of realists, Mr. Sinclair. That’s where the true power lies.”
“Lord Chudley,” I blurted, unable to hold my tongue any longer. “Surely you don’t oppose the good that ideals can bring. Mr. Wilberforce’s efforts against slavery speak for themselves.”
“Keep your ideals, Miss Grenville. They’re most charming in the fairer sex,” Lord Chudley said. I bristled, keenly aware of Edward, who shifted beside me. He remained unnoticed by our hosts.
“No politics today,” Lady Anne cut in, leading us farther into the house.
“Come, Miss Grenville. We’ve planned a lighthearted gathering.
Some of us prefer amusements unburdened by social causes.
Do you still attend literary salons? I imagine the dusty tomes there are as tiresome as the conversation. ”
I gritted my teeth. Who would have told her about my visit to the salon? Lord Chudley, perhaps?
“On occasion, Lady Anne. I intend to visit quite often this season. And as for dusty tomes, I doubt there’s a single speck in Lady Ashford’s library. She actually reads her volumes.”
Freddy shot me a warning glance as Aunt trailed behind us. Too late—I’d let my tongue run ahead of my sense again. Lady Anne only tittered, as if I amused her.
We followed our hosts to the back of the house, where a glass conservatory soared above us. The warmth hit me at once, sunlight gleaming on polished windows. In one corner, a small pool cradled a scatter of vibrant blooms, their petals stealing my breath.
“Look at those,” Sebastian said, nodding toward a cluster of delicate flowers that reminded me of the blooms from my childhood garden. Lady Anne lingered near his side—too near as she slipped her arm through his.
“The lotus,” I murmured, a pang of memory striking deep.
He gave me a questioning look. I longed to tell him how my mother used to pluck them from the pool where Edward and I played.
“My brother has an affinity for flowers from around the world.” Lady Anne looped her hand more securely through the crook of Sebastian’s arm.
Before I could respond, I found myself guided toward the other guests.
Viscounts Castlereagh and Strickland, and their stately wives.
Other names I didn’t recognize, no doubt men well-esteemed by the ton.
I felt suddenly very garish in my emerald gown when compared to the muted fashions of the women before me. Regardless, I lifted my chin and curtsied, but I felt a few men stare at me and one turned to his companion, not even bothering to lower his voice.
“Is that the one? She is a diamond of the first water. Chudley didn’t lie, did he?”
The other man, tall with silver at his temples, ogled me from my carefully arranged curls all the way to my matching green slippers.
“Pretty enough, but she is not the season’s incomparable. Poor boy needs a lorgnette.”
“You wouldn’t refuse her, Lord Sidmouth,” the first man teased. “Admit it.”
“She’s wealthy to sweeten the deal, eh? A nabob’s granddaughter, after all,” another added, his tone bordering on smug.
Many women would be flattered to be called a diamond of the first water, but despite my inexperience with men, I saw something beneath their hardened stares—something that made me feel brittle inside.
I was not the na?ve miss they assumed. The slur “nabob’s granddaughter” made bile rise in my throat. My grandfather had amassed his fortune in India—enough to make him fear I might be ensnared by a charming fortune hunter.
But was he protecting my heart or his purse?
“I see we’re dining with a table full of Company men. Grandfather will be pleased,” Edward murmured as we made our way to the canopied table.