Barbara Metzger (23 page)

The duke’s approval would go a long way to seeing Kathlyn accepted in society, too. But if they didn’t have that nod, if the new Lady Chase was not given vouchers to Almack’s, well, Courtney was beyond caring about the tittle-tattle. He’d wasted too much of his own life trying to gain the polite world’s respect. They could just stay in the country raising cows and carrots and blue-eyed cherubs. It would be London’s loss, for no matter what anyone thought, Kathlyn was a lady. Kathlyn was
his
lady.

* * * *

“A lady? Humph! I should like to see the day a lady bares her bosom at the Cyprians’ Ball.” Lady Bellamy had agreed to come to Kensington; she hadn’t agreed to be agreeable. Inspector Dimm had introduced her to Mrs. Dawson, then wisely left to fetch Miss Partland back from Meg’s.

“Seems to me I read in all the papers how ladies bare a lot more at those balls and such that last all night.” Nanny sniffed at the bejeweled, beturbaned, and belittling matron who had condescended to sit on her chintz-covered sofa. “Dampened petticoats, no petticoats, muslin so thin you can see right through it. My girl was dressed respectably, compared to that.”

“Your girl?” Lady Bellamy removed the lavender-scented handkerchief from under her nose long enough to ask.

Nanny forgave her that—she
was
sitting in Wolfie’s usual place—but not the curled lip. “No one else seemed to claim her, did they? So Miss Kathlyn became part of my own family, such a love she is, and her with no kith nor kin to look after her, tsk, tsk.”

Lady Bellamy felt the need to straighten the peacock feather in her turban, rather than reply, so Nanny went on: “Miss Kathlyn has been a treat to chaperone, too.”

Now, that got Lady Bellamy’s attention. “Chaperone?”

“What did you think, I don’t know apes from apples?” Daggers couldn’t have been sharper than Nanny’s tone of voice. “I spent my life in gentlemen’s homes. I know what’s proper, I do, what’s fitting for a Quality miss, even if she is down on her luck through no fault of her own. Almost every minute she’s been here, she’s been in my own company.” Nanny chose to ignore the visit to the opera and that infamous ball, the times she herself was off at Meg’s. Kathlyn and Courtney had never spent the night together, at any rate. “Other times she’s been out in public or she’s busy governessing my daughter’s children.”

“Governessing?”

“For your information, ma’am, your niece is an educator, a decent, honorable profession, just like her pa. She’s been giving lessons to my Meg’s boy and girl, who happen to be Lord Chase’s godchildren.” Nanny’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you’re not going to suggest that Miss Kathlyn could be aught but a lady with my grandchildren present? And you’d better not be accusing the boy that I helped raise of any fast behavior with a gentlewoman, either. Not in the house he provides for his old nursemaid, by heaven.”

Lady Bellamy was still digesting: chaperone, governess, godchildren. Courtesan? It didn’t go down easily. “Then you mean the chit’s not... ?”

Nanny crossed her arms over her apron and scowled at the doyenne in her dog’s seat. “There’s no hanky-panky under my roof, never has been, never will be. And I won’t give space on my sofa to anyone who says otherwise, fine feathers or not. Master Courtney is a gentleman to the core, the finest in the land, and Miss Kathlyn is a good girl. That anyone could think so poorly of their own blood relation should be a sin.” Nanny
tsked
a few more times. “Of course, it’s no more’n I’d expect from a ‘lady’ too proud to take in a tutor’s daughter, and too cold-hearted to look after her own dead sister’s orphan.”

Lady Bellamy waved her lace-edged handkerchief. “That was merely a misfortunate misunderstanding. All in the past, don’t you know. I mean to make it up to the dear girl now.” By seeing her married to that wealthy, eligible libertine. “Do tell me about the viscount. Did I hear that he had two country properties or three?”

* * * *

Lord Chase had his three remaining posies—for Nanny, Meg, and Kathlyn—and the special license, but he didn’t have a ring. Blast! What kind of bounder asks a female to marry him without having a ring? The family heirlooms were in the vault at Caswell, except those in his mother’s possession, which, being a dutiful son, Courtney did not relish wresting from his fond parent, especially when she was still so downpin from her journey. So he betook himself to Rundell and Bridge’s.

The selection was immense, the quality was superb, the shop was a fishbowl. Half the matrons in Town seemed to be there this morning, and half their husbands, although not necessarily together nor purchasing baubles for each other. Almost no sales were made while the viscount, unaware, made his deliberations. So intent was Courtney on making the right choice, he didn’t notice the traffic ebb and flow around him, with quizzing glasses and lorgnettes practically looking over his shoulder to see what he selected.

As soon as Courtney indicated his decision, a pear-shaped diamond surrounded by emeralds, hordes left the store, even before the viscount told the clerk to wrap the matching gold band. The elegantly understated ring wasn’t gaudy enough for a bird of paradise, but it was too expensive for a casual toss or a relative. It cried “Engagement.”

The men were off to change their bets at White’s, the women were hurrying to add this dollop to the scandal-broth. And Lady Adelina Fostwick left the jewelry shop to throw herself off London Bridge.

* * * *

Inspector Dimm did not find Miss Partland at Meg’s. He found two disappointed children and one distressed mother. Meg wrapped up the baby and they all set out to look for Kathlyn and Ripken, who’d gone missing, too.

Another distressed mother was on her way to Nanny’s. Lady Chase had tearfully concluded that staying in her room wasn’t going to free her son from any profligate ways or any grasping harpies, so she decided to consult levelheaded Nanny Dawson. Actually, Lady Chase was hoping that Nanny might undertake the awkward task of talking some sense into the boy. He’d always listened to her better than his mother anyway. Clutching her sodden handkerchief and her bouquet of violets, the viscount’s mother dragged herself out of her carriage and up the walk.

If Inspector Dimm were there, he’d be sure to say “Gorblimey.” And where was that man, Nanny wanted to know, leaving her with two grande dames in diamonds, in high dudgeon? They were eyeing each other like stray cats in the alley, fur up, backs arched.

“We are acquainted. Nanny.” Lady Chase saved Mrs. Dawson from making the introduction, bowing her head the merest fraction in the other woman’s direction as a sop to courtesy. “Although I cannot imagine what brings you here, Madorra. I thought you’d be home counting your husband’s money.” So much for courtesy.

“And I’m surprised to see you away from your quacks in Bath, Rosemary. But I’m here, of course, to see justice done for my poor innocent niece,
led astray by an evil seducer.”

Lady Chase turned to Nanny, who was wringing her apron. “Didn’t you lend me a novel with that plot last month? Really, Madorra, whatever your business, I wish you’d leave. I have to speak to Mrs. Dawson. In private.”

“I’m not leaving without my niece, and not without an honest offer of marriage for her.”

“From Nanny? Who in the world is your niece, anyway? I heard you were bringing your fubsy-faced chits out this year, but nothing about a niece.”

“Fubsy-faced? Fubsy-faced?” Lady Bellamy sputtered. “Why, you ... you... bounder-begetter. My niece is Kathlyn Partland, whom your son has ruined!”

“Good grief, he cannot have
another
woman!” The viscountess fell back in her chair, clutching her handkerchief to her heart. “What did we do wrong. Nanny?”

“Humph! Mealy-mouthed as ever, I see. Kathlyn Partland, my only sister’s girl, has been traduced by your son into pretending to be his mistress, one Kitty Parke.”

“Kitty Parke is your niece? And you dare to advertise it? You have as much gall as ever, I see. Well, you can find your niece and take her away with my blessings. I’m sure the world will be a better place with one less fallen woman.”

Lady Bellamy raised her chins. “My niece is an innocent, and you can ask your own Mrs. Dawson. She, at least, agrees that your son should do the decent thing by Kathlyn.”

Lady Chase jumped to her feet and shook her fist in the other woman’s face. “Oh, no, you don’t, Madorra Fowler, you’re not going to snabble a viscount for this sewer-bred slut of yours! It didn’t work when you wanted
my
viscount, and it won’t work now! I’ll see you in hell before I see my son married to Kitty Parke!”

Lady Bellamy was on her feet now, too. “And I’ll see him in court for breach of promise. And I never wanted your weak-chinned, womanizing weasel of a viscount, anyway, so there!”

“Why, you—”

“Mama, Mama, Miss Kitty’s gone missing!” Meg rushed into the room and thrust the baby into Nanny’s hands. “The children and I are going with Mr. Dimm to ask the neighbors if they’ve seen her or Mr. Ripken.”

Lady Chase waved at Meg’s departing back and smiled like the cat who swallowed the canary. “There, your innocent miss has run off with this Ripken person.”

Lady Bellamy had a moment’s doubt. Good grief, what if the gel had done a flit? What if she, Madorra Bellamy, had believed Dimm’s Banbury tale about a wager and a lost position and a carefully chaperoned stay with an old nursemaid? She’d have given Kitty Parke’s real name to her worst enemy, that’s what. Then she remembered who Ripken was.
No
female, no matter how desperate or depraved, would run off with Ripken. “Oh, my stars, she’s been arrested!” She grabbed for her vinaigrette.

Lady Chase started weeping again. “And you’ll drag my son’s name into whatever bumblebroth she’s made, I know.”

Nanny glared at both of them in disgust. “Most likely she’s gone to check on Lizzie’s mother, and Ripken went along to carry her basket, the nodcock. I’ll go fetch them back before we have the militia out.” Then Nanny remembered the infant in her arms. She looked at Lady Bellamy, then she looked at Lady Chase. She put the child on the sofa between them and turned to the dog. “You watch the baby, Wolfie.”

Chapter Twenty-five

“Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface In thee thy summer ...” Kathlyn read on. She’d figured out all the clues, scanned through all the sonnets. The jewels were in the fourth tree to the right of the crossroads, marked by an arrow. Or else they were in a summerhouse under a clock case shaped like a Cupid. Or both. Now she was starting over, doing anything to keep her morbid thoughts at bay. “... Be not self-will’d, for thou art much too fair To be death’s conquest and make worms thine heir.” Ugh! She flipped through the pages until she found a favorite: “For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.” Yes, he’d come. 

* * * *

Lord Chase drove directly to Meg’s house to fetch his fellow picnickers. No one was there. He thought he must be all about in his head, head over heels, in fact, to forget their arrangements. They must all be waiting for him at Nanny’s.

They weren’t. His mother and a jewel-draped dragon in a turban were alone in the little parlor, nervously eyeing Meg’s baby, who was asleep on the sofa.

Courtney bowed to his mother, who was still clutching her violets. The viscount had the other three bouquets in his gloved hand. “Come to visit Nanny, have you, Mother? Excellent. Perhaps she’ll have a potion to cure your megrims.”

“I have a potion for what ails you, you rakeshame!” the woman in the feathered turban snarled at him. “It’s parson’s—”

Courtney was about to take his looking glass out to give this encroaching female a setdown, even if she was a friend of his mama’s, when that lady spoke up: “You needn’t pay her any mind, Courtney, I never did. But if you are looking for your soiled dove, she has flown the coop.” And she smiled in satisfaction, until she saw the thunderclouds on her son’s brow. “Well, Nanny and Meg are out looking for her and some Ripken person, although I cannot imagine why.”

“Blast! Kitty wouldn’t have gone off without telling someone, and she wouldn’t have disappointed the children either.” To say nothing of him. Courtney paced the narrow room until, predictably, a solution presented itself. “I’ll kill them this time, I swear I will.”

He tossed the violets at Lady Bellamy with, “My compliments, ma’am,” and left, slamming the door behind himself. Which woke up Baby, who started crying.

“You can’t expect me to—”

“Well, I’m not going to—”

* * * *

Woody and Algie were at White’s, making their fortunes in the betting book, until Lord Chase strode into that hallowed chamber and hollered, “Where’s Kitty and what have you two muckworms done with her this time?”

All bets were off. The wench had taken French leave. With Chase’s flaming temper, who could blame her? First Marlowe’s chit, then this new dasher. The older members shook their heads. Algie and Woody shook in their boots, until they managed to convince the viscount that they’d been at White’s all morning. They hadn’t abducted Miss Kitty, hadn’t seen Miss Kitty, and wouldn’t harm a hair on Miss Kitty’s beautiful head if they did happen to trip over her.

“Well, someone did.”

Pity that someone. The viscount stopped off at Choate House for his dueling pistols, Algie and Woody hard on his heels as soon as they’d placed their new wagers. Their money was still on the viscount. If he didn’t find Kitty, they’d be up River Tick. They offered to help.

Chase’s butler tried to hand-him a soiled twist of paper that had lately been delivered by a street-urchin messenger.

“Not now, Henniker. Can’t you see I’m in a hurry?”

* * * *

When he returned to Kensington, Courtney found his mother cooing over Meg’s baby, while the other dowager was dangling her necklace in front of him. The infant appeared to be sucking on a pearl the size of a sparrow’s egg. There was no news.

Then Meg came to collect the baby. She’d take the children and wait at home, in case there was word there. Nanny returned, shaking her head. Lizzie hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Miss Kitty. Now Nanny had two strange bucks of the first stare in her little parlor, besides two highborn she-bears. Heavens, King George was liable to stop by next. Well, she knew how to manage the young gentlemen. Nanny went to fix sandwiches and slice cake.