Kitty got to her feet then and said, “I must be going.”
“I’ll walk out with you,” Clayton offered.
Henrietta waved them off, and Kitty frowned. She still had no idea why Henrietta had taken a miff with Harry, and that was what it was—she was sure of it.
Outside, Kitty turned to Clay and eyed him openly. “Well, my buck, you may now tell me just what is going on.”
* * *
The Halloway Coach pulled up to the Halloway townhouse, and Max smiled, tipped his peaked hat to Kitty and the dowager, and announced that he was at their service.
Kitty smiled and handed him a basket. “Max, this is from Cook … she wants you to sample her strawberry tarts.”
Max’s eyes widened, and he grinned.
Kitty turned as the footman opened her coach door wide, and the dowager, bustling and still pulling on one of her gloves, climbed in before her, chattering all the while.
“What is this rush?” Kitty asked and laughed.
“I want to stop and pick up that shawl I admired yesterday. I decided that although it is very dear, it is worth it. I must have it,” the dowager said breathlessly.
Kitty giggled and gave the dowager a hug but was interrupted by Max, who opened the small box behind his driver’s seat and asked for their direction. The dowager told him and turned to Kitty to say, “It is bound to be a squeeze today … but I think you will enjoy the Rawlings’ tea party.”
Kitty heard a sound and looked to find the earl hurrying down the front steps and putting up a hand. “Oh … it is my lord.” She glanced at the dowager.
“So it is,” said the dowager and smiled to herself as she waved at her grandson.
Kitty thought he looked chagrined and laughed as she said, “Should we not wait? I think he wants a word.”
“I am sure he does, but it can wait,” the dowager answered, and Kitty wondered at the secretive smile she wore.
Somewhat later, the shawl had been purchased along with some pretty lace the dowager insisted could be made into a gown for Kitty. Kitty remarked that she rather thought they were late, but the dowager laughed this off as Max pulled the coach to the curbing of the Rawlings townhouse.
They were led by a butler who wore no expression at all, and Kitty had the saucy urge to wiggle her nose at him and make him smile, but she controlled herself.
At the Rawlings’ opulent and most spectacular drawing room, the dowager put a hand to her forehead and whispered, “Quite overdone.”
Minnie had already advised Kitty that Mrs. Rawlings was known for her lavish affairs. Her husband was both wealthy and apparently very fond of her and indulged her whims. Thus, she had chosen to decorate the room with an overwhelming quantity of oversized flower arrangements. Vases of mixed floral collections, as well as hothouse orchards and potted tulips, were everywhere.
A professional harpist played diligently in one corner of the room, and as Minnie had promised, it was a most crowded and buzzing crowd. Notables, consisting for the most part only of the aristocracy’s ladies, huddled in cliques, eyeing one another. Only a few men had been invited, among them the Beau. Kitty also saw Petersham, a snuff box in hand, strolling leisurely about. She had turned to tell Minnie when she clapped eyes on Cope, the notorious Green Man, meandering about in full green color.
She giggled, and the Beau, at her elbow, said, “You see, of course, what I see.”
“I do,” she said brightly.
“Don’t hurt your eyes, my dear … look away,” the Beau whispered and moved on.
Mrs. Rawlings’ son Rupert arrived, and Kitty immediately felt the buzz filter through the room and eyes turn his way. Intrigued, she watched him make his way through the chattering guests. Someone nearby bent and whispered that Rupert Rawlings had just arrived in London and that his mother was at her wits end because he had somehow found and fallen in love with Felicia Saltash. It was at that moment that the redhead in question turned from chatting with some guest and linked her arm through young Rupert Rawlings’.
Mrs. Rawlings evidently could do little about his very public affair with the widow. Now as he flaunted it before her eyes, Kitty watched Mrs. Rawlings hold herself up with grace and a smile, as though everything were just fine.
She imagined that might be difficult for a mother to do when she absolutely was certain her son, no matter the age, was about to be hurt.
Mrs. Rawlings approached her, and Kitty realized just what plan Rupert’s mother had in mind when the woman dragged her off to meet the besotted Rupert.
Within a short span of time, Kitty and Rupert, who had just turned twenty-one, had found a great many things in common and began speaking to one another like old friends. How could they not, once he mentioned riding and hunting the Quorn?
Kitty laughed at one of his anecdotes and looked up to find his mother smiling at them before she looked at Felicia, who was scowling and glancing their way.