Courting Kit

MORNING ARRIVED FOR Harry Brentley, and as he artfully attempted to catch Miss Henrietta’s attention, he felt a scathing load of frustration.

She was seated at a round table for five in the Clary Hotel’s lavish breakfast room, with her mother, two of her mother’s chatty friends, and Clayton Bickwerth.

A flower arrangement on Henrietta’s table obscured him from her as she took part in a lively conversation at her table.

Harry knew he might look foolish as his antics, he realized, were fast becoming comical. He was, in fact, attempting to draw her attention to himself by a series of hand waves. He was about to give it all up and quit his table when fate crashed onto the scene.

Clay touched Henrietta’s shoulder during the course of an anecdote he was relating to her. She moved away from his touch and in so doing spilled her cup of coffee.

She rubbed at the cuff of her sleeve and exclaimed, “Oh, how clumsy of me.” She sighed and stood up. “If you will all excuse me, I will only be a few minutes. I just want to get the worst of this before it sets.”

Observing and hearing all this, Harry nearly knocked over his small corner table as he jumped up, followed her out into the vestibule, and called after her, “Henrietta.”

She turned, her eyes opening wide, and said, “Why, Harry, what are you doing here?”

“I had to see you.” His face and his eyes begged.

She softened. “You did?”

“Harry, old boy! I rather thought I’d find you in London before long,” Clay said, coming upon them and then in a sly voice added, “I heard Sarah Anne Wrigley was in town, and where she goes, you were sure to follow.”

“Is she in London? I had no idea, and why you should think such a thing is beyond me,” Harry snapped and turned back to Henrietta. “Please … could I have a private word with you?”

“Ah, Miss Wrigley is in town. How nice for you, Harry. A … private word? I don’t think so. I must see to my gown.”

Harry’s heart sank as he watched her rush off, and then he rounded on Clay. “Damn your soul. I know what your game is, Clay. I have no interest in the Wrigley chit, and you know it.”

“Ah, but you did, as we all know, not so very long ago have an interest in her,” Clay said with a sneer.

“You are both wrong and mad if you think that.” Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Mark me, Clay. When I am done, Henrietta will know the truth.”

“Will she, my boy? Perhaps, but by then my game will be won, and you will be reading about my marriage to Miss Harkins in the Chronicle.”

“You need an engagement before a marriage, and I don’t mean to allow it, you worthless piece of sot!” Harry made a fist and was ready to pull his erstwhile friend’s cork.

Clay put up his hands. “Do you mean to make a scene right here?”

Harry turned on his heels and headed out. There was only one person who could repair this out of hand situation, and that was Kitty!

* * *

The earl and Kitty were smiling secretively at one another and unaware of anything going on around them at the breakfast table.

“Well, are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?” the dowager said before biting into her toast.

“Guess?” the earl teased.

“I see your ring there on Kitty’s finger!” She put a hand on her hip even as she leaned across the table to wag the other.

The earl laughed and Kitty giggled. Kitty watched and listened as he rose from the table and went around to hug his grandmother. “Wish us well, dearest, and turn the ball into an engagement party. I mean to be married to Miss Kitty Kingsley by the end of the month!”

The dowager clapped her hands even as he kissed her cheek, and then she grabbed his coat sleeve. “Wait—the end of the month?”

“Indeed, I will not wait longer and am only waiting that long because I understand that some preparation needs to be—”

“Stop, you odious man! You can’t … posting of the banns takes time … and—”

“I am going to obtain a special license today, and there will be an announcement in the Chronicle, and all that is left for you to do is to plan the wedding. It will be simple, and we will be there for the ceremony and a bit of fun, and then I am going to whisk my bride away and show her Paris.”