Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

“But matters didn’t,” Bertram countered cheerfully, raising his glass then tossing back the contents. “So, with such a stellar past experience to buck us up, you can rest assured that I will soon have matters well in hand as regards Derry and Miss Worthington.” The grin he fixed upon his sisters softened as he turned his attention to Eliza. “No need to look so concerned, my dear girl; they don’t call me dependable Bertram for nothing.”

Chapter 22

Katherine eyed the deep-blue-and-gold flounced gown longingly. It was so nearly time to put aside her mourning. And tonight’s entertainment was to be held at Quamby House. So

, surely she could wear the exquisite confection that she’d just had made in preparation for the moment she could fling off her mourning forever.

She’d spent money she didn’t have, but her father had been generous. She knew it was taking advantage of that generosity to outlay such a proportion of what he’d made over to her in order to survive, but deporting herself like a lady was tantamount to survival.

“Dare I put that on, Mary?” she asked her maid who’d just entered the room. She’d not have bothered to ask the question if it had been Millicent, her previous lady’s maid, a severe middle-aged woman secured for her by her mother-in-law seven years ago.

But Millicent had died of the scarlet fever while visiting her village and Katherine had been thrilled to have her own choice of retainer.

Mary pressed her lips together but her eyes shone. “Ooh, Miss, if yer dare ter wear it, I’ll dare to fix yer hair so’s at all the gennulmen won’t be able ter look at anyone else but ye.”

“That’s not the idea at all, Mary,” said Katherine. “Besides, there’s only one I want to do that.”

“Lord Derry?” asked Mary matter-of-factly as she went to Katherine’s dressing table and started selecting pins and hair pieces.

“Not Lord Derry,” Katherine said under her breath, not expecting Mary to jerk her head up and look at her with surprise. Only when Katherine demanded that she must explain her response did Mary say reluctantly, “The talk is that ye’ll wed Lord Derry jest as soon as yer cast aside yer mournin’.”

“Well, I’m casting aside my mourning—temporarily—tonight, but I have no intention of wedding Lord Derry either tonight, tomorrow, or any other day.”

Mary looked uncertain which again had Katherine saying, “Come on, out with it! There’s something you’ve heard that you don’t want me to hear, I gather.”

“Jest that the servants were sayin’ the talk is yer ‘ave no choice but ter marry Lord Derry.”

“No choice? Why have I no choice? Come on, Mary, tell me!”

But Katherine knew it already. Her reputation was so tarnished by her association with the handsome, smitten, and very attentive Lord Derry, she had little alternative but to marry him if she were to reenter the echelons of society that had barred first Freddy and then both of them. And Katherine knew very well that her daughter’s future depended upon society’s acceptance.

“Ain’t me place, ma’am,” Mary said in a small voice, and Katherine let it be, silent as Mary helped her dress in the new gown she’d decided she’d wear, regardless of the scandal. There wasn’t much worse she could do, after all.

Tonight, Katherine found herself unaccountably nervous to venture over the threshold of what was really her second home. No, that wasn’t true. She knew very well why she was nervous. Tonight she’d see Jack playing the attentive husband-to-be and know that he was forever out of bounds. He’d not give up Odette for her. Katherine had missed her chance—if she’d ever had a chance. Timing and circumstance had not favoured either of them.

“Katherine, what a charming picture you present—a symphony in sea green. Or is the colour a variation on blue?” Earl Quamby, leaning on the shoulder of his young Mediterranean companion, hobbled a few steps towards her and kissed her hand.

“It’s called teal,” said Katherine, glad of a welcome from the person least likely to condemn her for her decision to eschew mourning. “It’s a colour combination using a clever technique.”

“Well, a clever technique, plan, or device it was to arrive as a treat to the eyes, rather than a sight to conjure up a hunched-up crow as you would have appeared had you worn the dreadful black bombazine affair you turned up in last time I saw you.”

“Mama will be displeased. I should be wearing full mourning for months yet.”

“But you’re not mourning, are you?” Lord Quamby squeezed her hand and gave her a knowing look.

“I never mourned him, Uncle,” Katherine said, not even feeling the slightest guilt, positioning herself on his other side so she could help him to a chair.

“He didn’t deserve you, did he, my dear? A good thing he’s gone is what I say. A bloodsucker he was. Took your youth and innocence and then sucked you dry and your father for all he could get out of him to pay for his vices.”

Katherine didn’t want to go over the past. Her mouth was suddenly dry for she’d glimpsed Jack in the crowd. She was able to look at him as he had his back to her, but the moment he turned in her direction, she darted her attention back to her uncle.

“Someone caught your fancy, eh?” Lord Quamby said perceptively as, with a great deal of laboured breathing, he lowered himself onto a blue velvet Chippendale chair. “And why not? A pretty young woman like you? You’re a vision, Katherine, with the world at your feet. Don’t go marrying Lord Derry if you don’t want to, just because everyone says you have to. I’ve never listened to good advice.”

“You’re the Earl of Quamby, and a man,” Katherine said softly, for she could speak to her uncle candidly. It was one of the reasons he’d been such an important member of the family to which she belonged.

“They are advantages.” He looked kind and a little sad, too. Then he whispered, “But sometimes a chance can pay off, Katherine. Even if the risks are truly terrible. We get few chances at happiness.”

“Katherine! You look—” Her mother stopped abruptly, the smile turning to a look of worry as Katherine rose from her uncle’s side.