She made the rest of her rounds in something of a fog. Papa worried about her; she told him she was feeling a bit ill, so he insisted on carrying in the last three baskets. That afternoon, she went straight to her room and lay down, and stared through tears at the ceiling above her, her mind twisting impossibly with doubts and her desperate attempts to reassure herself.
That evening, at supper, Papa told her that Lord Montgomery had called, as h
ad Lord Connery, and that he’d informed them both she was indisposed.
Kate said nothing, merely nodded.
The next day, she awoke feeling old and used up. But she forced herself out of bed and to wash and comb her hair, as today was the final meeting of the Ladies Auxiliary before the Southbridge Charity Auction Ball, their main event each year. Kate had little heart for it but forced herself to dress in a bright yellow day gown, hoping it might cheer her.
She left for the church early, to be away from Papa’s prying eyes.
The ladies began to trickle in shortly before noon. Was it her imagination, or did some of them greet her a little coolly? None of them offered to help her set the table where they would gather, but then again, Kate reminded herself, they rarely did. She was imagining things. Mrs. Biddlesly was an old woman who had several bats in her belfry. No one else believed she was a strumpet.
So Kate went about her business alone, scarcely hearing the ladies’ chatter and trying to ignore any whispering, even when it seemed so loud as to be deafening to her.
Mrs. Forsythe and Miss Forsythe were the last to arrive, and Kate smiled as they walked in the door, called her greeting. Mrs. Forsythe did not seem to hear her, even though Kate was only a few feet away.
It was Miss Forsythe who garnered everyone’s attention, however, with the news apparently making the rounds of the ton. News Kate had not heard.
“Ah, there she is, the belle of the ball!” Lady Bristol cried happily. “Now don’t be coy, Miss Forsythe, but tell us, will you, if you are considering his offer?”
Miss Forsythe blushed prettily and looked demurely at her mother.
“Lady Bristol, we mustn’t speak of any offer, as one has not yet been made,” Mrs. Forsythe said, but a smile was playing at the corners of her thin lips.
“Honestly, Mrs. Forsythe!” Lady Cheevers scolded her. “You are among friends here! We know no offer has been made, for certainly you would have crowed it like a rooster the moment you walked through the door!”
That remark prompted a laugh from the other ladies, and even Mrs. Forsythe laughed a little.
“It’s all about the town,” Lady Cheevers cheerfully continued. “It is a matter of when, not if,” she said authoritatively. “A man in his position would not allow it to go so far as this if it weren’t true.”
“Oh dear, I can’t be so sure as that,” Miss Forsythe said nervously, and the ladies rushed to assure her that a rumor of this magnitude would not have been repeated were it not true.
Kate’s heart began to pound. She recalled Darien saying that there was some speculation that he would offer for a debutante, and had dismissed it as if it were ridiculous. Why should she doubt him? But after a few more minutes of the ladies gushing over Miss Forsythe, Kate cleared her throat and interjected shakily, “I beg your pardon, but I’ve not heard. . . . Who is it that seeks your hand, Miss Forsythe?”
Lady Cheevers and Mrs. Forsythe glared at her. The other ladies looked around the room. One might have thought she’d just announced she was having an illicit affair with the archbishop.
“I can’t say as anyone seeks my hand, really,” Miss Forsythe said kindly. “It’s all a bit of speculation. But I suppose there are a few signs that would indicate—”
“A few signs?” Lady Bristol cackled. “My dear Miss Forsythe, a gentleman does not seek your particular company in a public park, or at a public church meeting, or certainly not at a public ball, and then tend to you as carefully as he did when you fainted, if it’s merely speculation. The viscount intends very well to offer for you!”
“Not to mention the things he has said to her,” Mrs. Forsythe said proudly. “Privately, that is.”
A viscount. Now Kate’s heart was in her throat. She managed a smile for Miss Forsythe, who was looking at her curiously. Kate nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “How wonderful for you, Miss Forsythe,” she managed to say. “Pray tell, which fortunate gentleman holds you in such high esteem?”
Miss Forsythe gave her a strange, ugly little smile, and said, “Have you truly not heard, Mrs. Becket? It’s been remarked for a fortnight now. It’s Lord Montgomery.”
It felt as if the ground buckled beneath her feet. Kate reached for a chair and slid into it while she tried to keep smiling and tried to keep from sobbing or gasping or crying out to the heavens. “How marvelous for him,” she said unevenly. “He’d have quite a catch, were he to offer.”
“Yes,” Miss Forsythe said, taking a step toward her. “Wouldn’t he?” But then she whirled around to the other ladies. “I mean to say, it would be marvelous if he truly esteemed me in that way.”
Once again, they all hastened to assure her that he did, and that his imminent offer would certainly come at the Southbridge Charity Auction Ball. One of them vowed that Lady Southbridge had said, in fact, that she had it on very good authority that was precisely where he intended to make his offer, in grand fashion, just as they used to do in the olden days.
How Kate managed to endure that luncheon was quite beyond her comprehension. She could not look at the fair Miss Forsythe and not see that it was true. Of course he would offer for her—it made perfect sense. The girl came with a respectable dowry, was properly credentialed in the eyes of the ton, was the perfect wife in every way for a man of his stature. She was a vicar’s poor widow. And when he’d said he should always keep her near, he meant something entirely different than a legitimate offer of marriage.
How pathetically foolish she had been to believe otherwise! He’d wanted beneath her skirts, that was all! He’d seen a widow and had acted upon his male instincts, just as Lord Connery hoped to do. And even though she could believe that Montgomery did indeed esteem her in some way, it was clear to her that he’d never intended to have more than what she had so freely given him, and more the bloody fool that made her, for she was not a young miss. She understood the way of men and women, yet had chosen to believe her silly, childish fantasies!
Her bloody heart felt as if it had been crushed to tiny pieces.