Suddenly, Kitty was there. Like a small whirlwind she erupted from the crowd and latched on to Desmond’s arm. The look she cast Winifred as her older sister looked up in surprise was frankly triumphant. Then Kitty turned her eyes on Desmond.
Even from fifteen yards away, Portia could feel the brightness of the smile Kitty beamed on Desmond. She artfully pleaded, fully expecting to lead him away.
She’d misjudged; that much was obvious from the abrupt, curt dismissal Desmond, his face set like stone, handed her.
As surprised as Kitty, Winifred looked at him, Portia thought with new eyes.
For one instant, Kitty’s face was a study in surprise, then she laughed, set herself to cajole.
Desmond stepped between Winifred and Kitty, forcing Kitty to step back; winding Winifred’s arm in his, he spoke again—brutally short. With a brusque nod to Kitty, he walked off, taking an amazed Winifred with him.
Portia lost sight of them as they merged with the crowd; her attention returned to Kitty, to the stunned, somewhat lost expression that showed briefly on her face. Then Kitty blinked, and her smile returned. With a light laugh, she turned back to the crowd.
Curious, Portia headed in the same direction, but was distracted by a friend of Lord Netherfield’s. It was twenty minutes later before she again sighted Kitty.
In her bright yellow gown, she stood like a stamen in the center of a poppy—a circle of scarlet coats and gold braid. Her bright, breezy charm and tinkling laugh were very much in evidence, yet to Portia, standing a few yards away chatting with a group of older ladies, Kitty’s performance now contained a brittle note.
Increasingly obviously, Kitty encouraged the officers. They, as such men were wont to do, returned the favor in jocular and correspondingly audible vein.
Portia noted the glances directed Kitty’s way, the swift exchanges between local ladies.
Lady Glossup and Mrs. Buckstead were some yards distant; they’d noticed, too. They excused themselves from the couple with whom they’d been conversing; arm in arm, they bore down on Kitty.
Portia didn’t need to watch to know the outcome; three minutes later, Kitty left the officers and was swept away by her mama-in-law and friend.
Relaxing, feeling as if some disaster had been averted, Portia focused on the short, sweet-faced older woman beside her.
“I understand you’re staying here, my dear.” The old lady’s eyes twinkled up at her. “Are you Mr. James’s young lady?”
Portia quelled her surprise, smiled, and disabused the lady of that notion. A few minutes later, she wandered on; the crowd was now partaking of delicate sandwiches and pastries served by a small army of helpers. Taking a glass of cordial from a footman, she sipped, and strolled on.
Was there any chance of her and Simon slipping away?
Deciding to gauge how dispersed the crowd had become, she headed for the far side of the lawn. If guests had ambled as far as the temple . . .
Nearing the crowd’s edge, she looked toward the entrance to the path. It was blocked. By James.
Kitty stood before him.
Still within the crowd, Portia stopped.
One glance at James’s face was enough to gauge his state; his jaw was clenched, as were his fists, but his eyes kept flicking to the crowd. He was furious with Kitty; words were burning his tongue, but he was too well-bred to create a scene, not with half the county looking on.
Portia suddenly wondered if Kitty realized that that was why James didn’t repulse her advances outright, that his reluctance to tell her to go to the devil was not an indication of susceptibility.
Whatever the case, James needed rescuing. She drew herself up—
Lucy appeared from the opposite direction; smiling sweetly, she walked up and spoke to Kitty, then James.
Kitty’s reply was polite, but dismissive. Even a touch contemptuous. She turned back to James.
Faint color rose in Lucy’s cheeks, but she lifted her head, held her ground, and at the first break in Kitty’s words spoke again to James—asking about something.
With an impatience no true hostess would ever own to, Kitty swung around to point—
James drew breath, smiled at Lucy, and offered to show her. Offered her his arm.
Portia grinned.