quizzing glass to stare at Kitty, who wished she had draped a neckerchief around the low neckline of her gown.
‘Yes, well I am hoping we can fix Lord Harworth’s interest,’ put in Lady Leaconham, adding pointedly, ‘It is not so important for him to find a rich wife.’
‘Dash it, Mama, he is not that much wealthier than me!’ muttered Garston but his mother was not listening.
She swept up, put her arm through Kitty’s and carried her towards the door. ‘The carriage is here—shall we go?’
In recognition of the sunny weather, Lady Leaconham had elected to travel in the open landau, and once the busy streets were left behind Kitty had to admit that it was very pleasant to be bowling along with the sun shining down upon them. There was just enough breeze to make it necessary for her to pull her Norwich shawl about her shoulders, which had the added advantage of screening her décolletage from Lord Leaconham’s admiring gaze. She was not sorry when at last they reached the steep hill leading to Chipping Barnet, where they were to part company with the young lord and she had the impression that her godmother, too, was relieved he was not now accompanying them further. Lady Leaconham had taken the precaution of hiring outriders, two liveried servants on horseback who would accompany them to Wormley and as they drove away from Barnet she now declared herself perfectly satisfied with their escort.
‘And who knows,’ she ended with a hopeful little smile, ‘you are looking so pretty today, my dear Kitty, that Lord Harworth might decide to accompany us on our homeward journey!’
Kitty said nothing. She could not recall Lord Harworth paying her any particular attention, and she hoped for nothing more from the day than a pleasant time spent in congenial company. The image of Daniel Blackwood flashed into her mind and in an unguarded moment she hoped he would be there. She quickly stifled the thought: she had come to London to find and marry a gentleman, not a blunt Yorkshire manufacturer!
Wormley Hall was a beautiful old manor house set in large grounds that had been landscaped some fifty years ago. The trees had matured, the gravel paths and artificial lakes were somewhat overgrown and the whole now possessed the beautiful, slightly neglected air that was fashionably romantic. Several carriages were drawn up on the drive when they arrived and it was not long before Kitty was being introduced to Lady Harworth’s guests, those considered worthy of sharing the treat of an alfresco dinner. Several young people were present and Ann soon carried Kitty away to join them.
‘I am so glad you could come,’ she declared, linking arms with Kitty. ‘I do so love to eat out of doors. We are going to dine down there.’ She waved her arm in the direction of the lake, where a dozen or so servants were following a lumbering wagon to the far bank. ‘But before we walk there Mama wants to show everyone the formal gardens.’ Ann giggled, then lowered her voice. ‘Mr Grant has written an ode that he is going to read to us.’
Kitty followed her glance towards a very thin young man with a mop of brown hair. He was even now poring over a notebook.
‘Do not expect too much, Miss Wythenshawe,’ laughed another member of the party, a stocky young man with a florid complexion. ‘Julian’s poems are never very good.’
‘Y-you w-will eat your w-w-w-words one day, Ashley,’ retorted Mr Grant, pushing his hair out of his eyes. ‘Just w-w-wait until my work is published!’
Laughing and chattering, the group of young people followed their elders round the house to the south front, where the formal gardens stretched before them. They gathered round while young Mr Grant read them his ‘Ode to a Fallen Rose’ and applauded politely, then Lady Harworth conducted them around the gardens, pointing out the new plants and marble statues that had recently been introduced.
‘I wonder that you will take so much time over these gardens, Mama, when you never stay here,’ said Ann, smothering a yawn.
‘One never knows what might happen,’ replied Lady Harworth, leading them back towards the house. ‘I am minded to live here, should Bertram take a wife.’
Lady Leaconham was looking about her anxiously. She waited for Ann to come up to her and said casually, ‘Ann, dear, is your brother not joining us today?’
‘Oh, Bertram is around somewhere … yes, here he is now.’
Kitty found herself smiling at her godmother’s look of relief when Lord Harworth emerged from the house, Mr Blackwood walking beside him.
‘My apologies that I was not here to greet you, ma’am,’ said Lord Harworth, bowing over his aunt’s hand. ‘Blackwood and I were looking at the new range we have installed in the kitchen—the latest thing, you know, enclosed firebox, bigger hot-water tank …’
‘Oh, Bertram, our guests are not interested in that,’ protested Ann.
‘Not yet, perhaps,’ put in Daniel. ‘It may not be so necessary on a warm day like today, but imagine yourself coming in after a day’s hunting, muddy and dirty and wanting a bath before going down to dinner. By keeping a small fire in the range there will always be hot water for you.’
He was smiling directly at Kitty, who found herself wanting to smile back until Lady Harworth’s voice cut across the moment.
‘Very interesting to you, I am sure, Mr Blackwood, since you understand these things and are always talking to my son about spinning jennies and water frames, but I do not think our guests wish to concern themselves with the domestic arrangements of the house, what do you say, Miss Wythenshawe?’
Everyone’s attention turned to Kitty. Her godmother was watching her and she read the appeal in her eyes—she must not appear provincial. She thought of her mother and her aunt in their cottage in Fallridge, cooking on the little hob-grate with only a maidservant to help them.
‘You must excuse me,’ she said quietly, ‘I know nothing of cooks and kitchens.’
‘That is not to say she is not an excellent housekeeper,’ Lady Leaconham rushed in, giving a nervous laugh. ‘But I doubt my goddaughter has ever had the need to venture into a kitchen. Am I correct, Kitty?’
‘No, I have not.’
‘Then Miss Wythenshawe is very fortunate,’ murmured Daniel.
His smile had disappeared and Kitty wanted to protest, to explain that it was not because she had an army of servants at her beck and call that she had never entered the kitchen of a grand house, but Lord Harworth was turning towards her, offering her his arm.
‘I think we should be making our way to the lake. May I escort you, Miss Wythenshawe?’
Kitty did not need the little nudge in the back from Lady Leaconham to remind her of her duty, but she did try to smile a little more warmly at Lord Harworth as she tucked her fingers into the crook of his arm and walked off. She would not think of Daniel and his black looks, nor the fact that when she had put her hand on Daniel’s arm at the recent ball she had felt a little buzz of excitement run through her body. She could remember even now the feel of the hard sinews beneath his sleeve, the coiled energy of the man in the solid muscle. Lord Harworth’s arm merely felt … solid.
The party making its way around the lake to the picnic site was a very jolly one, with plenty of chatter and laughter and Kitty did her best to join in, responding in kind to her escort’s jovial remarks. She tried not to think of Daniel, who was following some way behind. When they reached the designated dining area Lord Harworth
