“Is everything all right, Miss Kate?”
She pricked her finger as she looked up from her work. Her lady’s maid, Mary, had just entered the room, a large basket of clothes in her arms. No, she answered Mary silently, everything is quite wrong. Even after she’d dashed out of the study last night, she’d been kept awake by images of dark, golden skin and warm, amber eyes. She hadn’t fallen asleep until dawn had begun to break.
“I’m fine, Mary—just woolgathering.”
Mary lowered the basket onto the bed, where she proceeded to fold the clothes with efficiency. She was not, apparently, particularly interested in what Kate was woolgathering about, and opened her favorite topic instead. “So. Tonight’s your brother’s engagement party…and your first real excursion into society. It could hardly come too soon.”
Kate rolled her eyes. Since her mother had died when she was just a baby, in many ways Mary had taken her place. Bossy, she was, and far too familiar. “Oh, Mary, please let’s not broach this subject quite yet. I’ve only just arrived here.”
“I can’t help it, Miss Kate. I’m just pleased that one of you will finally marry, even though I never suspected Lord Robert would be the first. Lady Charlotte Bannister must be a rather forceful young woman to have encouraged such honorable behavior in your brother.”
Kate had met Charlotte for the first time yesterday, and thought forceful was an apt, if understated, description. “I suppose.”
“And his wedding couldn’t have come at a more convenient time. Now you’ll be able to enjoy the full season, dear, and have the proper coming out that you deserve.”
“I’m twenty-four, Mary—an age hardly conducive to a proper coming out.”
“Well, you weren’t much to look at when you were eighteen—”
Since that particular wound had been reopened by Benjamin Sinclair only the night before, Kate answered with unusual heat. “Thank you, Mary, for putting my nerves at ease.”
Mary looked heavenwards for patience. “What I was going to say, m’lady, is that it wasn’t until the past few years that you’ve really come into your own anyway. It’s most unfortunate that your father’s illness prevented you from coming out sooner, but sometimes waiting can work to one’s advantage.”
Kate grumbled inaudibly and rose from the dressing table. She couldn’t argue. Robert’s wedding really did come at a convenient time. The fact was, she’d been contemplating spending the season in London even before her brother had announced his plans—she hadn’t really much choice about it. She, too, needed to get married, and the sooner the better.
Kate abandoned that worrying stream of thought and sat back down, this time on her bed. She changed the subject slightly. “I suspect Robbie thinks I’ve been a bit depressed since our father’s death last year. I have been reclusive, and I haven’t made any attempt to visit him in town.”
Matter-of-fact as always, Mary nodded vigorously. “He’d be right if that’s what he thinks. You’ve been in mourning for over a year now, Miss Kate. It’s time to get on with your own life. Get married yourself.” She opened an overstuffed suitcase, still unpacked, and grimaced. “Goodness, we probably shouldn’t have brought all this. Most of it is unsuitable to wear in town anyway. You’ll need to go shopping first thing.”
Kate sighed elaborately as Mary began to move purposefully about the room. “I’m not a complete simpleton, you know. I realize I’ll have to buy a few new things.”
It was a long-standing argument. She spent little time or money on her appearance, and most of the clothes she bought were serviceable rather than fashionable. Little Brookings society was provincial at the best of times, and she’d always seen little point in worrying about her looks when there were so few to notice.
But try and convince someone who’d spent nearly her whole life as a lady’s maid. Mary believed in the importance of keeping up appearances. “Your clothes are fine at home, Miss Kate, but you know as well as I that London requires greater sophistication than, well…” she paused for delicacy, “that thing you’re wearing now, for instance.”
Kate looked down at her dress and tried to hide her grin. Thing was an accurate description. Thing was actually rather generous. Truth was, she only wore it for Mary’s benefit.
“What’s wrong, Mary? Do you not care for brown?”
Mary harrumphed. “What I care for is getting you married, like you ought to be. Brown, if you can even call it that, certainly won’t help—” Her lecture was interrupted by Kate’s powder puff landing squarely in her face.
“Take that, sweet maid. I hereby declare thee the most beautiful in all the land.” She giggled at the comical mixture of surprise and grudging good humor on her maid’s powder-covered face and gave a mock swoon, falling backward onto her bed. “Oh, Mary, I fear my constitution is too delicate even to consider a husband.”
“Delicate, my foot,” Mary snorted while Kate blinked her eyes in feigned shock at her maid’s not-so-unusual breach of maid-to-mistress decorum. “I’m just thankful that something will finally motivate you to get out of your rut…and if it takes a kick in the…you know what…to get you to do something about it, well, that’s fine by me.”
“A kick in the…? Is that what you call it?”
Mary ignored her question and continued. “I know we’ve had this discussion before, but you should have been married ages ago.”
“Mary, I know. You know I know. I was planning to go to London even before I heard from Robert.”
“Yesss…only you have yet to seem happy about it.”
“Well, I am. Happy. About it.”
“I see.”
Mary continued to unpack and fold clothes, and Kate walked over to the window. The morning was gray, and it suitably reflected her mood. People in dark clothes moved their way slowly up the damp street. After a minute she heard Mary leave, closing the door quietly behind her.
Kate returned to her bed, enjoying for the moment the restored tranquility that always followed in Mary’s wake. They’d had this discussion many times before, and although Kate hated to admit it, Mary was right. As each year passed, it would only become harder for her to wed, and she was fast realizing that a husband was a necessity. Not that she didn’t cherish her independence, for she valued it more than anything. The fact was, however, that marrying was the only way for her to maintain that independence.
Oh, was she ever in a pickle. Her life would definitely be simpler if she’d been born a man.
It was all her grandfather’s fault. When, many years ago, he’d turned his gentlemanly interest in boats into a lucrative shipbuilding company, he never could have dreamed of the trouble this decision would cause his then-unborn granddaughter.
She lay back into the deep cushion of her down quilt and sighed, letting her mind wander back through her family history.
Her grandfather had called his business Alfred and Sons. He’d always chuckled about this name—there wasn’t a soul in their family named Alfred. He’d actually named the company after his late Pekinese,
