A Kiss at Midnight

Page 28

“Well, in that case,” Henry drawled, making it quite clear that she saw through the lie. “Why don’t you let me take the bejeweled one for a bit, and you drag along Freddie and Caesar the Lion. I loathe dogs, of course, but perhaps that one is acceptable.”
So Kate handed over Coco. They met a few people on their way back through the maze, but Henry introduced Kate—as Victoria—with such a crushing air of familiarity that no one dared say a word about her miraculous weight loss.
“How can you introduce me to your cousin?” Kate asked. “You’ll have to call me Victoria, and that won’t do.”
“Oh, we’ll tell him the truth,” Henry said. “And make it seem as if we need his help. He’s the sort who couldn’t resist the chance to jump to your rescue. He won’t approve, not entirely—because, darling, you did say that you wanted someone who won’t ever stray. Dante didn’t even cheat at conkers when he was a boy. And don’t think he’s Italian because of his exotic name; he should have been called John or something, because he’s not flamboyant.”
An image of the restless, glittering prince flashed into Kate’s mind and she shook it off. “He sounds perfect,” she said firmly. “I don’t want anyone flamboyant.”
“He doesn’t need money either, so you needn’t worry about his being a fortune hunter.”
“I’m not worried, because I’m quite sure you’re wrong about my dowry,” Kate said, giving her godmother an apologetic glance. “I thought about it last night. If my mother had left me all that money, she would have said something to me. All those afternoons when my father was in London, while she and I sat together. She taught me how to do embroidery, and how to curtsy to a queen, and how to hold my fork and knife.”
“She was sick such a long time, poor thing,” Henry said. “She didn’t have time.”
“She just got weaker and weaker,” Kate said, around a lump in her throat. “Still, I didn’t think . . . I just came in one morning and she was lying there, but she was gone.”
“You’re going to make me cry,” Henry said bracingly.
“I just—” Kate took a deep breath. “She would have told me.”
“She thought she had time,” Henry said. “We all think we have time, you know. It’s this miracle substance and there seems to be so much of it, and then all of a sudden, it’s gone.” Her voice had an edge that made Kate bite her lip.
“My first husband was older than I was, and I gallivanted around town and generally carried on the way a young wife shouldn’t, but that didn’t mean I didn’t love him. I did. When he died, I howled for days. Absolutely howled. I hated myself for every moment I’d spent with anyone else.”
“I’m sorry,” Kate said, touching her arm.
“But that’s it,” Henry said, turning her head. Her eyes were bright and quite dry. “We never know how much time we have with each other. Even your supposed fiancé, who’s all bursting with self-importance in his lovely purple waistcoat, could be gone tomorrow.”
“Victoria would be—”
“Of course she would,” Henry interrupted. “But my point is that we can’t—we don’t—live like that, remembering that the end is coming. Your mother didn’t count her time because she loved being with you. She let herself forget that death was coming, and what a gift that was. So she never told you about the money; she knew it was there. More interesting is why your father never said anything to you.”
“He actually told me after she died that my mother had left me a dowry, but I was wretched and didn’t want to talk about it. And then he went off and brought home Mariana. The next thing I knew, he was dead as well.”
“Typical of a man,” Henry said. “They always die inconveniently.”
They broke out of the seclusion of the maze to find that the gardens were thronged with elegant gentlepersons. “Now, Dante is very like Bartholomew,” Henry said. “That would be my second husband, the one before Leo. He was decent through and through. We just have to find Dante, and I’ll drag the two of you into a hedge or something and tell him the story.”
“Wait!” Kate said, grabbing her arm. “I don’t want to meet him like this.”
“Well, then, how do you want to meet him?”
“Not in this wig,” Kate hissed at her.
“It’s better than yesterday’s,” Henry said. “I’ve never seen that cherry color, and at least it makes you look fashionable.”
“Can’t we wait and meet him at a later date, when I’m myself?”
“No,” Henry said, “we can’t. He’s on the verge of declaring himself for Effie Starck. She’s practically an octogenarian, at least twenty-two.”
“I’m twenty-three!” Kate said.
“I forgot that. Look, she’s so desperate that she went for Lord Beckham under the table, and he stuck her with a fork. Or no, she stuck him. Later he told everyone that he thought there was a mongrel under the table gnawing at his trousers. I don’t want her anywhere near poor Dante.”
“I would still rather not meet him until I’m in London.”
Henry turned and looked at her.
“I just want to look better than this when I meet your—when I meet Mr. Dante,” Kate confessed.
“He’s not Mr. Dante,” Henry said in an offended kind of way. “I would never pair off my goddaughter with an Italian merchant. He’s Dante Edward Astley, Lord Hathaway.”
“I’m fairly sure that my breasts, the wax parts, are melting,” Kate said desperately, “because my wig is so hot that I’m sweating. Plus I’d rather not have the dogs with me.”
Henry looked her over. “You do look rather hot. The cherry-colored wig doesn’t help.”
“I’m going to my chamber,” Kate said, making up her mind. “Here, give me Coco.”
“I’ll keep her,” Henry said, rather surprisingly. “I like the way she walks. You can tell just by looking at her that she’d rather be out here showing off her jewels than closed up in your chamber.”
Kate looked down to find that Coco had positioned herself just next to the hem of Henry’s gown, as if she knew how well her multicolored look complemented striped silk. “Send her back whenever you wish.”
“Wear a different wig this evening,” Henry said. “I’ll have that handsome devil Berwick seat us together with Dante. Do you have a wig that you actually like?”
“No,” Kate said. And then she added, a little desperately, “My hair is my only asset, Henry. Please, could I just avoid Lord Hathaway until I can meet him as myself?”
“Your hair is your only asset?” Henry snorted. “Look at Coco.”
Kate looked.
“She’s the most vain scrap of animal I’ve ever seen, and she’s utterly irresistible as a result. No one’s going to undervalue her. Do you suppose that she thinks she has only one asset? But you . . . if you tell yourself that hair is all you’ve got, then that’s all you’ve got. Among other things—and I don’t have time to enumerate them all—you have utterly devastating eyes. That’s Victor’s color, of course; he had gorgeous dark yellow hair, like some sort of lion, and then the green eyes. He was a sight to behold.”