Page 14 of The Viscount's Unwanted Bride
Amelia paused in the doorway and said something to the housekeeper.
“Your sister’s reputation is under dire threat,” Lady Drake said.
Her words made both Amelia and Andrew turn to Kate.
Falteringly, she explained what had happened, leaving out the fact that her trip had been intentional.
“By now, Lady Talbot has no doubt twisted events to fit her narrative, and rumors will be spreading through theton,” Lady Drake added, still not looking at Kate.
Never in her life had she felt so small. “I’m sorry.” She could apologize a thousand times, and it wouldn’t be enough to erase the disappointment on Andrew’s face. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
She’d let everyone down. They’d all done so much for her, and she’d ruined everything.
Mrs. Smythe bustled in with a tray of tea and biscuits. She set it on the table, and Amelia immediately went over and poured a cup of tea with a little sugar, then picked it up, along with a biscuit, and offered them to Kate.
“Oh, I don’t think I can—”
“It will help,” Amelia insisted. “You’ve had a shock. The sweetness will clear your mind.”
Kate wasn’t entirely sure she believed that, but she intended to do exactly what everyone asked of her because she’d made a mistake and had to make up for it however she could.
Her hand trembled as she took the tea, and she was lucky it didn’t slosh over the brim of the cup as she raised it to her mouth and forced herself to take a sip. She placed the teacup down, afraid that if she held onto it for too long, she’d spill it, and took a bite of the biscuit instead. It was like ash in her mouth, and when she swallowed, the lump strained almost painfully on its way down her throat.
She looked around, noting the stress brackets at the corners of Amelia’s mouth and the way her mother rubbed at her temples as if they throbbed. This was all her fault. Her family had done so much for her, and she’d repaid them by causing a scene and perhaps even rendering herself unmarriageable.
The biscuit dropped onto her lap, and tears began to spill from her eyes. Her lower lip wobbled, and she bit it, determined not to make a sound.
“There, there.” Amelia dragged a chair over beside her and patted her arm. “It’s all right.”
Kate sniffed and resisted the urge to point out the obvious: This was very much not all right.
“Oh, sweetheart.” With a sigh, her mother got up and came across to crouch beside her in the most unladylike fashion. “We’ll find a way through this.”
“Can you describe the man to me?” Andrew asked gently.
With a deep breath, Kate gathered herself. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision. “He was perhaps your age or slightly younger. His hair was dark brown and short. His eyes were brown too.”
Andrew grimaced. “Many men are my age with brown hair and brown eyes.”
“Uh… he wore a blue waistcoat and a pink cravat.” She wasn’t going to mention that she’d found the combination quite dashing. “He wasn’t what I’d call handsome, but there was something striking about him.”
He turned to Lady Drake, clearly hoping she might recognize this description, since she’d also been at the ball. She shook her head, indicating that it didn’t mean anything to her.
“I’ll ask Wembley for a copy of the guest list,” Andrew said after a long pause. “Perhaps we can narrow down the possibilities. The man must take responsibility for his actions.”
A chill swept through Kate.Take responsibility?What, exactly, was Andrew considering doing? All the man in the pink cravat had done was escort a young lady who’d claimed to feel unwell to an occupied balcony for some air. He didn’t deserve to be forced into marrying her or…
She gulped.
Amelia harrumphed. “I don’t believe that challenging this man to a duel and getting yourself shot would be the most comforting course of action to Kate. I also doubt that she would wish to find herself tied to a man who, by all accounts, abandoned her in an attempt to save his own skin.”
Kate agreed with her, but her normally easygoing brother’s jaw was clenched and his eyes were sparking with temper, so she didn’t utter a word.
“This calls for something stronger than tea.” Andrew marched out of the room and returned with a bottle of golden-brown liquid and a stack of small glasses. He placed the glasses in a row and filled each of them. “Drink up.”
“What is it?” Kate asked, picking up a glass and sniffing. Its scent reminded her of jam that had sat in the sun for too long but with a strange, chemical undertone.
“Sherry.” Andrew downed his drink in a single mouthful, refilled his glass, and did it again.
