Page 91 of Better Love Next Time
Kitty had tried for two hours to fall in love with Anthony Philips. With his charming conversation and Greek god face and physique, he was certainly worthy of a woman’s love. His eyes were a wonder, crystal blue with a black ring. They fixed upon his subject and promised everything. And when his dark lashes brushed over his gaze, Kitty felt a fleeting attraction.
Then Julian walked into the drawing room, and she burned like the edge of a flame. He looked like a pirate in gentleman’s clothes and what others might see as carelessness, she saw as a purposeful thumbing of his nose at the splendor surrounding him. He was a rebel, and she loved him for it. He would never admit it, but deep inside, in places others had never seen, he was a romantic. He was brilliant and funny and a dreamer. He knew and spoke his own mind.
She sat smiling at Anthony Philips with her stomach in knots, pondering how best to end her fascination. If she even could.
You get what you expect in this world.
Kitty didn’t expect Julian to marry her, and bringing him to the point was going to be like standing in front of a rifled gun and stopping the bullet with her hand.
It took Julian exactly a half hour to acknowledge her. He sauntered over, laid a cursory glance on Anthony, and said, “Good evening, Kitty. You look rare tonight.”
Rare? What was rare? Like a roast? Father Dunlevy’s lecture banged about in her head. “Thank you. And happy birthday.” She forced a smile. Which was her best smile.
“Philips,” he said. “You as well. Care to join me for a walk about the room? If the lady permits, of course.”
Anthony looked about for a companion for Kitty because if he left her, the other guests scattered around the large room’s perimeter, she would be very much alone.
“Go on,” she said, holding her smile. “I won’t wither away in my own company. I am quite used to it.”
Anthony left reluctantly. Julian said nothing. And said nothing more to her through dinner, where she was seated between him and Anthony. The latter was at Georgiana’s right, and when Anthony conversed with Georgiana, Julian turned to his mother. Kitty had nothing to do but eat. She wasn’t hungry. She was sick with the understanding that Father Dunlevy was right.
A boy who holds you in contempt.
The night before she had fallen asleep in his arms to the cadence of his heart.
Who values you as a man does a serving wench.
At dawn, he had loved her without words, but he had looked into her eyes as he had moved inside her andhe had loved her.
A woman easily had and discarded.
What had she done?
That is what you are, Katherine, in his eyes.
Kitty filled in the rest. A high-flyer. A whore. A mistress.
The women gathered in the drawing room after dinner. She made herself agreeable. Lady Tindall seemed especially interested in her, asking her questions on her family, her education, her accomplishments. It felt as if she were being interviewed for a governess position. She could never be a governess. She hadn’t the references nor the education, andGeorgiana had once informed her she was too pretty. Wives did not hire women who might tempt their husbands.
“Do you play pianoforte?” the countess asked.
Kitty looked to her mother’s pianoforte. “Yes, my lady.”
“Georgiana tells me you have known my son for many years. And have corresponded at length?”
There was no judgment in the countess’s question but Kitty pinked. “We were once friends.”
The men joined them, the scent of cigars wafting in the air. Julian passed by as if she didn’t exist. Caroline spread her skirts at the pianoforte, dipped her golden head to the keys, and Mary Katherine Babbington’s voice filled the room. All wrong.All wrong.
“May I be excused, my lady?” she asked the countess.
Lady Tindall’s graceful hand with a filigreed ruby ring covered Kitty’s. “I have monopolized your time, haven’t I? Quite ill-mannered of me. I spend little time in the company of young ladies. It reminds me of when I was young.” She laughed. “You see how I go on? Please, dear, save yourself from an old woman.”
“There is no saving, my lady. What girl would not dream of speaking at length about herself when she has so few opportunities in her life?”
Kitty rose with dignity from the settee. Julian met her gaze from across the room, his head slightly cocked, eyes hooded over that superior nose. It wasn’t a look of a stubborn man. It was a man who held her in contempt.
She descended the stairs, her heels striking marble in determined strides, and went outside, coming to a halt at the top of the portico steps. She rushed down them in a sliver of moonlight, fueled by anger. Without a worthy target, she might pummel her fists at her own breast.
