Page 118 of Lessons for Marquesses
“I do.” Kitty had a gift, and her father wanted to bury it under an old man. She started paging back to the scandalous portrait of Julian when a knock came at the door.
Kitty lunged for her book, slapped it shut, and tossed it to her trunk.
The door opened slowly, unveiling disaster as Caroline appeared. “Your father is here, Miss Babbington. Along with Lord Staverton.”
What would have been worse? Kitty crying, clutching Georgiana in hopes that she might save her from her fate, or what she actually did?
Coming to her feet as if the world had not crashed upon her, Kitty smiled, checked her hair, pinned a wayward black curl without a mirror, and thanked Caroline.
Georgiana shut the door and twisted back. “Do not go down there. You must fight. You will hide. They won’t find you straightaway. I’ll take you to town. We’ll go to London. They’ll never find you. Julian’s friends will save you.Julianwill save you.”
Kitty was suddenly mute—and when was she ever? Her friend regarded her clothes tossed about the nursery and started to pack.
Georgiana gripped her arm and yanked a pair of clocked stockings out of her hand. “Do not let them steal your dreams. You are brave. Believe in yourself. I believe in you. Do not let your dreams die.Fight.”
With a tiny shrug, Kitty stared at the nursery door. The mischievous tilt of her eyes turned downward. “I was always certain I would marry Julian.”
Georgiana covered a cry.
“And if I couldn’t have him… Well, I cannot and so…” Her voice was small when the only thing small about her friend was her size. Never her spirit.
Georgiana urged her to the bed. “We must act now. You hide under the bed. I’ll divert them by going to the garret. They’ll search the closets and alcoves and furnishings, and you will meet me in the stables.”
Kitty looked between the bed and the door. “They’ll see me.”
Georgiana stomped a boot, but this was no time for a fight. She mentally combed through their options. The servant stairs were near. “I’ve got it. We go to the servants’ quarters. You will hide in Rupert’s room. He’ll not a say a word.”
“Yes.” A real smile appeared, hesitant but growing. “Yes, I think that shall do.”
“And I will have Rupert fetch you as soon as they go to the garret.”
Scampering to the trunk, Kitty retrieved her sketch book, hugging it tightly with both arms.
“You only come out if I or Rupert summon you,” Georgiana warned. “I’ll go first. If you hear anything, then hide under the bed as I said. Else I’ll whistle softly and you come out.”
“Right.”
Quietly, Georgiana turned the glass knob.
The door swung wide, bashing her shoulder and sending her stumbling backward. Sir Jeffrey Babbington, tall and spare and purple-faced with rage, lunged into the nursery and clutched his daughter by her delicate arms. He shook the sketch book straight out her grasp. He picked her up and shook a pink silk shoe off her pretty foot. And shook her so hard that her hair pins scattered to the floor and her radiant black curls dropped and swung from his violence.
“Stop this! Stop this at once!” Georgiana struck Sir Jeffrey on his shoulder. When he kept shaking Kitty, she pried off one of his gnarled, weathered hands. It went right back.
He swooped Kitty up by her waist and dragged her out of the room.
Kitty made no sound. No crying. No pleas. Not a single word. As if her friend had died right there. Died.
Georgiana ran after them, tears erupting hot in her eyes.
Oliver grabbed her at the landing. “It’s done, girl. Don’t make it worse.”
“Worse! How can it be worse?”
But it was.
Old Lord Staverton in a drab green frock coat stood at the bottom of the staircase. His wig was yellow from age. His skin was creased by the sun, his fleshy nose and cheeks florid from too much drink. His belly was nearly bursting from his burgundy waistcoat.
Julian stood at the drawing room door, disbelieving and pale. Next to him, Anthony dropped his glass of liquor.
