Page 49 of In the Prince's Bed
She eyed her mother mutinously. “Sydney can.”
“Even if that were true, his fidelity would hardly compensate for his other disadvantages. For one thing, there’s his awful mother.”
Katherine choked down a laugh. That was like Genghis Khan calling Attila the Hun cruel. “She was your friend once.”
“Yes, but that was before I eloped with your father. She never approved of him. And she positively hates that her husband chose to marry her only after I’d thrown him over. What she saw in Lovelace, I’ll never know. He was as dull as dishwater.” She shot Katherine an arch glance. “Just like his son.”
Katherine bristled. “I thought you liked Sydney.”
“Until I saw the other choices. After we came to town and he dragged us to salons and lectures, I viewed your union differently. What sort of life will you have with him? He has some cachet in society, I’ll grant you, because his family is so old and respected, but it’s nothing to what Lord Iversley will have.”
“I don’t care about society, Mama.”
“You’ll care when you’re trapped out in Cornwall at Sir Sydney’s estate, with his mother guiding your every activity.” Mama’s face took on a glow as she recited the holy mantra of every society matron scheming for her child. “But if you marry his lordship, only think of the parties and balls and routs you’ll be invited to—why, you might even rub elbows with the prince himself.”
“Yes, wouldn’t that be grand?” Katherine snapped.
“You can come to town every year for the season and give your sisters a real coming out—”
“Which would mean your coming to town with them.”
Her mother blinked, then dropped her gaze to her lap. “Of course.” She smoothed her skirts nervously. “That goes without saying. Besides, you’d want your mother here to help you with all your own balls and parties, wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t intend to have any balls and parties.”
“Oh, but you must! It will be expected of the new Countess of Iversley.” Mama took up the mantra once more. “You’ll be called Lady Iversley.”
“If I marry Sydney, I’ll be called Lady Lovelace.”
Mama flipped her hand. “It’s not the same—that’s merely being a baronet’s wife. But a countess—” She gave a longing sigh. “And your sons will all be called ‘Lord,’ and your eldest will be the heir—”
“And I’ll be lonely because my husband spends all his time at his club, and brokenhearted because he keeps a mistress.”
“Lonely! In London? Don’t be absurd. Who could be lonely in London? As for being brokenhearted, there’s nothing to say you can’t…well…have friends of your own. After you bear the heir and a spare, of course.”
“Mama!” Katherine blushed to the roots of her hair. “I would never—”
“Oh, don’t be a ninny. You’ll be a fashionable woman then—you can do as you please.”
“If that’s being fashionable, I want none of it.” The picture her mother painted of her future life with Alec made her ill—it contrasted so sharply with the life she thought to have with Sydney. But if Sydney didn’t react to the news of Alec’s courtship by offering for her, what was she going to do?
Her mother rose stiffly, her face drawn in anger. “I see there’s no use talking to you—you don’t know a good thing when it’s dropped into your lap.”
Tossing back her head, she marched off to jerk the door open, then turned to glare at Katherine. “Go on and choose your baronet, then, and have a dull life. But I warn you: If you don’t accept an offer from either Sir Sydney or Lord Iversley in the next two weeks, the whole world will hear of the fortune you expect. Then you’ll have quite a choice of husbands, won’t you? Fortune hunters and schemers, for the most part. And I’ll turn a deaf ear to your protests, too. Because one way or the other, missy, you’re going to marrysomeonebefore the season is over.”
Chapter Twelve
Use gifts to soften the woman’s defenses.
—Anonymous,A Rake’s Rhetorick
Aweek later, as the well-sprung coach Alec had borrowed from Draker swept down the crowded London streets toward the Merivale town house, Alec admitted he’d made a serious tactical error. In letting Katherine continue to believe his interest in her was merely wicked, he’d put her further on her guard.
For some reason, the hothouse flowers he’d spent a pretty penny on only angered her. Weren’t women supposed to like flowers? The book of poetry he’d brought had been better received, until she noticed it was by some fellow named Byron, who apparently had a scandalous reputation. By God, who would have thought a book of poetry could be a problem?
At least she’d enjoyed the entertainments he took her and her mother to, but she’d spent them glued to Mrs. Merivale’s side. And she absolutely refused to go riding with him, saying there was no one to chaperone.
He snorted. She merely wanted to avoid being alone with him again. And neither Mrs. Merivale’s determined efforts to leave them alone together nor Alec’s similar attempts had worked—Katherine held tight to the strictest proprieties. He hadn’t even managed to hold her hand, much less sneak a kiss.
