Page 70 of The Trouble with Tigers
Zeke glanced at Caden, a silent query in his eyes.
Caden shrugged.
Randall sighed. “Clearly, it’s no love match. Zeke, you haven’t yet married your bride and already you’re planning your next foray from England.” He laughed anew and wiped at the corners of his eyes. “I really can’t wait.”
“For what?” Zeke and Caden asked in unison.
“Why, to meet the future Countess of Claybourne, of course.”
Chapter Sixteen
Kitty paid special attention to her evening toilette in anticipation of meeting Zeke’s brother and his traveling companion. After Zeke’s implied insult concerning her appearance this afternoon, she needed to prove to herself she could make an entrance. She needed to prove it to Zeke, too, the swine.
She selected one of her favorite gowns for the occasion—the one fashioned of watered green silk the dressmaker said brought out her eyes. She asked her maid to wash and dress her hair with special care, as well. The end result was an elegant coiffure, pinned to the side to fall over one shoulder in the grecian style.
Heading down to dinner, her heart in her throat, she chided herself for her vanity. It mattered naught what Zeke’s brother and his friend thought of her. It wasn’t as if she and Zeke were truly engaged, and by now, no doubt, they had been versed on the private details of her life to boot.
How utterly mortifying.
The moment she stepped into the drawing room, she decided she’d made the right choice in primping to the extent she had. Because the three of them together, Zeke, Caden, and the unnamed third gentleman, fairly took her breath away. All appeared freshly shaven, expertly groomed, and had dressed for dinner in tailored dark suits. Their cravats were crisp white, starched, and tied in the simplest of knots.
Funny, she’d always liked the flamboyant bows her brother favored, but now comparing the two styles, she vastly preferred the sophisticated elegance.
What really made them stand out had less to do with their stylish looks than their demeanor. A certain shoulders-back, self-assured, confidence. Corinthians. She was in the presence of a team of aristocratic Corinthians.
Gathering all her nerve she entered the room.
“This, I assume, is the infamous Lady Kitty Hastings,” spoke the man she assumed to be Zeke’s brother. He and his dark-haired friend crossed toward her, offering warm smiles of welcome that set her instantly at ease.
Zeke held back, evidently intent on scrutinizing her appearance. His eyes flowed over her from head to toe, then reversed course to settle at her décolletage. His brows furrowed.
Irritation sparked through her. What complaint could the blasted man possibly have now?
At last, he sauntered forward to stand beside her. “Gentlemen, may I introduce my fiancé, Lady Christine Hastings, affectionately Lady Kitty. My lady, meet Viscount Sterling Randall, an old and friend of the family, and, of course, my brother Mr Caden Thurgood.”
She dipped a proper curtsy, and murmured a greeting.
“My lady, welcome to the family. I must say, you’re even lovelier than my brief glimpse of you from the terrace revealed.” Zeke's brother bowed over her hand.
“Mr. Thurgood, how very kind of you to say.”
“Nothing kind about it. Just a simple truth. And you must call me Caden.”
She nodded her assent. She rather liked Zeke’s brother.
Viscount Randall spoke up next. “Lady Kitty—may I call you Lady Kitty?”
“Please.”
“Lady Kitty, may I offer congratulations on your recent betrothal?”
“Thank you, Lord Randall.” As she spoke she slid an uncertain glance toward Zeke. Surely he’d told them the truth?
The viscount gave her a crooked smile. “I confess, after reading the announcement in theTimes, I jumped at the chance to accompany Caden to Derbyshire to meet the lady who’d finally hooked the wily Claybourne heir. But now I see you”—he shot Zeke an accusatory look—“I begin to think it’s he who hooked you before anyone else had the chance to throw his hat in the ring. That is, I assume you never visited London during the season? I’m positive our paths never crossed. I would have remembered.”
“I…no,” she answered.
“My loss, entirely.” The viscount held his hand over his heart in a dramatic gesture.
