Page 79 of Gallant Waif
Howdaredhe follow her here and stand there sneering at her? It washisfault she was here in the first place. She hadn’t wanted to come to London. And if she had made her entrée to society under false colours, as he obviously believed, then it was his grandmother who’d made her do it. Andhehad delivered her tohisgrandmother, sohewas as much at fault as anyone. Howdaredhe look at her like that?
Kate’s anger enabled her to sweep through the next dance in glittering style and to parry the flirtatious compliments of her small court of admirers with wit and panache. For the next hour she danced, flirted, smilingly declined an offer of marriage and added a dozen new members to her circle of male admirers, all in the most furious of tempers and under the scorching long-distance glare of Mr Jack Carstairs.
Jack forced himself to stay for an hour or so longer, seeking out all the most beautiful women. She would not think he had no female admirers! Look at her—responding to the gallantries of the biggest collection of rakes and downright gudgeons he had ever seen—and they called themselves his friends!
Finally, unable to stand the sight any more, Jack left, turning abruptly from the sight of her, pushing his way through the glittering throngs of people.
Kate watched as he disappeared out into the night. He hadn’t even looked at her for the last half-hour. Suddenly she realised she had the vilest headache. She sought out Lady Cahill and asked to be taken home.
“Mr Carstairs called again this morning, Lady Cahill,” announced the butler, an edge of disapproval in his voice.
The old lady frowned. “And I gather from your tone, Fitcher, that Miss Farleigh was ‘out’ to him again.”
Fitcher assented with a dignified half-bow.
“The foolish child! I suppose I will have to talk to her about it. Ask her to step down for a moment, will you?”
“Now, missy, I’d like to know why my grandson has been haunting this house for the last week or so but not, apparently, finding anyone home, and I do not refer to myself.”
Kate flushed. “I’ve been so busy…” Her voice trailed off under Lady Cahill’s sardonic gaze. “Well, if you must know, I have no wish to speak to him.”
A well-plucked eyebrow rose.
Kate’s voice warmed in indignation. “Well, and why should I subject myself to more of his tyranny?”
“Tyranny?”
“Yes, ma’am. As if it is not impossible enough having him glaring and glowering—and gnashing his teeth at me from across every room I enter, whether it is at Almack’s, or a concert or a private ball. He is making me—and himself—ridiculous. I wish he would return to Leicestershire and leave me alone. He has nothing to say to me that I have not heard before…or, if he has, I do not wish to hear it, for I know what it will be.”
“You think so, eh?”
“Yes, ma’am.”He despises me.
“As I understand it, you have barely spoken with my grandson since leaving Leicestershire.”
Kate flushed again. “There has been no need,” she said in a low voice. “He made it perfectly clear then what he thought of me. And his behaviour since then only reinforces it.”
Jack’s behaviour made a horrid kind of sense to Kate—he thought she was some sort of immoral lightskirt, and he was there to prevent her from disgracing his grandmother. That was why he glared at her every time she so much as looked or smiled at a man, no matter who the man. He didn’t trust her an inch, that was obvious!
The old lady observed the tense way her young protégée fiddled with the fringe of her shawl.
“And there is no possibility that you could be mistaken? Young men, and young women too, often say foolish things that they do not mean, especially when they are in love.”
“In love! No, indeed, ma’am, you are quite, quite mistaken there!” The fringe tore in Kate’s fingers. Unaware, she moved restlessly around the room.
Lady Cahill heaved herself off the sofa. “My dear, foolish child, when you are as old as I am, you will learn that young men, particularly young men of my grandson’s cut, do not generally make cakes of themselves following a young lady around only to glare at them from a distance, unless their emotions areverystrongly engaged. And only one emotion prompts that sort of behaviour.”
She held up a hand to forestall Kate’s reply. “No, that’s quite enough. The subject is becoming tedious and fatiguing. I beg you will think about what I have said, but we will speak no more of it now. I intend to repose myself for a few hours before I ready myself for the ball tonight.”
She paused at the doorway and looked back. “I expect you will find that my grandson will be present at the ball tonight—Wellington is guest of honour. It is to be his last social appearance before returning to the Peninsula.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Good God, how hasthatyoung woman managed to insinuate herself amongst decent people? Do our host and hostess not know she is a traitress and a whore?”
The penetrating voice was overheard by dozens in the tightly packed ballroom. As one, heads turned.
“Who do I mean? Why, that Farleigh chit, of course. Look at her, dancing as if she had not a care in the world, the shameless hussy. And at a ball in honour of our brave and gallant Marquis of Wellington; the gall of the woman!”
