Mistletoe Kisses and Yuletide Joy (5 page)

At the end of Christmas Day, she climbed into her bed rather glad to have it over with. There were still the Twelve Days to get through, each with special memories, but surely the worst of the season was over.

Then she found herself lying in the dark, waiting for the sound of Rochester serenading the object of his desires. The other cats were there, but not him. She went to the window to check. Another cat was in the center of the lawn, a paler one.

For some reason, that seemed a depressing end to a dismal day.

Lord Chatterton had doubtless left town to spend Christmas with his family and taken his cat with him. She should be glad. After all, she never wanted to speak to him again.

Chapter Three

The very next day, however, Kitty found that she was going to have to speak to Lord Chatterton again. Just as she was getting into bed, a noise alerted her. Not cats, this time. An intruder!

Heart thumping, she crept downstairs, a poker in her hand.

In the kitchen, however, she found Pol taking off a shawl.

"
Pol? Where on earth have you been?"

For once the girl looked flustered.
"Out in the garden, miss."

"
But it's gone ten o'clock!"

"
It's a nice night, miss."

"
It's December." Something about the girl made Kitty ask, "Have you been meeting someone?"

Pol's ready color flared and she studied her shoes.
"Perhaps."

"
Who?"

Pol looked up and bit her lip, but a smile fought to get out.
"Ned. Ned Kingsman. His valet. Lord Chatterton's valet."

Kitty sat in a chair with a thump.
"Pol! How could you be so wicked?"

"
'Tain't wicked, miss. We're courting." Pol's cheeks were red as rosy apples.

Suddenly Kitty felt as sorry for the maid as she had for her cat.
"Oh, Pol. His intentions can't be honorable. He'll ruin you, that's all."

"
I won't be ruined," Pol declared with some indignation. "And anyway, Ned's not like that."

"
All men are like that. Off to bed with you, and we'll have no more of this."

But as she checked to see that the door was locked, Kitty knew she had no way to enforce her command. It was also clear that Pol was as incapable of being rational on this matter as Sherry had been.

The only thing to do was what they'd done with the cats -- keep both would-be lovers closely confined until the madness passed. That, however, would need the assistance of Ned's employer.

So, the next morning, Kitty sent a neighbor's lad with a note requesting an appointment with Lord Chatterton at two in the afternoon. It seemed wise to insist on formality this time, but the prospect still made her shake with nervousness.

The boy returned with a terse acceptance on heavy, crested paper. That paper rather daunted Kitty for it reminded her that he was far above her in social rank.

She could not fail Pol however, so, at a
quarter to two Kitty left for her appointment. This time, she would definitely have preferred to take a companion as chaperone, but it was clearly impossible to take Pol. In fact, she hadn't told Pol where she was going.

It would be too embarrassing to discuss such matters in front of someone like Mrs. Whitworth, and it shouldn't matter. This was not a social call and surely even a rakish lord couldn't behave improperly at two in the afternoon.

When Kitty arrived at number fourteen, Wells Street, she noted that some of the curtains were drawn back and a polished brass knocker awaited her on the handsome door. With a steadying breath, Kitty applied it.

Almost immediately, Ned opened the door, neatly dressed in a suit of clothes that were probably correct attire for a nobleman's valet.
"Good afternoon, Miss Mayhew."

Did he guess her errand? She supposed it was possible Pol had managed to sneak out and tell him she'd been caught. She studied the man and had to admit that he didn't look like a wicked seducer of innocent maids. She'd been thinking much more of his master when she'd conjured up that image.

Like master like man, she reminded herself as he led her across a spacious hall and up wide carpeted stairs.

But then, shouldn't it be, like mistress like maid?

Lord Chatterton awaited her in the drawing room, a magnificent chamber with walls covered in Chinese wallpaper, and windows draped with gold damask. The red, brown, and gold carpet was a work of art. Other works of art scattered the room. Could that painting really be a Caravaggio? And that sculpture....

Kitty was tempted to gawk, and knew for sure that Lord Chatterton was not skulking from creditors. Even if he had outrun his funds, his family would rescue him. So why, she wondered again, had he been lurking in his own kitchen pretending to be out of town?

He certainly wasn't skulking now. As at church, he was dressed expensively in quiet elegance and looked in command of the world.

"
Won't you be seated, Miss Mayhew."

Somewhat reluctantly, Kitty perched on a sofa, drawing off her gloves.

"Perhaps we can offer you tea."

Kitty almost refused, but then decided that nothing wicked could happen over tea.
"Thank you."

Ned disappeared and his master took a seat opposite her, crossing one pantalooned leg over the other.
"How may I assist you, Miss Mayhew?"

His manner was exactly that of a noble lord giving a few moments to a lowly neighbor. It was as if he expected to be asked for a donation to a local charity.

Since Kitty took an interest in the local home that had produced Pol she might well ask for some money before leaving. If they were still on speaking terms, that was.

Annoyingly nervous, she was shaping her words when he spoke again.

"If you have been pestered again by a caterwaul, Miss Mayhew, I assure you Rochester wasn't involved. We have him confined as if he were a traitor in the Tower."

Kitty met his eyes.
"Then perhaps you should lock your man in there with him, my lord."

"
Ned? You're suggesting that
Ned
is serenading your cat at night?"

He didn't believe that for a moment. She also saw, distractingly, that his eyes were a rich hazel, a color that was deceptively warm. A wicked rake should have cold eyes.

Keep your wits and your dignity, Kitty
.

"
I am informing you, my lord, that your servant is trying to seduce my maid. Pol is a sweet, innocent girl raised in a charity school and without protectors other than myself."

His brows rose.
"You astonish me, Miss Mayhew."

But again it was play acting. He was not at all surprised. Remembering him in disorder in his kitchen, she realized he was probably aiding and abetting his servant. Perhaps he intended to use poor Pol for his own low pleasures once she'd succumbed.

Rage might have tempted her to say things she shouldn't if Ned hadn't returned.

He carried a large silver tray holding not only a teapot and water jug, but a generous selection of cakes. He placed the tray on a side table and poured into pretty, gilt-edged cups. In moments, kitty was being presented with her tea and the milk and sugar to add to it. Not long afterward, she was invited to select from among the cakes.

All this propriety gave her chance to regain her composure. Her fancy was flying away with her. A nobleman -- especially one like Lord Chatterton -- would not sink so low as to ruin a kitchen maid.

Then she began to resent his silence. She was ill-at-ease and couldn't think of anything to say, but she was sure he was adept at small talk. The wretched man said nothing, however, so Kitty contemplated Ned again.

To all appearances he was an excellent servant. He moved about quietly and efficiently with none of the extremes -- mincing or strutting -- sometimes found. In looks he was tidy and unassuming, hardly well-armed for wicked seduction. Then she reminded herself that she'd first seen him lolling around over wine and cards at ten in the morning.

As soon as he left, Kitty fixed her host with a stern look, determined on a response to her demand.

He sipped his tea. "Where were we? Ah, yes. Ned as Casanova. Really, my dear Miss Mayhew, can you see it?"

"
Since I have no idea what or who Casanova is, no."

"
And everyone describes you as so well-educated."

"
Everyone...? Have you been gossiping about me again, my lord?" Kitty was genuinely appalled. What would the world -- her world -- think if he'd been going around asking about her?

"
Gossip? Not at all. But on Christmas Day I found it possible to speak of you a little. Your father was a scholar much interested in that mysterious force, electricity. Your mother assisted him in his work, but was also a scholar in her own right, with a great interest in ancient customs. They educated you at home, and widely, and you traveled with them wherever they went. You must miss them."

The last sentence broke through Kitty's bemusement like a blow.
"My family is no concern of yours, my lord. I merely want your word that your servant will leave my maid alone."

"
And I asked you if you saw him as Casanova. Clearly you do."

Kitty sighed theatrically.
"I can only assume that Casanova is a character in a play, a rakish seducer. If so, then yes, I see your man in that mold. After all," she added, with a meaningful look at him, "not all rakes are as brash as toms about it."

He smiled. It almost turned into a grin.
"Did I tell you, Miss Mayhew, that my name is Tom?"

"
How
precognizant
of your parents, my lord."

He laughed, slumping back into his chair in a genuine abandonment of hilarity. He looked so wonderful in its glow that Kitty's cup and saucer tilted, splashing her skirt with the dregs.

She hastily put it on the small table by her hand and gave thanks to be wearing black. When she looked up again he had calmed, but the shimmer of laughter still lit him. "Casanova, my dear Miss Mayhew, was a real person, dead not twenty years ago. He loved women and loved to persuade them into love with him, and in his memoirs he claimed to make them all very, very happy."

Kitty gave thanks for an education what made her hard to shock.
"Then I don't think your man is like him. He will make poor Pol very, very unhappy."

"
Don't you think you should at least give him a chance?"

"
No."

"
You don't seem to trust your maid very much."

"
She's only eighteen and an orphan. She's a very sensible girl, but I'm afraid that her head will be turned by your man's attentions. Any woman can be tempted by promises of love and tenderness, of a home and family...."

She trailed off because of the way he was looking at her. Surely he didn't think those words applied to her?

He merely said, "Ned's intentions are honorable, Miss Mayhew. Apparently in the past week, when he has been acting as man-of-all-work to me, he has encountered your maid in the area -- at the market, the butcher's and such. Out in the garden a few nights ago, he realized where she lived, and decided to pursue the acquaintance."

"
Pursue," pounced Kitty. "Exactly."

"
With an eye to marriage."

"
You can't expect me to believe that."

"
Of course I can."

He appeared serious.

"Firstly," she said, "personal servants rarely marry under the rank of butler and housekeeper. Secondly, upper servants -- which your Ned clearly is -- are as likely to marry a kitchen maid as..."

"
As a lord is to marry the daughter of scholars?" he supplied helpfully.

"
That is unlikely," she forced out, managing not to snarl. "But not of the depth of improbability of your Ned intending honorable matrimony with my Pol."

"
But love can wipe away all social barriers, dear lady."

"
Not in real life, dear sir."

He considered her a moment.
"Miss Mayhew, delightful as this verbal jousting is, let us be direct. Believe it or not, Edward Kingsman, my valet and occasional man-of-all-work-"

"
Not to mention partner in all-night carousing," Kitty interrupted.

He sighed.
"Are you holding that against him? My fault entirely. I was restless and commanded his company. It is his job to do almost anything I command. What you saw, however, was the dregs of the night before. I had risen early and gone riding to clear my head, and then returned to bathe. I assure you that Ned disapproves of my occasional carouses as much as you would wish. May I continue?"