A Kiss at Midnight

“We shall guard your treasure very carefully,” Lord Hathaway said. He was standing, of course. As soon as Lady Starck’s nipple made its appearance, all the gentlemen leaped to their feet, though Kate knew that it was ostensibly in response to the lady’s departure.

“I doubt it will be a long performance,” Henry put in. “We’ll all trot back to the house in a few minutes.”

“Very well,” Lady Starck said, her napkin still clutched to her breast. “Effie, I expect you to come to my chamber the very moment this naval spectacle is finished.”

“I will, Mama,” Effie said, sounding very cheerful.

“I don’t think you have that story right,” Kate whispered to Henry as they strolled from the dining room. “Effie can’t possibly have groped Lord Beckham under the table. She’s not that sort of woman.”

“She wouldn’t know what she was groping for, would she?” Henry said. “It must have been someone else. But I’m right about the fact that Dante is ripe for plucking and that the two of you are quite suited. Don’t you see what will happen to him if he marries her?”

“He’ll be happy,” Kate said. “She’s quite sweet, in a somber kind of way.”

“She never laughs unless someone else gives her a cue,” Henry said, sounding genuinely dismayed. “And I like Dante. He’s grown into a very decent fellow. When he was just five years old, he used to lean on my knee and ask me to tell him another story.” She narrowed her eyes. “Of course, I was a mere toddler myself. If you ever tell anyone that I am old enough to have told Dante stories, I’ll be forced into an act of violence.”

“What kind of violence?” Kate inquired, fascinated.

“I’ve got the measure of you,” Henry said. “You don’t like dogs, but you’re doing your best with those little mongrels of your sister’s. You don’t care for lions, but you’re championing for a bigger cage. You wouldn’t even let the nasty blackbirds be made into a pie in order to restore the dignity of the vicar. It would be easy to put you under my thumb; all I’d have to do is threaten to throw Coco onto the King’s highway.”

“I would save Coco only because my dowry is glued to her neck,” Kate said. The disconcerting thing was that Henry was right, of course. That was how Mariana had kept her under her thumb all these years: by threatening to dismiss a footman, or the housekeeper, or even dear Cherryderry.

They were walking out the back of the castle now. Stretching before them were the pale marble steps descending to the lake. They shimmered the color of pearl in the light of torches that lined the stairs.

“What on earth have you done with Coco, by the way? She never came back to my room.”

“She’s right here,” Henry said smugly. “And what a good girl she is; no one heard a peep from her during the meal.” She turned around and crooned, “Come on, darling.” Coco pranced out before them, her tail waving.

“What’s she got around her neck?” Kate asked. “And on her leash?”

“Ribbons and flowers to match my gown, of course,” Henry said. “Her jewels are all very well, but a lady needs a new toilette in the evening. So my maid soaked off the jewels and replaced them with a flower called lupine, which sounds like a half-deranged wolf, but is actually beautiful and matches my costume perfectly.”

“She looks as if she’s stuck her head through a funeral wreath,” Kate pointed out.

“Coming from a woman wearing a wig the color of a gooseberry, that means little,” Henry retorted.

“I have to wear a wig,” Kate said firmly. “I’m incognito.”

“You make it sound as if you’re working for the Foreign Office,” Henry said. “Now what are you going to do to dislodge Effervescent Effie from Dante’s arm? She’s attached like a limpet.”

Kate shrugged.

“No wonder you’re unmarried at the ripe age of twenty-three,” Henry said. “Leo, come here!”

Her husband, who was ambling along behind them, looking just slightly tipsy, stepped forward next to Kate. “Yes, love?” he said.

Kate liked that. She could tolerate a husband who drank too much if he called her love and looked at her the way Leo looked at Henry. As if he’d be there for her, always.

“Can you shake some sense into my goddaughter? She’s practically as old as I am, and yet she’s lazy when it comes to marriage.”

Leo twinkled at Kate. “Henry likes marriage,” he said, taking her arm. “That’s why she’s done it so many times.”

“I wouldn’t have had to if men lived longer,” Henry said.

“Is there anyone you’d particularly like to marry?” Leo asked Kate.

The prince, Kate thought—and quelled the thought in horror. What on earth was she thinking? It was just that kiss . . . that kiss. . .

“No one in particular,” she said firmly.

“What about Toloose? He’s a decent chap,” Leo said. “My house at Oxford and all. Going to be a viscount someday.”

“You went to Oxford as well?” Kate inquired.

“A double first in philosophy and history,” Henry put in. “Never marry anyone with fewer brains than yourself, darling. It always ends badly.”

“If my wife had gone to Oxford, they would have had to create a triple first,” Leo said.

“What did you say?” Henry asked.

“In seduction,” he whispered.

Kate giggled, and Lord Hathaway turned around and looked back at them. It might have been her imagination, but he looked as if he were longing to know the joke.

“Kate can’t marry Toloose,” Henry said. “For goodness’ sake, Leo. The man’s got a wandering eye. I can assure you of that.”

“All eyes wander in my wife’s direction,” Leo sang tunefully.

Henry reached past Kate and poked him. “But they don’t wander into your wife’s bed, so be happy with that. Now, my idea is that Kate should marry . . .” She nodded at Lord Hathaway’s back.

“Really?” Leo said, a trifle doubtfully.

“Why not?”

“I was listening to the dinner conversation,” Leo said, “and it seemed to me that Miss Kate has a great deal of wit, as my grandmother would say. She reminds me of you, m’dear.”

“Well, I did hold her during her baptism,” Henry said. “Maybe I rubbed off on her.”

“And you would not be happy in such a marriage,” Leo continued. “The man in question is a brave and gentle soul, no doubt. But in a matter of ten years he will be falling asleep in a chair by the fire, after spending supper deploring the make of his boots.”

“Unkind,” Henry said. “Very unkind.” But she was laughing.

“I should enjoy that,” Kate said firmly. “I have very few ambitions, and if I knew my husband was asleep in a chair opposite me, I would cheerfully doze off myself. What I do not want is a husband who is out offering sugarplums to other women while I am at home alone.”

“Sugarplums,” Henry said. “One could almost think that you meant something metaphorical, dearest Kate.”