“It’s preferable to being a hag.” Imogen smiled like the sweetest girl possible.
Kate took several breaths, willing her shock to subside so she could maintain the fa?ade of polite conversation. Her sister was not behaving rationally. She was a mockery of her true self, seeking only to antagonize her elder sister, at which she was doing a marvelous job. “You have no idea what a slip now will mean for your future. You will be shunned by the society you crave, and your marriage prospects will be severely curtailed.”
“Thank you, mother, but I have no need of prospects. I will marry Colonel Hibbert, and we will live in London, and perhaps on his vast tea plantation near Calcutta.”
“Colonel Hibbert is a cad of the worst caliber. He has no tea plantation near Calcutta or anywhere else. He has an interest in you only because you are an Anstruther.”
“How can you be so cruel? Is it because you are alone and no one will ever love you the way Colonel Hibbert loves me?” Imogen turned aside, clapping her hands in delight as Colonel Hibbert returned, bearing a crystal cup of red punch. She fawned at her escort with an extravagant gesture, revealing several large gold rings, one with a huge ruby that their father had brought from India. Imogen liked to pretend that the stone had been pried from the forehead of a pagan idol. And it certainly could have been true, given their father. “Oh, thank you, Boylan. That is so kind of you. I’m parched.”
Kate added with alarm, “Yes, thank God you arrived when you did. I feared she might collapse from thirst.”
Imogen slurped the punch and giggled. “Oh, it tickles my nose!”
Hibbert laughed uproariously, but his eyes lingered on Kate. She was considering various ways to gouge them out when he said, “Tell me, Miss Anstruther, do you share your father’s well-known interest in the mysterious and occult knowledge of the world?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Are you familiar with tantric practice?” Hibbert laid fingers on Imogen’s bare shoulder.
Kate felt her face go scarlet and her eyes harden into ice. She knew to what he referred. To Westerners, tantric magic implied uninhibited sexual intercourse under the guise of spiritual exploration. She was unsurprised that this was the extent of Colonel Hibbert’s appreciation of the dark arts.
Kate leaned into Hibbert with a social smile pasted on her face, her gaze sweeping the room as she spoke. “Sir, if I were a man, I would demand satisfaction for your crude behavior. As it is, this will be the last time I see you. I forbid you from again blighting my family with evidence of your existence.”
“You can’t control me, Kate,” Imogen said, a bit loudly. “Boylan, I have a ghastly headache.”
Hibbert looked confused. “You wish to leave?”
“Finally,” Kate said. “Let’s go, Imogen.”
“I prefer to be alone,” Imogen said with melodramatic exasperation. “I will take the carriage. You can find your way back, can’t you? Good. Thank you so much for ruining my evening.” She fled to the door.
Hibbert watched his companion disappear, then growled at Kate, “If you think you can keep us apart, you are mistaken. She is of age.”
Kate rounded on the man. “I don’t care if she is Madame Methuselah herself. If you trouble my sister again, I will bury you in a hole so deep, you will never be found. Am I clear, Colonel?”
Hibbert sneered and pushed past Kate with the effrontery to actually jostle her. It was all Kate could do not to seize the man’s arm and wrench it behind his back. He was wiry enough that she had no doubt she could do him considerable damage before any of the shocked gentlemen could pull her off. Still, she restrained herself. She nodded openly to several gawkers, forcing them to turn back into their gossipy clutches with furtive glances back at the famed harpy. Another successful evening out for Kate Anstruther.
Kate saw Colonel Hibbert across the room pausing in discussion with Lord Oakham. As mildly as she was impressed that he had any associates in high places, her opinion of Lord Oakham suddenly plummeted. Still she was curious. After they had parted, she decided to have a chat with Lord Oakham alone. She needed information about Hibbert if she was to put an end to his depredations.
Chapter Five
Lord Oakham weaved through the throngs, dressed impeccably with a high cravat and long waistcoat. Simon set down his champagne without taking his eyes off the man, an image of Beatrice’s torn body filling his vision. His mouth drew into a thin, hard line.