She nodded. “You’re right, of course.”
“Ah, here’s the tea.” Max rose at a knock, and as the door opened, he took a tray from Derry. “Thank you. Just what we need.”
“Is there anything else we can do, sir?” Derry looked concerned. “We are all praying for the young lady, of course. Should we ready a room, do you think?”
“No,” Kitty stood. “If we could send a message to Aunt Venetia and ask her to come here, I think that would be the best idea.” She rubbed her forehead for a moment. “Let me think…”
Max glanced at Deery. “Arrange for the message, Deery. Miss Ridlington will write a note after she’s had a cup of tea.”
“Very good, sir.” Deery bowed himself out.
Kitty poured tea, adding milk without consciously realizing it. She drank, and the hot liquid served to wake her from a confused and fogbound state that nearly rivaled her sister’s. “Oh that’s better.” She took a breath. “Thank you, Max. This is all quite far from what you imagined might happen when you won yourself a mistress, isn’t it?”
A mobile eyebrow flew up. “My dear Kitty, if you think either of those topics is connected in any way in my mind, you will get a far more impressive spanking than the one you received last night. You won’t be able to sit down for a week.”
She blinked. “I apologize. That was not meant to be insulting.”
“Good. But understand this. Not one iota of this morning’s events would have been different had you not been here.”
She lowered her gaze, realizing what she had implied. “I think I already knew that, Max. But I would appreciate your forgiveness for my poorly expressed thanks on behalf of my family and Hecate. Those, I might add, would also be as grateful and sincere were I not a guest here at Mowbray House.”
Max neared her, took her tea and put it on the table. Then he held out his arms—and she walked straight into them with a sob.
Embarrassed, but too overwrought to do anything else, Kitty allowed herself the liberty of several minutes of weeping over Max’s waistcoat. After which she accepted the proffered handkerchief, wiped her eyes, blew her nose and retrieved her tea. “Thank you.” She sipped. “All better now.”
He smiled. “You sound like a child with a skinned knee who’s been given a biscuit to make it better.”
“Sometimes a hug works just as well. Not to mention a handkerchief.”
He nodded. “Right then. Now that we’re thinking clearly, perhaps we should plan a little further than your Aunt Venetia. I will ready my travelling carriage. It hasn’t been used for a while, so it’ll be a couple of hours…I’m going to presume Hecate would be best served if at home in Ridlington?”
“I think so,” said Kitty, thinking it over. “It’s a long journey, of course, but if she remains in this healing sleep, perhaps it’s best undertaken now, where she’ll avoid experiencing the pain of having that leg jostled.” Another thought crept into her mind. “Where’s Dal?”
“Having breakfast with Mrs. Timmins. They seem to have taken quite a shine to each other. Last conversation I caught was Dal talking to her about the fruits of India.”
“Goodness,” chuckled Kitty. “I would love to have eavesdropped on that one.”
Max raised a hand and stroked her cheek. “There’s that smile. Keep wearing it today if you can, Kitty. Let us take it an hour at a time…” He drew close, his eyes on her lips.
Deery knocked at that moment, seconds before Kitty would have leapt at Max and kissed him quite thoroughly. She didn’t know whether to be pleased or angry, but it was a relief to hear the butler confirm that a boy was ready to take a message to Lady Allington.
As they spoke, both Deery and Max glanced into the hall at the sound of a very loud knocking on the front door.
“Oh no, what now?” Kitty despaired. “It’s barely noon…”
“Finish your tea, we’ll take care of it.” Max smiled at her and followed Deery from the room.
~~~~*
Max himself opened the door, having sent Deery off to see about the travelling carriage.
A tall, imposing man stood there, with two more men flanking him. The sun was behind them and thus all three were pretty much dark silhouettes for the first few moments.
“Max Seton-Mowbray?”
“Yes?”
A fist came flying out of nowhere and smashed solidly into Max’s chin, knocking him off balance and making him stagger. The second man, blond and slightly more slender, followed up the first punch with one of his own, a fierce right hook to the chest, robbing Max of his breath. He crumpled to the floor, and caught a glimpse of the third man.
“Jesus Christ, James. What the fuck is this?” Max wiped a little blood from his lip and checked his teeth, judging that staying on the floor was a wise idea. He looked up. Good God. One of them, the blond one, was damn vicar.
“I’d kick you, but I’m rather fond of these boots and don’t want to dirty ‘em.” James FitzArden looked at him with a measure of distaste.
“What the devil…” Kitty burst from the parlor. “Max? Max are you hurt?” She ran to him, and leaned down.
“I’m not sure. I think this band of renegades may be dangerous, Kitty. Stay behind me. Summon Deery.” He cradled his jaw. “God, summon the 10th Hussars.”
She sighed, taking in the sight of three very familiar faces. “Max, this is my brother Edmund, my brother Simon and I think you know my brother-in-law, James FitzArden.” She helped him stand. “My family.”
Edmund’s eyes were fire beneath fierce brows that could probably sear kindling from ten feet. “I’m not pleased to meet you, you cad. We heard of last night’s antics. My sister’s ruination lies here at your door, so we’re going to take her away, while we see if we can undo the damage you’ve done.”
Max curled his lip, trying not to wince as the move actually hurt quite a bit. “I assume you’re anticipating a nunnery for her, Baron…” He flashed a glare at Simon. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Vicar. Striking a man like that in his own front hall.” He rubbed his chest. “Admittedly a powerful punch, for one of your calling, but I suppose the Lord admires brute strength as well as compassion.”
“I’m not the one who should be ashamed, Seton-Mowbray, and you’ll find little compassion from us.” The eyebrows weren’t as impressive, but the eyes were cold nonetheless. “The shame is all on your shoulders for what you’ve done to an innocent young girl.”
“Oh for God’s sake.” Kitty strode forward and put her hands on her hips. “That’s quite enough from all of you.” She let her scornful gaze encompass all three of them. “Whatever you heard—it was my doing, do you understand? I’m not a young girl, I make my own choices, and they’re none of your business. And right now, with Hecate lying at death’s door in the salon, still alive only by the grace of God and Max Seton-Mowbray, you all need to stop acting like prize arses.”
Edmund froze. “Hecate? What’s the matter with Hecate?”