“He might well be, but I see nothing appealing, and I doubt he’d even consider the possibility of an alliance with the lowly Ridlington family. He need look no further than the Cumberlands, the Clarences or the Spencers.” Kitty shrugged as they walked downstairs.
“Yes. And as you say, other than money, he doesn’t seem to have much to offer,” agreed her aunt.
Only those penetrating eyes, broad shoulders, a chin that looks stubborn, and a mouth that makes me think of things I shouldn’t…
~~~~*
The evening was shaping up to be one of unalloyed boredom for one or two of the guests, Mr. Max Seton-Mowbray among them. The star pianist, a Se?or Marcovicci Bonatello, was…uninspired. Max decided that was the word that best described his performance.
Technically brilliant, every note perfect, but lacking anything lifting it beyond the ordinary. His sister’s abilities with this particular movement from one of Beethoven’s early sonatas left Se?or Bonatello’s far behind. He sighed silently as his mind drifted to Grace.
She possessed a rare gift for music, seeming to be able to anticipate the next measure and play the current one accordingly. She painted images with notes as far as he was concerned; her performances always conjured up visions of one kind or another.
And yet few had ever heard her play.
It was becoming clear Grace needed to liberate herself from her self-imposed confinement, but damned if Max knew the right words or the right circumstances to provide her with the key.
A slight clearing of the throat to his right attracted his thoughts away from family matters and he turned his head slightly to see Miss Kitty Ridlington suppress a wince as she stretched her spine a little in a movement just short of a fidget.
He sympathized. These chairs were bloody uncomfortable for a lengthy piece of music. He doubted that situation would change even if the great Johann Cramer himself were sitting at the piano playing the same piece.
Finally, his patience was rewarded by the final bars of the sonata, and Max found himself rising and applauding along with the other fifty or so people in the room. Most of whom, like him, were probably welcoming the chance to stand and stretch, rather than expressing enthusiasm for the performance.
The murmur of conversation grew as the audience began the tedious process of filing out of the ballroom and into the reception hall where food and beverages would be served. With his customary adroitness, Max easily found himself beside his prey.
“Good evening, Miss Ridlington.” He glanced around. “And Miss Hecate? I believe I saw her earlier…”
Kitty dropped a slight curtsey. “Good evening, Mr. Seton-Mowbray. Yes, my sister is speaking with friends, I believe.” She looked off to her right. “Just over there.”
“Ah yes.” He noted the group was absent one Dancey Miller-James, and heaved a sigh of relief. “In that case, I declare my intention of seizing this opportunity to offer my arm as support and guidance through the starving throng.” He raised his bent arm, holding it out to her, his expression daring her to accept.
“How eloquent, Mr. Seton-Mowbray. And yet a simple may I escort you would have worked just as well.” She shot him a somewhat scornful glance. “I’m hungry too.”
“Good.” He merely grinned as she placed her gloved hand on his sleeve and allowed him to steer them to a couple of empty chairs. “Wait here, don’t let anyone take that seat, and I’ll fetch us a couple of plates.”
“Don’t forget the lobster patties,” she said as he turned to leave. “I adore them. Miss those and I will never speak to you again.”
“A terrible threat.” He chuckled. “Lobster patties it is.”
Adroitly balancing two plates, he returned minutes later, pleased to observe that Miss Ridlington had indeed managed to defend their seats from other guests.
“Your refreshments, Ma’am.” He bowed, gave her a plate and then took his own seat. “You will note the preponderance of lobster patties.”
She was surveying the mountain of little pastries with approval. “You certainly took me at my word, sir.”
He munched appreciatively for a moment. “The thought of being cut from your list of acquaintances struck terror into my soul. By the way,” he munched again. “You’re right about them. They are quite delicious.”
Both ate appreciatively, the silence between them oddly comfortable as they watched the ebb and flow of people in the room.
Then Kitty swallowed, and spoke. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” He turned his head and looked at her.
“Being quite unlike yourself.”
He blinked. “In what way?”
She barely restrained a snort. “Mr. Seton-Mowbray. We have crossed paths now more times than I can recall, at a variety of events, over what has to be close to a year or so. In all that time, in all those encounters, you have never revealed any desire to be charming or attentive. In fact, you have mostly appeared to be uninterested, often intimidating, and seldom conversational.” She considered the contents of her plate and carefully selected another treat. “And yet this evening, here you are, waiting on me, fetching me lobster patties, and generally acting in a most unexpected way.” She popped the confection into her mouth and murmured in delight for a moment. “I should add that I am not complaining.” She licked her lips. “But it is quite out of the ordinary.”
Max had a difficult time pushing aside the results of watching her tongue leave a sheen on those full lips. “Really.”
“Yes. Really.” She set her plate aside with a sigh. “So I shall repeat myself. Why are you doing this?”
“Because it gives me pleasure?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m sure there are many things that give you pleasure. But you had ample chance to explore this particular behavior before now, and you didn’t. So no, I won’t accept that reason.”
He shrugged. “You have found me out, Miss Ridlington.” He too set his plate on the small table behind them. “I have something of import to discuss with you.”
“Better,” she nodded.
He narrowed his eyes. “That is the truth, you know. It is important. And I’m not sure how to begin the conversation.”
“Well, when you decide, do let me know?” She sighed. “I can’t say I’m averse to missing the second part of the evening’s entertainment. Se?or Bonatello must be having an off night.”
Max wanted to seize her, turn her over his knee and spank the daylights out of her. In fact, his fingers itched to do just that. But his control asserted itself and he merely shifted a little in his chair. “Impertinent, but apt, I suppose,” he drawled. “However, I realize this is neither the time nor the place for the conversation we need to have.”
“Then what do you suggest?” She gazed at him, her expression of mild interest getting even further under his skin.
“Drive with me tomorrow morning.”
“Oh my.” Her gaze grew assessing and she raised an eyebrow. “How easily misconstrued that would be.”
“Do you care?” He watched the interest replace the indifference in her eyes.
“As a matter of fact, no. I can’t say I care.” A quick smile lit up her face. “It’s time I did something quite awful, isn’t it?”