Page 21 of A Lady's Guide to Scandal

This appeal to Cecily’s intellectual self was felt to be less morally repugnant than previous arguments, and Cecily unbent enough to smile at the thought.

‘Besides,’ Kitty said, ‘all men of his sort are destined for loveless marriages of convenience, anyway. And if some woman is going to enjoy his fortune, why shouldn’t it be us?’

Kitty’s grin was all triumph. She could not suppose anyone in the world had ever felt as relieved as she did now. She had done it. Mr de Lacy – Archie – had proposed to her. No one could take that away from her – not even Lord Radcliffe.

12

Over the next two days it was clear. Radcliffe had, indeed, capitulated. Mr de Lacy and Lady Amelia had resumed joining the Talbot sisters for their daily walks without the expected chaperonage of their elder brother – although with enough attendants that any intimacies beyond the exchange of coy glances and secretive smiles were impossible. There had been no retaliation, no attempts to force Archie and Kitty apart again, no word from Radcliffe at all, in fact. Kitty had won – well, almost. Archie had yet to formally speak to either his brother or mother regarding their betrothal – both having reportedly left London for the weekend – but he had vowed, passionately and at length, to secure both their approvals when they returned.

Kitty was in the midst of writing a second letter to Beatrice that Sunday – to reassure them that all was in hand, and that she had received a proposal – when Sally entered and informed her that Lord Radcliffe was waiting below.

‘Are you quite sure?’ Kitty asked, wrong-footed, but Sally merely demanded whether he was to be shown in or not. Kitty stammered out her assent and then, chastising herself for her nerves, stood and ran a hand through curls that were in a little less than their usual order.

Radcliffe looked rather out of place in their parlour, which suddenly appeared narrower, the ceiling lower, in the face of his presence. From the way his eyes lingered on the furniture – so expensive to Kitty’s eyes when she had first arrived, and yet so dingy compared to that of Grosvenor Square – he knew it too.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Talbot. Please do excuse my incivility in appearing without an invitation.’

Miss Talbot was gracious enough to grant the excuse.

‘How may I help you, my lord?’ she asked, with equal politeness, gesturing for him to be seated. ‘Are your family quite well?’

‘Yes, very well. A state in which I plan to keep them.’ At this he looked at her very directly in the eye and let a silence fall. They both maintained this, each waiting for the other to break it – and Kitty was grimly satisfied when it was he, not she, that spoke first.

‘Miss Talbot, I’m afraid I must now draw your acquaintance with my family to a close. Forgive me for speaking plainly, but I will not allow you to bamboozle Archie into marrying you, for no greater reason than your avarice.’

There was something about the way he spoke, with such soft contempt, that was more powerful than had he shouted at her. Kitty felt her neck grow hot. She wondered if she should protest that he had her all wrong, that she loved Archie, but something about his cool gaze told her that this would be quite useless. Instead, she let the curtain fall, observing him as calmly as he was observing her. Two gazes of assessing calculation meeting honestly at last.

‘I see. And may I ask, my lord, if the only reason you protest to such a marriage is that you think me a fortune-hunter?’

He made an eloquent gesture with his hands. ‘Forgive me, do I need more of a reason than that?’

‘Yes, I rather think you might – I am not sure why my practicality is so abhorrent to you.’

‘Practicality?’ he repeated. ‘You would call it that, rather than calculation – greed – manipulation? I’m afraid it is these far less honourable words that I would use to describe you, Miss Talbot.’

‘Only the rich have the luxury of honour,’ she said coldly. ‘And only men have the privilege of seeking their fortune on their own. I have four sisters who depend on me, and the professions open to women such as I – governess, seamstress perhaps – will not keep even half of them fed and clothed. What else am I to do but seek a rich husband?’

‘You are heartless,’ he accused.

‘And you are naÏve,’ she returned, her colour high. ‘If Archie is not to marry me, he will marry whichever well-connected young woman who is thrown in his way – all of them caring as much for his purse as his heart. Can you deny that?’

‘But at least that would be his choice,’ he snapped back. ‘Rather than marrying a lie.’

‘What lie? I have not pretended to be anyone I am not. He knows I am not wealthy; he knows my family situation. I have been honest.’

‘Honest?’ he drawled, contempt in his voice.

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘So then, am I to believe he knows the whole truth about your family?’ he asked pointedly.

‘I am not sure what you mean, my lord,’ she said slowly, though she was quite frozen in her seat.

‘I think you do,’ he said. ‘You see, I know the reason your parents left London for Dorsetshire so very suddenly.’

Kitty clamped her jaw shut, lest she give anything away. He could be bluffing – he must be bluffing.

‘If you are to blackmail me, my lord, then I must ask you to actually say the words,’ she bit out.