Page 47 of A Misguided Devotion

“If it is true, it’s not surprising you’ve only just learned of it. After all, it is not the sort of thing you would boast about, is it? Most of our class believe such people should be locked away, supposedly for their own good.”

“Not you?”

“No. Father says we should give dignity to every human being, regardless of the health of their mind or body. That if it is necessary for a person to be cared for in an institution, we, as Christians, should ensure they are looked after there in as humane a way as possible.”

“I think I would like him. He sounds a very enlightened man.”

Father would probably like Kitty as well. He would appreciate her no-nonsense manner. William certainly did. Even when she was cross with him, he always knew where he stood with her. Unlike Miss Barrington.

“Much as I am enjoying our conversation, Mr Mer—”

“William.”

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I think we should return to our bedchambers. My eyelids are fit to drop, and you must be getting cold in your…um…present attire.”

He stifled a laugh at the embarrassment in her voice and wondered if she was blushing. He had almost forgotten he was clothed in nothing more than his nightshirt and banyan.

“How thoughtless of me.” He handed the candle back to her. “Goodnight, Kitty.”

“Goodnight, Mr Me— William.”

He watched as she retreated to her bedchamber and then returned to his own room.

Later, as he lay on his bed, trying to get to sleep again, he wondered about what Kitty hadn’t told him. It seemed likely she had suspected Mr Jenkin of being the man smoking in the garden and feared Miss Barrington was meeting him in secret.

What she had not spelled out, but William guessed, was that tonight, she had acted on her suspicions and gone to confront her rather than let her friend risk her reputation. Kitty had been willing to incur Miss Barrington’s displeasure for the sake of what was right, whether or not her actions were appreciated.

It was rare to find someone who loved you enough not to water down the truth.

And he had a whole family of someones. He probably didn’t appreciate them as much as he should.

Chapter 14

The next morning, Kitty awoke refreshed, despite her lack of sleep. Something had shifted in her last night. In the darkness. When she had been talking to Mr Merry—William. Something she knew it would be risky to explore.

Instead, she concentrated on proving him wrong about Hugh. Though touched by William’s concern, it was ridiculous to imagine there could be anything romantic between her and Mr Barrington. With his standing in the community, he could choose a much wealthier and better-connected woman than her to marry. If he wanted a wife at all.

William had a vivid imagination. It was a fatherly arm Hugh had placed around her shoulders—that was all. It meant nothing.

Of course, if it had been William who had put an arm around her in the same manner, it would have signified something quite different. But it was dangerous to dream about what would never happen.

A servant summoned her to Laura’s room whilst she was finishing her breakfast. Kitty gulped down the last mouthful of tea. Was her friend going to plead sick? How very tiresome of her. She would have to resist any entreaty to take her place again. It was far too risky for her heart.

As expected, she found Laura in bed, with the covers brought right up to her chin. She walked to her bedside and examined her face. There were definite signs that she had not slept well. Her eyes were bloodshot, and there was a greyness underneath them that Kitty associated with lack of sleep.

Was she ill? Or had she spent half the night out of her bed? Despite Hugh corroborating Laura’s story about Cousin Silas, had Kitty been right all along? Did he have some reason for wanting to hide his daughter’s indiscretions, even from her?

“Take off your gloves,” Laura said.

What a peculiar request. Nonetheless, Kitty did as she was bid.

“What comely fingers you have. You must take my place and sit for Mr Merry today.”

Though she knew William was yet to paint her friend’s hands, Kitty was puzzled by the demand. “Why? Are you unwell?”

Laura glanced at her maid. “My head is throbbing this morning. Please prepare my chamomile tea, Sutton.”

As soon as they were alone, she withdrew her hands from under the covers and held them out, palms down. Kitty’s eyes widened as she absorbed the state of her friend’s fingernails, which had been bitten right down to the quick.