A Sensible Lady: A Traditional Regency Romance by Judith Lown Page B

defenses and cautiously took a seat beside Dorothea Brampton.
    “You will find this an excellent place from which to fully enjoy my dear Leticia’s performance.”
    Dorothea Brampton nodded to where her daughter was holding forth at the pianoforte, singing and accompanying herself. Leticia had enlisted Gus Wharton as a page turner. Harry knew a flattering remark about Leticia’s talent was required of him at this point. He searched frantically for something to say. Leticia’s voice sounded a bit shrill to him, but he had to admit he knew nothing about music other than singing with friends at a public house after a few rounds. He wished he had asked Jenkins to bring the brandy decanter to the drawing room, but the butler was bringing in the tea tray.
    “She is able to reach all the high notes,” was the best Harry could manage.
    But it was sufficient. Dorothea smiled wistfully.
    “I am most blessed. Three handsome, accomplished children. My other daughter, Rosaline, is married to the son of a viscount, you know. And Sir Clive. What more could a fond mama wish in a son?”
    Harry looked across the room to where Clive Brampton was engaged in conversation with Katherine. Was he imagining a hunted look on Katherine’s face? She glanced toward Gus Wharton, apparently in silent appeal for rescue, but Gus was fully occupied, grimly counting time under his breath for Leticia, who took the polite applause at the conclusion of each song as a request to continue her concert.
    “I think we might expect a happy announcement from that quarter before the year is out. Katherine and Sir Clive were engaged to be married at one time, you know. I never did understand why it was broken off. Bride’s nerves, I suspect.”
    If Katherine had suffered bride’s nerves in the past, it did not appear that she had fully recovered, from what Harry could see.
    “But she will insist on waiting until she is out of mourning, one assumes.”
    Dorothea sighed and shook her head.
    “If she had any understanding of how things are done, she would have shed her blacks months ago. Three months is quite long enough to wear black for a brother. Of course, she will have to choose her new wardrobe with care. Few colors flatter ginger hair, and many colors look dreadful with it. Not that she has ever shown much fashion sense. I trust Sir Clive will insist that she consult a London modiste . They can do wonders—even with ladies of problematic coloring.”
    Harry was incapable of speech. All he could think was how irrelevant anything was that Katherine Brampton chose to wear. She would be striking in anything—or nothing. But he had the presence of mind not to frame the thought in words.
    Dorothea Brampton apparently took Harry’s mute stare as rapt attention and continued her soliloquy.
    “And speaking of London, Lord Dracott.” Dorothea smiled and studied Harry’s cravat. “One understands that pressing obligations have prevented you from attending to the niceties of updating your wardrobe, but one looks forward to seeing the results when you put yourself in the skilled hands of a London tailor. It would be criminal to waste your manly attributes.”
    She punctuated her pronouncement by a soft tap on Harry’s hand with her fan. Harry resisted an urge to snatch the fan and break it in two. He scanned the drawing room, searching for deliverance.
    “Such a delightful room, Lord Dracott. Decorated in exquisite taste, to be sure. But, no doubt, having seen the drawing rooms of London, you will wish to make it a little more up-to-date. Of course, such projects are best undertaken by a lady, do you not think?”
    Harry thought that if he heard one more sentence out of Dorothea Brampton’s mouth, he might wrap her ruby and diamond necklace tightly, very tightly, around her throat. He looked about the room once more in desperation and noticed Mrs. Sythe -Burton pouring out tea.
    “I believe I would like a cup of tea, Mrs. Brampton. May I fetch you