Cecilia Grant - [Blackshear Family 03] by A Woman Entangled Page B

to be frittering away even a moment of her first call in Harringdon House by thinking distracted thoughts of Mr. Blackshear. Here was her aunt, eyeing her in a way that very much suggested she was imagining the impression Kate would make in a ton ballroom. Perhaps reflecting, as well, on how delightful it would be to screen out suitors for a lady who might attract them like bees to a blossom, once she was granted the proper patronage.
    “Well, Miss Smith, and Mrs. Smith.” That quickly, Lady Harringdon’s attention had gone elsewhere. “I think the best thing for Sir George would be a rival or two. Do you know whether he’ll be at Lady Astley’s rout on Tuesday?”
    Lady Astley! Kate’s pulse thrummed at the mention, and a veritable crater of yearning opened up in the middle of her chest. That this name, of all names, should be brought up here, so soon after its appearance in Westbrook dinner table conversation, seemed so fortuitous as to possibly indicate the machinations of fate. Surely she was meant to go to this rout. Indeed perhaps that had been the plan taking shape in Lady Harringdon’s mind, while she scrutinized her, and that explained her suddenly addressing the Smith ladies on this subject.
    A bit was said about Sir George, whose attendance appeared to be in doubt, and a bit about Lady Astley’s excellent table, and her obliging habit of inviting only as many people as would fit comfortably in the Cranbourne House ballroom and the adjacent room where cards were played. But before anything could be said ofincluding Miss Westbrook in the party, a clock chimed, and Mrs. and Miss Smith rose to take their leave.
    The dowager countess made to rise, too, slowly and with visible effort. Kate was on her feet and one step toward her grandmother before she caught herself. That wouldn’t be done, in this house. It wouldn’t be a young lady caller’s place to help the dowager stand.
    And indeed there were men coming in now for the purpose, and Lady Harringdon was touching the dowager’s wrist. “Stay just a moment, your ladyship.” The countess spoke kindly, gesturing toward the door. “Do you see, here is Lord Harringdon come to help you from your chair and to your room.”
    “Lord Harringdon. Very good.” The dowager settled back down into her chair. She appeared a little unsure of who Lord Harringdon was. Even when he came to her chair, he at one side and a footman at the other, nothing passed on the old woman’s face that would suggest she was looking at her son. So maybe Papa wasn’t the only one who had lost the acquaintance of his mother.
    Kate stood and waited, since the Smith ladies were doing so, for the dowager to precede them from the room. Once, the earl’s glance connected with hers and he nodded. She dipped her chin and averted her eyes, suddenly shy of watching him support this unsteady parent who must have carried him about in her arms when he was small.
    “Miss Westbrook, you will stay a bit longer, if you please.” Lady Harringdon’s quiet command recalled her to herself, and to her mission here. “You may be seated.”
    She sat. She and the countess would speak privately now. She must shake off the cobwebs of sentiment and have all her wits at the ready.
    Mrs. and Miss Smith said their good-byes and made their exit through the double doors, Lady Harringdon nodding after them as they went. “Lovely girl,” she saidonce they’d passed out of hearing. “A temperament beyond anything. It’s a pity she isn’t better looking.”
    For half an instant Kate was taken aback. But really, hadn’t she herself made a similar judgment on Miss Smith’s appearance, and lingered over the faults of her chin and forehead? She couldn’t very well be appalled at her aunt for harboring like opinions and voicing them in private.
    She, too, pointed her chin in the direction the Smiths had gone. “She has remarkably fine eyes.” Three years at Miss Lowell’s had made her fluent in this sort of