The Diabolical Baron by Mary Jo Putney Page B

within rather than alongside. It had seemed a reasonable step in his plan to further his acquaintance with Caroline, but now the prospect of traveling in such close quarters with his fu ture aunt appalled him.
    Since his shattered nerves still hadn’t recovered from shock, he was abrupt to a point just short of rudeness to Caroline’s conversational sal lies. Jessica said nothing at all; only Linda showed any pleasure, peering out the window excitedly and point ing out worthy sights and familiar landmarks on the road.
    Less than an hour sufficed to get them out of the city’s confusion and into the green countryside. Caro line had succumbed to the atmosphere of vibrating tension and sat silent, feeling her temples throb. If this is how the next weeks are going to be, she thought miserably, I’ll be ready for Bedlam. Why can’t the wretched man make some effort to be civil?
    For lack of anything better to do, she took refuge in mentally transforming the situation into a concerto for chamber orchestra. Her knowledge of orchestration was imper fect, but she was sure of one thing: the composition would emphasize drums.
    Lost as she was in her work, at first she missed the small, high-pitched cries. The unexpected noise was almost inaudible over the noises of the creaking car riage, horses’ hooves, and jingling harness, but her sensitive musician’s ear caught it.
    She looked sharply at Linda, who sat across from her, next to Jason. The next time the cry came, she noticed Linda quickly made some remark about the passing scene.
    She had a lively suspicion of what might be the problem, but hesitated to mention it in the strained at mosphere. Her indecision was solved by a new cry that could not be overlooked by anyone present.
    Jessica looked sternly at her daughter and said, “What was that sound?”
    “A ... a hiccup, Mama,” Linda said falteringly.
    “I have never yet heard a hiccup that sounded like that. Have you disobeyed me and brought your kit ten?”
    Linda hung her head. “Yes, Mama.” There was no point in lying; the evidence would have overwhelmed her in any case.
    Apparently realizing he had attracted the attention he sought, Wellesley was starting to yowl in earnest. Jason looked on with a nasty glint in his eyes that clearly showed what he thought of women who couldn’t control their children.
    “All right, miss. Where have you hidden him?” Jessica said with resignation.
    Linda reached down and pulled a covered straw basket out from under her trailing shawl. Lifting the basket’s lid, she said, “Here he is, Mama.”
    Lifting the lid proved a serious mistake. Frantic at his confinement, the kitten gave a bloodcurdling cry and exploded out of the basket.
    He cleared his jail in one bound, ricocheted off the blue velvet squabs, and swarmed to the top of the highest available object, shrieking as if a pack of pit dogs were after him.
    Unfortunately, the object he chose to treat as a tree was Lord Radford. The three females stared in horror as the orange ball of fluff came to rest on his lordship’s impeccably tailored shoulder, mewing piteously and leaving a faint trail of colorful fur in its wake.
    Jason’s face was a study in conflicting emotions, none of them pleasant. The appalling moment stretched inter minably, punctuated only by continuing cat cries.
    Just when it seemed the tension would explode of its own accord, the silence was broken by a burst of laughter from Jessica. Shaking with mirth, she gasped, “Oh, Jason, if you could only see!”
    Freed of her paralysis, Caroline found herself join ing her aunt’s unseemly laughter. “Indeed, my lord, it is so very droll. That such an insignificant beast should perform such an act of lèse-majesté !”
    Torn between outrage and the gales of merriment surrounding him, Jason’s sense of humor won out. Chuckling in spite of himself, he reached up and detached the clinging needle-fine claws. Scratching be hind the cat’s ears, he held it up to