The Viscount Needs a Wife by Jo Beverley Page B

she’d experienced so very few of them.
    She rewrapped the model and all the other bits and pieces. Whatever happened tomorrow, there was no point in putting them on display here.
    She brought in the first load of freshened clothing and hung out some more. She had bright and becoming clothing again. None were up to the mark, but they raised her spirits, until she remembered that she’d not get to wear them as a governess or companion.
    She’d start to wear them now, then. With the sun set and the candles lit, she changed into one of her favorites, a cherry red kerseymere gown with long sleeves and a high neck. It was quite plain except for a tapestry belt that had gold inset beads, but it hung beautifully. Marcus had said that with her hair, it made her look like a pagan warrior queen. That was how she wanted to feel.
    Sukey was fastening the back when someone knocked at the front door. It could be a parishioner with a question or even an urgent summons, but it was just possible it was Lord Dauntry. Kitty sent Sukey away, checked herself in the mirror, and hurried to the top of the stairs to listen.
    It was Dauntry!
    Come to confirm their arrangement or cancel it in order to marry Isabella and her money?
    Which did she want?
    Ruth was saying, “Kitty received Lady Cateril’s blessing, so all’s well!”
    â€œIf you have the license,” Andrew said, emerging from his study.
    Kitty waited, breath held, and then Dauntry passed over a piece of paper. Relief made her clutch the stair rail for support. He intended to go through with the marriage, and he seemed sane enough. And she had no other reasonable option.
    Andrew read it. “I was unaware of your given names.”
    â€œI assume it’s essential that they be read in full at the service.”
    â€œAfraid so.”
    â€œWhat are they?” Ruth asked, trying to look. Andrew folded it.
    Kitty realized she had to move. She descended the stairs. “Am I allowed to know?”
    He looked up at her—and stared. Kitty couldn’t help but smile. She’d not planned the effect, but it would seem he saw her much as Marcus had, and it would do no harm for him to know he was marrying a warrior. But did she see dismay at the prospect? Something had disturbed the cool sleekness.
    As she reached the bottom of the stairs, he seemed to pull himself together. “I gather all is well?”
    â€œYes.”
    Ruth said, “Into the parlor!”
    Her brightness was a little forced, so Kitty wasn’t imagining the strain. Clearly Dauntry had come here intending to go through with the marriage, but he was troubled by something. Had he come to confess that he’d foolishly engaged himself to Isabella as well?
    â€œWe’ll drink a glass of wine to your happiness,” Ruth said, “and hear the latest London news.”
    They were soon all settled with a glass of blackberry wine, but Sillikin had taken up a staring stance.
    â€œTo the happy couple and a happy future!” Andrew said, raising his glass.
    Dauntry drank. So did Kitty, but she had to ask, “Is something amiss, sir?”
    He grimaced slightly. “Word has reached the Abbey that we’re to wed, and the dowager is already on the attack. She can do you no harm, but she’ll stir storms if she can.”
    Such as a false betrothal to Isabella? Or was he preparing a denial of a true one? “I can weather storms,” she said.
    â€œSo I gather.”
    She stared at that. “So you gather?”
    â€œIn London I encountered some people who knew you there.” Heaven help her, what had he learned to create this guarded expression? “They praised your care for your husband when his injuries distressed him.”
    â€œAh. That’s kind of them, but it’s not hard to be patient when one loves.”
So why do you disapprove?
    Ruth broke in again. “Town news! How are poor Prince Leopold and the Regent?”
    â€œBoth