It was only as she led him up the grand staircase a short while later to the room that had been prepared for him, Kit on his other side, that she remembered something. Amazingly, alarmingly, it had totally fled her mind for all of ten minutes.
It was not a real betrothal.
Chapter 13
For the rest of that day and all of the next Lauren felt that she would have been entirely happy if she had not kept remembering that she was living a lie. She pushed the thought aside as much as she could. She had committed herself to doing just what she was doing, and it was too late now to withdraw. There would be time enough to deal with her guilt over the deception when she had put an end to it.
She set herself the task of acquainting herself with Kit’s relatives. It was not difficult to do. They were a close and basically cheerful family and were quite prepared to take Kit’s betrothed into the fold and to be kind to her family too. Aunt Clara was appropriated by Lady Clifford and Mrs. Butler, Kit’s aunts, and by Mrs. Vreemont. Viscount Hampton, who had a previous acquaintance with Baron Galton, was pleased to renew it. Gwen became an instant favorite with Baron Born’s numerous offspring, especially with Frederick and Roger, who were soon vying with each other over her smiles and attention.
Lauren was everyone’s favorite, simply because, she thought, Kit was everyone’s favorite too. The quarrel with his family three years ago had certainly not tainted his relationship with his numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins. It felt seductively pleasant to be the focus of attention much of the time. Lady Irene Butler liked to pat her hand and tell her what a pretty child she was. The aunts and older cousins liked to talk to her about London and the latest fashions. The uncles liked to tease her about anything they thought might draw her blushes. The younger female cousins wanted to know who her modiste was, who chose the lovely fabrics and the elegant designs and the perfectly coordinated colors of her clothes. And how her maid styled her hair so perfectly just so. They wanted to know what she was planning for her bride clothes. The younger male cousins paid her compliments, some of them very extravagant and foolish indeed. They called Kit a lucky dog and he agreed with them wholeheartedly, his eyes twinkling at her. The young mothers took her to the nursery to meet their children, assuming that she liked infants. She was rather afraid of them, in fact, having had little to do with children during her adult life. But she learned all their names and was touched when they wanted to ask questions and show her their treasures and be picked up and played with.
She was careful to give much of her attention to Kit’s immediate family since it was his full reconciliation with them to which she had pledged herself. The Earl of Redfield was inclined to look favorably upon her, she believed. And he and Kit were no longer avoiding each other even if they were still treating each other with a somewhat stiff cordiality. The countess was pleased to accept the help she offered. Apart from all the plans for the birthday itself, there were meals and activities and floral arrangements to think of each day with such a large number of guests. Although she was perfectly capable of handling everything alone, she seemed grateful to listen to a second opinion on some details and even a few new suggestions. The countess seemed well inclined to treat her elder son with affection.
Lauren had grown truly fond of the dowager countess. It was never any trouble to walk with her or to sit and listen to her. The old lady’s left hand was stiff and curled inward as a result of the apoplexy she had suffered. But it was not quite paralyzed. Lauren took it in both of hers the evening after everyone’s arrival and massaged it gently, opening the fingers back with her own. It felt good, Kit’s grandmother said, and they smiled at each other. It was for her sake that Lauren felt most guilty, for she believed that her affection was fully returned.
It was only with Sydnam Butler that she had so far failed to set up any rapport—or any communication with his brother.
She did not see a great deal of Kit. Or rather, she did since it rained for the rest of that first day and most of the second and everyone was forced to remain indoors, but she did not spend much time in his company and none at all alone with him. Her swimming lesson had to be canceled on account of the weather, though why it should be when they were going to get wet anyway he did not know, he had added over her protests. She missed the morning outing, though, the sheer fun of floating and splashing in the water. She wondered how she was going to do without such activities when the time came, but she determinedly pushed such thoughts aside.
They played charades in the drawing room during the second evening, a game in which most of them participated and which gave rise to a great deal of noisy animation and laughter. The younger people were not willing to see the game end, with the result that they were all rather late going to bed. Lauren sat with Gwen for an hour after that, as she did most nights, talking. It was after midnight when she returned to her own room, and even after that she did not go immediately to bed, but blew out the candles and stood at the window, brushing her hair, enjoying the sight of the moon and stars again. The rain had stopped late in the afternoon and the clouds had finally moved off.
Was he sleeping? She knew that, like her, he suffered at least sometimes from insomnia. She had seen him more than once outside the house after everyone was in bed. On that one occasion he had walked off down the driveway until he had been lost to sight. He did not seem like the sort of man who would have trouble sleeping. He seemed always to be cheerful and laughing. But she knew too that the outer appearance was in some ways not the real Kit. There were depths to his character that he hid carefully from the view of most of his acquaintances.
What troubled him enough that he could not sleep?
It was as if her thoughts conjured him. He appeared below her on the terrace, wearing breeches and topboots and a riding coat rather than the evening clothes he had been wearing an hour or so ago. He walked across the terrace to the edge of the lawn and stood there, his feet slightly apart, his hands behind his back, gazing out into the darkness. He looked lonely.
Perhaps he wanted to be lonely or at least alone. Perhaps he treasured times like this, when everyone else was supposedly asleep and finally he could enjoy an hour of solitude. Or perhaps insomnia had driven him outside, and perhaps that sleeplessness was caused by a troubled mind. Perhaps he was tired, restless, unhappy. In need of a kindred soul to listen to him or be silent with him—a sympathetic presence.
Or perhaps it was she who needed company.
It would be terribly improper to go down and join him. Even if they were truly betrothed it would be improper before they were wed. But she was growing mortally tired of propriety, of her prim devotion to a way of life that put all the emphasis upon what was correct rather than upon what one’s heart knew ought to be done. Perhaps the heart was a poor and unreliable guide for behavior, but so surely was cold, blind propriety.
She was hurrying into her tiny dressing room even as she was thinking. If he did not want her, he could tell her to go away. She would not stay out long anyway. She would just stand beside him for a while and they would talk. Perhaps then he would be able to sleep. Perhaps then she would.
Descending the stairs and crossing the hall in the dark was no easy matter. And all the time she was afraid that perhaps he had gone out a different way and she would find the doors bolted and impossible to open. But when she turned the great handle of one of them, it opened easily, and she stepped outside onto the marble steps.