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appearing not to listen, let a giggle escape her. Katherine gave both her companions a severe stare. ‘Shh! Madame is returning.’

      Madame returned with a veritable train of attendants bearing fashion plates, pattern books and swatches of fabrics that made Katherine’s mouth water just to look at.

      After almost an hour of flicking, pondering and discussion Katherine said, ‘This one.’ It was a charming gown, very simple, but given distinction by elegant bell sleeves and a graceful neckline. It also had the advantage of appearing relatively cheap compared to some more ornate offerings and simple enough to be made in a rush.

      ‘But, yes, you have excellent taste Miss Cunningham—’

      ‘No.’ Nick tossed a fashion plate on to the table. ‘This one.’

      ‘But Ni … Lord Seaton, surely this could not be produced in time.’ It was breathtaking, a slender, sleeveless column of a gown with a scooped and twisted neckline, given a touch of drama by the way the skirt was cut at the back to form a demi-train. The hemline was heavily beaded, as was the bodice, and Katherine could almost feel how the weight this would give to the fabric would make the gown hang and move.

      ‘It is not suitable for an unmarried lady,’ she said regretfully, letting her finger trail down the line of the drawing.’

      ‘Not in that strong colour with the jet beads, no.’ Madame flipped back a pile of silks and produced one with a flourish. ‘But in this and with crystal beading, what could be more refined and suitable?’

      This was a silk of the softest primrose yellow. Madame urged Katherine to stand in front of the mirror while she draped a length of it over her shoulder. ‘You see? Over a white satin underskirt and with slippers and gloves of kid a few shades darker—enchanting.’

      Katherine turned from the glass with a pang. ‘That fabric, that colour, but in the style I picked out first, if you please. The other is delightful, but I can tell it will cost considerably more and I had not budgeted for this expenditure,’ she said firmly.

      ‘There is no time to lose,’ Madame announced, scribbling in a notebook. ‘If Miss Cunningham and her attendant would be so good as to accompany Hortense to the fitting rooms, measurements may be made.’

      Nick stood up. ‘Madame, will you be so good as to give Miss Cunningham directions to suitable shops for her slippers, gloves and so forth? Miss Cunningham, I will meet you back at the Lamb and Flag at three o’clock, if that will be enough time? And I will order a late luncheon.’

      He smiled inwardly. Kat already had that focused look, which, in his wide experience, women always acquired on a serious shopping expedition. She might be acting most sensibly about her choice of gown, but he did not delude himself that by the time she and Jenny arrived back at the inn they would have subjected Newcastle’s most eligible emporia to a thorough pillaging.

      ‘Yes, thank you Lord Seaton, that will be delightful,’ she said over her shoulder, already halfway through the door. Then suddenly the focused look vanished and she smiled at him, excited and enchanting, and his heart contracted painfully, startling him. It seemed this business of being in love took some getting used to.

      ‘Madame!’ He pulled himself together and lifted the second design, the one he had chosen. ‘This gown, if you please. There is no need to say anything to Miss Cunningham until the first fitting. And, Madame, send the account to me.’

      The knowing black eyes narrowed and he smiled at her. ‘No, Madame, this is absolutely not what you suspect.’ As he opened the door on to the street he added, ‘Quite the opposite, in fact.’

      Nick was not surprised to find himself still alone at the Lamb and Flag at half past three and congratulated himself on his foresight in ordering a cold collation. When the door finally did fly open to admit two flushed and chattering young women, he rose to his feet, nobly forbearing from a pointed glance at the clock on the mantelshelf.

      ‘Have you had a successful expedition?’ he enquired, pulling out chairs.

      ‘Just look!’ Kat gestured at the pile of bandboxes and parcels that a sweating inn servant had deposited on the settle. ‘And I congratulate myself on exercising the utmost economy. We found the equivalent of the Soho Bazaar and made some fine bargains, I can tell you.’ She attacked the cold meats with admirable appetite.

      ‘How did you get it all here?’ Nick asked, fascinated.

      ‘Madame LeBlanc lent us a footman. It was most kind of her, considering I am only buying one quite modest gown and she cannot expect any further patronage from me. Would you like some of this pickled salmon? It is excellent.’

      For a few minutes they were quiet, enjoying their very belated luncheon, then Kat asked, ‘Did you succeed in finding your tailor still in business?’

      ‘And my bootmaker, and my hatter,’ Nick said with some satisfaction. ‘And my equivalent pile of incidental shopping is in the carriage. Goodness knows how we are going to get it all home; I expect to have to sit on the box.’

      He watched Kat affectionately as she found the sweetmeats and pounced on them. ‘This is an interesting new experience for me, shopping with my wife,’ he said, forgetting to guard his tongue. Instantly the shutters came down behind her eyes. He could have kicked himself. How was he ever to persuade her to give in and to let the marriage stand?

      Attempted seduction had not worked and had only driven her further away; persuasion had failed, even hard common sense had broken on the rocks of her resolve. Perhaps courting her would work. There was the ball, after all—what more romantic setting could there be than Seaton Mandeville en fête for a ball, moonlight on the towers, music and flowers and wine working upon the senses? Nick absently peeled an apple, the peel curling over long fingers, and plotted.

       Chapter Twenty

      Lady Fanny Craven proved to be a vague, amiable person who accepted everything her awe-inspiring relative told her as gospel. The fact that she had been summoned to act as chaperon to a young lady who was married to Cousin Nicholas while pretending to be still single and was yet living with him at the Dower House did not appear to disconcert her in the slightest.

      ‘You must think this all very irregular,’ Katherine ventured shortly after Lady Fanny’s arrival. The entire household was gathered in the Chinese Salon to take tea.

      ‘Irregular?’ Lady Fanny was blonde, wispy and perhaps forty years of age. Her single status could be explained by the fact that she had, she explained, been a Support to Poor Dear Mama for many years. That lady having now passed away, she found herself only too happy to assist Cousin Lionel, as she somewhat nervously termed the Duke, whenever he called upon her. ‘This seems to be a perfectly usual time to take tea. Have I missed some irregularity?’

      ‘No, not the tea, Lady Fanny,’ Katherine explained, fighting the urge to wave frantically at Nick for rescue. ‘The fact that you are chaperoning me under these circumstances.’

      ‘They may be a trifle unusual,’ Lady Fanny murmured, nibbling like a voracious vole at her third macaroon, ‘but if Cousin Lionel approves, then it must be perfectly correct. Cousin Lionel is always right.’

      Just like his elder son, Katherine brooded, watching the two Lydgates lounging elegantly one each side of the fireplace. Nicholas was engaged in persuading his father that he should replace his main carriage with one possessing the latest in patent springs, the Duke in arguing that what he had was perfectly adequate. They seemed, despite the fact that they were disagreeing with each other, far more in harmony than they had at any time since Nick’s return home. Was the old man thawing, and was his son letting his hackles down at last?

      ‘Would you care for the last macaroon, Lady Seaton?’ Katherine blinked and recalled herself.

      ‘No, thank you, please do have it, Lady Fanny.’ Where did she put all

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