LITMIR.BIZ

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was, talking to an uncommonly handsome young lady with copper-red hair and a very lovely bosom. Which she is displaying to good advantage, Katherine thought cattily, reluctantly admiring the graceful shoulders and daringly low neckline displayed.

      ‘Who is that?’ she whispered to Mr Crace, who appeared to have lost sight of his quarry. ‘The tall, red-headed lady talking to Lord Seaton.’

      ‘Lady Camilla Wilde. A striking young lady, is she not? Niece and heiress of old Lord Polkington. Dotes on her and intends to dower her royally, they say.’

      Katherine was saved from any further questions that might have revealed the jealous pangs she was experiencing by Heron throwing open the double doors into the dining room and announcing, ‘Dinner is served, your Grace!’

      As a single girl, Katherine found herself midway down the table, Mr Crace on one side and on the other the handsome young man she and Jenny had spied from the bedroom widow. Mr Crace introduced him.

      ‘Mr Roderick Graham, Miss Cunningham. Mr Graham is a cousin of the Bishop of Durham.’

      Close to, Mr Graham proved every bit as personable and attractive as the glimpse from the window had suggested. Katherine soon found herself engrossed in conversation with him about his recent impressions of London which, as a native of Edinburgh, he had visited this year for the first time.

      ‘I have only just returned, in fact,’ he explained. ‘My cousin was good enough to offer me his hospitality at the Bishop’s Palace for the summer. It is already proving as interesting an experience as my visit to London.’

      ‘Is it truly a palace?’ Katherine enquired. Mr Graham had explained that as a younger son he had been studying law and she gathered that his home was far more modest than that of his exalted relative.

      ‘Indeed it is,’ he agreed, smiling, ‘although not so deserving of the name as this edifice.’

      ‘I know,’ she replied with feeling. ‘I keep getting lost and I suspect that our entire London home would fit easily into this room.’

      His speaking look around them encompassed the soaring ceilings, the mirrored walls, the length of silver-laden mahogany and Heron with his army of footmen, and was so comical that Katherine laughed.

      As she did so, her eyes found Nick’s at the far end of the table. His brows rose, apparently in reaction to her animation. Good, the little voice of mischief whispered. Let him see me having a good time. She turned back to Mr Graham.

      ‘Have you lived in London all your life?’ he asked, listening attentively as she explained how they had moved from the country and how she and Philip had been left alone on the deaths of their parents.

      ‘My brother is travelling abroad at present,’ she explained. ‘Which is why I find myself here. Lady Fanny has been so kind,’ she added, telescoping events ruthlessly to give the impression her chaperon had invited her to stay. ‘What did you do in London, Mr Graham? Did you find society to your taste?’

      ‘I did not mix in very exalted circles,’ he admitted. ‘But I had secured some introductions and had a most pleasant time. I enjoyed visiting galleries and the museums as well, and attended scientific lectures. Out of professional interest I attended several trials at the Law Courts. I even went so far as to attend a public hanging at Newgate.’

      ‘You did?’ Katherine enquired faintly.

      ‘Yes. A most barbaric spectacle,’ the young lawyer said severely. ‘I was soon regretting my error of judgment in being there, but the crowds was so vast that I found myself effectively trapped.’

      ‘Horrible.’

      ‘Your sensitivity does you credit, Miss Cunningham. However, my ill-judged expedition did allow me to witness a most remarkable event: one felon was actually hanged and then cut down at the last moment and pronounced innocent—’ He broke off, looking alarmed, ‘Miss Cunningham, ma’am—please take a sip of wine. I do beg your pardon, it was most thoughtless of me to speak of such matters to a lady.

      Katherine was faintly aware of him pressing a glass into her hand and took a distracted sip. ‘Thank you, no, please do not concern yourself, Mr Graham, I am quite all right.’ The dizziness passed. No one else around seemed to have noticed the blood leaching from her face or the slight sway she had given that so alarmed Mr Graham. No one, she realised, except Nick, who from half the table’s length away was watching her with a frown. He had put down his knife and fork and his palms were flat on the table as though he were about to rise. She shook her head slightly, saw him relax, and turned back to her concerned neighbour.

      ‘It was nothing to do with the topic, Mr Graham,’ she fibbed, the eyes of the hanged felon in question seeming to bore through her. ‘I was just feeling a little faint with the heat. I have to confess to being more than a little nervous this evening. I think that your feelings on such spectacles as you describe do you credit, and no one should shrink from discussing such barbarity. How else can we see things improved?’

      The passion with which she spoke appeared to make an impression upon the young lawyer and she was startled by the warmth of his regard as he said, low-voiced, ‘I would like to discuss other matters of public policy with you, Miss Cunningham, if such things are of concern to you.’

      ‘But certainly, Mr Graham. However, if you will excuse me, I must not neglect Mr Crace.’

      She turned to the archivist with a worrying feeling that she had perhaps over-encouraged Mr Graham’s interest. The rest of the meal passed uneventfully, even when, with the last remove, conversation became general and she found herself speaking to him again. With relief Katherine told herself that she was imagining things, only to have her hand pressed warmly as the ladies rose to leave the table.

      ‘I hope you will save some dances for me, Miss Cunningham.’

      ‘Of course, sir, I would be delighted.’ She smiled up at him and turned to find herself, once again, the focus of Nick’s attention. Or, to be more accurate, it was Mr Graham’s hand, just releasing hers, that seemed to be attracting his interest. Katherine smiled serenely, deliberately not meeting Nick’s eyes as she followed her chaperon out.

      Instead of congregating in a withdrawing room, the ladies at once dispersed to their rooms and the attentions of their maids to repair whatever ravages dinner in a warm room had wrought.

      Jenny, dabbing Katherine’s temples with cologne and whisking a hare’s foot dipped in rice powder over her face, professed herself satisfied. ‘It’s a mercy you don’t get all flushed up with the heat like some ladies,’ she said chattily, checking hairpins and patting Katherine’s glossy coils of hair into place. ‘I’ll be in the ladies’ retiring room all evening in case you need me.’

      ‘Are you sure?’ Katherine queried, concerned. ‘There will be maids on hand, and you have worked so hard all day. Have you had any dinner yet?’

      ‘Yes, thank you, Miss Katherine. But I am not going to miss this for all the world! And I am certainly not going to risk you not looking your best all night either. Now then, fan, reticule, dance card.’ She tied the card by its ribbon to Katherine’s wrist and checked that the little pencil was sharp. ‘I’ll wager it is full already, is it not?’

      ‘Mr Graham, that handsome gentleman we saw from the window, has asked me to dance,’ Katherine admitted.

      ‘Now that’ll make his lordship jealous,’ Jenny concluded smugly.

      Katherine was guiltily aware that those were her sentiments too, so she could hardly reprimand Jenny for repeating them. ‘Mr Graham was in London and attended the hangings at Newgate,’ she said, sombre now that shock was recalled.

      ‘No!’ Jenny sat down on the edge of the bed with a thump. ‘Did he recognise you?’

      ‘Oh, no. I think there would be no danger of that. All eyes were on the hanged man, I am sure, and the Assistant Governor held me back. But it is a disturbing coincidence, is it not? Thank goodness Lord Seaton’s beard had grown,

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