A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(22)

Mrs. Highwood crossed to the counter. “Miss Taylor? Betrothed to Corporal Thorne? I cannot believe it.”

“Is this true, Kate?” Diana asked. “I must admit, that’s . . . rather a surprise.”

Of course it would be a surprise. She and Diana were friends, and not only had she never said a thing to the eldest Miss Highwood about liking Corporal Thorne—she’d given every indication of despising the man.

Because she did despise him. He was horrid and cold and unfeeling and now . . .

“It’s true,” Kate said, inwardly cringing. “We’re engaged.”

It’s all right, she reminded herself. It’s only temporary.

“But how did this happen?” Diana asked.

“Very suddenly.” Kate swallowed. “I’d gone into Hastings for new music, and I missed the last stagecoach home. I chanced across Corporal Thorne in the street, and he offered me a ride home.”

“And then . . . ?”

“And then we stopped to rest the horse near a turnpike. We . . . discussed the past and the future. By the time I settled in for the night at the Queen’s Ruby, we were engaged.” There, all of that was the truth.

Sally pouted. “That is the worst recounting I’ve ever heard! You owe us more than that. Did he go down on one knee, declare mad love for you? Was there a kiss?”

Kate didn’t know how to answer. Yes, there had been a kiss. And her first kiss should have been an occasion to bubble over with excitement and regale all her friends with breathless details. Instead, she just wanted to conceal her humiliation.

“Look at your face,” Sally said. “Red as sealing wax. It must have been a very good kiss indeed. The man’s no kind of monk. You’ll be a lucky bride, Miss Taylor. I’ve heard such tales . . .” She scribbled in her ledger.

Mrs. Highwood snapped open a fan and worked it vigorously. “Insupportable. My Diana’s poor health has us confined to this seaside hamlet, while all England celebrates the allied victory. Here we stay, doomed to watch her chances of marriage sail by, like so many ships viewed from the shore. And now Miss Taylor is engaged?”

Diana gave Kate an apologetic smile. “Mama, I believe what you mean to say is that we are thrilled for Kate, and we wish her much joy.”

“Much joy,” the older lady muttered. “Yes, Miss Taylor may have much joy, but what of us? I ask you, Diana, where is our joy? Where?” She drew the last word into a wavering lament. “Everyone who is anyone is in Town this summer. Including your sister, who—I remind you—has recently married a viscount.”

“Yes, Mama. I do recall.” Diana coughed pitifully into a handkerchief. “It’s so unfortunate my health has taken a sudden turn.”

“You do look very pale today,” Kate said.

Diana and Kate exchanged knowing looks. Minerva Highwood’s recent marriage to Lord Payne was the entire reason for this subterfuge. Left to her own devices, Mrs. Highwood would have descended on the newlyweds within a day of their arrival in Town, demanding introductions be made and balls be held. Diana wanted her sister to have a quiet honeymoon—hence the mysterious and sudden “decline” in her health.

“I tell you,” the older woman muttered, “in my youth, I should not have let consumption, malaria, and typhoid put together keep me from the celebrations of the Glorious Peace.”

“But you would not have been much fun at parties,” Kate couldn’t help but say. “All that hacking and shivering with fever.”

Mrs. Highwood sent her a sharp look.

Just then Sally Bright slammed her ledger shut. “There, that’s done. Now, Miss Taylor, spill everything.”

What Kate spilled were the contents of her hamper. Inside it, Badger startled at the crack of the ledger closing. The pup leapt from the wicker basket, then darted about the shop, rocketing from one corner to another.

“It’s a rat!” Mrs. Highwood cried, displaying the spryness of a woman ten years her junior as she climbed a nearby stepladder.

“It’s not a rat, Mrs. Highwood.”

The puppy scampered under a bank of shelves.

Kate ducked and scouted under the cupboards. “Badger! Badger, do come out.”

“Even worse,” the matron moaned. “It’s a badger. What sort of young woman carries a badger in a handbasket? It’s like a harbinger of the End of Days.”

“I believe it’s a puppy, Mama,” Diana said. Crouching, she joined Kate in the search. “Now where’s the dear thing gone?”

Down on hands and knees, Kate peered under the cupboard. Badger was there, wedged far at the back. She stuck her hand into the gap and groped for a handful of scruff. Drat. Just out of her reach.

Diana knelt beside her. “Poor dear. He must be frightened.”

“Here. Try this.” Sally joined them, holding out a bit of salted bacon she’d taken from a barrel in the storeroom. “Before he leaves a puddle under there.”

Kate blew out a swift breath, lifting a lock of hair that had fallen over her brow. The puppy had already left two puddles in her room at the Queen’s Ruby. One on the floorboards, and another in her bed. By the time she’d returned from breakfast with a slice of ham and a roll tucked in her pocket, the little beast had chewed up the handle of her good fan and one half of her most comfortable pair of slippers.