A Lady's Guide to Fortune-Hunting(71)

‘I should like it above all things,’ Kitty lied.

‘Hmm. Well, good. Piety is the greatest quality a woman can possess. One must love God above all else, you know.’

Kitty nodded, though surely this lady ranked her jeweller even higher.

‘Did you hear that the Duke of Leicester is here, tonight?’ Pemberton said, craning his neck to peer into the crowd.

‘Did you say Leicester?’ Aunt Dorothy asked sharply.

‘Oh, Leicester is here, is he?’ Lady Radcliffe said happily. ‘I have known him for years – oh, yes, there he is. Leicester, over here!’

She waved over a tall, greying gentleman, who bounded over and kissed her hand with smacking enthusiasm.

‘Miss Linwood, how marvellous you look,’ he said jubilantly.

‘Your grace, please, it’s been thirty years – you must start calling me Lady Radcliffe!’ she said in playful remonstration.

‘You’ll always be Miss Linwood to me. Though I did hear that boy of yours is back in London, is it true? Could do with him taking his seat in the Lords, you know.’

‘You mustn’t talk politics tonight, your grace, or everyone will think you a dead bore! Here, I must introduce you to my dear friends, Mrs Kendall and Miss Talbot. And this is Mr and Mrs Pemberton, of course.’

‘How do you do?’

The Pembertons were looking very impressed. Kitty curtseyed in greeting to the Duke of Leicester.

‘Forgive me, have we met before?’ he said curiously.

‘I do not believe so, your grace,’ she said, with a polite smile.

Beside her, Aunt Dorothy was fanning herself rather vigorously, and Kitty wished she would stop. Draught aside, she was holding her fan rather too close to her face, obscuring half of it, and it looked most unusual.

‘I am quite sure we have,’ Leicester insisted, eyes fixed on Miss Talbot’s face. ‘You look so very familiar to me. Is your family from London – perhaps I have met a relative?’

Kitty looked over to Aunt Dorothy, hoping she might chip in, only to find her aunt’s face almost totally obscured by her fan now. A horrible thought occurred to Kitty. She had a feeling she might know which of her relatives this man had met, and under what circumstances.

‘I am often told I have one of those faces,’ Kitty said, inwardly cursing that her father’s blood was not strong enough to prevent her striking resemblance to her mother. She cast about for a new topic, but to her horror, the duke’s words had inspired more than a little curiosity in the assembled group. Even Lady Radcliffe was eyeing her with interest now.

‘Perhaps she reminds you of the youngest Clavering girl?’ Lady Radcliffe suggested.

‘No dash it, I am quite sure that is not it,’ Leicester persisted. Oh goodness. ‘Remind me of your name, miss?’

Kitty’s mind was an anxious whirl. She could not, of course, deny this man her name – it would look too unusual. But were she to reveal it, did she risk this gentleman making a leap of logic? Might he, had he known her mother once upon a time, also remember why their acquaintance had drawn to a close?

‘Miss Talbot, your grace,’ she said, unable to deny him.

‘Talbot …’ he pondered for a few moments. ‘And – forgive me – you are Mrs Talbot, ma’am?’

His head began to turn towards Mrs Kendall’s fan-covered face. Aunt Dorothy would have to respond, to lower the fan – it would look too odd, it would be unforgivably rude, to do anything else. Would he recognise her, as she so clearly feared he might? Kitty’s mind was quite blank of ideas. She could not think of a single thing to do to save them. There was no scheme that presented itself to her, no way out of this mess. She could only watch with morbid fascination as their whole world was about to come crashing down on them, right in front of the Pembertons. Kitty opened her mouth to say something – anything that could possibly help – but she didn’t have to.

‘You will no doubt have met the Harrogate Talbots during your time in Yorkshire, my lord,’ came the voice of Radcliffe as he materialised quite out of thin air. ‘The resemblance is uncanny, I noticed it myself.’

‘The Harrogate Talbots?’ Leicester’s face cleared of suspicion. He snapped his fingers together. ‘That’ll be it, no doubt. Dashed but I can’t help but be bothered by that sort of thing. My thanks, Radcliffe – and welcome back, sir! I was just telling your mother that I hope we can count upon your presence in the Lords one of these days!’

Radcliffe took a pinch of snuff. ‘I’m happy to oblige, your grace, but I do not think you will like how I vote.’

Leicester let out a roar of laughter. In the ensuing melee, Kitty and Aunt Dorothy excused themselves quietly. Kitty sent a look of thanks in Radcliffe’s direction, which he returned with a barely perceptible wink.

‘That was far too close,’ Aunt Dorothy moaned as they scurried away to a safe corner.

‘I take it the Duke of Leicester knew Mama – and yourself – in your younger years?’ Kitty asked.

‘Yes, most intimately,’ Aunt Dorothy sighed gustily. ‘Thank goodness for your Radcliffe – Leicester is one of those worst sorts of devils who is terribly immoral in his private life, but an absolute stickler in public. If he had recognised me, we should have been in deepest trouble.’