Free Cotillion by Georgette Heyer

no! Everyone would say you were very well rid of me! Besides, I daresay it would not make such a stir after all.”
    “Well, it would. Dash it, notice in the Gazette —friends felicitating one—dress-party—wedding-gifts!”
    “I hadn’t thought of that,” admitted Kitty. “I don’t think we should send a notice to the Gazette .”
    “I’m dashed sure we shouldn’t!” said Freddy, with feeling.
    “You may easily hit upon an excuse for our keeping the engagement private. After all, it will only be for one month!”
    He blinked. “But there’s no sense in being engaged for a month!”
    “Freddy,” she said earnestly, “ anything may happen in a month!”
    “Yes, I know it may. The thing is I ain’t one of these care-for-nothings, and I don’t want anything to happen. No, and another thing! I don’t want to be roasted all over town, which I should be. Everyone knows I ain’t in the petticoat line!”
    “No one will know we are engaged,” she coaxed him. “I mean, no one except the family, because we shan’t announce it in a formal way.”
    “Now, listen, Kit!” said Freddy reasonably. “If no one’s to know of it, there ain’t a bit of sense in it!”
    A faint flush stole into her cheeks. “Yes, there is, because we are obliged to hoax Uncle Matthew. And—and I think we won’t tell anyone—anyone at all!—that it is all a hum, because—because—perhaps your father would not like it, and—and Uncle Matthew might get to hear the truth!”
    “I don’t see that,” said the captious Mr. Standen. “Never stirs outside the house! Who’s to tell him?”
    “Jack would, if he knew the truth!” flashed Kitty.
    “Well, he wouldn’t if we—” He broke off, as a brilliant solution presented itself to him. “That’s it!” he said. “Wonder I didn’t think of it before. Wonder you didn’t. Ask Jack to do it for you! Daresay he would: done a lot of ramshackle things in his time. Likes being the talk of the town, too. Regular cool hand!”
    “Ask Jack!” she repeated, in a very alarming voice. “I wouldn’t ask Jack—I wouldn’t ask Jack even to frank a letter for me!”
    “Wouldn’t be any use if you did,” said Freddy, always practical. “He ain’t a Member of Parliament!”
    “I hate Jack!” declared Kitty, her bosom heaving.
    Freddy was surprised. “Thought you liked him. Had a notion—”
    “Well, I do not! I think he is a great deal worse even than George! In fact, I forbid you, Freddy, to admit him into your confidence about our engagement!”
    Mr. Standen had a vague feeling that he was treading upon dangerous ground. Why Miss Charing should have become so suddenly agitated he had no idea; but he suspected uneasily that she had some scheme in mind which she had not yet disclosed to him. Her proposal seemed to him absurd, not to say preposterous; he pointed out to her that there was no fear that he might confide in Mr. Westruther. “Nothing to confide,” he said. “There ain’t an engagement.”
    Miss Charing argued in vain. Acutely uncomfortable, more than a little alarmed, he clung obdurately to his refusal.
    “It is such a little thing to do for me!” Kitty said.
    “No, it ain’t. You can’t call making such a cake of myself a little thing!”
    “You will not: there is not the least occasion for anyone to suppose that you have made a cake of yourself!”
    “Well, it’s what they would think. What’s more, they’ll say I did it to get my fingers on the old gentleman’s rolls of soft.”
    “No, because when nothing comes of the engagement they will perceive that they were mistaken!”
    “Won’t perceive anything of the sort. Only thing they will perceive is that you’ve tipped me the double! Dash it, Kit—”
    “Freddy, you would not condemn me to remain at Arnside, used like a—a—a drudge!”
    “No, of course I wouldn’t, but—”
    “Or to marry Hugh!”
    “No, but—”
    “But, Freddy, you cannot expect me to accept Dolph’s