down her cheeks and dripped into the pool.
Patrick, followed by most of the servants, came to investigate the crash. “What in Christ’s name is going on here?”
The men spoke up together, “It was her fault, gov’nor. She crashed into the wine with that bleedin’ coal scuttle. Who’s going’ to pay for this breakage that’s what I’d like to know.”
Kitty dared not look up at Patrick. She trembled with the overwhelming knowledge of the havoc she had wrought.
Patrick’s voice had a cutting edge that brooked no disobedience.
“Clean it up instantly. Replace the order and bill me. Kitty, come!” He ushered her from the kitchen and up the broad staircase to his bedroom. The tears were still coming as she climbed each stair with trepidation in her heart. Her mind was going over the alternatives rapidly. Would it be best to deny that she had done it, or disclaim responsibility because the cases were stacked improperly, or would it simply be best to throw herself on Patrick’s mercy and hope he wouldn’t deduct the cost of the wine from her year’s wages? He closed the door quietly and stood looking down at her. He took a large white handkerchief from his pocket, put a finger under her chin to lift her face and then very gently wiped away her tears.
She eyed him warily.
“Kitty, I can’t bear to see you a servant. Let me take you away from all this.” For one glorious moment she thought he was going to ask her to marry him, until a little voice of reason told her it wouldn’t be that easy.
“What do you mean?” she whispered.
“First of all, Kitty, tell me what you want to do,” he urged.
She knew he was not referring to the wine, but to life. She took a deep breath. “Everything! I want to see, smell, taste, touch everything. I want to do everything, go everywhere, experience it all,” she said with passion.
“Then we are alike,” he smiled. “I have a little house in Half-Moon Street. Would you like to go and live there? Learn how to be a lady, wear pretty clothes and have servants of your own?”
“Are you sure it would be all right for me to do that?”
“Oh, yes, it’s done all the time, I assure you.”
“When can we leave?” she asked quickly.
He laughed and said, “Now, if you like.”
She thought happily, He does want to marry me, but first I have to learn to be a lady.
She dashed upstairs to the attic for her cloak. She slipped her tarot cards into her reticule, retrieved her bracelet from under the mattress and didn’t even pause to look around the room. Her heart was singing. She wanted to slide down the banister, but when she saw Patrick waiting at the bottom for her, she quickly decided that it would be unladylike.
She leaned back against the velvet squabs of Patrick’s well-sprung carriage and closed her eyes for a second to control her excitement.
He kept glancing at her and smiling, while keeping an eye on his driver.
“Where are we going?” she ventured.
“I’m going to take you to Madame Martine’s in Bond Street. A very chic Paris dressmaker. Probably the only time she saw France was from Dover on a clear day, but her clothes are unsurpassed.”
Kitty laughed and asked, “Is she very expensive?”
“You will be delighted to know her prices are shameful. It will very likely cost me an arm and a leg before I get out of there, but don’t let that stop you from picking anything you desire.”
She threw him a mischievous glance from under those long black lashes and said with a laugh, “I won’t disappoint you!”
He held her eyes for a moment and said, “I’ll hold you to that promise,” but she quickly lowered her eyes and fingered the tiny bells on her bracelet. His eyes clouded momentarily. “Kitty, where did you get that?” he asked.
“I can’t tell you,” she said prettily.
“Damn it, Kitty, I won’t have you accepting presents from other men. I wasn’t even aware you knew any men exceptFather and me. Father! That’s who