Honourable Doctor, Improper Arrangement. Mary Nichols

without speaking.

      She turned to look at him, wondering if he noticed the effect his touch had had on her, but he appeared to be concentrating on his driving, carefully going round the road works and turning up Bond Street. ‘I will be glad when they have finished tearing up the streets,’ he said to cover his discomfiture. ‘And all to please the Regent. It is a pity they cannot spend the money on a more worthy cause.’

      ‘Oh, how I agree with you, though I suppose when the new road is finished, it will be very grand.’

      ‘Everything our future king does is extravagant. I sometimes wish I could take him by the collar and drag him into Seven Dials. He should see how some of his subjects live while he builds roads and palaces and spends money on his mistresses.’

      ‘Oh, dear.’ She laughed. ‘You do feel strongly, don’t you?’

      ‘Yes. It makes my blood boil.’

      ‘What else excites you?’

      He was tempted to say, ‘You do’, but decided that would be a folly. ‘Oh, many things. The plight of the soldiers who have fought for their king and country and are now turned out on the streets to make what living they can. The dreadful business of the slave trade. The way the aristocracy will go to any lengths to keep their estates intact.’

      ‘Ah, I collect you are the heir to an estate.’

      ‘Oh, I do not care about that, but when a man is ordered to wed…’

      ‘Have you been ordered to wed?’

      ‘I would not obey if I were. At least, not unless I was in love with the lady in question.’ He laughed suddenly to relieve the tension. ‘How did we come to be talking about me? Tell me about yourself.’

      ‘I am not very interesting. I cannot say I have travelled or served in the army, or healed the sick.’

      ‘That does not mean you are not an interesting person. Have you always lived in London?’

      ‘No, my father had a living in Hertfordshire when I was small, but when my mother died…’

      ‘I am very sorry to hear that.’

      ‘Thank you. It was a long time ago, when I was seven. She died after giving birth to my brother.’

      ‘You have a brother?’

      ‘No, he died too. He was put out to a wet nurse who—’ She stopped. Did she really wish to go over that ground? ‘Papa could not get over his grief and Grandmama suggested he give up the living and move to London. If it had not been for her, I do not know what we would have done. He has since immersed himself in his writing.’

      ‘I am sorry if I have upset you with my questions,’ he said, beginning to understand some of what drove her to help poor children and why she became so heated over the question of foster mothers. ‘I did not mean to make you sad.’

      ‘You have not made me sad. It was eighteen years ago and I have learned to accept it was God’s will. We cannot know what He has in store for us and perhaps good will come of it.’

      ‘Let us hope so.’ They turned into Holles Street. ‘Here we are,’ he said, drawing up outside her door. ‘Are you coming to the Hartingdon again tomorrow?’

      ‘Yes, of course.’

      ‘I will fetch you.’ He laughed when he saw her mouth open to protest. ‘And do not argue, it will not make me change my mind.’

      She thanked him and he jumped down to hand her down, then drove back to his rooms, musing on the events of the last few days. The arrival of Mrs Meredith was having a strange effect on his state of mind. It was very disturbing, but in a most pleasurable way. He had been so busy with his work for the charity he had had no time for a social life, except when forced upon him by his aunt or the need to raise funds. Mrs Meredith made him want to change all that. He was beginning to look forward to Lady Eleanor’s ball.

      It was some time since Kate had been to a society ball; according to Lady Morland, none of her gowns was at all suitable and she must have a new one made and so they had taken a cab to Madame Lorette’s in Bond Street.

      The woman called herself Madame Lorette and affected a French accent, but Kate suspected she was as English as she was. On being told Kate’s requirements, she fetched out bolt after bolt of silks, satins, nets, lace and velvet in a myriad of colours. Soon every available surface was covered with material and patterns. It made it harder, not easier, to choose. If Kate liked a particular material, Lady Morland did not; if Lady Morland found a pattern that she considered just the thing, Kate dismissed it as too fussy.

      ‘But you cannot wear something plain to go to Hartingdon House,’ the old lady said. ‘It will undoubtedly be a very select affair considering the price of the tickets. Fifty guineas is a scandalous amount.’

      ‘It is in aid of the charity.’

      ‘Yes, and Eleanor has made sure it will be a very select gathering and there will be no one present who is not of the ton. It will be reported in the newspapers and journals, who was there and what they wore, so you must be suitably attired.’

      Kate was unconcerned about what the newspapers might report, but she was looking forward to the ball and perhaps standing up with Dr Redfern. He worked so hard, he deserved a little relief and she hoped he would relax enough to ask her to dance.

      ‘Well, which is it to be?’ Lady Morland became impatient with her apparent indecision. ‘If you do not choose the material today, there won’t be time to have it made up before the ball.’

      ‘The aquamarine, I think,’ Kate said, running her hand down the delicate silk. ‘And this pattern.’ She picked up a drawing of a simple round gown with tiny puffed sleeves and a scooped neckline edged with pearls. The high gathered waist was outlined with a ribbon studded with more pearls.

      ‘Madame will require accessories?’ the modiste enquired, having agreed to deliver the gown three days hence, the morning of the ball, and do any necessary alterations on the spot.

      ‘Of course,’ her ladyship put in quickly before Kate could say that she would make do with whatever she had in her clothes press at home. ‘Green shoes and cream gloves and that.’ She pointed to a sumptuous silk shawl draped over the back of a stuffed chair. ‘And you may send the account to me.’

      ‘Grandmother!’ Kate protested; the shawl alone looked very expensive. ‘There is no necessity for you to do that. I can afford to buy my own clothes.’

      ‘I know you can, but it pleases me to treat you. Considering your father has given me a home, I have little to spend my money on. Now let us go to Gunter’s and have a cup of tea and a slice of cake. I am famished.’

      It was only a short step from Bond Street to Berkeley Square and they were soon sitting at a table in the confectioner’s, enjoying the refreshments. ‘I think the green will make up very well,’ the old lady said. ‘It is a pity his lordship will not be back to escort you.’

      ‘His lordship?’ Kate repeated vaguely.

      ‘Yes, Cranford. Has he written when he will be home?’

      So much had happened in the last week, Kate had almost forgotten about the man she had agreed to marry. Being with the children and Dr Redfern, too, had occupied her mind to the exclusion of all else. ‘No, only that he hoped it would be this summer. He is at the beck and call of the Foreign Office and if they want him in Paris, then he must stay there.’

      ‘Perhaps you should consider going out to join him.’

      ‘Marry him in Paris, you mean? Oh, no, I could not do that. I want to be married here, with all my family and friends round me. Besides, if he wanted me to do that, he would have suggested it himself.’

      ‘Are you not impatient to see him again?’

      Kate had to think about that. Was she? Did she have doubts? Had anything changed? The only