- Chapter 6 -

"This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever had the displeasure of attending! You've invited every Miss Moneybags in the country, and no more than twenty gentlemen! Your intent to marry me off is shamelessly clear and I want none of it! 'Come home son, I'm deathly ill'. Deathly ill indeed!"

"Brandon don't you dare speak to your mother like that! How are you ever to find a wife if I don't present opportunities for you to do so! All you do in London is gamble and drink...just like your father."

"Yes I can see why he wished to escape to such places with you in residence." He ignored his mother's dismayed gasp and ranted on. "If it weren't for your incessant meddling I'd already be happily married!"

"You would not be happily married! Not to that field rat! A farmers daughter? Mistress of Norcastle? If I ever allow such a loathsome beggar to dirty my halls, it will be over my dead body!"

"would that it were." Brandon snarled, and stalked off to the study, leaving his mother behind in a fit of fury. He entered in a rush, startling someone from a chair by the fire.

"Land sakes! I thought it might be your mother and nearly had an attack of the heart." Thomas settled back down in the plush chair he'd just jumped from and reopened his book.

Brandon joined his friend by the fire, sitting in the chair opposite and raised a sardonic brow. "Yes, imagine; the audacity of her steward's son to sit in a master's chair. You have little to fear though, for she cares not for this study; it savors of my father. Is your father in?" He nodded to the door at the back of the study that led to the steward's office.

"Yes. I'm risking my hide sitting here I suppose; with the fear of your mother coming through one door and the risk of my father coming through the other."

Brandon pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Though it mustn't be a joy for you to be back in this house, I am glad you are back, my man. London bores me and home irritates me; it's a pleasure to find myself in the presence of someone who's company I enjoy for once. Tell me, how was Oxford, I recall loving it." He smiled.

"I didn't mind it; although, I focused entirely on my studies, so I had less time to entertain myself as you no doubt did." Thomas replied without glancing up from his book.

"You really should use some expression once in a while, I can't tell if you said that in judgement or jest."

The corner of Thomas Harding's mouth twitched slightly.

"A mixture of both then I presume. I say Tom, how would you like to join me when I return to London? I think I may need a steward at my townhouse there."

His page was carefully marked and book closed, and Thomas acknowledged his friend with a studied look a moment before replying. "If you're offering a position, I accept. I hope, however, you are not considering paying me expressly in friendship?"

Brandon scoffed jokingly "You are a stiff bloke aren't you. Fine, I suppose you deserve a proper wage." He laid back his head and closed his eyes "Go on back to your book, I've a headache to attend to."

Thomas gladly opened his book and resumed reading.

"Thomas!" A voice bellowed imperiously. Thomas thrust himself up from his seat in a rush, standing to attention as his father glowered in the doorway of the study; eyes nearly hidden beneath heavy brows that clearly aspired to surpass his impressive sideburns. "You are not a master in this house, you will not make yourself comfortable in a master's chair!"

"Apologies sir." Thomas replied.

Mr Harding Sr's already tall and impressive form seemed to straightened further in indignation.

Thomas Harding turned and bent an apologetic bow towards Mr Routley who immediately uttered an exasperated "Ugh, let him be Harding" and waved off the apology. Thomas smiled calmly at his father. Mr Harding Sr, turning on a heal, re-entered his study under a smoldering cloud of disapproval.

☆☆☆

Brandon's valet fixed his cravat into an expert knot as his employer checked himself in the mirror. "Thank you, John, you are dismissed for the evening."

Now alone in the room, he gazed at his reflection with his mind wandering elsewhere. His mother had been in a tizzy all day. Every detail must meet her highest standard, as the Baroness of Rosforte was to attend tonight's festivities – she practically worshipped the woman. Word was, the Baroness was bringing a guest with her, and her mother was desperate to impress the Lady and her companion. He rolled his eyes. Wealth merely masked people's true character; he had no doubt that the Baroness's companion was just as simpering and money hungry as any other 'Lady' out there! He sighed and turned toward the door to commence with this nights exercise in endurance.

After the customary hour of greeting guests at the door, Brandon finally escaped the seemingly endless line of blurred faces and moved through the rapidly increasing number of bodies, craving only a moment of solitude. Grabbing a small glass of passing champagne, he trotted up the wide, curved staircase to the less occupied second floor; which encircled the ballroom so one might rest and look down upon the fray.

Pulling out his pocket watch, he checked the time; twenty minutes is all he could allow himself. He groaned inwardly. I suppose I can't put off dancing much longer without risking rudeness. It is an event dedicated to me afterall...perhaps one more champagne. He hailed the nearest footman with a platter of drinks; and, a moment later, as he plucked a glass from the proffered platter, a hush fell over the floor below. The Baroness of Rosforte and her companion had arrived. He glanced indifferently toward the entry to the ballroom as the grand lady marched in. Her companion beside her, though mostly hidden from view.

His mother greeted them and introductions were made. He rested a hand on the balustrade as he sipped his champagne, bored with the whole event. As Lady Compton's companion was introduced, she turned so he could see her from the back. She looks to be quite handsome in figure at least, he determined. She was tall and slender, with thick hair piled high on her head. It shone a rich dark brown in the candlelight, accentuating a long and graceful neck. She might have a duck-mouth or crossed eyes. He snorted with humor at this thought. He saw his mother glance about the room and finally lock onto him. Devil! Now he would be expected to introduce himself and ask the young lady to dance. His mother gestured to him and, forcefully setting his glass down on the nearest surface, he resigned himself to his fate and moved to oblige his mother's demands.

"Ah! Brandon dearest." his mother cooed when he was near enough, "I'd like you to meet Baroness Compton's companion, Miss Katherine Wheaton!"

The young lady turned and fastened her large dark eyes on him as he approached. The same sparkling eyes that haunted his every waking moment. So great was his surprise, he stumbled awkwardly and took a step back, staring with wide eyes once he caught himself. Katherine?! It isn't possible! This is it! I've finally gone round the bend!

"Brandon!" His mother's voice snapped him back to reality, she was smiling at him with gritted teeth.

"Pardon me!" He pulled together his confused and frantic thoughts "I am not myself tonight! It is an extraordinary pleasure to meet you Miss Wheaton, how are you enjoying our event so far?"

"Very well thank you, and a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well Mr Routley." She replied in that soft, silken voice he knew so well. If he were in a corset he would have swooned.

His mother's voice once again broke through his scattered senses as she spoke through clenched molars "Miss Wheaton has not yet been asked for a dance Brandon, what a shame is it not?"

"Ah, yes, quite!" He quickly replied and reached out a hand as the notes of the next waltz flowed over the heads of the partygoers. "Would you do me the honor of joining me for this dance, Miss Wheaton?"

"With utmost pleasure, sir." She placed her gloved hand in his, as genteel as could have been expected of any young lady of the Beau Monde, and followed him gracefully to the floor.

There was a palpable silence for the first few bars of the song. Brandon broke it first "I don't believe I know which question to ask first...how is it possible...does the Baroness know...."

"What? That I am of abominably low birth?" She said tightly "Yes of course, she practically plucked me from the field."

He contemplated this. "Still, I heard you were a maid, not a companion to a Baroness! I don't understand how this is possible."

"Well, technically, I am currently her lady's maid; but we are grooming my sister to take over that position."

"Lawd, woman, let no one hear you say that. If anyone knew there was a maid prancing about in a gentlewoman's attire they may have you arrested." As Katherine's eyes widened in worry he quickly attempted ease her conscience "Not that the Baroness would allow it of course. And no one would ever consider a woman with much less than four or five thousand a year to be companion of a Baroness; so as long as you don't tell anyone, no one will be the wiser."

"Five th-thousand?" Katherine gulped, eyes growing to the size of saucers. "They believe me to be a woman of fi-five thousand a year?? How am I to keep up such a pretense!?"

"No no not you specifically!" He blundered hurriedly "They believe your family to be; and you to be...an orphan or some such...just continue as you were. You are a splendid image of a young lady in her first season." Her expression remained a mask of severe concern and confusion, so he quickly changed the subject "Where did you get your dress? Did the Baroness have it made for you?"

She pierced him with a look of irritation "Oh no, I stole it."

"It is a legitimate question!"

"That is fair, although it seems obvious."

Heavens she was touchy tonight. Though I suppose I can't blame her. He sighed and started over. "It is beautiful, it becomes you."

She was silent, seeming almost melancholy - to his dismay – until the waltz ended, and he was forced to lead her to where her employer sat chatting with a group of older ladies. The Baroness reached an arm toward Kat in greeting as she returned, and patted the seat beside her. Katherine accepted the seat with a breath of relief.

Standing with a group of men nearby, Brandon Routley watched her converse, entranced by how naturally she fit into her current company. He hadn't the slightest idea where she'd learned to dance, or display the manners and graces expected of a young lady of distinguished breeding, but somehow she had. He couldn't stop the wicked smile sliding onto his face as he recalled his mother fawning over the Baroness's beloved companion. If only she recalled who she had encouraged her son to dance with. It was no surprise to him when she took him aside a few minutes later to speak on the subject of the desirable Miss Wheaton.

"You must not let her stand alone at any moment Brandon, I won't have the Baroness feel as though we are neglecting her guest. My isn't she a beauty though wouldn't you agree? Mrs Gissip says someone told her they heard she has four or five thousand a year."

He couldn't have rolled his eyes farther into his head, but his mother was oblivious. "I'll be sure to keep her entertained, Mother; though, she seems quite content at the present so you needn't worry too much."

She fluttered and tsked in response; and then, as a tall young woman in pale pink and pearls headed their way, she clutched his arm in hushed excitement. "Oh, here comes Eliza Ritewood. Ask her to dance and do try to be amiable." She then thrust him forth into the girl's path, extracting a glare from him for her efforts.

"Miss Ritewood, what a pleasure. It's been so long."

Eliza stood a little taller, sticking him with an imperious glare. "Mr Routley." She greeted in clipped tones. "A pleasure indeed. I saw you had the honor of dancing with our dear friend Katherine."

"Ah...yes." She was close friends with Katherine now was she? "Have you spoken with her yet tonight?"

Eliza let out a defeated breath. "Unfortunately not. I haven't been able to find her since I saw her last, dancing with you. There is an uncomfortable number of people here."

"I agree. Let me take you to where I left her then, she probably hasn't moved."

"Thank you, Mr Routley." Eliza's glare softened but her tone remained stiff.

Katherine jumped up with enthusiasm the moment she saw her friend. "Eliza! You are here!" She exclaimed. The two girls embraced and Miss Rightwood whispered something in her ear, causing Kat to grimace and sit demurely back on her seat with a secret smile for her friend. Brandon had an idea it had something to do with 'ladies not having outbursts' or some such, and he forced a frown off his face. He happened to find her happy exuberance completely without fault. His path of thought was cut abruptly short, however, as he noticed an attractive young man - who had been looking at Miss Wheaton quite often - break away from his group as a new song started, and head in her direction. Brandon moved before he could think, and found he had out-paced the youth to reach Katherine. He quickly extended a hand to her. "Care for another dance, Miss Wheaton?" She blinked at him in surprise, glancing quickly at the young man who had nearly collided with Routley in his quest. She took his hand and stood. What are you doing Brandon? he thought, as he slid a smug look towards the jilted youth.

"Is it not considered odd to dance with the same partner twice in a row?" She asked him quietly.

"There have been a few songs since I last danced with you."

"Not that we've danced with anyone during them."

"True..." There was an awkward stretch where neither spoke.

"You didn't want me to dance with that other young man."

"Preposterous!"

"Do you know him? Does he have a reputation of a rake?"

"..Er. Yes. He's a scoundrel."

"So I shouldn't dance with him for fear that associating with such ilk may besmirch my good name."

"Precisely." He smiled.

"You do realize the kind of reputation you currently hold."

His face fell.

"I'm afraid I shan't be dancing with you the rest of the night then, in favor of entertaining more reputable company."

Idiot Brandon hissed at himself as the band ended its piece in a flourish you would have done better to keep your mouth shut. The night turned into morning, and Brandon's mood grew increasingly foul. The guests began to leave as dawn peeked over the horizon. He watched Katherine enter the Rosforte coach, and as it rolled away he was overcome with a sense of hopelessness. She looked like a lady, acted like a lady, yet somehow still stood just out of reach.

~~~

Meanwhile, in Lady Compton's Barouche, the Lady herself was commenting to Katherine "How very odd was Mr Routley's behavior tonight. It looked as though you gave him quite a fright at his first meeting you!" She chuckled.

"Yes," Katherine answered vaguely, with a small smile. "How odd."

"Have you met him before?"

"Perhaps. It is a small village after all."

"How very odd." The Baroness repeated, studying her young friend. Katherine noticed naught for her focus was on the passing trees.