Blame It on Bath Page 0,84

cede or sell to pay off the debt.”

“That property has been in my family for decades,” said Howe through his teeth. “Surely a gentleman would understand I cannot sell it.”

“I expect you shall have to retrench, then. Make economies. Reduce travel, and perhaps tailoring bills.” Howe, in his fine evening clothes, turned white with fury at that, but Gerard didn’t care. He remembered overspending his pocket money as a young boy and having to ask his father for more, blithely confident it would be given without scolding because Durham was one of the richest estates in England. But his father, who hadn’t been born to wealth, made him shovel out stalls in the stables for a week to impress upon him the value of economy and the dangers of debt. He never forgot it. It irked him that Howe had assumed he would secure Kate’s fortune and so had done nothing to address the debt until she married someone else. It irked him that Howe’s manner of negotiating was to blame his uncle and glare at Gerard with barely concealed contempt and hatred. He’d known men who scrambled desperately to save their properties, selling the silver to satisfy creditors. It didn’t escape his notice that Howe’s first line of attack was to ask for reduced terms. True, Howe had inherited the debt; but nothing in his conduct since made Gerard feel disposed to forgive it.

He rose. “Enough of business, sir. I hope you will join the ladies with me.”

He went into the drawing room, Howe following in stiff silence. Both ladies looked up at his entrance with smiles, Mrs. Hollenbrook’s one of dazzling delight, Kate’s one of relief. He took the chair near her, feeling rather ready to be her knight again.

Conversation lagged. Kate suggested cards, but her mother sighed and said cards were for larger parties. Gerard was glad for it; he knew Mrs. Hollenbrook would want to partner him, and he didn’t want to leave Kate to Howe.

“Perhaps some music,” he suggested. No conversation was needed if there was music. From the corner of his eye he could see the clock on the mantel. Another hour, and the guests would go home if he had to tell Bragg to shove them out the door.

“Sadly I do not play anymore,” said Mrs. Hollenbrook. “Katherine, dear, have you kept up your practicing? You were making such progress.”

Kate looked self-conscious but got to her feet. “Very well, Mama.” She went to the pianoforte in the corner and opened the cover.

Whatever her musical talent, it soon became clear the pianoforte needed to be tuned. One note in particular was flat. When she struck it the second time with a dissonant twang, Gerard leaped to his feet and began singing. The song was a well-known hymn. He crossed the room to the pianoforte, and whenever that one bad note came up, he sang particularly loudly. Kate soon barely touched that key, leading to an odd break in the sound when his voice rose and the instrument fell almost silent. Dogs all over the Square would be howling if we keep this up, Gerard thought, and nothing could encourage their guests to depart faster. Howe already looked sick to his stomach, and even Mrs. Hollenbrook’s mouth was pinched. Excellent. He reached out to turn the page of music and noticed Kate’s shoulders were shaking, her lips trembling. She glanced up at him with eyes teary with laughter, and he grinned in relief.

If she could laugh about this, in front of her mother, all was well.

Chapter 19

Mama expressed a wish to visit the Pump Room the next day. Kate hadn’t gone yet, for a number of reasons, and so was curious to see the celebrated springs. Much to her mother’s delight, the room was filled with Bath’s most fashionable. Kate left her happily chatting with Lady Deane, also newly arrived in town, and went to fetch glasses of the mineral water.

“Dear Lady Gerard!” Mrs. Woodforde descended on her, towing her admiral behind her. “How fortunate to see you here!”

“How do you do?” Smiling, Kate dropped a curtsey. “It’s a pleasure to see you. This is my first visit to the Pump Room.”

“First! Goodness, we come every morning, for the admiral’s health.”

“We come for the society,” said her husband. He was a lean, weathered man with sharp eyes who didn’t look much in need of the healing waters.

“Nonsense,” his wife protested. “We come for the waters. Now, Lady Gerard, have you signed the Visitor’s Book? You