Page 97 of Kathryn

Katie just smiled.

Becky chattered on about her purchases as they walked the five minutes to the Red Lion. “I need to find Jeremy and have him go fetch the parcels from the drapery warehouse,” Becky said, glancing around the foyer as if the footman might be lurking there.

The innkeeper Katie had seen earlier hurried toward them. “Ah, Your Grace—your parlor awaits.”

“If you will just point the way,” Katie said. “Then you can assist my maid in locating our footman.”

He blinked. “Oh. Er, of course. The parlor is just up these stairs and the first door on the right. Are you certain I cannot—”

“I will be fine,” she assured him, and then smiled. “If I do not open my own doors on occasion, I will forget how it is done.”

The publican’s jaw sagged.

Becky clucked her tongue and cut Katie an admonishing look.

Smirking to herself, Katie climbed the stairs. She was just opening the door to the parlor when a male voice boomed from the end of the corridor. “Lady Kathryn?”

She wanted to groan when she saw the Earl of Ampthill striding toward her, his unsteady progress telling her the notorious peer was, as always, the worse for drink.

“Lord Ampthill,” she said, making the words as repressive as possible.

Ampthill grinned, unrepressed. “It really is you, Kitty Cat!”

She gritted her teeth at the annoying nickname some wag had applied to her in her very first Season. “As you see,” she murmured coolly.

“Lord! You just get more beautiful all the time—although it has been a few years, eh? I just returned from Paris,” he said, even though she’d not asked. “I was in Brighton not long ago and heard the maddest story about you.”

Katie sighed.

“Don’t you want to hear it?”

“No.”

He threw back his head and guffawed, as if she had said something uproarious.

Katie turned toward the parlor. “It was a pleasure to see you again,” she lied. “But you must excuse—”

Ampthill’s meaty arm shot out, his hand landing on the door frame and blocking her entrance into the parlor. “I heard you masterminded a kissing contest at the Earl of Sutton’s ball.”

“Please remove your arm,” Katie said frostily.

Ampthill’s brainless grin grew, and he leaned so close that Katie worried she might become intoxicated from the fumes alone. “Not so fast, my kitten. I never had a chance to play your game. I think I’d like to have my kiss now if you don’t—”

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” a voice roared right before Ampthill’s body disappeared from the doorway.

Katie heard a thud behind her and spun around. Dulverton had Ampthill by the throat and pinned to the wall.

“That is my wife you were mauling,” Dulverton thundered, his hand squeezing.

Ampthill gurgled.

“Er, Dulverton?” Katie said, glancing worriedly up at her husband and tugging lightly on his sleeve.

Dulverton glared down at her through eyes that looked like chips of ice. “What?”

“I think you have cut off his air.”

“That is not all I will cut off,” he retorted savagely. “Did you arrange to meet him here?”