The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

She graciously gave him her arm, and Julien guided her and Lady Bellingham down the long hall and into a noble, high-ceilinged room where the glitter of the candles was rivaled by the sparkling gems and bright-colored apparel of the assembled company, who were dipping and bowing in the steps of a country dance. Rows of chairs covered in burgundy brocade lined stark-white walls, and were occupied for the most part, by turbaned dowagers, who formed small, chattering groups.

It seemed to her when the portly white-haired announcer cleared his throat and called out each of their names that the music grew softer and many eyes turned in their direction. Julien leaned toward her and said close to her ear, “Well, my beautiful shrew, didn’t I tell you that you would outshine all the lovely ladies present?”

“If I’m such a shrew, my lord, then you must be quite mad in your intentions.”

“Oh yes, quite mad. I’ve known it for some weeks now. We’re well matched, you and I.”

In a calculated gesture, Julien drew her arm through his and escorted both ladies to the far side of the room to the spot where the patronesses of Almack’s held their court. He realized that his party’s arrival was causing an instant sensation, as the rumors of his imminent marriage to an unknown girl from the country had provided polite society with choice conversation for the past week.

Of the four patronesses, only the Countess Lieven and Mrs. Drummond Burrell were present this evening. The raven-haired Countess Lieven, wife to the Russian ambassador, raised her dark eyes and gazed at Kate with open curiosity. Lady Bellingham, long acquainted with both patronesses, greeted them and moved aside for Julien to present Katharine.

Himself a favorite with both ladies for some years, Julien said with easy familiarity, “Countess, Mrs. Burrell, I would like to present Miss Katharine Brandon. She is new to London, and this is her first visit to Almack’s.”

Kate repeated polite words to the Countess Lieven, who made a rather startling picture in pink satin and gauze. The countess smiled at her, not unkindly, and Kate turned to Mrs. Drummond Burrell. The lady was appraising her coldly, her hawklike nose thrust upward to a height that even Kate had not achieved. An idea burgeoned in her mind, and she executed it without further examination.

Proffering only an infinitesimal curtsy, she observed to Mrs. Drummond Burrell in her coldest and most distant voice, “How very odd. Almack’s is not as elegant as I was led to believe.”

Lady Bellingham froze in shocked silence and stared aghast at Katharine. She would have been thankful had the floor opened beneath her feet and dropped her into oblivion.

Julien gave no sign of having noticed anything extraordinary in Kate’s remark and stood quite at ease waiting to see what would happen. If only she realized that he didn’t care if she insulted the Regent himself. If she created a scandal, why, he was powerful enough in society to dampen it. Or even if he wasn’t powerful enough, he didn’t care if the both of them were pariahs. Let her play her games.

The Countess Lieven gasped aloud and darted an expectant glance at Mrs. Drummond Burrell. Mrs. Drummond Burrell, however, didn’t move a muscle in the tense moment of silence that followed.

Kate thrust her chin higher and waited to see the result of her outrageous comment. Surely Julien must be acutely embarrassed at her behavior. Well, she would show him that she wasn’t a helpless female, a puppet to be dangled willy-nilly on his string. Perhaps he would realize that he was mistaken in her character and pack her back to the country.

To the infinite surprise of all present, the haughty mask Mrs. Drummond Burrell presented to the world loosened and her thin lips parted in a slight smile. Reputed to be the most insufferably proud lady in London society, which indeed she was, she realized in a flash that at last she had found a kindred spirit. She dismissed the scathing set-down that had instantly come to her lips. Long used to simpering young girls and ladies of her own rank who were openly terrified of her scathing tongue, she saw with something of a shock that here was someone, indeed a mere girl, who wasn’t in the least afraid of her. A girl, in fact, who was openly provoking her.