Kate felt she had been terribly patient with this interview so far.   There had been a terrible lot of stuffy talk, but she'd accepted this was the way of the English, and so she'd put up with it.  There'd been very little talk of singing, but she still expected that was about to come up.  Until it wasn't, and it became quickly apparent that this strange interview was even less of an interview than she'd originally realized.

“You see, I know your husband, Mrs. Warwick. I know him quite well. And I have to wonder why, after years and years of refusing to give in and marry a pureblood, as he was expected to do, he suddenly agreed to marry you.

Kate's mouth dropped open, spots of color appearing on her cheeks.  Nat's stories thus far had been full of names and people she didn't know, but she was sure that Christopher Lemon had not been among them.  Were they enemies?  Had she unwittingly tripped into some kind of school boy rivalry.  If she had they both ought to just sit in a room together and throw money at one another.  She wanted no part of their tricks.

“I also suspect that you are not a high class callgirl, playing the part of a mysterious American pureblood to placate the parents in exchange for some of the family fortune, but that is only because I doubt your husband could come up with a scheme like that.”

"Forgive me if I don't thank you for that, Mister Lemon."

He continued to carry on,  insisting she didn't know Nat's true intentions (possible) and insinuating she'd been stupid for taking this interview.  (probably but unappreciated)

"If you had a mind to kidnap and kill me, I'd imagine you'd not be my concern anymore and leave you to the Gods and Karma.  It must be an awful tirin' life, always lookin out for trouble."  She'd opened her mouth again to say more, but the news of the muggleborn girl stilled her tongue for a moment.  Nat had not told her that.  Why wouldn't he tell her that?

“I’m not going to ask you to sing for me today. The position is yours, if you accept it. If the terms are agreeable to you, just sign both copies of the contract. One is yours to keep.”

Kate very calmly took the papers from them, crumpled them up and leaned over the desk far enough to plop them down in his tea cup.

"I'm sorry, Mister Lemon." She said, and although she sounded quite southern she did not sound sorry at all.  "But if you think you can sit there, talking to me like I'm stupid and insulting my husband and I'll still work with you you've got another think coming. Especially if you're offering a job out of sympathy. Seems to me you're a poor interviewer and a poorer friend, bless your heart, and that is sad news for you, sir."

"Now."  She reached as if to gather her things and realized she had precious little to grab for.  "Not that it is any of your business, but since you seem so intent to speak your piece, I'll admit you've given me a fair bit to chew on.  I've no illusions that my husband loves me after such a short time, but I do mean to make a life here, and I do mean to be a good wife."