by Georgie Lee
He cast Clara another sideways glance and she paused in her eating, conscious of his scrutiny and quickly meeting his curious gaze before she returned to her fish. He let her go, but not without a great deal of guilt. He’d ruined her Christmas once before by being too open and easy with her when he should have been more guarded and reserved, reminding him of how much she’d changed since they’d last sat at this table together. Back then, she’d been further down the line of precedence and across from him, hindering any chance he might have had to speak with her despite their eagerness to converse. They’d spoken instead through longing glances, smiles and coquettish looks tossed across the table, not careful or caring if anyone else saw them, and it had increased her embarrassment in the end.
People would whisper again, but this time it would be about the stony silence between them, the one that had already garnered a number of small frowns from Lady Exton from where she sat next to her husband. Once in a while she would comment to Adam who would glance up at Clara and Hugh. He didn’t silently urge Hugh to speak to his sister, but simply offered a few words to his wife before returning to his meal. Hugh set down his fork and picked up the punch he’d requested from the footman. The sweetness nearly made him gag. His failed courtship of Clara had almost cost him his friendship with Adam, he didn’t wish to risk it again by mistaking the brief moment at the bottom of the stairs for something more than a genuine thank you for his having been kind. This silence was intolerable, but he would endure it to keep the peace between himself and Adam and to spare Clara from any derision that his previous lack of discretion had caused her. He had no one but himself to blame for her poor opinion of him and again he cursed his actions of the last three years.
Hugh took in the other guests who were too engaged in discussion with those around them to notice him, but he caught a few curious looks thrown in his direction now and then. It was clear in the way that many regarded him with sidelong glances that they’d heard the stories about him and continued to wonder if they were true. He would show them they weren’t through his actions and defy all their low expectations, even Clara’s. He was here to begin the slow process of undoing his mistakes in London after Hermione’s death, to rebuild the good name he’d once prided himself on holding, the one he’d carelessly tossed away in his grief. No whiff of scandal could touch him, especially while Lord Westbook was here and no doubt watching for any more stories to entertain other hostesses with. Everything Hugh did this week, especially in regards to Clara, must be above board and if it meant sitting here in silence beside Clara until she chose to break it, then so be it. He’d endured worse things in his duty to the Delamare name. He could endure this even while he wished there was some way he could change it.
* * *
At the end of the meal, Lady Tillman led the ladies out of the room while Lord Tillman called for the brandy. The men rose from their places of precedent and took up more informal seats at Lord Tillman’s end of the table. Hugh chose the chair beside Sir Nathaniel, eager to talk to the man who, before his ennoblement, had been a celebrated barrister and who understood the vagaries of the law better than most titled men. The letter informing Hugh that a lawsuit for possession of Everburgh had been filed had forced him out of London as much as his disgust with himself. He might have turned away from duty and responsibility for a while, but he hadn’t given up on it entirely because it wasn’t an easy thing to set aside, nor could he abandon trying to accomplish everything that his father and even Hermione had sacrificed their lives to help him achieve. It might mean more struggle and difficulties, but he would see this through and seize every advantage available to him, including setting his pride aside and asking for help from Sir Nathaniel, Lord Tillman and Adam.
To Hugh’s dismay, Lord Westbook took the chair on Hugh’s opposite side. He gave the man no notice as he leaned in towards Sir Nathaniel. ‘I understand you once handled a case concerning the signing over of an estate when the signee was in no position to make such a decision and succeeded in having the contract voided.’
‘I did.’ Sir Nathaniel leaned forward with his elbows against the table to give them some privacy in their discussion. The rest of the gentlemen sat back, savouring their drinks and the conversation, while Lord Westbook sat ramrod straight in his chair, no doubt watching and listening to everything. Let him hear what Sir Nathaniel had to say, his opinion and all his stupid little stories meant nothing to Hugh. Besides, the pending case was already well known in London and another of the many tales already attached to his name. ‘And I’m familiar with your case.’
‘What do you think of it?’
‘I think you have a solid one against the enforcement of the contract, should the Scotsman ever produce it. Who’s representing you?’
‘No one, yet.’ He couldn’t afford any long, drawn-out payments to solicitors. Everburgh might be clear of debts, but the harvest had not sufficiently recovered enough to provide a robust income. Hugh must continue to economise and endure a few more lean years before he and his estate workers could at last breathe easy, assuming Everburgh wasn’t stolen out from under him. ‘I was thinking of engaging Featherton and Associates.’
‘A good firm, but not the one for something like this. You need Allenton and Associates, one of their best barristers used to work for me, I trained him up. He knows the case you’re referring to and has handled other matters dealing with questionable contacts. He’s the best for you.’
And expensive, Hugh thought, but in a matter like this he could not afford to be stingy. He would find a way to obtain the money to pay for their services, he had no choice. ‘I’ll be certain to engage them.’
The footman tried to set a snifter of brandy before Hugh, but he waved it away.
‘Is there another spirit I can offer you, Lord Delamare?’ the footman asked, eager like his employer to make the guests happy.
‘None, thank you.’
‘Nothing to warm the soul on a cold night?’ Sir Nathaniel asked, taking up his drink.
‘I warmed my soul one too many times on both cold and hot nights to realise I need to return to simpler more noble pursuits, such as my estate.’
‘An admirable choice a number of gentlemen would do well to make.’ Sir Nathaniel regarded him with an appraising look, the kind Hugh usually saw in mamas sizing him up at balls as a potential catch before they wrinkled their noses in displeasure and moved on to greener and less tarnished pastures. Hugh waited for Sir Nathaniel to do the same, but instead he took a deep sip of his drink and set it down, more admiration in his expression than reprimand.
‘If you’d like, I can write to Allenton and Associates to recommend you to them so you receive their best service,’ Sir Nathaniel offered.
‘I’d like that very much.’ This raised his spirits more than brandy ever could. This was not the usual reaction he received from those who’d appraised him of late, especially those with whom he was not well acquainted. There was no reason for Sir Nathaniel to assist him, but Hugh was glad of his kindness and generosity and would do all he could to deserve it.
It was then Lord Westbook sat forward, his long and narrow face punctuated by a too snake-like smile. ‘I’m sure your turn towards temperance in this and other pursuits will help you a great deal in your case, Lord Delamare.’
Hugh pinned the man with a hard stare, in no mood to share any of his personal matters with this weasel. ‘My behaviour has no bearing on the enforcement of the law.’
‘Behaviour always has a bearing on cases for judges are men like any other and, given your opponent’s spotless reputation, a judge might look upon him more favourably than he does you.’
‘Careful how you call my reputation into question, Lord Westbook, or I may find a way to revive it in your eyes with a more formal challenge,’ Hugh growled in a low voice. Thankfully, Mr Alton asked Sir Nathaniel a question, drawing his attention away from the less-than-civil turn in Hugh and Lord
Westbook’s conversation.
Lord Westbook went pale beneath his ruddy complexion, his spine not so stiff when faced with a challenge more formidable than making society ladies titter with delight at scandalous tales in order to secure an invitation to yet another party.
Hugh rather hoped Lord Westbook was man enough to force his hand, but Hugh didn’t wish to be rude to their host or to lose Sir Nathaniel’s newfound respect by calling out a fellow guest. Nor did he appreciate the kernel of truth in Lord Westbook’s nasty words. Hugh might not have done more than most lords in London, but he’d been careless in keeping it discreet. Lord Westbook was right. If his matter came before the wrong judge, Hugh’s past behaviour might be taken into account. It made his need to be impeccable and avoid any whiff of scandal from here on out far more pressing.
* * *
‘Lady Kingston, we haven’t had a chance to speak since you arrived.’ Lady Fulton squeezed in between Clara and Lady Pariston where they sat on the sofa, enjoying the fire and a great deal of catching up. Anne had been forced to leave the women directly after dinner to help take care of poor Lillie who’d eaten too many sweets and become sick in the nursery where the rest of the children dined. From across the new arrival, Lady Pariston threw Clara a sympathetic and curious look, both of them wondering what in the world Lady Fulton could possibly have to speak with Clara about. Lord Fulton was an agreeable man, but his considerably younger wife, who’d possessed more mercantile money than lineage before becoming Lady Fulton, wasn’t such a charming delight. She was tall and slender, and although her bloom had faded she was still attractive. However, her constant sneer did a great deal to temper it. ‘I must say, your necklace is gorgeous. Was it your mother’s?’
‘No, it was a Christmas present from my late husband,’ Clara answered coolly, irked by the woman’s uninvited intrusion and her ignoring Lady Pariston.
‘He had exquisite taste in jewellery,’ she purred with a covetousness to make Clara think she meant Alfred had more taste in baubles than he did ladies, but she smiled and accepted the compliment with far more graciousness than Lady Fulton deserved. ‘It’s a pity precedence has forced you to waste this display of finery on a man like Lord Delamare. One would think after what happened the last time the two of you were here together that he would have had the decency to stay away. I’m surprised, given his reputation in town, that he was even invited.’ She raised her hand to speak from the back of it as if she and Clara were sharing some great intimacy. ‘As much as I adore Lady Tillman, I’ve always questioned her selection of guests. Sometimes they can be so common.’
Her gaze flicked over Clara, who was certain that Lady Fulton was including her in that collection. Clara’s title might garner her respect, but not from everyone, especially someone like Lady Fulton who, despite the fashionableness of her dark blue evening dress, and the gaudy gold jewellery she wore, could not completely hide her more humble roots.
‘I believe a wide variety of guests always lends a touch of surprise to any gathering. One never knows who one might meet here, isn’t that right, Lady Pariston?’
‘It is,’ the grand dame concurred, too old to be ruffled by a parvenu like Lady Fulton. ‘Who knows what might come of new friendships.’
‘But they aren’t all new, are they?’ Lady Fulton leaned closer to Clara, her look of affected concern as sickening as her overly sweet perfume. ‘It can’t be easy for you to see him again.’
Clara sat up straighter so she could peer down her nose at the rude woman. Whatever impression she’d made on Lady Fulton in the hallway before dinner had worn off. It was time to assert herself again. ‘I find it as easy to see him as I do to see those who overstep the bounds of propriety by speaking too intimately to their betters.’
Lady Fulton jerked back and pressed her thin lips tight together at having been put in her place and by Clara of all people. Clearly she hadn’t expected this show of spirit and if she hadn’t risen at that moment to seek out other companionship, she would have tasted a great deal more of it. Clara almost wished she had stayed for, with her hackles raised and the tension still lingering from dinner, a little tiff would help her sit much easier on the sofa while they waited for the men to join them.
‘Well done, Lady Kingston,’ Lady Pariston congratulated, patting her on the knee. ‘You stood up to her as you should.’
‘I wish it hadn’t been necessary to do so.’ But Lady Fulton had been the one to strike the first blow. Who was she to cast any aspersions on Clara or even Hugh? Yet she’d felt bold enough to do it simply because of Hugh’s presence and their unfortunate seating at the dinner table. ‘With any luck, that will put an end to any of her other observations about me, at least in public.’
She could not control what they said in private any more than she could command Hugh to leave. She could only hope that nothing else happened this weekend to give that vile woman or anyone else more cause to look down their noses at her or to insist on seeing her as nothing more than the awkward young girl she’d once been. She would not be made to feel inconsequential again, not by Lady Fulton and certainly not by Hugh.
‘Care less what others think and you’ll be happier, I promise,’ Lady Pariston instructed, as if able to hear her doubts about herself and this week. ‘Besides, the way Lord Delamare regarded you tonight won’t silence anyone’s tongues and if they’re going to whisper then you might as well give them something worth whispering about. A house party is as good a place as any to do it.’
‘Lady Pariston!’ Clara could not believe she was having this conversation with a woman who could be her grandmother or that Lady Pariston was suggesting that Hugh had regarded her with a great deal of interest. The only thing he was probably interested in was her money.
‘Oh, don’t look so shocked. You’d be surprised by what all these ladies get up to, but you won’t hear about it because they’re discreet. I was discreet, too, and oh, I did have my fun, not when I was married, mind you, but on a number of occasions afterwards.’ She laid a wrinkled and bejewelled hand on her chest and smiled with winsome pride. ‘With a little discretion you could get up to a little trouble with that fine specimen of a marquess yourself.’
First Anne, now Lady Pariston. There were times when Clara seemed like the only one who cared about the blemishes of Hugh’s past. ‘I’ve already had enough trouble with Lord Delamare and, judging by what I’ve heard of him, he’s had a fair amount of his own trouble.’
‘Good, it means he knows his way around a woman.’ Lady Pariston winked at her before throwing back her head and laughing. Clara’s cheeks began to burn as people turned to view them before returning to their amusement. Then Lady Pariston sobered and faced her again. ‘Seriously, my dear, you have been placed in this position at far too young an age and now you must make the best of it. Don’t work so hard to please others, only yourself, and if that pleasure should include the young man, then so be it.’
Clara waved her hand in front of her face against the heat of the fire. ‘I assure you, what I want does not include Lord Delamare.’
‘Don’t be so set against it. It does no good for a woman to be alone, especially when there is a man willing to keep her company.’ Lady Pariston sat back, regarding her out of the corner of her eyes as if she didn’t believe for a moment what Clara had said.
Clara laid her hand in her lap with a sigh. She could insist it was true but there was no point. Lady Pariston was right, people would believe what they wanted and Clara should not be guided by a desire to try to control it. All she could control was how she responded to everyone, including Hugh, but she had no energy to do any more of that tonight. Rising, she offered the ladies goodnight and took her leave, unwilling to wait for the arrival of the men.
It would be a pleasure to be alone in her room where no one expected more of her than blowing out her candle before she fell asleep and she didn’t need to deal with the issue of Hugh and how to h
andle him while she was here. She wasn’t about to follow Lady Pariston’s advice, but she was at a loss for her own ideas about what to do. She needed her rest if she was going to face more of it tomorrow. Heaven knew this was not how she’d expected this week to be.
Chapter Three
‘You and Lord Delamare were quite silent at dinner last night,’ Anne remarked, taking the empty seat beside Clara in the sitting room where all the guests were gathering for the traditional partnering for the week’s activities. The ladies wore their sturdy pelisses and shoes and held their leather gloves in anticipation of an outside game. The weather had remained pleasant if not cold and everyone was sure the Tillmans would take advantage of it to amuse their guests. The men were equally bundled up in heavier coats and redingotes, but everyone had undone the top few buttons to keep from sweltering in the warm sitting room.
‘We weren’t completely silent,’ Clara explained matter of factly. ‘I asked him to pass the salt and he was most obliging.’
‘Yes, quite the conversation.’ Anne rolled her eyes.
‘I wonder who we’ll be paired with,’ Clara mused, eager to change the subject as she glanced around at the motley collection of titled and untitled guests scattered about the room. She rather hoped it would be with eighteen-year-old Lord Wortley so she could help set him at ease. She remembered what it was like to be without one’s parents at his age and how awkward it’d been. Thankfully, Hugh wasn’t here. With any luck he would continue to stay away and she would be spared his presence for the better part of the day. Sadly, there was still tonight’s dinner to endure.
‘I’m sure it will be exciting no matter who is chosen for you.’
