by Rose Pearson
Feeling a slight chill in the air, Emily sighed to herself as she began to walk back towards the entrance of the park. The ton certainly could be cruel, as she herself had discovered. Her husband had died from nothing more than a fall from a horse but within a few hours, it seemed, there had been rumors that he had deliberately thrown himself from it in order to bring his life to an end. It had, as far as she believed, came from her father, whom she had written to almost at once to inform him and her mother of her changed situation. The gossip had sickened her entirely. The ton had known, of course, that Emily’s marriage to the Marquess of Smithton had been an arrangement made between him and her father, and they also knew just how much Emily’s mother had opposed the marriage, albeit in a silent plea instead of any practical measures. After all, the Marquess had been almost twenty-five years Emily’s senior.
Why does wealth have such a great impact on the gentlemen of the ton? she wondered to herself, walking slowly back to the entrance to the park. Her father and Lord Smithton had exchanged a good deal of money for her marriage, which she had only discovered once she had been wed for a month or so. The dowry had been given, yes, but Lord Smithton himself had then responded by giving Emily’s father a substantial sum in return. Lord Smithton himself had told her this, mocking her one evening when he had been in his cups. She had been bought and sold like she was nothing more than a donkey traded for work.
Lord Smithton had paid for her simply because he wanted a young wife to give him the heir he needed. Given that his previous wife had died early into their marriage, having become a shadow of her former self, the gentility of London were rather wary of him. Nothing more than rumors had been said, of course, but it had been more than enough for the mothers of the ton to keep their eligible daughters away from him. Emily’s father had done no such thing, however, and had made it clear that he would be willing to marry Emily to Lord Smithton for a price. Emily could still recall how Lord Smithton had laughed in her face, telling her that she meant nothing to her father and was merely a broodmare for him.
That had been the day she had decided to stop allowing herself to be treated in such a degrading fashion. She had withheld everything from the marquess. Since that night, she had refused to leave her quarters and go to his bed, as she was expected to do whenever he called her. His age and his lack of strength had prevented him from chasing her and forcing her to do as he wished, and life had gone on in such a way for a little less than a year. And then, he had died and the rumors had sprung up that he had done so deliberately to escape from his selfish and unwilling wife. They had also whispered that she had found out of his many evenings spent at houses of ill repute and had made his life difficult ever since then when the truth had been quite the opposite. She had never cared what he did, choosing only how to live her own life in as manageable a way as possible, having no respect and certainly no affection for the man she had been forced to marry.
Shrugging to herself, Emily re-tied her bonnet strings and made her way towards the road, hailing a hackney to return her to her townhouse. It was not something she was about to allow herself to linger on, for it had been two years since the event of her marriage and much too long a time to continue dwelling on it. She had to refocus her mind on her present circumstances and find the strength needed to daily rise above the whispers that dogged her heels whenever she stepped out. For the first time in her life, she would seek a life of happiness and contentment, refusing to allow the dull spirit and the weights of the past to continue to bear down on her.
It was time for things to change.
Chapter Five
“My dear Lady Smithton!”
Emily smiled as graciously as she greeted Lady Clarke, who had once been something of an acquaintance to Emily’s mother. However, her own personal consideration of the lady was now markedly different from when they had first met, for Emily was all too aware that Lady Clarke was glad to see Emily present, simply because of the gossip that surrounded her. Lady Clarke would be soon surrounded by those who wanted to know how she was acquainted with Emily and what Lady Clarke thought about the death of Emily’s husband – and no doubt, Lady Clarke would be more than delighted to oblige them with her opinions. Yes, indeed, the lady would have a good deal to talk about, and it would all be at Emily’s expense.
“How good it is to see you again,” the lady continued, looking at Emily with bright, shining eyes and a warm smile. “I have always hoped that you might return to society once you had undertaken your mourning period. How glad I am to see you again!”
“And now, your hopes have been fulfilled,” Emily replied, tartly, finding the false tone of Lady Clarke’s voice grating on her. “But I should not take up any more of your time.”
“Oh, no, do wait a moment!” Lady Clarke exclaimed, putting a hand onto Emily’s arm. “I know that you must be finding some aspects of London society to be most troubling.” She gave Emily what she presumed to be a sympathetic smile, but Emily remained tight-lipped. “I want you to be aware, my dear, that you can always seek me out and take me into your confidence.”
A laugh escaped from Emily’s lips before she could prevent it. As much as Lady Clarke appeared to be genuine in her desire to aid Emily, she clearly thought that Emily was something of a simpleton. Did she think that Emily could not see the ladies who were slowly advancing towards Lady Clarke, their eyes fixed upon them both? Did she truly expect Emily to believe that she would keep anything Emily spoke of to herself? Lady Clarke flinched at the laugh that came from Emily’s lips, forcing a tight smile to Emily’s lips. She wanted to tell Lady Clarke that she would not even consider her offer to be Emily’s confidante, but to do so would be more than a little rude and Emily did not want to add to the whispers that were already circulating about her. Instead, she simply chose to ignore Lady Clarke’s suggestion entirely, giving it no credence whatsoever. “Thank you for your invitation to your ball, it was very kind of you.” She took her arm away from where Lady Clarke held it, her smile never flickering. “Do excuse me. I can see that you have more guests to greet.”
She stepped away, leaving Lady Clarke entirely flustered, clearly taken aback by Emily’s determined spirit and unwillingness to accept her offer. Emily did not care a jot for what Lady Clarke thought, seeing right through the lady just as she could do with most of the ton. That was, of course, the problem with returning to London. One also returned to the lies, the selfishness, the greed, the opulence and, of course, the determination to be more beautiful, more delicate, more refined and elegant than any other – even one’s closest acquaintances. Lady Clarke did not care for Emily’s state of being, having never once deigned herself to so much as pen a note to her during the two years since Emily had last been in London, so she was not about to accept Lady Clarke’s platitudes now.
Letting her eyes rove around the ballroom, she saw many ladies glancing in her direction but chose to ignore them all entirely. She was well aware that she looked more than presentable, in the finest gown of the highest fashion and with seed pearls and delicate flowers being threaded through the dark brown curls of her hair that were piled up high on her head. Yes, she had made sure to look her best this evening, mostly to show the ton that she was not affected by their whispers and their gossip, as well as to prove that she was not about to hide in a shadowy corner during such events as this. That was who she had been when her father had first brought her to town, but she would not be so now. She could choose what she wore, where she went and whom she spoke to, instead of being the quiet, fearful young woman that she had been at the first. No, she was a strong and mostly independent young lady, albeit a widow, and that meant more freedom than she had ever had in her life before.
“Lady Smithton! It cannot be!”
Emily turned her head to see a gentleman approach her. He was overly tall, in her opinion, and rather thin, to the point of looking gaunt. His cheekbones were prominent although his small, grey eyes were almost hidden in the depths of his face. Dark brown h
air was pulled back from his face, adding to his angular appearance.
“Lord Ralstock, my lady,” he murmured, bowing over her hand. “Do you recall? I married – ”
“Of course!” Emily exclaimed at once, a flare of heat touching her cheeks as she realized she had quite forgotten him and had only recalled him once he had given her his name. “You married my dear friend Miss Catherine Boyd only a few months after my own marriage.” He nodded, a broad smile settling over his features. “I do apologize, Lord Ralstock. It has been some years since I have seen you both although I have always been truly grateful for her letters.”
“I know that she has been concerned for you,” Lord Ralstock replied, somewhat gravely, his smile fading. “The relief on her face each time she received a response to her letter was evident to everyone who saw her.”
Emily smiled gently, her heart filling with contentment over the concern and compassion that the now Lady Ralstock had shown her. Catherine had been one of her only close acquaintances during her first year in town. Whenever she had been able to, Emily had sought her out, although it had not been very often that her father had allowed her to go about societal events alone. Nevertheless, Catherine had written to Emily whenever she could and had informed her about her own marriage. The letters had become less frequent once Emily’s mourning period had come to an end, although Emily had informed Lady Ralstock that she would be in London for the Season this year. It would be good to see her again. “Might I ask where Lady Ralstock is this evening?”
Lord Ralstock grinned at her. “She is in confinement, Lady Smithton. That is why her letters have been a little less frequent of late.” A slight cloud passed over his face. “She has been very tired indeed.”
Emily’s eyes widened and, for a moment, she stood there, stunned. “Oh, my!” She shook her head, feeling a lump in her throat that she could not quite explain. “I am truly glad for you both, Lord Ralstock. That is a wonderful event indeed.”
The smile returned to Lord Ralstock’s face. “I thank you, Lady Smithton. It will be very joyful indeed, I hope.” He tipped his head. “She will certainly wish to see you, however.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his card and handed it to her. “Might you call upon us soon?”
Emily accepted it at once, nodding fervently and feeling a smile spread across her face. “Oh, yes, of course. Please do give her my regards and tell her I am already looking forward to being reacquainted with her.”
Lord Ralstock inclined his head. “But of course. Now, might I present you to some of my acquaintances? You shall have your dance card filled within minutes, I am quite sure.”
Emily let out a small chuckle, thinking he was very kind. “You have not heard of the rumors that follow me about, I presume, Lord Ralstock, else you would not be so eager to be in my company for an overly long length of time.”
Lord Ralstock snorted and shook his head, rolling his eyes at her. “I hardly give such things credence, Lady Smithton and nor do I care about what the gossip mongers choose to chew upon. I do not believe for a moment that your character nor your behavior had any influence whatsoever on the death of your husband.” He inclined his head for a moment. “Although I was sorry to hear that you had lost him.”
A little surprised, Emily felt her lips pull into a smile. “He fell from his horse, having imbibed too much,” she said, with a small shrug. “I will not pretend that I had a great affection for him, however, for that cannot be the truth and I will not speak untruths.”
Lord Ralstock did not so much as flinch. “I quite understand,” he replied, with a sad smile. “It is the way of the ton, is it not? Gentlemen do as they please whilst their wives must simply forebear.”
“It is,” Emily admitted, all the more astonished to hear the understanding in Lord Ralstock’s voice. “Lord Smithton was not inclined towards the consideration of others, I confess.”
“That is a grave fault indeed,” Lord Ralstock replied, his expression sympathetic. “It must have been a trying time for you.”
Emily swallowed hard, finding Lord Ralstock’s compassion pushing aside the hard outer shell that she had formed about her
“But all the more reason for me to ensure that you have an enjoyable time here in London during this Season,” he continued, jovially, as though he had seen her struggling to speak openly and did not wish to trouble her further. “Come now, we shall have your dance card filled within the hour, I am certain of it. That is,” he finished, with a broad smile, “if that is what you wish.”
Emily managed a smile, trying to regain her composure. “That is very kind of you, Lord Ralstock. I confess that I am not certain how many of my acquaintances still remain in London since it has been a few years since I was last present. I did not have a good many acquaintances either, I am afraid since my father was most particular about whom I was introduced to.”
“I am certain that a few of your previous acquaintances are present still,” Lord Ralstock said, with a chuckle. “Many are now married, of course, but they still come to hear the gossip and the like – which, I’m afraid, you know all too well.”
She sighed and nodded. “Indeed I do.”
Lord Ralstock shot her a sympathetic smile. “Well then, I shall be careful as to whom I introduce you to, Lady Smithton, keeping you away from those likely to gossip.”
Laughing, Emily looked up at him appreciatively. “I thank you, Lord Ralstock. Although I fear it may be an impossible task!”
“Not at all,” he said, grandly. “Ah, here we are.”
They had come upon a group of gentlemen and ladies, all of whom were talking and laughing together over the noise of the orchestra. Lord Ralstock introduced her to one after the other and she nodded and smiled, ignoring the feelings of anxiety and worry that were growing within her as he did so. Those she was introduced to seemed very proper indeed, for there was no flicker of interest in their eyes as they greeted her, no knowing smiles or anything of the sort to indicate to her that they might be inclined to whisper about her behind her back. Lord Ralstock had done well.
“Ah, and here is Lord Havisham!” Lord Ralstock exclaimed, as a broad-shouldered gentleman stepped forward into the group. “Lord Havisham, this is Lady Smithton.”
She could barely lift her eyes to him but forced herself to do so, unwilling to shrink before him as she had done once. Her heart was thundering furiously in her chest as she looked at him, seeing him just she remembered him. The square jaw, the brooding expression, they were all just as she recalled. His fair hair was neatly styled, his blue eyes dark as they regarded her. There was no smile on his face but rather a look of surprise, which was then replaced with something altogether more severe. Emily felt heat climb up her neck but chose to turn away so as not to allow herself to appear embarrassed. Their last meeting had never left her memory, for the shame of it and his harsh words of refusal were burned into her mind. He had not done as she had hoped, had not saved her from the dreadful marriage to Lord Smithton. Did he regret it now? Or had he turned from his feelings and married another?
“We are already acquainted,” she said coolly, lifting her eyes away from Lord Havisham and returning it to Lord Ralstock. “Although thank you for all of your introductions, Lord Ralstock. I am most grateful.”
Thankfully, her new acquaintances were eager to further their introductions to her and so a conversation began in earnest. Emily ensured that she did not look back in Lord Havisham’s direction as she talked, being quite open and honest whenever there came any questions about her return to London. He would see that she was not the same young lady as he recalled. She was stronger in her spirit now, was determined and certain in her intentions. She had no need to reacquaint herself with him now.
“Yes,” she said, in answer to one question. “I was in London some two years ago, when I was first betrothed to the Marquess of Smithton. I am sorry to say that he died only a short time ago. I have just completed my year of mourning.”
“But you are still youn
g, Lady Smithton!” one of the younger ladies exclaimed. “I am quite sure that, should you wish it, you will be able to marry again.”
Lord Havisham cleared his throat suddenly, making her skin prickle with awareness. Despite her determination, Emily’s eyes drifted to Lord Havisham, who was looking back at her with a spark flickering in his eyes.
“No,” she said firmly, her gaze now fixed on him. “No, Miss Ruttle. I have very little intention of marrying again, not when I can be a wealthy, independent widow.” She chuckled and looked back at Miss Ruttle. “I may have all the gentlemen in London pursuing me but I shall not be pulled from this life, no matter how much they offer me or how devoted they promise they will be.”
There came a shout of laughter at this and Emily found herself smiling with her new acquaintances, although she was well aware that Lord Havisham was not joining in with their mirth. Glancing at him, Emily saw that his gaze was fixed on her, his lips tugging thin and flat with something like regret written in his expression.
