by Rose Pearson
“You are being quite foolish, Lord Morton,” Lord Rochester stated, sighing heavily and waving a hand in Nathaniel’s direction. “You did the right thing in revealing Lord Hawkridge’s actions.”
“But it was never my intention to make it fodder for the rumor mills!” Nathaniel protested loudly, leaning forward in his chair and fixing his acquaintance with a hard stare. “I trusted you to keep such matters to yourself, and you did not.”
Lord Rochester said nothing for a moment or two before sighing heavily again and flopping back in his seat, one hand holding loosely onto his brandy as it sloshed about in the bottom of the glass.
“You are much too sensitive, Morton,” Lord Rochester said, eventually, rolling his eyes as though Nathaniel was behaving ridiculously. “There is no harm done by revealing the truth!”
“There was, and there is!” Nathaniel exclaimed, aware that his voice was echoing around Whites and drawing the attention of others but finding that he could not prevent himself from speaking so. “You knew full well that when you decided to share such intimate matters with your many, many acquaintances that Lord Hawkridge would have to depart from London in shame and mortification.”
“Which is precisely what he deserved,” Lord Rochester interrupted, his thick brows burrowing low over his eyes. “He had intentions to blackmail the Earl of Knighton, as you well know.”
Nathaniel closed his eyes and forced himself to take two long breaths before he responded. “That is true, of course,” he agreed, remembering how he had stumbled across Lord Hawkridge talking in low tones to another fellow and how he had been horrified to hear of the gentleman’s intentions. He felt as much repugnance for Lord Hawkridge’s behavior now as he had then and certainly did not regret his actions in bringing Lord Hawkridge’s intentions to light—but he had done so in a way that should have kept the matter fairly quiet. The Earl of Knighton himself had been eager to do so, for then the question about what Lord Hawkridge had found would be kept silent, but it had gone entirely awry thanks to Nathaniel’s decision to talk to his friend and, thereafter, Lord Rochester’s decision to share such news with anyone who wanted to listen.
“Then why are you so upset about a few pieces of gossip?” Lord Rochester asked, sounding exasperated, “especially when the gentleman in question was forced to leave society and return home.”
“Because,” Nathaniel replied firmly, opening his eyes and looking directly into the face of Lord Rochester. “Because it was not only he who had to return home in disgrace. You may recall, Rochester, that the gentleman has a daughter.” He saw Lord Rochester’s expression change from exasperation to a sudden interest, his eyes widening slightly.
“I see,” Lord Rochester murmured, sitting up a little straighter in his chair and looking directly back at Nathaniel. “So it is the young lady that you worry about.”
Seeing the potential difficulty that could arise from such a confession, Nathaniel tried to avoid answering. “The Earl of Knighton was also left to bear the brunt of idle gossip,” he told Lord Rochester, his voice grave. “The man wanted to keep the affair as quiet as he could so that no questions would be asked, so that no one would wonder what Lord Hawkridge had found. And then, because of your idle tongue, he had to defend himself from all manner of questions!”
Lord Rochester shrugged, a gleam in his eyes as he continued to watch Nathaniel. Nathaniel held his gaze firmly, although he had the uncomfortable feeling that Lord Rochester was beginning to become aware of the source of Nathaniel’s frustration towards him.
“Lord Knighton, from what I recall, is doing rather well for himself, however,” Lord Rochester said, slowly, taking a quick sip of his brandy before continuing. “He is to be wed, is he not?”
Nathaniel shrugged, reaching for the glass of brandy on the table with some reluctance. He did not want to drink it, given that Lord Rochester had brought it for him, but at the same time felt as though he required some sustenance. “I do not know.”
“Then you are not particularly concerned over Lord Knighton ,” Lord Rochester chuckled, his eyes glinting in a somewhat malicious fashion. “You are concerned for Miss Bavidge. Is that not her name?”
Nathaniel flinched at the sound of Miss Bavidge’s name on Lord Rochester’s lips. “My quarrel is with you, Rochester,” he said, again trying to avoid the question. “I trusted you, and you betrayed that.”
“Tosh!” Lord Rochester laughed, drawing the attention of yet more patrons. “You are upset on the behalf of Miss Bavidge, are you not?” Nathaniel made to protest, made to state quite clearly that he had been saddened by his friend’s unwillingness to keep his word, but Lord Rochester was not about to listen to him. “You have seen Miss Bavidge back amongst us, have seen how little her aunt cares for her, and your heart has been unable to remove the guilt that has lingered within ever since you first spoke to the Earl of Knighton last season.” Lord Rochester chuckled horribly, his lip curling. “That is what upsets you, what angers you, Morton,” he finished, sitting back in his seat with a satisfied expression. “You wanted to protect Miss Bavidge from the consequences of her father’s actions, but you have been unable to.” He shook his head, his laughter now changed to a sneer. “You have always been too soft hearted.”
Nathaniel swallowed hard, feeling as though his throat were closing tightly as his hands curled into fists. A few other gentlemen had drawn near to them both, clearly listening to everything that was being said whilst flickers of interest showed in their expressions. He did not know what to say. The truth was that he had sought to do as the Earl of Knighton had asked in keeping the matter as quiet as he could whilst ensuring that Lord Hawkridge was not allowed to continue behaving in such a manner. The intention had been to ask Lord Hawkridge to call upon him and, when the gentleman arrived, both Nathaniel and Lord Knighton would have been present. They would have presented what they knew of Lord Hawkridge’s intentions to the gentleman, secure in the knowledge that the threat of revealing his poor behavior to the ton would ensure he stopped such activities at once. That would have sent the gentleman back to his estate, of course, but would also have protected the gentleman’s daughter from disgrace whilst ensuring that Lord Knighton’s secret remained precisely that. However, the matter had laid heavy on Nathaniel’s mind, and so he had chosen to speak of it to someone he trusted. Little wonder that he had been so upset and so angry to discover that everything he had planned had been shattered in a single moment, and all at Lord Rochester’s hand.
“I know,” Lord Rochester continued when Nathaniel could think of nothing to say. “I shall court the young lady.”
A hard fist slammed into Nathaniel’s heart. “No,” he said angrily. “You have made enough trouble already, Rochester.”
Lord Rochester arched one eyebrow whilst a murmur ran around the assembled gentlemen who now held court.
“I did not think that you would protest, Morton,” Lord Rochester replied, mildly, looking surprised. “Surely, if you are that concerned for Miss Bavidge’s wellbeing, you would be glad to have someone such as myself court her.”
Nathaniel set his jaw. “No, I would not,” he stated, as firmly as he could. “You forget that I know of your reputation, Rochester.”
Another murmur from the other gentlemen. Apparently, they too knew that Lord Rochester delighted in the company of young ladies and that he often pressed his attentions upon them a little too firmly.
Lord Rochester, however, merely shrugged. “Mayhap it is time for me to consider taking a wife,” he replied evenly, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And might this not make up in some way for what I have done regarding my past behavior?” He smiled softly, throwing up a challenge into Nathaniel’s face. “I confess I do not know the chit and certainly have not laid eyes on her—but even if I should court her for a time, that would bring her into society a little more, would it not?” He threw back the rest of his brandy and then chuckled. “Although I might change my mind and decide to marry such a creature. For surely,
she will be so grateful for any sort of attention that she will be a biddable and easy wife, who will look aside when I pursue…other matters of interest.”
Nathaniel felt as though he were about to explode with anger, his blood roaring in his ears and his heart thumping so loudly he was certain everyone could hear it. It seemed that Lord Rochester’s intention was to marry and then continue living as though he were a bachelor, seeking out the company and companionship of anyone he chose. That could not be an acceptable life for any young lady and particularly not for someone such as Miss Bavidge, who had been through so much difficulty already! But Lord Rochester was correct in one regard, Nathaniel had to admit. Miss Bavidge might easily accept Lord Rochester’s attentions since she had very few other considerations from the gentlemen of the ton.
“You could go and pursue her yourself, could you not?”
Nathaniel narrowed his eyes, his jaw working furiously.
“Ah, but of course you could not,” Lord Rochester continued, leaning forward in his seat, his voice soft with apparent understanding. “You could not court the young lady whose father you so brutally threw from society.”
“But I have seen Lord Morton dancing with Miss Bavidge on a few occasions,” said one of the gentlemen standing nearby. “Surely then—”
Lord Rochester held up one hand, silencing the gentleman. He began to laugh softly, his eyes never leaving Nathaniel’s. Nathaniel felt his stomach twist into a tight knot, aware now that Lord Rochester understood precisely what Nathaniel’s difficulty was.
“Ah, so the truth of it is finally made known,” Lord Rochester murmured, his expression dark and malevolent. “She does not know that it was you who discovered the intentions of her father. She is unaware that you were the one to bring it to the Earl of Knighton’s attention.” He tilted his head, looking almost thoughtful. “Does that mean, then, that she could be led to believe that you were the one who made everyone in society aware of Lord Hawkridge’s disgrace?”
His breath tore from his lungs as Nathaniel realized what Lord Rochester was suggesting. He stared at his acquaintance, wondering just how he could ever have been friends with such a cruel, heartless gentleman such as this. Had Lord Rochester always been so calculating? So harsh and foreboding? He did not remember ever seeing such behavior from his once-friend before, but perhaps Lord Rochester had simply been good at hiding such things from him.
“What are you trying to do, Rochester?” he asked, his voice a trifle unsteady, such was his ire. “Why do you even suggest such a thing?”
Lord Rochester’s lip curled all the more. “Because you have turned from me and heaped blame onto my shoulders,” he replied, anger spiking his words. “You remove your friendship from me simply because of something I said, leaving the beau monde completely aware of what you thought of me and my actions. I will not accept such callous treatment, Morton.”
Nathaniel closed his eyes, swallowing the painful lump in his throat. He had not been silent when it had come to telling those he knew that Lord Rochester was nothing more than a gossip and a breaker of his trust, but he had never once suspected that his friend intended to punish him for such a thing! Now, it seemed, Lord Rochester had merely been biding his time, trying to find something or someone to use in order to punish Nathaniel—and he had managed to find something that would tear Nathaniel’s heart apart with both guilt and the agony of being unable to tell Miss Bavidge the truth.
“Therefore, you can expect me to begin to court Miss Bavidge very soon,” Lord Rochester continued, softly, lifting his glass and waving it at a nearby footman, who came to collect it at once. “I doubt that you will find the courage to tell her my intentions, for if you do so, then you will have to reveal all to her—and what will she think of you then?” He laughed horribly and rose from his chair. “And if you try to warn her away from me, then I might have to speak to her of what I know of you.” The threat was clear. “You try to protect her as much as you try to protect yourself, Morton. There is no good in that, I assure you.”
He walked away from Nathaniel, leaving him sitting in his chair with the glass of brandy frozen in his hand. Nathaniel did not know what to say or what to do, staring blankly ahead as he tried to find some way out of what Lord Rochester had threatened. All about him, the crowd of gentlemen began to talk in hushed tones, their words buzzing about Nathaniel’s head like flies. A great chasm seemed to open up in front of him, leaving him feeling as though he were about to topple headlong into it, with no way to prevent himself from doing so. To protect Miss Bavidge from Lord Rochester would be to tell her the truth about what he had done to involve himself with her father’s situation. Most likely, he would have to confess that he had told Lord Rochester of what had occurred, which had then led to Rochester himself spreading the gossip throughout London. He could imagine how she would react to such news, aware that there would be upset, anger and even hatred towards him for what he had done—not in preventing Lord Hawkridge from blackmailing Lord Knighton, but in speaking to Rochester and therefore, starting the very beginnings of the gossip that now surrounded her.
But to remain silent, to remain afar from her, would mean that Rochester would do his level best to encourage her affections and, most likely, Miss Bavidge would give them willingly. After all, that was why she had returned to London for the season, was it not? She had come to seek a match, as did most of the other young ladies who attended London. Being a little older meant that she had more urgency than most, and he did not think that she would be too specific about the sort of gentleman she required. Therefore, Lord Rochester had an excellent chance to succeed in his plan.
“I have to stop this,” Nathaniel muttered to himself as a vision of Miss Bavidge floated before his eyes. She had seemed so brittle on the first occasion he had spoken to her, but it was a hardness that came from an attempt to hide her vulnerability. He had found himself seeking her out whenever he attended any social occasion, and on the times he had found her, he had sought to encourage her with a dance or two. That had only happened on two prior occasions, but it had been enough to convince him that Miss Bavidge was an intelligent, delightful young lady who had more than enough worth of her own to be considered as a bride for some suitable gentleman. He had just never even considered the possibility of courtship given that he would have to confess all should that occurred.
But now that Lord Rochester had made his intentions clear, Nathaniel felt his heart wrench in his chest. He wanted to do something, wanted to stop Lord Rochester in any way he could, but the only way that was open to him was barred by his own unwillingness. He did not want Miss Bavidge to hate him, but nor did he want Lord Rochester to succeed.
Just what was he to do?
Chapter Six
“‘The Spinster’s Guild,’ then.”
Emma looked up from where she had been studying her dance card, seeing the gentleman that Lady Smithton had introduced only earlier that day.
“Good evening, Lord Havisham,” she replied with a quick smile. “I see Lady Smithton has managed to convince you to come to our aid.”
Lord Havisham allowed himself a long, pained sigh, giving her a roll of his eyes, which made her smile all the more. “Indeed, I have been convinced,” he replied with a wry grin. “Lady Smithton is a very dear friend of mine, and I do not think I could refuse her anything. Besides which, I must prove myself to her, Miss Bavidge, and I intend not to allow myself to fail in any way.”
Emma considered this, looking up at the gentleman’s handsome face and wondering just how fond he was of Lady Smithton for his firm, and frankly, fairly vulnerable words had taken her by surprise. Lady Smithton had blushed just a little as she had introduced him to Emma, to Miss Crosby, and to the two other young ladies that had come to join them—Lady Amelia and Lady Beatrice—and that itself had caught Emma’s attention. She had heard Lady Smithton state with some determination that she was not about to throw her heart to any other gentleman after what she had endured with her first hu
sband, but it did not appear as though she was entirely immune to Lord Havisham’s charms.
“Now, it seems that I am to give you guidance as to which gentlemen are suitable and which would be best avoided,” Lord Havisham continued, looking a trifle uncomfortable as though he were not quite certain he could do the job that had been asked of him. “I will admit that I have the measure of most of the gentlemen within society, and it will be fairly easy to discover the truth about those I do not know.” He gave her a half shrug. “Lady Smithton says that Lord Morton has been favoring you.”
Emma blushed furiously and waved a hand. “He is not favoring me, no,” she replied, trying not to allow such a statement to bother her. “He has been very kind and, from what I have seen of him, I believe him to have integrity and a strong character. He does not try to mock me as so many others have done. Instead, he seeks me out and dances with me upon occasion, so that I am not standing alone all evening.”
Lord Havisham nodded slowly. Something flickered in his eyes—was it a question? A question over her or about Lord Morton? Emma was about to ask when Lord Havisham let out a long breath, frowned, and turned towards the rest of the guests.
“You have an aunt, I believe.”
“Yes,” Emma replied, her blush now turning to embarrassment. “I do not believe she ever truly wished to help me this season, although she did agree to do so with my father’s cajoling. However, once we came to London and she realized that the gossip about my father’s blackmail was still on everyone’s lips, she has done all she can to remove herself from my side whenever we are in company. At home, she speaks to me quite as usual, but out of our townhouse, it is as though she is a stranger.” Emma lifted one shoulder with a small shrug. “But what can I do? I could try to talk to her, to point out what a hypocrite she is being, but I know full well that she will not listen to me. Nor will anything I say make her change her behavior.”
