by Anna Bradley
“Your apology and your offer to make amends.” He bowed, then held out his hand to her, and after another brief hesitation, she rested the daintiest fingers he’d ever seen in his palm. His hand swallowed hers up, right down to her wrist, like a pelican scooping up an entire fish in a single gulp.
“Thank you. I’ll make whatever amends I can, but as I said before—”
“Lachlan?” Ciaran wandered into the stables, squinting into the gloom. “Lord Huntington is…oh, there you are, Miss Somerset. Your sisters have been searching for you this half hour. Lord Huntington wishes to see everyone in the drawing room.”
They followed Ciaran out, and when they entered the drawing room they found the entire family assembled, and Lady Huntington serving tea from a low table in front of the settee.
Lady Chase was sitting next to her, nibbling on a biscuit and fretting over someone named Lady Bagshot. “I’m telling you, that wretched woman will have tattled this business from one end of London to the other by now. Oh, what a pity you invited her to the ball at all, Iris! But I suppose it’s too late to do anything about that now.”
“I had to invite her, Grandmother. I couldn’t snub her without risking a return snub, and you know all the ton clamors for an invitation to her annual ball.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Lady Chase took up another biscuit from the tray and snapped its head off with one bite. “Though I don’t see why. It’s the dullest affair in London, and her refreshments are a disgrace. I’ve had better cake at Almack’s, and as you know, their cake tastes like dry toast.”
Lord Huntington entered the drawing room then. He closed the door behind him, took a place at the head of the room, and got right to the point. “I don’t need to explain to any of you the change in our family’s circumstances. We’re all aware the Ramseys have come, and that they intend to make their home in England now.”
Lachlan glanced around the room. He half-expected to see everyone rise up in open rebellion at the thought of welcoming the previous Marchioness of Huntington’s scandalous offspring into their family. Despite Finn’s assurances, Lachlan was still amazed his new brother intended to publicly acknowledge them. As for the rest of the family, he doubted they’d be overjoyed at the prospect of the scandal. After all, the Ramseys had no claim on Lord and Lady Dare, or on Lady Chase.
No one batted an eye. They sat quietly, munching their biscuits and sipping their tea, their attention on Finn as they waited for him to continue.
“There’s a great deal that needs to be sorted out, of course, and it will take time, but there is one immediate question we must answer at once. What do we intend to do about Hyacinth’s season?”
“I don’t see what can be done,” Lady Chase said, with an air of doom. “It’s already caused an uproar, and soon all of London will have heard of it. Lady Bagshot was sitting right beside me when poor Hyacinth took such a fright, and you all know what an awful gossip she is.”
“Now, Lady Chase,” Finn said in a soothing tone. “It’s not as bad as all that.”
Lady Dare shook her head. “Bad enough. An unfounded murder accusation, Finn? A dramatic swoon in the middle of the ballroom, with all the ton looking on? I agree with Grandmother. I don’t see how we recover from this.”
Hyacinth dropped onto the settee, her shoulders slumped as if the weight of the scandal had just crashed down upon them. Whatever spirit she’d shown in the stables seemed to drain out of her, leaving her pale and deflated. “Dear God. It’s a disaster, isn’t it?”
Finn blew out a breath. “It’s not a disaster unless we let it be so. You made a mistake, Hyacinth—an unfortunate one, yes, but a simple, forgivable mistake nonetheless. There may yet be a way to repair the damage.”
Lady Chase snorted. “I’ve never known the ton to be very forgiving.”
“How is it to be repaired, Finn?” Lady Huntington gave her husband a sharp look. “No, I think it would be best if you withdraw from your season at once, Hyacinth. The other night was…well, Violet and I are concerned the strain will be too much for you, and Grandmother thought—”
“I thought perhaps we’d take a holiday to Brighton instead.” Lady Chase gave Hyacinth a bright smile. “You have delicate sensibilities, dear. Worry or anxiety of any sort may make you ill. Such a pity to see all those lovely gowns go to waste, but no matter. It’s not to be thought of, when weighed against your health.”
“Miss Somerset doesn’t look ill.” Lachlan’s voice was harsher than he intended, but damn it, not half an hour ago Hyacinth Somerset had been well enough to call him an ass. It wasn’t until she’d entered the room that she began to look like a crushed flower trapped under a muddy boot heel. If they kept on like this, they’d have her convinced she had the plague.
“She doesn’t look ill to me, either. Quite the opposite,” Ciaran said, with a flirtatious smile at Hyacinth.
Pink washed over her cheeks, and she looked away, as if she was flustered by Ciaran’s compliment. Lachlan frowned. A beauty like that, and she didn’t know how to flirt? For God’s sake, her grandmother and sisters must keep her wrapped in cotton wool.
“She’s not ill, only delicate, and easily overwrought.” Lady Dare frowned at Ciaran. “It isn’t good for her to remain in London at the mercy of all the gossips.”
Overwrought, delicate, ill…
Lachlan rolled his eyes. Jesus, he’d never heard such nonsense in his life. “Surely Miss Somerset isn’t as fragile as all that.”
Lady Dare took Hyacinth’s hand and cradled it gently in hers. “You did enjoy your holiday in Brighton last year, dear, and the sea air did you a world of good. You were so refreshed when you returned to London. Wouldn’t you like to go again?”
“Well, of course Brighton is…that is, the sea air…” Hyacinth looked down at her hands. “It’s just…I didn’t expect much from my season, but I hadn’t imagined it would be over in a single night.”
Lachlan glanced from Lady Huntington to Lady Dare, and then to Lady Chase, but none of them seemed to notice Hyacinth was shrinking right before their very eyes. The more they fussed over her, the smaller she became, as if their suggestion she were ill was enough to make her believe it herself.
“But of course I’ll go, if you all think it best,” Hyacinth said at last, her eyes downcast.
“We do.” Lady Dare breathed out a sigh of relief, and patted Hyacinth’s hand. “And there’s no reason why we can’t revisit the idea of a season next year.”
Next year? Lachlan restrained an impatient growl. Bloody nonsense. Finn was right. If Hyacinth didn’t debut this year, she never would.
Finn cleared his throat. “Before you make a decision, Hyacinth, you should know Lachlan and I have agreed we’ll bring Isla out this season.”
Isla had remained quiet during the discussion about Brighton, but now she glanced up, and a smile lit her face. “A London season? Truly?”
“If you’d like it, then yes, of course.” Finn looked pleased at her reaction. “We’ll have a job managing the ton, but it will be a great deal easier if you and Hyacinth have each other for support.”
“Oh!” Isla clapped her hands together with delight. “I should love that above all things! What fun we’d have, Miss Somerset!”
“I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think you could manage it,” Finn added gently to Hyacinth. “I don’t say it won’t be a challenge, but I’ve no doubt you have the strength to rise and meet it, especially if you have a friend by your side.”
A tense silence descended on the room. Lady Dare and Lady Chase traded uneasy glances, and Lady Huntington was looking at her husband as if she wished to box his ears, but Lachlan only spared them the briefest glance.
He was watching Hyacinth.
A look of intense longing crossed her face, a look so poignant, so heartbreaking, it made his breath seize in his chest. She was frightened, yes—of the ton
and the gossip, of the damage done by the scandal, and she was concerned she’d worry her sisters and grandmother by remaining in London—but even so, and despite her doubts about herself, a part of Hyacinth Somerset desperately wanted her season.
Then, in the next breath, the look of yearning was gone, and in its place was a blank face, one that gave nothing away. “I thank you, Finn, for the kind suggestion, but I think…I think I prefer to go to Brighton.”
Finn’s face fell. “Hyacinth—”
“It’s for the best, Lord Huntington.” Lady Chase levered herself up from the sofa with the help of her cane, and held out her hand for her granddaughter. “Well, come along, Hyacinth. You look fatigued. It’s time we went home, my dear.”
“Wait, Grandmother.” Hyacinth ignored her grandmother’s hand, and instead crossed the room to where Isla sat. “Forgive me, Miss Ramsey, for not joining you this season, but I hope you’ll tell me how else I can help you before my grandmother and I leave for Brighton.”
Lachlan could see Isla was disappointed, but she hid it under a smile. “How kind. I confess I’m a trifle apprehensive about a London season. I got a glimpse of the ladies’ gowns when we passed by the ballroom the other night, and I already know mine won’t do.”
Hyacinth was quiet for a moment, her face thoughtful. “Perhaps all my gowns needn’t go to waste, after all. Because of my grandmother’s generosity, I have enough gowns squeezed into my closet to dress a dozen ladies for an entire season. I’m certain you’d find something there to suit you. We’re close enough in size it won’t take any time at all to have some of my gowns made over for you.”
Isla’s eyes went wide. “Oh no, I couldn’t ask that of you.”
Hyacinth smiled. “You didn’t ask. I offered. Please do let me help you, Miss Ramsey. Nothing would make me happier.”
“Why, how generous you are!”
Isla looked as if she wanted to say more, but Hyacinth’s cheeks colored, and she hastily interrupted her. “Will you come to Bedford Square some afternoon this week? We’ll send for Madame Bell, you can choose which gowns you like, and we’ll have a fitting of sorts. You’ll need a ball gown right away, because Lady Bagshot’s ball is the week after next, and it’s very grand, and…” Hyacinth trailed off, biting her lip. “Oh, dear. We haven’t yet worked out how to secure the Ramseys an invitation to Lady Bagshot’s ball, have we?”
Iris shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. It’s lovely of you to offer your gowns to Isla, Hyacinth, truly it is, but as of yet, she has no place to wear them. Even under the best of circumstances Isla’s debut would be tricky, and these are not the best of circumstances.”
A brief silence fell as they all considered this, then Lady Chase gave a great sniff. “What a pity it has to be Lady Bagshot, of all people.”
“Indeed.” Lady Dare seated herself on a sofa beside her husband. “But if Lady Bagshot snubs Isla, she won’t be invited anywhere else. However we proceed, we’ll have to prepare for gossip. God knows the ton is vicious when it comes to scandal.”
“Not all of the ton,” Finn said, with a calm sip of his tea.
Lady Chase snorted. “I hope you don’t mean to try and persuade us Lady Bagshot isn’t vicious. Why, I’ve known her for years, and she’s always been as mean as a snake.”
“No, she’s vicious enough, but there are a few kind, decent souls to be found tucked into the corners of the English aristocracy. Among all of us, we know most of them. There’s no way around the gossip, but it isn’t as if we don’t have any resources at our disposal.” Finn looked around the room. “Dare. You know the Worthingtons fairly well, don’t you?”
Nick nodded. “Andrew Worthington and I have known each other for years, and my aunt, Lady Westcott, is dear friends with his parents.”
“Is Lady Atherton in town?” Finn turned to Lady Chase. “I understand she spends a good deal of time in Bath.”
“She does, the poor dear. Ill health, you know. But she’s well enough now, and in town for the remainder of the season.”
Iris tapped her lip, thinking. “Lady Bagshot’s ball is next week, and then Lord and Lady Hayhurst’s ball is after that.” Iris turned to Isla. “Lady Hayhurst is my friend, and a dear, kind thing. If I ask her to, I’m certain she’ll invite you to her ball. That alone will go a long way toward ensuring your acceptance with the ton.”
“Well, that’s one problem solved. Now if we can only get Lady Bagshot, as well as the Hayhursts.” Lady Dare stirred three lumps of sugar into her tea, then set her spoon aside. “Hyacinth might be able to persuade her. She’s always been rather a favorite of Lady Bagshot’s.”
“Yes, that’s true. Lady Bagshot fancies herself a great judge of music, and admires Hyacinth’s skill on the pianoforte.” Lady Chase smiled proudly at her granddaughter. “You do play like an angel, dear. It’s the one point on which Lady Bagshot and I agree.”
“There it is, then. Miss Somerset will call on Lady Bagshot and influence her in the Ramseys’ favor. Of course, you’ll have to delay your trip to Brighton for a few days.” Lachlan raised a meaningful eyebrow at Finn.
He caught on at once. “Brilliant idea, Lachlan. She’ll receive you, Hyacinth, even if it’s only to get the gossip firsthand. Do you suppose you can put off the trip to Brighton for a week or so? Do you feel well enough?”
Hyacinth gave her sisters an uncertain look. “I don’t suppose an extra week in London will hasten my demise.”
“I don’t think—” Iris began.
Lachlan interrupted her, his gaze on Hyacinth. “You told me you wished to make amends, Miss Somerset. Here’s your chance. Your gowns won’t be of much use to Isla if she’s not invited anywhere.”
“And I daresay you’re safe enough for a few more days. For the entire season, really,” Finn added.
Hyacinth hesitated, then glanced at Isla with a shy smile. “Perhaps we could call on Lady Bagshot together, Miss Ramsey, and see if we can’t win her over. It will help your cause a great deal if we can. Lady Bagshot is rather a favorite with the ton.”
“Nonsense. She’s as dreadful an old dragon as you’ll ever meet.” Lady Chase pursed her lips. “But she does have a weakness for quiet, well-behaved young ladies.”
“I suppose a few extra days won’t do any harm,” Iris admitted reluctantly. “Violet, you and Nick should call on the Worthingtons, and Grandmother, you must go see Lady Atherton. We’ll have you all put it about the unfortunate, ah…incident the other night was a simple misunderstanding, and drop a hint or two about the Ramseys’ relationship to Lord Huntington.”
“Yes, that’s very good. Oh, I do love it when a plan falls logically into place.” Lady Dare rubbed her hands together.
Everyone began chattering about Lady Bagshot, and the Hayhursts’ ball, and Lady Atherton’s chest complaints, but Lachlan remained silent, his gaze on Hyacinth.
It was a few days’ delay only. If he and Finn couldn’t persuade her to go ahead with her season, Hyacinth Somerset would be off to Brighton with her grandmother before the ink dried on Lady Bagshot’s ball invitation.
The thought bothered him more than it should.
The gowns—it was the damn gowns that had done it. What sort of lady offered all her pretty ball gowns to another lady she hardly knew, one who was going to debut in her place?
Hyacinth Somerset was kind. Truly kind, just as Finn had said she was. It wasn’t right she should be left to languish on the sidelines, as if she were no more than a lonely spectator in her own life.
There was a brief lull in the conversation, and Lady Chase rose to her feet. “Come along, Hyacinth. I daresay you’d like a rest, wouldn’t you? You look a bit pale. I hope you haven’t exhausted yourself today.”
Lachlan snapped back to attention just as Miss Somerset accepted her shawl from Lady Dare. She wrapped it around her shoulders, and tucked Lady Chase’s hand into her el
bow. “I’ll see you soon, Miss Ramsey? Shall I send a note round once we’ve secured an appointment with the modiste, Madame Bell?”
Isla stood, curtsied to Lady Chase, and held out her hand to Hyacinth. “Yes, of course. I’m looking forward to it.”
Before he knew what he intended to do, Lachlan jumped to his feet. “May I see you to your carriage?”
“Um…of course. Thank you, Mr. Ramsey.” Miss Somerset looked surprised at his offer, but she took his arm and let him escort her out to the drive.
“Lady Chase.” He bowed, then handed her into the carriage, and while the old lady fussed with the cushions and carriage rugs, he took Miss Somerset aside. “They don’t have an ass at the Royal Menagerie.”
Her cheeks flooded with color. “I—it was a figure of speech. I do beg your par—”
“No, don’t beg my pardon. I’ve never been to the Royal Menagerie, but I’ve heard they have a Persian lioness. Have you seen her? Fiercely protective animals. Rather like brothers. If you did change your mind about your season, you’d have nothing to fear, Miss Somerset. Not from anyone.”
She blinked. “Are you trying to say you’d protect me from the ton, Mr. Ramsey?”
“Just as I would Isla. As if you were my own sister. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“That’s very…” She trailed off, as if she couldn’t determine what that was. “But my sisters and grandmother wish me to go to Brighton. I doubt I’ll change my mind.”
“Pity.” Lachlan didn’t argue with her—not this time—but led her to the carriage, and handed her in. “I wish you a pleasant afternoon, Lady Chase. Miss Somerset? Enjoy your rest.”
Chapter Six
“Tell me, Miss Somerset. How will you persuade Lady Bagshot I’m not a murderer?”
Lachlan Ramsey sat across from her in Lady Chase’s carriage, his enormous hands folded over the head of his walking stick, doubt written in every line of his handsome face—
