by Kelly Boyce
But now the ruse must continue. Tonight she must be charming and flirtatious. She must endear Shaftsbury or Cranbrook to such a degree at least one of them would be prompted to propose with all due haste. She could not tarry any longer.
She must end this now.
Chapter Twenty
“But I don’t understand.”
Spence avoided his grandmother’s questioning gaze as he stepped aside and let the footmen carry his trunk to the awaiting carriage. It had not taken long after Caelie had left him standing alone in the solar to realize he had to leave. He could no longer stay under the same roof as her.
“It is for the best, Grandmama. Propriety and all.”
What a rip! The horse had run out of the barn on that one, yet here he was trying to slam the door anyway.
His grandmother stood in front of him, her hands on her hips like a general commanding her troops. “Since when have you ever given one whit about propriety?”
He didn’t. Not really. What he cared about was not suffering any further humiliation by claiming his feelings for a woman who had no interest in him. He’d had her pegged all wrong. He had thought she wanted love and romance in a husband, but as it turned out, Caelie was far more pragmatic than he’d given her credit for. And he far more egotistical. He’d assumed that because he had wanted her, she would feel the same way.
Had she even wanted him to make love to her? Or had she simply laid there and accepted his attentions because…why? Out of politeness?
Anger burned deep in his gut.
“If I stay, Lady Caelie’s reputation may suffer. If Billingsworth is set on trying to sully her good name and using me to do it, then it is best we do not give him more fuel to add to his fire. He cannot suggest anything improper is going on under this roof if I am not under said roof.”
The words tasted bitter on his tongue.
“He wouldn’t dare suggest such a thing!”
Spence smiled, the motion disingenuous and hollow, much like the rest of him. “If Billingsworth is willing to ruin a young lady’s reputation to repair his own, I would suggest he is capable of doing any number of despicable things.”
“He is a vile man. I have always thought so.” His grandmother turned away and paced the hallway. She stopped when one of the footmen reappeared to let him know the carriage was ready. She gave him a pleading look. “Where are you going?”
“To my bachelor apartments. It is not so far away.” He had purchased them from Nick who had given them up upon his marriage to Abigail. The only issue with the location was it gave him a perfect view of the Glenmor townhouse.
Thankfully, the one Laytham who caused him such distress would not be in it.
It was better that way. He had danced too close to the edge of the knife this afternoon and now carried a deep wound across his heart, one he would bear the scar of for many years to come. He’d had no right to do what he had done. She had not enticed him nor encouraged him. He could not lay the blame for this at her door.
What he had done, he had done to himself.
That what they shared had left her unmoved, she’d made clear. She did not want him. She did not trust him to love her over the long run and he could not blame her for that, either. How many times had he told her of his complete aversion to marriage, his disparaging thoughts on the institution? His complete ineptitude to be happy within its confines? Was it any wonder she did not take his feelings for anything but transitory?
He did not believe that any more, but nor did he trust himself. What did he know of love? How did he know the picture she drew isn’t exactly how it would unfold over time? The thought of them ending up like his parents, the rages and accusations and acrimony, it chilled him to the bone. Even more so if there were children, for no child should have to witness what he had.
“Will you still attend Lady Remington’s fete at Vauxhall Gardens this evening?”
“Yes, of course.” He had made a promise. And as much as it pained him to partake in this farce, he would uphold his end of the bargain. He would act as if he had fallen madly and deeply with Caelie in the hope it would hasten an offer from Cranbrook or Shaftsbury.
The problem being, it had stopped being an act.
Fate, it turned out, had a sickening and ironic sense of humor.
What else could explain the fact that the one woman he could conceivably see himself married to he couldn’t have? Not just due to Grandfather’s refusal to consider her as a viable option, but because she did not want him. Even after they had—
His grandmother tapped him on the wrist. “You are woolgathering, my dear.”
“Forgive me, Grandmama.” Spence shook his head and let the thoughts recede. There was little point dwelling on them. It would change nothing. Even if he went against Grandfather’s wishes and convinced Caelie to marry him, without his inheritance he had no means to support her.
Spence rubbed a hand over his brow. How simple his life had been just a little over a fortnight ago.
He bent and gave his grandmother a quick kiss on her cheek. She smelled of gardenias, a marked contrast to the scent of wildflowers that reminded him of Caelie. He breathed deeply and hoped it would help erase her from his thoughts.
It didn’t.
“I will meet you at the Gardens, Grandmama.”
“See that you do, my dear. Our time is running out. We must find Lady Caelie a husband and we must do it now.”
The weight of their enterprise had never felt heavier than it did in that moment.
* * *
Caelie had only been to Vauxhall Gardens one other time. Her mother had disapproved of the place and considered any event that took place there far too aberrant for her daughter to attend. It had been Aunt Lorena who had brought her and Abigail the year her cousin had officially entered society. Mother had taken to her room for three days claiming a headache and Aunt Lorena had determined it best not to bother her with their social schedule. The night had been magical, the park even more so with its bevy of twinkling lights and beautiful patrons dressed in their finest.
Caelie had always wished to return to see it again, though this time, the heaviness in her heart somehow dimmed the twinkling lights and the gardens did not seem half as enchanting as in her memories.
Lady Ellesmere had told her before they left the house that Spencer had made the decision to move to his bachelor apartments. Guilt filled her. She had driven him away from his own home. Was he ashamed at what they had shared? Or had her adamant rejection of his proposal embarrassed him?
She wished she could have spoken with him before he left, but he’d given no warning and what would she say after all?
Lady Ellesmere looped her arm through Caelie’s and held her walking stick with the other. Like her husband, she used the accoutrement more for show than for actual use, but the marchioness claimed it came in handy when manoeuvring through crowds.
“Now my dear,” she said as they made their way down the Grand Walk. “Huntsleigh will meet up with us inside the Pavilion. It is important that you appear a bit more interested in him than you have for the past fortnight. This will make Shaftsbury and Cranbrook take notice. We want them to think they need to make a move now, before another proposal is received and accepted.”
“I will do my best.” But she had already refused a proposal and the idea of pretending an interest made the guilt writhe inside of her like a serpent. Part of her hoped Spencer would not come at all. She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.
“Ah, I see Lady Franklyn and her daughter are here.” Lady Ellesmere’s observation intruded into Caelie’s thoughts and she grasped the distraction with gratitude. “I find it exceedingly disturbing that the duchess continues to try and insert herself into Spencer’s company when it is obvious he—” Lady Ellesmere stopped abruptly.
“When he what?” What had she been about to say?
The marchioness shook her head. “Forgive me. I should not speak of such things.”
“Think noth
ing of it. I am not as sheltered as you may think.”
“No. I suspect you have seen far more than you had ever wished to. I am sorry for what you have gone through. It must have been very difficult.”
Caelie nodded. It had been difficult. But more than the censure from society, the loss of friends she thought more loyal, the public jilting of a man she had given her innocence to, the true pain came from watching her father deteriorate into a strange madness that left him unreachable. He had become lost inside that madness and she had failed to discover a way to find him and lead him back.
Is that how Spencer had felt about his own parents, watching their relationship deteriorate as it had? No wonder bearing witness to such bitterness had turned him sour on marriage.
“But let us think happy thoughts tonight, shall we?” Lady Ellesmere’s voice brightened, though the cheerfulness felt as forced as the smile Caelie gave her in answer. Something bothered the older lady, Caelie could see it in her light blue eyes. Worry creased the corners and made the lines fan downward in deep grooves.
Caelie tried to bolster both of their spirits. Nothing would be accomplished if they walked through the party with dour looks on their faces. “Surrounded by such beauty, how could we not. This is not the place for sadness, is it?”
“It is not. Come,” Lady Ellesmere nodded at the building up ahead and to their right. “Let’s make our way inside. The air is a tad too chilly for these old bones.”
The night developed much as the others before it, and with many of the same players. Lady Franklyn and Lady Susan held court with their crowd of admirers and attempted to give praise to Caelie though she laced it with more criticism than tribute.
Lord Shaftsbury and Lord Cranbrook were present and paid court, vying for her attentions and through it all, Spencer remained absent. Had he given up on her then? Had her pretense that their lovemaking had meant nothing injured his pride beyond forgiveness?
“You look absolutely exquisite, this evening, Lady Caelie,” Lord Cranbrook said as he bent low over her offered hand. “I do not think I have ever seen a vision so lovely. You must promise me the waltz this evening. Do not break my heart and say you are spoken for. I could not bear it.”
Caelie stared down at the earl’s shiny head. He had attempted to comb the sides of his hair over to cover the large bald spot, but there had not been sufficient supply to do the job justice. She stuck a smile on her face as he straightened.
“I am distressed at the thought of bringing you such anguish, Lord Cranbrook, but I’m afraid I have already promised the dance to Lord Shaftsbury.” The viscount had made a beeline for her the moment she had walked into the Pavilion and declared his interest in two of the dances on her card.
“More might appear unseemly,” he declared, then leaned in and whispered. “Although you make a man want to forget himself in that regard.”
Something sparked in his eye as he pulled away. Something that looked far more salacious than it should. She had wanted to pull her hand away from him but had not dared to make a scene. Then as quickly as it appeared, his expression altered and the glint disappeared leaving in its place the usual blandness she had come to associate with him. Had she only imagined it?
But no. Lord Cranbrook, too, stood much closer than was proper and the leering look he gave her made her skin crawl. “I understand you are acquainted with ways to alleviate a man’s distress.”
Cold invaded her insides and this time she did jerk her hand away. “I beg your pardon, my lord?”
She slid her glance from side to side. Had anyone else heard his improper suggestion? No one gave them a second look, but over Lord Shaftsbury’s shoulder, across the room, she saw Lord Billingsworth and Lady Franklyn. They stood staring at her and when Billingsworth smirked, she knew.
Deep in her bones, she knew.
He had broken his silence.
It was too late.
She was ruined.
“Would you excuse me, Lord Cranbrook?” She did not wait for his reply. She brushed past him and crossed the room. Billingsworth’s smirk grew larger, more sinister as she drew closer. Anger emboldened her and she marched toward him. For too long she had stood silent while others cast aspersions on her. Whether true or not, Billingsworth did not have the right to ruin her life. She had done no more than he and at least she had gone into it with honest intentions and true beliefs.
Lady Franklyn whispered something in his ear then melted into the crowd. Likely to spread the gossip further. And for what? Because Spencer had appeared to have an attraction for her? What did it matter? True or not, Lady Franklyn had no claim to him. She was married, though that did not seem to matter to her.
“Lady Caelie.” Her name slithered out of Billingsworth and made her stomach turn. “How do we find ourselves this evening? Fine and well, I hope.”
His voice dripped of insincerity. How had she ever thought him worthy of her attentions? Now he only sickened her. The only good turn he had ever done her came when he refused to marry to her. She couldn’t imagine a worse fate.
“What have you done?”
A broad smile lit his face. A face she’d once thought handsome, until she learned what true handsomeness was. It came from the heart, from character and honor and caring. Billingsworth possessed none of these traits. He reminded her of an actor on a stage, playing whatever part would serve his purposes and exiting the moment he’d taken what he’d wanted.
“I said nothing but the truth. That you are not the innocent you portray yourself to be.” His hand pressed against the space where his heart would beat, if he had one. “I cannot in good conscience allow Shaftsbury or Cranbrook to go forward with their plans to take you as wife when in truth, your behavior has revealed you are no better than a mistress.”
Icy shards sliced through her body. She wanted to protest, to deny his words, but had her wanton behavior this afternoon not proven them to be true?
“Have you no response, my dear?” He chuckled. “But of course, you don’t. You never really did, did you? Why I was able to break our engagement without so much as a whimper from you.”
“Perhaps I did not feel I had lost anything of value where you were concerned.” Her voice shook, but she stood her ground. She would not allow him to cow her.
“Ah, the kitten has found her claws. Such a shame. I would have enjoyed our time together much more, had you possessed such fire when we were together.”
She kept her voice low to prevent anyone nearby from eavesdropping. “Had I possessed those claws when we were together, I would never have allowed you near me.”
The truth of that hit home. She had become so accustomed to doing the right thing, abiding by Mother’s dictates, that she had long forgotten how to think for herself. Only upon Mother’s abandonment and Spencer’s encouragement had she found her voice again, and with it, a desire to be her own person. Make her own decisions. Fight her own battles.
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“Of course you don’t think, my lord. Thinking would require a level of intelligence you do not possess. Acting on these thoughts would require a level of character you have never owned. You are little more than an empty shell with a well-cut jacket that you can ill-afford.”
Billingsworth’s eyes widened and his chest puffed out. “I beg your—”
Caelie kept a smile fixed on her face for the benefit of anyone watching their exchange. “You may beg all you want. In fact, perhaps you should get used to it, given your family’s financial circumstances. It may be the only way you can continue to afford your fancy clothes.”
Blotched color ravaged Billingsworth’s pale face. “How dare you. As if you are in any position to speak. Your family was ruined by your father’s scandalous affair with a whore and now you have proven you are no better. Tell me, did you spread your legs for Huntsleigh as well? Did he find you as lacking as I did?”
Before Caelie could find words to reply, Billingsworth spun around and in the blink of an eye lay pro
ne on the floor staring up in shock.
In front of where he had once stood, Spencer flexed his hand and ignored the gaping stares of the crowd around them. “I believe I warned you once already, Billingsworth. I do hate having to repeat myself.”
Blood trickled from her former fiancé’s nose which appeared to have shifted to the left somewhat. Caelie should have been pleased by this, but all she could think at the moment was how everyone in the room and turned their attention toward them. Hitting Billingsworth had changed nothing. Her secret was out. She could see it in the knowing looks of the people surrounding them.
Spencer glanced at her and held her gaze for a brief moment before he turned to address their peers.
“It has been brought to my attention that Lord Billingsworth has been spreading salacious lies about my dear friend, Lady Caelie. I’m sure many of you have heard them as he and Lady Franklyn seem to have made it their mission this evening to humiliate and ruin her.”
Someone gasped but Caelie could not say who.
Spencer’s voice carried throughout the room and the crowd drew closer. Caelie’s face flamed until even the roots of her hair burned with heat. If only the floor would open up and swallow her whole, but it refused to cooperate.
“Please let me explain the reasoning for Billingsworth’s behavior. You see,” Spencer began to pace the small circle left open to them. “As you all know, Billingsworth has had a difficult time of late finding himself a bride after showing his fickle nature. It appears many with daughters, especially those with a sizable dowry of which he appears most interested, have shut your doors to him. A wise decision, I would think, given his current behavior.”
“He lies!” Billingsworth attempted to rise, but Spencer planted a foot on his chest and shoved him back down, letting the toe of his boot slide downward until it hovered near the other man’s throat.
“You’ll want to be quiet,” Spencer said, his voice quiet and deadly. “I’ve reached the end of my patience with you. If you rise again or breathe a word, I will kill you. Do you understand?”
