Augusta laughed. “Nonsense. I did resemble a farmer, and thank you for helping to see the humor in an otherwise humiliating situation. Now, the bath… I’m eager to soak in that warm water and ease my poor aching bones following that horrendous journey.”
“Yes, miss.”
Augusts finished undressing and stepped into the steaming water. It was all she could do not to whimper at the blissful sensation.
“I’ll leave you to soak while the water is still warm enough, miss, while I check in on Mrs. Wilmont.”
“Thank you, Alice,” Augusta said as she leaned back in the tub and allowed the heat of it to soothe her aching muscles. If only, she thought, it could soothe her aching pride just as successfully.
“What exactly is this all about, Mrs. Atwell?” Hugh pinned her with a hard and unrelenting stare. She was a schemer and had always been a schemer. In fact, she’d played a pivotal role in the fiasco that had allowed Felicity to engineer him straight into their marriage.
“Whatever do you mean, Lord Elwynn?” she asked, feigning innocence.
“You invite your cousin to this house party and she happens to bring with her the woman whom I was once—.” He stopped. He wouldn’t allow those words to pass his lips. “A woman with whom I once had an understanding to stay as a guest under this roof? Need I remind you of the key role you played in ending that… understanding?”
She blanched, then recovered. “That was all many years ago, Lord Elwynn, as you say. We have all moved on from it, as well we should have. One cannot live in the past, my lord. It is unhealthy to dwell on such unpleasantness when we have so many pleasing things in the present to think of! Good food in a lovely and warm home, all while the storm rages outside and now we have not one but two lovely young ladies in this house to entertain us by playing the pianoforte and singing! We are blessed, my lord! Blessed… and I cannot help that you are so suspicious minded that you see plots and machinations where there are none.”
Hugh didn’t scoff or laugh or demand further explanation as he knew it was pointless to demand anything from Daisy Atwell. The woman could out talk and out maneuver any Member of Parliament simply by willful obtuseness and her uncanny ability to fit more words between breaths than any person he’d ever known.
Instead, he decided that he needed to go to the source. He needed to find out from Miss Augusta Penworth exactly how she’d been manipulated into being present at Seffington Park at the same time he was.
Climbing the stairs two at a time, he found a random servant and had them direct him to her room. The air needed to be cleared between them and it needed to be cleared without any would-be matchmakers or schemers present. They needed, at long last, to say things to one another that should have been said long ago—things that propriety had dictated they they should never speak aloud.
Reaching the room indicated, he knocked softly. He heard her call out, bidding him to enter. Of course, he fully understood that she was not expecting him at all. She’d only bade him entrance because she undoubtedly believed him to be Mrs. Wilmont, Mrs. Atwell or a maid.
“Augusta, we must speak,” he said, as he closed the door behind him.
She let out a cry and only then did he realize that she was concealed behind the bathing screen. The very thought of it was tempting beyond anything he’d ever encountered, but at the same time, it was a stroke of fortuitous timing. She was well and truly trapped and would have no choice but to hear him out.
“Get out!” she hissed from behind the screen.
He was distracted momentarily by a splash of water. Thinking of her there, her skin slick and flushed from her bath, was a dangerous occupation. Clearing his throat, he began, “I need to speak with you.”
“Can it not wait? This is beyond simply improper, Lord Elwynn! It’s positively scandalous and I cannot believe that you are putting my reputation at risk this way!”
“There is no one here to know, Augusta. Most of the guests will not arrive until tomorrow or the day after and whatever you may believe, I have only honorable intentions… The sooner you hear me out the sooner I can depart,” he summed up.
“Then speak your peace and be gone,” she snapped.
Given permission, grudging though it was, Hugh suddenly found himself at a loss for words. By default, he began with the ones he should have uttered more than a decade ago. “I thought it was you.”
“What?”
He sighed heavily and on that deep exhale, related the most damning thing of all. “The night of the Fairmont ball, I received a note arranging a rendezvous in that small drawing room… and in retrospect, I know it was because I hoped it was from you so fervently that I convinced myself it might be.”
The confession was met with silence. There was no movement, no splashing of water, and not even a breath could be heard from beyond. So he continued. “I wanted it to be you… I wanted more than anything in this world to show you the depth of my ardor and my affection for you. I never imagined that my own family would conspire against me so, to see me trapped…but I cannot…will not speak ill of her.”
Augusta was blushing to roots of her hair, horrified at having been caught in such a vulnerable position. Her only option was to let him have his say or face him with not a stitch of clothing on. But that confession, that one statement uttered on a heartfelt sigh did not mend all that was broken between them.
“So my life was utterly destroyed because you believed me to be wanton and bold when I’d never given you any indication of such?” she demanded softly.
“It was beyond foolish,” he agreed from just beyond the screen. “It was a young man’s foolish fantasy that the woman he loved might grant him liberties that he did not yet have the right to take. But make no mistake, Augusta, my intentions then were honorable, as they are even now. I loved you and had things not gone so horribly awry, I would have asked for your hand. When I expressed my intentions to do so, it was with a true heart. You must know that!”
“And your wife, Lord Elwynn? Since you are apparently in the mood to confess all your sins, has she confessed hers? Has she told you that she arranged that particular subterfuge for no other purpose than to lure you into the parson’s mousetrap?” Her tone was haughty, demanding, angry, and she didn’t care. It no longer mattered to her that she sounded like a shrew. She was entitled to her anger and bitterness even after all this time, it was nearly all she had left of the past.
He was quiet, so quiet she had begun to wonder if he’d slipped out while she was unaware. Finally, he spoke in a voice that was whisper soft.
“Felicity confessed all of her sins… some time ago. You have not been in society to hear the news so I will tell you now Augusta, Felicity died during this past summer. But if you have any doubts about the sincerity of her regret or mine, let me assure you she was intensely remorseful and deeply ashamed of not only her actions but of the unfortunate events that befell you afterward … due to your lowered circumstances.”
There were no words that she could form in response to that. Stunned did not even begin to describe the depth of what she felt at his admission. By the time she could speak, it was far too late. The door had opened and closed and she was once again alone in her room, left to finish her bath in peace. But peace was not hers to be had.
Had Rachel known? And Mrs. Atwell? Was his current state of widowhood at the root of all their scheming and machinations to bring them together here?
“It doesn’t matter,” Augusta murmured to herself. “I’ll never give my heart to any man again… certainly not to one who damaged it so significantly in the past.” A sentiment uttered by her grandfather in her childhood about fooling someone twice came to mind. Never again, she vowed.
Hugh reached his own room and fought the urge to simply plant his fist into something. She hadn’t known about Felicity. But Daisy certainly did and no doubt Mrs. Wilmont did as well. If she’d known of Felicity’s passing they would not have gotten her within day’s ride of Wynn House.
&n
bsp; “Lord preserve me from the meddling of women.” He’d been wed once through deceit and the management of others. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d let them herd him into something else against his will. As for Augusta, she’d been through enough already. She hated him and was entitled to do so. But he’d finally confessed the truth to her. He had never been untrue to her, simply all too easily misled.
Hugh walked over to the window and looked out over the rolling parkland that was the pride and joy of the Atwell family. It had grown too dark to see Wynn House in the distance, but he could make for it in the morning. He could leave and circumvent any and all of Daisy Atwell’s schemes by removing himself to the safety of his own home. In so doing, he’d be done with the party, Daisy’s schemes… and her. It would be best for Augusta and for himself, he determined. There were too many unhappy years and too much history between them, and enforced proximity would not sweeten her disposition toward him.
Even as he thought it, as he considered leaving her behind yet again, memories flooded his mind—memories from a time when they had both been full of hope and the promise of a shared future.
Chapter 5
Twelve Years Earlier
The Fairmont Ball was a crush, but that had been Lady Fairmont’s intention all along. Some even suggested that she’d had decorative panels installed inches from the actual walls to reduce the size of the ballroom and make it feel even more crowded. The heat in the room was overwhelming and Augusta fanned herself quite furiously.
“Stop that! This isn’t the Indies, girl!”
The admonishment had come from Mrs. Haywood, a friend of her grandfather’s who had agreed, for reasons unknown to her, to take her about in society. Dutifully, Augusta slowed the pace of her fanning and instantly felt bereft of the small breeze she had created.
“Such enthusiastic exertion is hardly ladylike, Augusta,” Mrs. Haywood added. “Always be mindful that others are watching and judging, girl. If I teach you nothing else about society, let that always be remembered.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Augusta replied easily.
“Now, look alive, girl. He’s headed your way again,” Mrs. Haywood added with a triumphant grin. “I think you’ve snagged the biggest fish in the room.”
Augusta felt a blush creep up her cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat of the room. She didn’t even pretend to be coy about knowing which fish Mrs. Haywood meant to name. It was Lord Elwynn, of course. He was lauded by one and and all as the most eligible bachelor of the season, but that had nothing to do with her blush or the way her heart suddenly thundered in her chest because he was near.
At nineteen, Augusta was just a bit older than most girls experiencing their first season and considered by many to be on the shelf already. That she was perched on the cusp of spinsterhood seemed to matter little to him as he had paid particular attention to her since they had met. Not so much that it created the wrong kind of gossip, but it had been remarked upon.
He was everything that was proper, and yet when he smiled at her, she could not help but feel there was a little wickedness in him. It was enticing. When he paused before them, sketching a bow, he wore that very smile and her thundering heart seemed to skip, losing its rhythm. As he rose, his dark hair dipped rakishly over his brow and the smile he bestowed on them transformed his handsome face into something beyond description. Heat suffused her and a longing that she didn’t quite understand filled her at his nearness.
“Good evening, Mrs. Haywood, Miss Penworth,” he said. On her name, his voice dipped slightly, and a shiver washed through her. “If I may, Miss Penworth, you are looking exceptionally lovely this evening.”
“Thank you, Lord Elwynn. You honor us with your attentions,” she said from behind her fan.
“It is I who am honored, Miss Penworth, to have them so graciously received. Are you engaged you for the next dance?”
“No, my lord, I am not,” she said. She’d intentionally lied to other suitors and claimed to be engaged because she’d hoped that he would ask.
“Then be so kind as to allow me to claim it,” he stated.
“Gladly, my lord,” she replied.
There was no further talk under Mrs. Haywood’s watchful eye as the orchestra struck up the first chord to mark the beginning of the next set. Lord Elwynn offered her his arm and she took it gratefully.
As they took their positions in the line of dancers, facing one another, he said, “You are very quiet, Miss Penworth. Most girls at these events are loud and overly gay in their actions and speech. And yet you remain aloof, but I do not think we bore you with our dances and parlor games, do we?”
Augusta blushed again, this time from embarrassment. “Not at all, my lord. If I am quiet, it is not lack of gaiety at these lovely events or company, but rather the desire to not miss a moment of it by speaking rather than observing.”
He moved past her, circling behind her as he executed the steps to perfection. Once again facing her, he replied, “So you are an observer… a scientist if you will, making a study of all that comprises gaiety?”
“Hardly so lofty a thing, my lord,” she uttered, stepping past him and completing her circuit. “Merely that I have not been long in society and still find the rules and traditions to be somewhat confusing. I would rather be perceived as quiet and aloof than as fast, or heaven forbid, rude.”
“So you are a cautious girl, then, Miss Penworth? One who takes the weight and measure of every situation before deciding her course?”
They joined hands, turned to face the couple dancing beside them, dipping and swaying to the music. “That is an accurate assessment, I feel, though not a flattering one.”
“On the contrary, Miss Penworth. I cannot think of higher praise to give a person than to attest to the carefulness of their behavior and the thoughtfulness of their character. You are all things exemplary… all things that a man would desire in a wife.”
Her steps did not falter, though her breath did. “You put me to blush, my lord.”
“And a lovely blush it is.”
The dance turned again and they were once more facing one another which made the slightly intimate nature of their conversation even more so.
“I would call on you tomorrow if you permit it,” he said, and there was a fervency in his tone that alerted her to a greater meaning. It was no idle visit. “I have a most particular matter that I would discuss with you… but only if your grandfather is present.”
Augusta felt a fluttering in her stomach, nerves simply taking flight. “I cannot imagine that he would not be at home to receive you, my lord.”
The music shifted again and they stepped closer to one another, their arms raised up as they twirled together in the intricate steps. “You must know what I mean to ask him… that I would desire your hand in marriage,” he said.
“I confess to being hopeful, my lord, but would never presume anything so grand.”
He smiled again. “Cautious still… I will be imprudent for the both of us then. I mean to ask for your hand, Miss Penworth, but I must beg your mercy and ask for some inkling of knowledge, some hint of what your answer might be.”
“I can only say, Lord Elwynn, that were you to ever put forth such a question, my answer could only be yes.”
“Because I am Lord Elwynn?”
“No. Because you smile at me and it puts me to blush,” she replied, just as the music ended.
He took her arm, but made slow work of escorting her back to Mrs. Haywood. “I would have another dance when you are free. And yet one more after that.”
“More than two dances would be viewed as a declaration, my lord,” she reminded him.
“And as a declaration is what I intend to make, Miss Penworth, I see no reason to hesitate.”
“I cannot, my lord,” she said softly. “I do so wish that I could be like these other girls… that I could laugh and flirt, and hover on that cusp between respectability and scandalous behavior. But alas I am not. I am the cautious c
reature you named me, and I will gladly give you a second dance… and I will quietly bemoan the fact that I must deny you a third.”
He took her hands in his, holding them for a moment longer than necessary as he returned her to Mrs. Haywood’s side. “Your reticence does you credit, though it goads me to admit it. I will be back for my second dance at the top of the hour… And I will see you on the morrow.”
Hugh left her though it pained him to do so. From the very moment he’d laid eyes on her months earlier, he’d thought her the most exceptional creature. The quiet dignity with which she conducted herself was so different from the tittering and incessant chatter of other young women. Of course, it could also be that he was so thoroughly charmed by her beauty that he’d happily overlook almost any deficit. Tall and lithe with lush curves and a wealth of dark hair, he’d be hard pressed to describe a more perfect woman.
“I saw you dancing with her, Fitzhugh!”
He sighed as he heard the censorious voice of his mother whispering near him. She’d hissed the words out between clenched teeth.
Hugh had reached his limit with her interference and her disapproval. Her only objection to Miss Penworth was the lack of fortune as the marriageable misses she continued to thrust in his path had no greater social consequence than Augusta had. He would not sacrifice his happiness to her greed when they were more than secure financially. “Yes, Mother. I danced with her. And I mean to dance with her again, so if it is that upsetting to you then I might suggest that you avert your eyes.”
“Do not by so flippant with me, young man,” she scolded. “That girl has nothing to offer you! She has no fortune, no cachet, no connections… What are you thinking?”
“That I love her. That she is a fine woman, beautiful and kind and has a brain in her head for more than the latest fashions… I think, Mother, that I intend to wed her as soon as such can be arranged,” he stated firmly.
Worth the Wait Page 4