Lady Elwynn drew back as if she’d been struck. “You cannot be serious! And keep your voice down. If such a declaration were overheard it could ruin us!”
“I can. I am,” he insisted. “I will not be moved on this. And I don’t care if it ruins us.”
“And Miss Redmond?”
Hugh frowned at her. “I have given her no hope nor have I given her any indication of interest. Simply because you and her mother wax poetic about the perfection of a union between us does not necessitate action on my part. You made the mess, mother. You clean it up.”
“You are an ungrateful boy… So like your father.”
She’d managed his father into an early grave. The stress of living with her, with her schemes and machinations and her driving need to control every detail of the lives of everyone around her had killed him. Hugh would not allow her to do the same to him. “I am not a boy… I am a man, and I am not one to be trifled with or dictated to. I’ve no need to marry for wealth, connections or cachet. I mean to follow my heart and if that is the final disappointment that I must offer you before you sever all ties with me, so be it.”
“I would never do anything so scandalous,” she said stiffly. “Can you imagine what people would say?”
“Then you will settle yourself with my choice of bride,” he said. “For I will not have her tormented every day by your disapproval.”
“You may choose your own future, Fitzhugh. You cannot make me like it,” she answered in a huff and stalked away.
Hugh sighed heavily as he walked away in search of libations more bracing that the tepid lemonade offered in the ballroom. Any exchange with his mother left him wanting to dive headfirst into the nearest decanter of brandy.
Once in the card room, availing himself of a hefty snifter of his host’s best brandy, Hugh settled into one of the nearby chairs to watch the play. Gambling was not for him. He preferred more certain returns on his investment, but it never ceased to amaze him that his peers would rest their very destiny on the turn of a card.
As he poured himself a second glass, a footman entered bearing a hand written note on a silver tray. “My lord,” the footman said, bowing deeply.
Hugh took the note and opened it, reading the simple lines written there in an elegant hand at least three times.
I have decided to throw caution to the wind and court scandal after all. Meet me in the blue drawing room at the top of the hour.
The note was not signed, but it could only be from Miss Penworth. Augusta, he thought. In his mind, he’d long since been making free with her given name. Checking the clock on the mantle, he saw that the time was short.
“Where is the blue drawing room?” he asked the footman.
“Down the corridor, my lord. Tis the last door on the left.”
Hugh nodded and headed in that direction. He was blissfully unaware of the trio watching him from the end of the hall. His mother stood next to Mrs. Redmond and on her left was Miss Daisy Watson, the betrothed of his neighbor and oldest friend, the Honorable Mr. Simon Atwell. Had he seen the three of them there, he might have been more cautious, he might have been more suspicious of such out of character behavior. But he was not thinking clearly, his wits were addled by brandy and infatuation. The promise of a stolen kiss in a darkened room was more lure than he could resist.
Entering the drawing room, he saw only the silhouette of a woman in the dark, seated on a small settee near the fire. He approached her cautiously, not wanting to startle her.
“Augusta,” he said softly.
“No, my lord… Felicity,” she said as she rose to her feet and turned toward him. “I needed to speak with you and I needed to do so privately.”
Hugh drew back, immediately sensing that he had willfully walked into a trap. “I cannot be here with you. It is improper.”
“But you would be here with Miss Penworth, improper or not, wouldn't you?” she demanded, stepping closer to him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and rose on her tiptoes until their lips were scant inches apart.
“Miss Redmond,” he began, grasping her upper arms and holding her away from him. Uncertain of how to phrase his response, he paused for a moment, but in the end opted for brutal honesty. “I am in love with Miss Penworth. It is not a reflection of your beauty or your charm or your worthiness that my heart is engaged elsewhere. I beg you not to make this difficult. I understand that my mother has made statements that led you to believe I had intentions in other directions, but I can assure you that is not the case.”
She cocked her head. “You really mean that, don’t you? You love her when she has nothing to recommend her?”
“She has many things to recommend her, but they do not include a fortune or connections,” he said. “Regardless, I mean to marry her. I’ve already spoken of my intentions to her and she is amenable.”
Her face fell, a picture of dejection. But then panic set in, her eyes went wide and she uttered a damning phrase. “Then you should go, quickly! Now, before they arrive.”
A sick feeling settled in his stomach as he let her go abruptly. But it was not quickly enough. The door to the drawing room burst open. His mother stood there, along with Mrs. Redmond, Miss Daisy Watson and their hostess, the most avid gossipmonger in all of society, Lady Fairmont.
“What is the meaning of this, Lord Elwynn?” Mrs. Redmond demanded. “How dare you!”
“I’m shocked at your willful disregard for this young woman’s reputation, Fitzhugh,” his mother said. “You will do the right thing… Will you not?”
Hugh stared at the dawning horror of his future, at the carefully orchestrated downfall of all his plans. The smug smile that curved his mother’s lips was proof enough.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t know you truly loved her. I was told that it was just a flirtation sparked by rebellion,” Miss Redmond murmured. “I didn’t know.”
“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” he asked. “You’ve all gotten what you wanted. Have the banns read. Tell me where to be and when to be there.”
She blinked at him. “Just like that?”
“No… not just like that. First, I have to face Augusta Penworth in the morning and tell her I’ve become engaged to another woman when I just tonight expressed my desire to propose to her after securing grandfather’s permission on the morrow,” he said bitterly. “After that, I intend to drink myself into oblivion and stay that way until this fiasco is settled.”
“I am so terribly sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean it.”
“They did,” he said. “And whether you meant it or not, here we are. We’ll be wed… and none of us to people of our own choosing.”
Hugh turned and walked away, passing his mother as she stood in the doorway, smug and victorious. “You’ve gotten what you wanted, haven’t you? By fair means or foul, you’ve managed it.”
“I’ve only ever wanted what is best for you, Fitzhugh,” she said haughtily. “And Miss Penworth is not it.”
He paused for a moment. “You’ve made a grave tactical error in lying to Miss Redmond. Because now she feels guilty. She feels wronged by you also… and that means when I toss you from Elwynn House, she’ll not offer a word of protest. For all her lack of connections and cachet, Augusta Penworth would have been a soft hearted mistress of that house… she would have happily let you stay there and continue running the household to your satisfaction. You, Mother, have engineered yourself right out of your own home. Enjoy it.”
He let that simmer as he walked away. He’d remain sober enough to call on Augusta and make his apologies. Then he’d drown himself in brandy until the entire debacle was over.
Chapter 6
Seffington Park, 1816
Augusta stared at the reflection of herself in the gown borrowed from her hostess. She hadn’t worn anything so fine in years. Most of her fine gowns had been sold or had become so worn and moth-eaten over the years that they were little better than rags. The transformative powers of a lovely gown were truly
amazing. Perhaps it was a bit too short, and the bodice just a tad too tight from Alice’s hasty alterations, but the fabric felt heavenly and the deep blue color made her eyes sparkle.
“Is it any wonder that vanity is one of the seven deadly sins?” she surmised quietly.
“What was that, miss?” Alice asked as she pinned up the last wayward strand of hair.
“Nothing, Alice. Simply thinking aloud. My hair looks very nice. You’ve a deft touch. Thank you.”
Alice blushed and ducked her head shyly. “Thank you, miss. Your hair is so lovely tis a pleasure to work with, truly.”
Augusta laughed. “Now you’re just being kind… we both know that Mrs. Wilmont’s hair is the envy of every woman she’s ever encountered. Those perfect curls!”
“Her hair is lovely, miss, as is Mrs. Atwell’s, but yours is also. Lovely and thick, black as night, it is. I’ve always been partial to dark hair.”
“And is there some dark haired beau who has you extolling the virtues of raven hair, Alice?” she teased. The girl’s answering blush told the truth of it. “Never mind. Your secret is safe with me. Thank you again, and now I’ll join the other ladies in the drawing room.”
“It’ll be the ladies and the gentlemen, miss. Until the remainder of the guests arrive tomorrow, they’ll be unlikely to separate… I didn’t mean to pry or eavesdrop, miss, but I heard his lordship in here earlier. I won’t tell a soul… but I thought you’d like to be warned that you’ll be seeing him before dinner.”
Augusta pressed a hand to her fluttering stomach. “I see. Thank you for the warning and for your discretion, Alice.”
“You reckon it’s true, Miss? That he thought it was you asked to meet him?”
It probably was. “I think that it doesn’t matter either way… that was too many years ago to let it matter now.”
Alice ducked her head again. “Yes, miss.”
“You’ve something else to say on the matter, Alice… you haven’t held your tongue yet, I can’t imagine you should start now. Out with it.”
“He’s very sad, I think,” she admitted. “He cared for Lady Elwynn. I could see that when they were here, before she became to sick to pay calls. He was kind to her, but it’s not like when you’re in love, miss… like the way he was when he stormed in here earlier to bare his heart. It was quite dashing, don’t you think?”
“I think I don’t need him to be dashing, Alice. I need him to leave me be… I’ve made my peace with what happened and no good can come from dredging it all up.” Except that he was a widower. He was free to wed as he chose now.
That traitorous whisper in her mind needed to be quashed. Try as she might, Augusta couldn’t tamp it down entirely. The simple truth was that she didn’t trust him. She no longer had the ability to trust anyone, truth be told. Friends had turned their backs on her. People who’d once gushed over her had snubbed her completely, and all because she’d been accused of being a fortune hunter. Everyone had assumed that it was that which had resulted in the abrupt end to her unspoken arrangement with Lord Elwynn. Overnight, she’d become a pariah and he’d been a newlywed, the toast of society with his bride on his arm. Whatever his reasons had been and however it came about, it was still a bitter pill to swallow and she was finding little forgiveness in her heart.
After exiting her bedchamber, she made her way down the stairs. There was no need to ask for direction from a footman. She could simply follow the sound of Mrs. Atwell’s voice.
“Dear heavens, what a sight they were! What a miserable journey they must have had to wind up in such a state… Bless me, but they have been through quite enough I think to last a lifetime. That coachman ought to be strung up in the village for taking such risks. Only to think what might have happened to them had we not had the good sense to send you out after them, Lord Elwynn! Isn’t that right, Simon?… Simon?… Are you listening to me at all, Simon, or has some strange malady suddenly struck you deaf?”
“I have not the kind of luck required to be struck deaf, madam,” came the quiet and heavily put upon answer of Mr. Atwell.
“Indeed, I should say not. You are a blessed man!” Mrs. Atwell continued, blissfully, or perhaps willfully, unaware of her husband’s sarcasm.
Bracing herself to face the barrage that passed as conversation from Mrs. Atwell, Augusta took a deep breath and offered a slight nod to the waiting footman who then opened the door for her. Rachel had not yet come down, no doubt as Alice was just doing her hair. But he was present, sitting in one of the chairs that flanked the fire in a pose that hinted at the power of his form. Upon her entrance, he rose to his feet in a graceful movement that reminded her all too clearly of what it had been like to dance with him, to be held however briefly in his arms.
“Good evening, Miss Penworth,” he offered evenly but she could see he was as tense in her presence as she was in his. It was apparent in the clenching of his jaw and the slight furrowing of his brows.
“Good evening, Lord Elwynn,” she replied coolly. Turning to her hosts, she sketched a slight curtsy. “Mr. Atwell, Mrs. Atwell… thank you so much for your hospitality. You’ve been all that is gracious and kind.”
Mr. Atwell accepted her thanks with a nod. Mrs. Atwell let out a squeal of what might have been either distress or delight. It was impossible to tell. “Oh, my poor dear Miss Penworth—,” the woman began, “What a trial you’ve suffered to get here! Hospitality is but the very least we can offer after what you have suffered.”
“It was only mud,” Augusta replied easily, uncomfortable at being the center of attention. “Unpleasant but hardly worthy of consequence.”
“Hardly worthy of consequence!” Mrs. Atwell scoffed. “My dear, I would have to take to my bed for a month to recover from such an ordeal. You might have been killed! It could just as easily have been some brigand on the highway who came along as our dear Lord Elwynn. And what an heroic thing that was for him… so dashing, to simply volunteer to go in search of two lone women stranded out in the elements! Positively Herculean, I say!”
Augusta desperately wanted the floor to simply open up and swallow her. “It was nothing really!”
“Nothing, indeed!” Mrs. Atwell continued. “You are made of sterner stuff than I, my dear. Brigands, darling girl! Brigands on the road. It is the very stuff of my nightmares. Is it not, Simon? Did I not tell you at breakfast this morning that I’d had just such a dream? Overtaken by villains and robbed of my precious jewels!”
The woman stopped, took a breath, looked at her husband for confirmation. It was not forthcoming. As Mrs. Atwell opened her mouth to continue her diatribe, Lord Elwynn stepped forward. “Forgive me, Miss Penworth, but there’s a fine prospect from the terrace. We’re unlikely to get another break in the rain today. Perhaps you’d permit me to show you?”
He was offering her a reprieve. She could either remain in the drawing room and allow Mrs. Atwell to assault her senses with incessant chatter about brigands or she could take a walk onto the terrace with him. Alone. Just the two of them.
A quick glance at Mrs. Atwell was the deciding factor. The wheels and gears so obviously spinning in the woman’s mind as she prepared to launch into her next long winded speech spurred Augusta’s reply. “That would be lovely, Lord Elwynn. Thank you.”
Mrs. Atwell’s eyes sparkled with glee as she watched Lord Elwynn step forward and offer her his arm. Augusta ignored it. She had no time for matchmaking or gossip. Her one and only goal was to extricate herself from the house party as quickly as possible and remove herself to the safety of the small cottage she and Rachel had leased. Let them think what they will, she thought rebelliously.
Once outside, Lord Elwynn cast a sidelong glance at her. “My apologies, Miss Penworth, but the prospect is not as dazzling as I might have implied. It is, however, infinitely preferable to a week long soliloquy regaling us with the dastardly deeds of the local brigands. Judging by the age of most everyone in the village, said brigands would be in their dotage and therefore the
ir escapades would likely be less than thrilling.”
“I see. Should I thank you for lying to my rescue then?” she asked sharply. She didn’t want to be charmed by him. Not again.
“No thanks are required… and I confess it was not your rescue I sought but my own. May I ask you a question, Miss Penworth—Augusta?”
“You may ask, Lord Elwynn. I cannot promise an answer.”
Hugh looked at her for a long moment, before turning to face the barren landscape before them. The question burned inside him but he feared the answer as much as he required it.
“Must you hate me so completely, then? Might we not at the very least call a pax and put the past behind us?”
She turned toward him then, and while her posture never changed, her expression never altered, there was a fire in her eyes that should have set him ablaze there and then. “It isn’t the past, Lord Elwynn. And I’ll thank you not to use my given name as I have not given you leave to do so. Do you know what it was like for me in London after the announcement of your engagement?”
He did. But he was also quite aware that she needed to tell him, so he remained silent. If she were allowed to release all the vitriol, perhaps then she would be free of it.
“All of society, initially, looked on me with pity because it appeared that your affections for me were altered or that perhaps, as some suggested, they’d never been sincere at all.”
“That was not the case, Augusta. That was never the case,” he protested.
She didn’t acknowledge his assertion. He realized that in that moment, it was not about what he felt so much as it was about how others had perceived her in the aftermath of his rejection. Her pride, which she’d always had in abundance, had been sorely wounded.
“That all changed when the extent of my grandfather’s debts were discovered… Debts, Lord Elwynn, of which I had no knowledge, I was utterly innocent. Everything we had was borrowed or on credit and all of that to give me one season so that I might find a husband and be taken care of,” she continued softly. “Suddenly, the fact that our… unspoken arrangement failed to yield a marriage signified something much worse than simply a change of heart. It was decided by all those with influence that you had cast me off because I was the worst thing a woman could be in their eyes… a fortune hunter.”
Worth the Wait Page 5
