by Anne Herries
‘There is nothing to forgive,’ Brock said. ‘I thank you for your honesty and wish you every happiness in the future.’
‘And you do not hate me?’
‘Good grief! Why should I hate you?’
‘Well, I do not think I have broken your heart?’
‘No, you have not,’ Brock said. ‘I am glad that it is settled at last and will take my leave. I have much to do in town.’
‘Ah, yes, the rather lovely Miss Ross. I have heard that you have been dancing and enjoying the company of the latest rage, Major Brockley.’
‘Miss Ross is a pretty girl and I have had the honour of helping her,’ Brock said. ‘There is and can be nothing between us. She is too young and her affections are already engaged. Nor do I wish for it.’
‘No?’ Cynthia raised her fine brows. ‘Mother’s friend seemed to think otherwise. What fools some of these gossipmongers are! I told Mama it was just a silly rumour.’
‘I thank you, Miss Langton,’ Brock said with a soft chuckle. He extended his hand and when she gave him hers, placed a kiss on the back. ‘I shall take my leave of you. Thank you for your honesty.’
‘And thank you for yours,’ she said. ‘I wish you a safe journey back to London.’
‘I go first to my father. I must tell my parents that our engagement is at an end—and of my appointment. You were the first to know of it.’
‘Ah, yes. I wish you a long and happy life, sir. Goodbye.’
Brock inclined his head and left her. He did not bother to take leave of Lady Langton for he could imagine what pressure she had brought to bear on her daughter when the alternative match was offered. Lord Armstrong’s title was as old as Brock’s father’s, but he had it now and Lady Langton was eager to see her daughter established and settled in the kind of life she approved.
He could only thank her from the bottom of his heart for making it easy for him to escape from what would otherwise have been the worst mistake of his life. He wanted to marry only one lady, but had Cynthia insisted on keeping him to his word it would have been much harder to break with her, for he was, after all, a gentleman, and his word was his bond. Thanks to Cynthia’s mother she had been eager to give him his freedom.
Brock was feeling relieved and thoughtful as he emerged into bright sunshine and climbed into his curricle. He allowed his groom to retain the reins for the first part of the journey as his thoughts collected and began to form into coherent plans.
Suddenly, Brock laughed out loud as he realised what a fool he’d been to offer for the girl out of a misplaced sense of chivalry. Next time he asked a lady to marry him it would not be because he wanted to protect her from scandal, but because he loved her. He could only hope that she felt the same way. Brock took the reins from his groom and gave them a little shake. He was impatient to reach his father’s house and impart his news before the rumours reached them.
His future was set whatever happened. He would be leaving England for India in the New Year, or possibly before Christmas, and must set his affairs here in order, because it might be several years before he returned.
As to the rest of his plans, well, they depended upon a young woman in London—but he could only hope that the look he’d seen in her eyes the night he was attacked meant what he hoped. If she cared enough to be his wife, he thought he would be the happiest man alive.
* * *
‘Well, I never did truly care for the lady,’ Brock’s mother told him. ‘And her mother—she is abominable. So proud and cold. And interfering.’
‘Your mother is right,’ Lord Brockley said. ‘I could never understand why you wished to offer for the girl. She’s a beauty, I’ll give you that, and good manners—but cold at heart. I’d swear she wasn’t in love with you.’
‘No, Papa. I think Miss Langton rather scorns love for its own sake. She thinks marriage is a business arrangement—and intends to marry into political circles, I believe.’
‘You are not telling me she already has another poor fool lined up?’
‘Father, that is not called for,’ Brock said. ‘Cynthia is not really cold or calculating, it’s just that her mother is very dominant and she imposes her thoughts on her daughter. I wish her every happiness and to be honest I am relieved that she did not wish to become the wife of the newest ambassador to India.’
‘So the appointment is official, then?’ his father said, and smiled broadly. ‘That is wonderful news, my boy.’
‘Yes, I hoped you would be pleased, sir.’ Brock looked towards his mother. ‘Mama, will you give me your blessing, please?’
‘Of course, if it is what you wish. We shall miss you, but I believe these appointments last only a few years. You will no doubt return one day and perhaps next time you will be given something closer to home?’
‘Perhaps, Mama. I must go where they consider that I shall be of most use. Wellington is hopeful that we shall have no more trouble in Europe for a time, but the British Empire is large and he says we need good men to keep things calm.’
‘I thought they normally appoint married men to these posts?’
‘Yes, it is preferred.’ Brock hesitated, then, ‘I asked if they would still want me if I were not married and was assured they would—but there is a possibility that I may marry before I leave.’
‘To this Miss Ross I have heard about?’ his mother asked, instantly alert.
‘No, Mama. Miss Ross is merely a young lady I stopped to help when she was in trouble. I hope her affairs are in a way to being settled. Because I was not sure whether Miss Langton would wish to go ahead with the wedding, I have said nothing—but there is a lady I think a great deal of. I did not believe there was a chance she might return my affection, but something happened and I now have hope that she might oblige me by becoming my wife.’
‘This is rather sudden, Brock. May we know the name of this lady?’ his father asked, a slight frown on his brow.
‘Her name is Samantha Scatterby. She is the widow of Colonel Scatterby.’ Brock stopped as he saw his father’s expression. ‘You would like her, Father, and so would Mother. She is a lady, I assure you.’
‘I dare say,’ Lord Brockley said, looking concerned and thoughtful. ‘Are you sure that you are prepared for a marriage of this kind, where there has been a previous love? I do not object to the lady herself, merely to the fact that she may not be able to forget her previous husband. I have met her, you see, and her husband. It seemed to me that she adored him.’
‘Yes, I believe she did,’ Brock agreed. ‘Until recently I thought that she would never wish to marry again. I even thought that she did not particularly like me, but I have changed my mind. Samantha is exactly the kind of woman an ambassador needs as his wife. She shines in any circles and is at home in the drawing rooms of London or the meanest hovel on the Spanish Peninsula. I believe she would be an asset to me—if she would agree.’
‘Do you love her, dearest?’ his mother asked, looking at him anxiously.
‘Yes, Mother. I love Sam very much. In fact, I think she is the only woman I have ever loved in that way. Mary was as a sister to me, as you know, and I cared for her deeply. What happened to her cast a shadow over my life and I was not sure I could ever fall in love, truly, deeply in love. I’ve had many flirtations, but I had settled on a marriage of convenience when I asked Miss Langton to be my wife. It has worked very well for Phipps, you know. Of course, his wife, Amanda, is an absolute treasure, but it made me think that perhaps such a marriage would be the best arrangement for me. I had no thought of Samantha for a while, you see. It was only when I asked her to take in Miss Ross that I remembered how much I’d adored her when her husband was my colonel.’
‘I think you told me that all the men under her husband’s command adored her. Is she a flirt?’ his father asked, and looked stern. ‘All young subalterns fall in love with
their colonel’s lady if she is young and beautiful. Be careful that you are not just grabbing at straws, Brock. You may think you love her, but are you just feeling wounded pride because Miss Langton has turned you down?’
‘Samantha likes to flirt, but she always kept the line. I do not think she ever intended to break hearts or make the young officers fall in love with her. It’s just that she makes everyone feel as if they are special. She was so generous and kind to the men serving on the Peninsula. We all went to Sam when we were in trouble. She was like a big sister or an aunt to the younger ones and we all tried to help her when Percy Scatterby was so badly injured.’
‘Yes, that was a bad business,’ his father said. ‘I was sorry when I heard what happened to the poor fellow. It would have been better for him had he died at once. To drag on for months as he did must have been terrible for him—for them both. I dare say she had a wretched time of it then.’
‘It was very bad,’ Brock said, looking serious. ‘Sam bore the brunt of the nursing. He was in so much pain that she was the only one he could bear to touch him, but it wore her to a shadow. I remember I tried to comfort her...’ Brock’s voice died away as he recalled the way Samantha had pushed him away, horror in her eyes.
‘Yes, very bad business,’ his father agreed. ‘Still, it’s near enough two years since he died now. I dare say she may be ready to marry again by now.’
‘Perhaps. There was a fellow courting her.’ Brock shook his head. ‘More than one, if the truth be told, but the Marquis seemed to be the most likely as the others were either too young or too old. You might know him, Father? Barchester?’
‘Ah, yes, know the family,’ his father said, and frowned. ‘Not the present Marquis, but his father. There was something a little odd about that family. There were rumours, but I don’t know much about it, some talk of bad blood and a dark secret. They kept it very quiet as I remember, but there are always whispers. Can’t tell you any more, but she would do well to stay clear of the fellow.’
‘Really? I hadn’t heard any ill of him, but perhaps the secret was not of his generation.’
‘No, I would think it was before even my time actually,’ his father said, and shrugged. ‘I would ask you to think very carefully about this, Harry. Marriage is a serious business. Make sure of your feelings and the lady’s before you speak. I should hate you to make another mistake.’
‘I am as sure as I can be,’ Brock said. ‘However, I do not know whether she would consider me as a husband. She has a good life in London and may not wish to give it up.’
‘Well, I think we should have a glass of champagne to celebrate your appointment, Harry. Then I should like you to ride out with me and take a look at those new cottages we’re building for the estate families.’
Chapter Twelve
Samantha looked through the invitations that had been delivered to her home the past week and frowned as she noticed that at least three hostesses had neglected to send invitations to their forthcoming events: Lady Martin’s ball, Lady Halstead’s rout and Lady Smythe’s dance for her eldest daughter, all of them large affairs that Samantha would have expected to receive an invitation to.
It really was a nuisance that so many of these haughty ladies had chosen to listen to unpleasant gossip about Rosemarie’s mother. Samantha had noticed a certain coolness in a few of the hostesses who had invited her, a reproach in their manner that told her they blamed her for having brought the bastard daughter of a man little known in London into their circles. The fact that Rosemarie’s father had adopted her, making her his legal heir seemed not to have been taken into account, if it were even known, of course. Had anyone asked her, Samantha would have told that person the truth, but the subject was never mentioned. However, Samantha had been aware of a certain coolness in the manner of ladies who had been happy enough to acknowledge her in the past.
Had Rosemarie’s father been better known in town, approved of and liked, it would have made things easier, but he had avoided bringing his family to town, taking his daughter to Bath or to Scotland instead. Samantha knew from Rosemarie that he’d spoken of taking her for an extended tour of Europe when she was eighteen, perhaps hoping to find a suitable marriage for her abroad, where the facts of her birth might have been more easily overlooked. But he’d become ill when she was barely seventeen and died soon after, leaving her to the unloving care of her aunt and uncle.
Rosemarie had not received a second letter from her uncle and Samantha had begun to hope that he had forgotten his rebellious niece or at least given up hope of forcing her to a marriage she disliked. It was this whispering campaign that worried her most now, for it was not easy to stop once it started.
If only Brock would return to London, but Samantha had heard nothing from him for a week or more and imagined that he must be in the thick of marriage plans down at Miss Langton’s family home.
It caused her a little pang of distress when she thought of Brock married to the cool beauty. She hoped she was not jealous or unkind—but she had not liked Miss Langton when they met in society, and she’d thought the way she encouraged Lord Armstrong’s advances when she was engaged to Brock quite wrong. There was no fault in being friendly or even in flirting a little, but there had been more than that in the girl’s eyes as she looked up at him, as if she’d been hoping for more than a mere flirtation.
No, she was being harsh. Samantha admitted it to herself. She had no right to condemn the girl, none whatsoever—but she would hate to see Brock unhappy.
Recalling her earlier problem, Samantha noted that they had no engagements for the evening of the twelfth and the sixteenth. She could give a dinner one evening, though some of her friends might be attending the rout, but on the evening of the ball it would be a waste of time to send out invitations for simply everyone would be there.
Sighing, she tucked the cards back behind the clock. On the sixteenth they would just have to go to the theatre, if one of their escorts could be prevailed on to take them, of course. Most would have been invited to the ball naturally...
‘Captain Cameron, madam.’
Samantha turned with her smile in place as the young officer was shown into her pretty drawing room. She held out her hand to him, her spirits rising. Brock and his friends would stay true no matter who else deserted them.
‘I am so pleased to see you, sir. Have you news for me?’
‘Yes, good news I think, depending on your point of view.’
‘You have traced the lady’s brother?’
‘He is as you supposed, the Marquis of Barchester. I returned to town last evening, and this morning I looked the family up at the library—the lady’s name was Angelique and her mother was from an ancient French line. I imagine it was Angelique’s grandmother who was also locked away in an asylum.
‘Barchester’s family must have been horrified when the affliction came out in her. They probably knew nothing of it until then. I understand from the vicar at the parish church that Lady Ross became ill three years after her marriage, after giving birth to a stillborn child, and was sent away for her own good four years after that. Her husband tried to find a cure for her, but in the end she became uncontrollable and he was forced to have her locked away.’
‘The poor lady,’ Samantha said, putting herself into Lady Ross’s shoes. ‘She may have known nothing of the illness herself when she married. Her family must have kept the secret securely—and I am sure the Barchester family was horrified that such an affliction should have been inflicted into their family when they first discovered it in Lady Ross’s grandmother.’
‘They were wrong to have kept it from Lord Ross when he offered for Angelique.’
‘Perhaps they hoped it was not hereditary? If it came through her mother, they could not have known of it when she married Lord Barchester. It must have shocked them terribly—and if Angelique was loved and show
ed no sign of the madness then, they must have hoped she had escaped. No one truly understands what causes these afflictions, but insanity is known to miss a generation and come out in the next.’
‘Yes, of course. One must always hope that a beloved child is untouched by such a terrible thing. But to have allowed the marriage without first telling what had happened to her grandmother? It was wicked, unfair to Lord Ross.
‘I believe the illness was triggered by the birth of a child. Apparently, some women should never have children, it affects their mental state too badly.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard of such a thing,’ Samantha agreed. ‘It is a pity that Lord Ross was not stronger. He had good cause to have the marriage set aside. Even for a Roman Catholic an annulment is not out of the question in such a case as that.’
‘Perhaps he still cared for the girl he married? I dare say she was very pretty. Some of these old families are very...well, shall we say they have a fatal charm.’
‘Yes, I once met a girl rather like that. She was so lovely that she made you ache inside to look at her, but she had such mood swings. I thought her rather fragile, even unstable, but I did not think her insane for she was an intelligent girl and charming when she wished.’
‘Yes, and the Barchester family probably thought the same of Angelique. She was no doubt loved very much by her family and they saw a chance for her to make a good marriage.’
‘With terrible consequences for Rosemarie’s parents,’ Samantha said, looking sad. ‘I cannot thank you enough for this information, sir. I shall speak to Barchester as soon as I can arrange it and confront him with my evidence.’
‘You would not allow me to speak to him?’
‘I have no wish to humble his pride more than need be. You must leave this to me, Captain. I shall need to offer him proof.’
‘Of course. I have the details from the register here,’ Cameron said, and looked at her eagerly. ‘Shall you and Rosemarie be attending Lady Martin’s ball next week?’
