Love At The House Party (Women 0f Worth Book 3)

by Kasey Stockton

  “Quite well. Rosalynn brought her horde of children with her.”

  His smile was lopsided, the first of which I’d seen from him. It was endearing, and genuine. “Rambunctious lot.”

  Miss Hurst grinned. “I quite agree.” She stood, facing him with her hands clasping her needlework. “Can I tempt you to stay, Lord Stallsbury, or do you go to London now?”

  “I could not put you out,” he replied at once. “I had intended to remain at the Crown and Ram for a day or two. I have a mind to convince your man to sell me one of his horses. I’ve heard a great deal about them.”

  A smile played at her lips. “Mr. Bryce would be delighted to show you his stables. Whether or not he sells any of them is entirely up to him.”

  I enjoyed the confusion upon Lord Stallsbury’s brow.

  And I was grateful. He must have known that to stay at Corden Hall with me in residence was a bad idea. Being here at all was a bad idea. I needed to speak to Miss Hurst, and soon. She could not proceed appropriately without proper information.

  She stepped forward and tugged the bell, her butler stepping into the room not long after.

  “Please show Lord Stallsbury to Mr. Bryce. He would like to see the stables.”

  The butler bowed, turning away. I caught Lord Stallsbury’s gaze before he turned to follow the butler and my heart skipped a beat. I found I could not move, my heart pounding long after his retreat.

  Oh dear, this could not be good. I clearly had feelings for the marquess. Feelings that could never be returned.

  “Eleanor?” Charlotte said, causing me to jump.

  I stood rooted to my place, watching out the open doorway. When I turned toward the women, three sets of quizzical eyes laid upon me.

  “Miss Hurst?” I questioned. “Would you have time for a walk in the garden? The sun is glorious today, is it not?”

  Her auburn eyebrows drew together, but she stood. “I would love that.” Her gaze trained on Mrs. Overton, who turned back to her work as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. I could not risk a glance at Charlotte, for I did not want her company during this conversation and I did not wish for her to interpret a glance as an invitation. I followed Miss Hurst to the French doors and out onto the steps, closing the door firmly behind me.

  Drawing Miss Hurst’s arm through my own, I trailed down the steps and into the garden in silence. I moved to turn along the path but she tugged me the opposite direction.

  “Am I correct in assuming that you have something you would like to speak to me about?” she asked.

  My mind flew back a few months to the time I had asked her to care for Charlotte while I attended the house party. Oh, how many things had changed in that short amount of time. I nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  “Then I know just the place.”

  She led me along a different path lined with hedges, ending at an aged, wooden door. It gave easily and we were admitted to a small, circular space, protected by tall hedges. Utter privacy, with a stone bench placed in its center.

  “This is lovely,” I said, shivering from the coolness. The tall hedges cut off the sun beams and I regretted my lack of shawl at once.

  “Though perhaps I should have warned you to fetch a shawl,” she lamented, pulling her own tighter around her arms. “What is the trouble, Mrs. Wheeler?”

  Where to begin? I took in a deep breath, letting myself down on the cool stone bench. “I should have spoken to you of these things before installing myself in your home. I blame my grief for my lack of forethought, and I beg your forgiveness.”

  She nodded, seating herself beside me. “Go on. Did something occur at the house party?”

  Had she heard a rumor, or was she merely astute? Her face did not reveal either thing, so I answered her. “Yes. I received the proposal I sought.”

  Her eyes widened and I shook my head, explaining, “But it has since been recalled.”

  She leaned back slightly. Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, she said, “It is probably best if you start at the beginning.”

  Miss Hurst deserved to know it all, so that is precisely what I told her. I explained my arrival at Bancroft Hill and Mrs. Bancroft’s cold acceptance. I told her of my meetings with Lord Stallsbury in the study, their origin born of innocence, and their continuance—though I knew it was wrong. I explained Mrs. Bancroft’s confusing threat, her son’s proposal, and the scandal that had been spread at the last dinner, culminating the entire tale with my final flight that evening.

  She sat through my confession with kind perseverance, flinching only when I described Mr. Bancroft’s letter recusing himself from any loyalty he owed me on the basis of my deceit.

  “What has Lord Stallsbury had to say for it all?” she asked.

  I lifted my shoulder in a shrug, gazing beyond her to the intricate leaves binding the hedges and their unpredictable pattern. “He has said nothing regarding the rumors. We have only seen one another again just now, and I cannot tell quite how he feels about the whole of it.”

  “But what is he doing here?” she asked.

  “He has brought me a horse.” Her eyebrows shot up on her forehead. I explained, “But I cannot accept it, clearly. It was a little competition we began at the start of the house party to see who would become engaged first. It has since become nulled, for I am no longer engaged.”

  “But did you win?”

  “Yes, but it does not count. Mr. Bancroft broke the engagement.”

  “Was the competition agreement whoever was married first, or whoever was engaged first?” she asked.

  I thought back on the conversation in the shadows of the study and my body warmed with fond remembrance. “The winner was to be whoever became engaged first.”

  She shrugged. “Then I believe it matters not what has since occurred, for you won the competition. You received a proposal first.”

  I had to grin. She had a point.

  “If the man has only come to deliver a horse, then what purpose does he have to remain at the Crown and Ram?” she said, her expression puzzled.

  “Mr. Bryce’s horses, certainly. I am sure he would like to replace the one he just lost.”

  “Yet he arrived in a carriage with a horse tied to the back,” she explained. “I watched them put it away. It seems he did not anticipate buying a horse for the return trip.”

  I stood, pacing the small length of the space. I knew not his motives, nor did I intend to contrive what they were. I had more important things to concern myself with than deciphering Lord Stallsbury’s motive to remain in Shropshire.

  I stopped, facing my hostess. “How do you receive me now, Miss Hurst? How shall I survive once this scandal makes its round to Linshire?”

  “And it surely will,” she put in helpfully. “I know that firsthand.”

  “Yet you have survived it.”

  She glanced at me sharply, seeming to measure her words. “You do not realize, perhaps, that it is not quite as easy as it may seem to weather such a storm. There are those who cross to the other side of the street as I approach, or refuse to sit near my pew at church. The vicar has been welcoming, and I admit that he is likely a large part of why I have not been wholly ostracized. And it has done me good to identify my friends among society here; they have provided a great deal of support.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Heybourne,” I supplied.

  “Yes,” she smiled, spearing me with a look. “Among others. The faint aura of scandal will recede with time but will not likely go away entirely. Though I have a home and will soon have a supportive husband. And I do not have a younger sister I must bring out.”

  “That is the trouble,” I said quietly, slumping onto the bench once again. “How will this affect Charlotte?”

  “I cannot know,” she said honestly. “But I will remain by your side. I do not fear that your virtue has been tarnished. And we will do our utmost to not allow the prudish, judgmental set to tear us down.”

  The interview had not gone at all as I’d imagin
ed. I had hoped for Miss Hurst’s understanding and advice. While she delivered understanding in abundance, I had not received the advice which I so desperately sought.

  I could not deny a certain level of relief, however, for it had been a balm to confess the events I had experienced of late. From the moment Miss Thornton’s poisonous voice rang in my ear, I had wished to explain myself and the late-night visits with Lord Stallsbury to someone, if just to absolve myself in my own mind.

  What I had not counted on was the show of solidarity.

  “I cannot help but consider myself blessed that you came into my life when you did, Miss Hurst,” I said, doing my utmost to tamp down the sudden wave of emotion. “And I thank you for the kindness you have shown my sister and me. It is unprecedented.”

  “I have had my own share of trouble,” she explained. “And it was through the kindness and support of my friend’s aunt that I was saved from a horrid existence at an overrun house with no privacy from my many young cousins. I am only doing as Aunt Georgina would have wished and treated you as she would have if she yet lived.”

  “I am exceedingly grateful.”

  She tilted her head, giving me a knowing look. “I am well aware.”

  Chapter 26

  Three days passed with Lord Stallsbury’s intermittent presence at Corden Hall. He spent a day with Mr. Bryce discussing horses and test riding a few of them, breaking for dinner with the family before removing himself back to the stables.

  It was through these short, chance encounters that I had come to determine one fact: I had missed Lord Stallsbury immensely during the few weeks we spent apart and I was going to be immensely sad when he finally departed. But the sooner the better, for his presence was a reminder of how I lacked; I could hardly bear seeing the man so often when he was so far out of my reach.

  Time passed like honey dripping from a spoon, dragging on. We had days before Mr. Lynch would arrive from London with news of Noah’s will, and my restless pacing was bound to wear down the carpet in the Morning Room. I had convinced myself that he was bringing us good news. Whether from sheer hope or the sensible nature that he would not travel all this way for nothing, I knew not.

  “Eleanor,” my sister said from the sofa in the Morning Room, “you are driving me to distraction. Can you find something else to occupy your time? That carpet surely does not deserve such dedicated pacing.”

  I blinked back at her. “Yes. I shall go for a nice, long walk. I have not been outside in ages and the exercise will do me good.” If I could not walk inside the house, I would simply walk around it.

  “Shall I accompany you?” Charlotte asked. Her nose scrunched up in distaste and I swallowed my laugh. She really did not appreciate any form of exercise that did not involve a four-legged creature. If I enticed her with a trip to the stables, I was sure to get her to accompany me. But I would refrain; a trip to the stables was not what I was after.

  “The solitude will do me well.” I fetched my bonnet and shawl and let myself out of the front door. My half-boots were well worn in now. The soft leather carried me around the side of the house, toward a wooded area with a lovely stream I had once ridden to with Miss Hurst. Did Mr. Bancroft regret his purchase of the shoes? I could only imagine that he would have saved his money had he known how our story would end.

  I watched the clouds grow thick in the sky; the longer I remained out of doors, the more threatening they appeared. I was not yet halfway to the wood and stream when common sense dictated I turn around and make my way back toward the house. Ominous, gray clouds rolled slowly toward Corden Hall, blanketing the sky and covering the sun. I pulled my shawl tighter around my shoulders to ward off the chill and glanced about the paddock on the far side of the house with disloyal intent, but Lord Stallsbury was nowhere to be seen.

  Thick silence surrounded me, evidence of the coming storm. My feet found the gravel drive that led to the front of the house and I stepped onto it, listening for evidence of life. Quiet remained. Animals were probably finding their homes and stable workers were putting away horses, leaving me to walk the remainder of the path in seeming solitude.

  Wheels on gravel snapped me from my thoughts and I jumped from the path, glancing over my shoulder. Hope rose within me at the thought that Lord Stallsbury had come to visit, but the carriage soon made an appearance around the bend and I halted.

  The carriage looked all too familiar and dread settled in my gut.

  Whether it was Mr. Bancroft or his mother, I knew not. Regardless, I had nothing to say to either of them. As the Bancroft carriage door swung open, I was slightly relieved to see a pair of Hessians jump onto the ground and not a pair of slippers covered by a gown. Mr. Bancroft might be the second-to-last person I wished to see at present, but his mother was certainly the last.

  “Mrs. Wheeler,” Mr. Bancroft called, approaching me. “Your butler is not at all polite. I would fire him straight away were I you.”

  “What business can you have here?” I asked, disregarding all sense of politeness. I assumed, by his comment, that he had first stopped at my little cottage. I silently cheered that Finn had the wherewithal to send him on his way. What angered me above all, though, however nonsensical it might be, was that Mr. Bancroft looked so very put together. His curly hair was in order, as were his impeccable clothes. He looked more annoyed and bored than anything else.

  After the last letter I had received from Mr. Bancroft, I was convinced I would never see him again. Yet here he was. I watched him expectantly.

  “I do not like how we left things,” he said, at length. “It was not at all an ideal situation, so you cannot fault me for my sudden reaction. But I have had ample time to consider the matter and I do believe that if we are to wed after a year’s time, we may prove to the gossips that you are, in fact, worthy of my attention.”

  “Worthy?” I questioned. I understood his meaning, but it was not enough for me. The pompous man acted as though he was doing me an immense favor. What he did not realize was that I had determined he was no longer worthy of me.

  It was possibly very foolish of me to reject this offering; I was likely never going to receive another. I could not help but hope, however, that Mr. Lynch would bring us good news. I had suffered once through a marriage with a man who cared more for himself than for me; I was not about to make the same mistake twice.

  “Yes, worthy,” he said with a concise nod. “Now can we go inside and discuss this further? I was told that you are staying here.”

  “No.”

  “Sorry?”

  I enunciated. “No, for there is nothing to discuss. I know that I have done no wrong, and I would have appreciated your support when Miss Thornton spread the rumors about your house. I can understand your shock at the time, but you rushed to believe the worst of me and cancelled our engagement without even a proper conversation. Our ties have been severed, sir, by your own doing, and I owe you nothing. I cannot think why you want to pursue this.”

  “Because I think of little else but you.” He stepped closer, a crazed light in his eyes that scared me. “I have been unable to get you from my mind since that first Season we met and I will have you for my wife.”

  I stepped back. “I am not interested in becoming your wife. I once was, and I wrote to you after leaving London in the hopes that you would follow me. But you never did, and that season has passed.”

  “’Twas my mother,” he explained. “I would have followed you. She took the letters and burned them for she knew of your brother’s tactless decorum and did not want our families united. She admitted as much in her efforts to keep me from coming to you now. But I told her I could handle the sniff of scandal from your brother. And now that he’s gone, he will no longer be a burden upon us.”

  I stared at the man, calm and collected with a fire in his eyes that belied his sanity. “You must leave. I will not change my answer.”

  He scoffed. “With everything you put me through, I cannot believe you would treat me so callously,�
�� he spat. “I traveled all this way for you and this is the thanks I receive? You are ungrateful.”

  “I am exceedingly grateful for the consideration you have paid me.” I longed to explain that I did not appreciate his highhanded manner and apparent need for perfection. If he needed a wife so perfect, there were plenty available and willing to act the part in London.

  He was clearly furious, his cheeks glowing red and his eyes livid. He turned and banged a fist on the side of the carriage. I leapt back, shocked by his outburst.

  “Do not make a fool of me,” he said through his teeth. “I have informed people of my mission here. I will not return empty-handed.”

  “That was your own choice, sir. I will not marry you simply to save you embarrassment.”

  He seemed to only grow angrier and I subtly stepped back again. “It is time for you to go.”

  He regarded me closely, his chest positively heaving. And to think that at one time I had imagined the little curly haired children we were to have. Disgusted, I waited for him to retreat.

  “You will regret this,” he informed me. “When you grow old, poor and alone, you shall regret this decision.”

  I held his gaze until he turned, climbed back into his carriage and rolled away. I could not admit until he left that I had feared for my own safety, but as his carriage moved out of sight, I let out a sigh and rubbed the sockets of my eyes with my fingertips. It was a safe assumption now that Mr. Bancroft was out of my life, hopefully never to be seen again.

  And I didn’t have the chance to thank him for the shoes.

  Chapter 27

  Mr. Bryce entered the breakfast room the following morning positively giddy; the marquess planned to return for more discussion regarding the purchase of two horses.

  “You are willingly parting with these horses, correct?” Miss Hurst inquired. “I happen to know that Lord Stallsbury can be very persuasive when he sets his mind to it.”

  This I knew, as well. Though I chose to keep my mouth closed on the topic.