‘Alex—a duke. What a fine joke that will be on him! He was always so smug about how, as simply the master of a small country estate, he’d be able to live life on his own terms, while the rest of us would be encumbered by titles and obligations. I imagine the Duke will have something to say about the terms he will live on now.’
‘You should send him a note to let him know you are in London. He can probably get away long enough to meet you for tea.’
‘Or something stronger. That’s assuming the butler at Farisdeen House doesn’t look at the seal on the letter, recognise the Comeryn crest, and throw my note into the fire.’
‘There is that possibility,’ his mother agreed with a smile.
Conversation halted for a moment as the butler entered with their tea and his mother occupied herself fixing them each a cup.
After taking several sips, Crispin shook his head. ‘Alex, a duke. I still have trouble getting my mind around that news! Any other shocking revelations from your morning session with Lady Richardson?’
‘Well, there was something about...about Miss Cranmore.’
His irritation with his father immediately reviving, he said, ‘Whatever it is, I hope you don’t feel you must share it with the Earl. He had no reason to rip into you about her. Only to him does it not appear ridiculous that he could on one hand push me to court the girl and on the other forbid his daughter to associate with her.’
‘To be fair, if Miss Cranmore does not succeed in marrying into the gentry, an association with her won’t do Maggie any good during her presentation next year.’
‘So, you would deem her unworthy too?’ he asked hotly.
His mother raised her eyebrows at his impassioned tone. ‘I don’t think you are quite as indifferent to the lady as you previously indicated.’
‘I like and admire her. In looks, talent and charm she is far superior to most of the gently born females I’ve encountered.’
‘Then... I’m not sure what you will want to do about this news.’
‘What news?’
She sighed. ‘I know my son, so of course I don’t believe a word of this. But whispers are going around that you had an assignation with her in the maze at Norwalk House on the afternoon of Lady Norwalk’s garden party. That the two of you were discovered practically in flagrante delicto.’
‘That’s absurd!’ Crispin cried, setting his cup down with a clatter. ‘Who is repeating such calumnies?’
‘You know how rumours are. Someone heard a whisper from someone who knows someone who talked with the person who supposedly discovered you. No names revealed, of course, except for those of the scandalous couple. But there are also rumours that you were not the only one with whom she had a tryst in the shrubbery. That she met other men as well, and is no better than a lightskirt.’
Crispin sat stock-still, reviewing in his mind the episode in the maze. Neither he nor Hoddleston had made any attempt to keep their voices low when he confronted the Baron after rescuing Marcella. Their argument might well have been overheard—leading someone to believe something had happened. Indeed, she had wanted to speedily leave the maze, so that they could be seen mingling with the group gathering on the lawn. She’d expressed the hope that no one had overheard or glimpsed her struggle with Hoddleston.
‘It is a bold-faced lie, isn’t it?’ his mother asked.
‘I did walk in the maze with her. The rest is total invention,’ he confirmed. ‘So...how do I refute it?’
‘You were seen going into the maze? Oh, that is unfortunate.’ His mother shook her head. ‘That’s the thing about rumours. One can’t really refute them. Especially as you are known to have been walking there with her. If you try to deny the story, half the listeners will believe you must be guilty, or you wouldn’t lower yourself to comment on such an absurd tale. If you say nothing, others will believe it must be true since you didn’t deny it. Generally, it’s best to ignore scandal. You have the luxury of saying nothing and emerging unscathed, since few would be foolish enough to challenge the word of a d’Aubignon. Unfortunately, that will not help Miss Cranmore. A lady’s reputation is so fragile! Especially someone like her, who does not have a powerful family to protect her.’
‘So she is disgraced, no matter what happens next?’ he asked angrily.
‘Her reputation is tarnished regardless, though she could be saved from utter ruin if she received a proposal of marriage. Not, of course, with the rumour being entirely untrue, from you! Sadly, though, with such a vicious story circulating, it’s unlikely any other gentleman will offer for her now. I’m afraid her best option is to quietly leave society and look to marry elsewhere.’
Marcella didn’t wish to marry anyone anyway. But the idea that her sterling character would be so unfairly besmirched made him furious. There was only one way to save her from that...give her a powerful family to protect her.
After watching him for a moment, his mother said, ‘Surely you’re not considering marrying her, are you? You told me you were quite set against it!’
‘I’m quite set against marriage in general. But what if someone who disliked the family started such a rumour about Maggie? Would you not want the gentleman with whom her name had been linked to do the honourable thing? Even if neither of them were guilty of any transgression? And please, do not insult me or her by noting that since Miss Cranmore isn’t a lady born, the rules of honour don’t extend to addressing the wrong done to her.’
‘So you are considering wedding her,’ his mother said wonderingly.
‘Since I’ve only just heard this, I’m not sure yet what I mean to do. But I shall certainly not stand by and let her suffer from that venal man’s machinations.’
‘You mean you know who is behind this?’ his mother asked, shocked.
‘I know exactly who’s responsible.’ In a few brief sentences, Crispin related to his mother the incidents that had occurred with Lord Hoddleston. The Baron’s disdain for Miss Cranmore’s origins balanced by his need for her dowry and his certainty that Crispin would sooner or later abandon her, leaving her no alternative but to accept his hand.
‘In this despicable act, he believes he’s found the perfect way to punish her for rebuffing him. Destroying her reputation to guarantee I drop her, with no one left in the ton willing to marry her but him. What the varmint doesn’t understand is that she won’t have him on any terms. She never planned to marry into the gentry to begin with.’
‘Never planned—then why embark on a Season?’
‘It’s complicated. I’ll explain more when I can. I know I’m not at fault, but I can’t tolerate letting Hoddleston get away with ruining the reputation of an innocent woman—a woman whom I respect and admire. I don’t know whether she’ll have me or not, but I’m going to have to make her an offer.’
His mother stared at him. ‘You’re certain of that?’
Crispin sat for a minute, his mind working feverishly. He’d been ever more drawn to her, despite not resolving his reservations about matrimony—particularly to a woman he fervently wished to have as happy a family life after marriage as she had before. But Hoddleston’s despicable trick had swept away everything else.
He’d promised to protect her. And the only thing that would protect her now was a wedding.
‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘I’m certain. Loath as I am to gratify my father.’
His mother smiled. ‘At least your sister will be ecstatic. She likes Miss Cranmore very much. Which, if you esteem her and she has won over a cynic like my daughter, makes me believe I will like her, too.’
She leaned over to press his hand. ‘Just make sure, if you choose to follow the dictates of honour, there’s at least a fair chance that choice will make you happy.’
And that was the crux of the matter. He might have been creeping down the road towards resolving that tricky question, but he was nowhere close to the end yet.<
br />
Despite what his mother said, he didn’t really have a choice. He’d known from the beginning if anything compromising occurred between them, he would have to offer for her. He’d always worried it would be he himself who would do the compromising.
Instead, that slug Hoddleston had taken care of it for him.
‘You’re going to be sorry you did this, Dellamont,’ the Baron had said in the maze as he’d wiped the blood off his lip.
But Crispin couldn’t regret protecting her.
Had Marcella heard the rumours yet? he wondered suddenly.
It was too late in the afternoon now to stop at Lady Arlsley’s. With the ball to prepare for, her sponsor would likely not be receiving callers anyway. Unless some malicious ‘well-meaning’ friend felt compelled to stop by and chat with Lady Arlsley, Marcella would walk into the Thaxford ballroom tonight completely unaware of what she would have to face.
Should he try to write and warn her? But he’d never called on her at her parents’ home and wasn’t sure of the exact address.
He’d just have to arrive at the ball early, ready to support and protect her.
* * *
Later that evening, garbed in her flattering new gown, Marcella followed Lady Arlsley up the stairs at Thaxford House, pausing outside the ballroom with the guests waiting to be presented to their hostess. As they halted, several people turned to stare at them, leaning to whisper to their companions before turning away.
Several of them Marcella knew slightly, but none met her gaze or offered greetings. Which puzzled her a little, but as she wasn’t intimately acquainted with any of them, she dismissed the oddity.
Her hostess, Lady Thaxford, was noticeably cool when she greeted Marcella. However, as a marquess’s wife, she probably shared Lady Arlsley’s opinion that the lowly Miss Cranmore didn’t belong in her ballroom. Shrugging off the snub, Marcella told herself such attitudes were precisely why she would be thrilled to be quitting society in little more than a week.
Although she hadn’t revealed that intention to Lady Arlsley yet.
As they walked through the ballroom, the strangeness continued. Almost everyone they passed looked over at her and then away, not meeting her eyes before immediately turning to whisper to their companions.
By the time they reached the other side of the ballroom, Lady Arlsley, a genial smile fixed on her face as she nodded to several in the group gathered there, leaned close to Marcella and said in an urgent undertone, ‘What have you done?’
‘Nothing that I am aware of,’ Marcella replied—before the guilty memories recurred. Nothing, except kiss Crispin in Lady Arlsley’s garden, and then kiss him again, even more passionately, on the tavern terrace.
Though it was possible that another servant besides Mary—who would never have spoken of it to anyone—might have been gazing out a window and overseen them in the town-house garden, she was certain they had been unobserved on the terrace.
‘You must have done something,’ Lady Arlsley replied, anger in her voice. ‘Even my friends shied away from speaking with me as we entered. And you must have heard the murmur of voices, seen the interested gazes following us as we crossed the room. As soon as an escort appears for you, I shall corner Lady Anderson in the card room. This is intolerable!’
Or rather, only typical behaviour on the part of the ton towards an interloper like her, Marcella thought, recalling the Earl of Comeryn’s fury at discovering his daughter had been riding with her.
Was his anger, conveyed to his many acquaintances and friends, the reason behind the sudden chill?
The orchestra began tuning up, gentlemen walking over to invite ladies to dance, but no one approached Marcella. Even her widower, who’d half-heartedly continued his attentions despite obviously feeling as long as she was pursed by an earl’s heir, his chances of winning her hand were slim, turned away without acknowledging her when she saw him and smiled.
Something had definitely happened. But she had no idea what.
Lady Arlsley fiddled at her side, clearly frustrated at having to remain with her rather than darting off to find her friend. Once the first dance began with Marcella still standing unclaimed, the older woman turned to her and snapped, ‘Follow me. Since you failed to secure a partner, you can accompany me to the card room.’
Not that she ever expected to truly enjoy these entertainments, aside from the two dances and associated conversation she was able to share with Dellamont, but Marcella was pleased with her pretty new gown and had been looking forward to the evening with mild enthusiasm. That dissipated as she followed her irate sponsor around the edge of the ballroom and into the card room.
In even more dramatic fashion than the ballroom, as soon as the card players looked up to see who the newcomers were, the low hum of voices in the room faded—and everyone stared.
‘I do wish you would not bring that person in here, Lady Arlsley,’ a viscount’s wife said. ‘We do not appreciate having someone of her ilk mingling among us.’
Lady Arlsley stopped short, two rosy spots of embarrassment appearing on her cheeks, while Marcella, though mystified, was otherwise unmoved. She even pitied her sponsor a bit, since that lady quailed before that evidence of this group’s disapproval. Marcella didn’t care one whit what they thought of her.
Before a sputtering Lady Arlsley could come up with a reply, Marcella felt a touch at her elbow. ‘Miss Cranmore, here you are!’ Dellamont said, bowing to her and her sponsor. ‘I’ve been looking all over the ballroom for you. Since we’ve missed the beginning of the dance, perhaps you will stroll with me. If you will permit, Lady Arlsley?’
Any faces that hadn’t already been turned their way swivelled towards them at the sound of Crispin’s voice echoing through the silent room. Marcella noted astonishment on some faces, dropped jaws on others.
What in blazes has happened? she wondered.
Goggling at him, still incapable of speech, Lady Arlsley nodded at Dellamont. Offering her his arm, the Viscount said, in a voice guaranteed to penetrate to every corner of the room, ‘Thank you for doing me the honour, Miss Cranmore.’ And led her away.
‘So what is it? Have I been identified as a carrier of the plague?’ Marcella joked as Crispin walked her, not back into the ballroom, but into an anteroom that was being set up for refreshments. Proceeding with her to the windows, out of the way and out of earshot of the servants busily filling the tables with trays of food and drinks, he said, ‘I’m sorry I’m late. I had intended to arrive before you, but two carriages collided on the street, and the horses from one had to be cut from their traces—’ Breaking off, he sighed. ‘I would have spared you that episode in the card room.’
‘So you do know what’s afoot. Thank heaven! Tell me, please.’
Quickly he related the rumours about them. ‘I told my mother they were a complete fabrication, and asked how we could go about refuting them. She said...there was no effective way.’
‘Well, that’s typical! Hoddleston attacks me and I’m the hussy. Am I allowed to call him out?’
‘Are you a good shot?’
‘Tolerable.’
‘That’s a match I’d like to see,’ he said, the serious expression on his face lightening. ‘But no, you can’t. Even I am not allowed to call him out, despite the slur to my name, since acknowledging the story is the same as confirming it. “No smoke without fire, etc.”’
‘Then what are we to do?’
‘That’s what we need to determine, and I don’t intend to discuss it with a ballroom of people, already morbidly curious, sneaking about trying to overhear us. Will you go to Lady Arlsley’s tomorrow?’
‘If my ruin is as complete as it appears, yes I will. To tell her I am leaving society, which will come as a huge relief to her, I am sure.’
‘Don’t tell her anything yet. Not until after we talk. For tonight, I intend to dance my t
wo dances with you, escort you in for some refreshment, chat with you, and then recommend to Lady Arlsley that you make your exit.’
He stared down at her for a moment. ‘You are...at ease, aren’t you? You don’t appear nearly as upset by the news as I feared you might be.’
‘Oh, I’m upset. I should like to wring Hoddleston’s neck. Or rather—what would be a suitable equivalent? Perhaps march him at pistol point through Hyde Park with him wearing only his nether garments? But as for the opinions of the assembled multitude here tonight?’ She snapped her fingers. ‘I care less than that what they think of me. Though I am pained anyone could be stupid enough to imagine you would behave so badly.’
‘Everyone loves a scandal and believes no one is above it.’
‘Everyone believes a girl who tries to rise above her station deserves whatever she gets,’ Marcella said. ‘There are probably many who believe I enticed you into the shrubbery to tempt you with my body and try to force you into marrying me. They will probably applaud you for refusing.’
‘We’ll talk about that later. I’m just relieved that you aren’t more distressed.’
‘Not me. No screaming or swooning, remember?’
‘I do. So,’ he said, tilting up her chin and grinning at her, ‘would you tempt me with your body?’
His disturbing news had distracted her for a time, but at his teasing words, her awareness of him returned in a rush, sending a tingle of sensation sweeping across her skin. She was very conscious of his tempting mouth just above hers, and how easily she could pull his face down to kiss him. ‘Could I?’
‘In a heartbeat.’
She might easily kiss him, but since she’d already been the cause of besmirching his reputation, she should probably refrain from creating any more scandal. ‘Then we’d better go back into the ballroom.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next afternoon, Marcella wrapped her arms around herself as she paced the town house garden to avoid any further discussion with her sponsor, marking time until she could expect Crispin to arrive.
Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Page 43
