With a resigned sigh, she crossed the room and poured fresh water into the china bowl on the washstand. She washed her hands and face, her fingers lingering over her lips, remembering how they tingled with pleasure when the viscount kissed her.
“Do you need any help, Miss?”
Startled, Gwendolyn dropped the towel. “No, thank you, Lucy. I can manage on my own.”
“Fine. I’ll just put your laundry away.” The servant bustled about the chamber, taking her time, obviously waiting for an opening to start a conversation. When her arms were empty, she turned, an eager smile touching her mouth. “Did you have a nice time at the party last night, Miss Gwendolyn?”
Gwendolyn calmly finished drying her hands. “Yes, I did, Lucy. I want to thank you again for all of your help.”
The maid’s smile broadened and she modestly lowered her eyes. “I was pleased to be a small part of your success.”
“Your support meant a great deal to me,” Gwendolyn said sincerely.
The maid blushed with pride, curtsied, then left.
Gwendolyn slowly folded her damp towel, her head and heart rioting with emotions. She covered her face with both hands and shivered. Composure. She must focus on regaining her composure and dignity or else she would never be able to face her family.
Selecting a dainty gown of pale blue muslin, she pulled it over her head and tied it tightly. Concentrating on each individual task, Gwendolyn unbraided her hair, combed it through, then pinned it into a simple knot at the base of her neck.
As she finished preparing to join the rest of the family for breakfast, Gwendolyn hoped the furor over her appearance at the Hollingsworths’ party had died down a bit. If she were very lucky, it might not even become the entire focus of the morning conversation.
Bolstered by the optimistic thought, she hurried downstairs, the last to arrive at the breakfast table. All eyes turned towards her as she entered the room and Gwendolyn felt a dull red flush creep over her face. Her optimism faded as she took her seat.
“Good morning, Gwendolyn,” Aunt Mildred said cheerfully. “I hope you slept well.”
“Yes, thank you.” Gwendolyn avoided looking at her aunt and waved off the plate of coddled eggs, bacon, sliced beef and biscuits with marmalade the serving girl tried to place in front of her. “Just tea and a slice of plain toast for me this morning, Jane.”
“Lost your appetite, have you?” Uncle Fletcher asked as he poured a large portion of cream into his china cup.
“Not surprising after your behavior last night.”
She shot him a glare. He met her eyes steadily, then popped a whole hard boiled egg into his mouth. Gwendolyn glanced away and took a sip of tea to prevent the tightness from building in her throat.
“Gwendolyn’s behavior last night was perfectly exemplary,” Dorothea insisted hotly. “I for one think it was terribly brave of her to come to the ball in the first place.
Her success is a triumph for us all.”
“A triumph?” Uncle Fletcher’s eyebrows rose and his throat moved visibly as he finished swallowing the remainder of his egg. “More like a shock. A most unpleasant shock.” He held up a hand when Dorothea started to protest and turned his full attention on Gwendolyn.
“Your aunt and I were flabbergasted to see you last night.
Why did you not inform us of your plans?”
Gwendolyn lifted the small pot of tea that had been set beside her and poured more of the steaming brew into her cup. “I thought it unimportant and inconsequential.”
“Balderdash!”
“Fletcher! Such language. And at the breakfast table, no less.” Aunt Mildred fanned her face vigorously with her linen napkin. “I know you are distressed, and rightfully so, but there is no need for such vulgarity.”
“I did not mean to upset your tender sensibilities, my dear. Forgive me.”
Her uncle tried to appear contrite, but Gwendolyn was not fooled. He was angry, far more than Gwendolyn had ever anticipated. She glanced over at Dorothea. Her sister shrugged in confused agreement.
“I believe your uncle was rather puzzled by your choice of escort. Won’t you explain to him exactly how you became acquainted with Lord Fairhurst?” Aunt Mildred prompted in a stage whisper as she leaned toward Gwendolyn.
“I met him when he came to call on us, Aunt Mildred,”
Gwendolyn said calmly. “In fact, the viscount told use came at Uncle Fletcher’s invitation.”
The reminder sent Aunt Mildred into a dither. “Yes, yes, of course. How foolish of me not to remember.”
“And since it was you who invited him, dear uncle, there was no question in any of our minds that you thought him a suitable gentleman,” Dorothea said in an overly sweet tone.
“He is a viscount! Of course he is suitable!” Uncle Fletcher yelled.
“Then there is no reason for you to be upset, Uncle,”
Emma chimed in. “Was it a lovely party, Gwen? You must tell me all about it.”
Uncle Fletcher stiffened, his features turning stony.
“Not now. I refuse to listen to a recount of that blasted affair. It will sour my stomach.”
Aunt Mildred gasped, but this time there was no apology for the coarse language.
“It was a delightful party, enjoyed by everyone, except for Uncle Fletcher. I will happily relate all the details after breakfast, Emma.” Gwendolyn felt her tongue swell with indignation. “Though I feel compelled to remark that Lord Fairhurst was a most charming and gallant companion and I greatly appreciated having someone to champion my cause after all these years.”
“Yes, ’tis long overdue,” Dorothea replied.
A muscle tightened in Uncle Fletcher’s jaw as he leaned against the back of his chair. “You might believe Fairhurst is some sort of noble knight, but as your guardian it is my duty to question Lord Fairhurst’s motives.”
It was difficult to hold a glowering expression with a blush creeping up her cheeks, but somehow Gwendolyn managed. “He was my escort. Nothing more.”
Aunt Mildred nodded her head enthusiastically. “Precisely! See, there was no harm in it, Fletcher. No harm at all.”
Her aunt’s deliberately solicitous tone grated on Gwendolyn’s nerves. Why had it suddenly become necessary to placate Uncle Fletcher? He never before seemed overly interested in his niece’s activities. Or was there something about Lord Fairhurst that he found particularly grating?
“I suppose there is no point in debating it after the fact,” Uncle Fletcher eventually replied. “As long as it ends now.”
Gwendolyn took a sip of her hot tea before answering.
“If Lord Fairhurst invites me to attend another event, I shall accept his invitation.”
“I think that most unwise, Gwendolyn.”
Her uncle’s tone was soft, but there was something in his voice that made all four women feel visibly uncomfortable.
“Is there something you wish to say to me, Uncle?”
Gwendolyn challenged.
“I am sure your uncle only wishes to point out that you are under his protection, Gwendolyn. As are all of you girls,” Aunt Mildred said, her voice laden with unease.
“Isn’t that right, dearest?”
Uncle Fletcher ignored his wife and kept his gaze firmly fixed on Gwendolyn. “Fairhurst is married. You are not. ’Tis highly inappropriate for you to be alone with him, even for a short carriage ride.”
“At my age I am nearly a spinster. However, if you insist, I shall endeavor to have a chaperone along any time I am with the viscount,” Gwendolyn replied. “And I will make certain to chose one who will exhibit unfailing attention to her duties.”
“You were always headstrong, Gwendolyn, but I never thought you a fool.” Uncle Fletcher grimaced. “Married lords such as Fairhurst do not have noble motives toward attractive young women.”
A sudden chill seized her. He had voiced her worst fear with alarming accuracy. Blanching, she turned away from him.
“What a dre
adful thing to say, Fletcher. My goodness, we hardly need to instill a sense of moral responsibility in the girls, especially Gwendolyn,” Aunt Mildred said, her voice turning into a high-pitched squeak. “Nor should we question the motives of a proper lord.”
It seemed a ridiculous statement, given the lax morality of the nobility and Gwendolyn’s scandalous reputation of the past four years, but she appreciated her aunt’s support. Uncle Fletcher seemed to finally realize that he was outnumbered and out-maneuvered. With a look of masculine distaste, he flicked open his newspaper and promptly disappeared behind it.
Aunt Mildred let out a sigh of relief and patted Gwendolyn’s hand awkwardly. Gwendolyn answered with a slight smile. Shaking off the irritation of the conversation, she attempted to finish her breakfast. Yet each bite of toast seemed to lodge squarely in her throat.
Though Jason had half expected it, nevertheless, the next afternoon a sense of surprise stole over him when Snowden announced there were callers. Female callers.
“Where have you put them?” Jason asked.
The butler’s eyebrow rose. “Nowhere yet, my lord.”
The ladies are waiting in the foyer. I was uncertain if you were at home to visitors.”
Jason blew out a breath. “That bad, heh, Snowden?”
It was difficult to tell what the butler thought, for not the slightest expression crossed the man’s face. He smoothly extended a small silver tray, upon which rested three calling cards. Jason tilted his head and read the names.
Mrs. Hollingsworth, Mrs. Merrick, and Mrs. Tiltondown. The unholy trio of Willoughby society. Jason nearly groaned.
“Your orders, my lord?”
“I’d best see them. If not, they will only return tomorrow.”
“Very good, my lord. Shall I show them to the drawing room?”
Jason thought of the bulbous yellow decor of the room and this time did let out a groan. “No. Put them in the front parlor.”
“Shall I bring refreshments?”
Jason paused. “Don’t bother. They won’t be staying that long.”
As he walked the short distance to the parlor, Jason’s resolve hardened. He had a fairly good idea why the women were here and he was in no mood to deal with their criticism.
Jason entered the room, a stoic expression on his face.
He bowed before his guests and they bobbed quick curtsies in response. At his invitation the women sat down, clustering together on three chairs. He sat opposite them, feeling far too much like an errant lad awaiting a scolding for his peace of mind.
Jason indulged the women with polite conversation for a few minutes as he sized them up. It quickly became clear that Mrs. Merrick was the leader of the group. She was dressed in a shade of green that did nothing to enhance her complexion and accented every flaw in her ample figure. His mind wandered fancifully as he idly realized she was shaped remarkable like a turnip.
“We felt it our duty to come here today and speak with you, my lord,” Mrs. Merrick began, finally getting down to the real purpose of the visit. “After the events of last night’s party, it is obvious that you are not aware of the situation regarding certain members of our community.
We must therefore, in good conscience, caution you against forming any sort of connection with Gwendolyn Ellingham.”
His temper flared, but Jason regarded them all with cool composure. “You must forgive me, ladies. I fear my hearing must somehow be affected by all this clean country air. For a moment I thought I heard you tell me how to conduct myself and, even more absurd, dictate with whom I may associate.”
The women exchanged nervous glances.
“We would never presume to tell you what to do, my lord. However, by escorting Miss Ellingham to my party last night it became abundantly clear that you were unaware of her true nature,” Mrs. Hollingsworth said.
“I have heard the rumors,” he snapped. “And I have seen how you regard her: with suspicion and superiority and even contempt. It’s disgraceful.” He glanced from one to the other, to the third, waiting for their reaction.
Mrs. Hollingsworth puffed her chest out like an outraged bird. “’Tis Miss Ellingham who is disgraceful!”
Jason leaned forward, his voice low with purpose and command. “Are you aware of my reputation, Mrs.
Hollingsworth?”
Mrs. Hollingsworth’s mouth opened, then closed.
Wild-eyed, she turned toward Mrs. Tiltondown, who came to her rescue. “’Tis said that Viscount Fairhurst is a stickler for propriety, which is why we naturally assumed you did not know the truth about this girl.”
Mrs. Merrick nodded her head vigorously. “We knew if you did know the truth, you would not be her champion. Not to mention that your wife would naturally never approve of the association.”
“Ahh, so you are well-acquainted with Lady Fairhurst?”
Jason raised his brow. “She has taken you into her confidence and expressed her disapproval of Miss Ellingham?”
Mrs. Merrick’s face blazed red. “Why no, I have not had the honor of meeting Lady Fairhurst.”
“Then you cannot possibly presume to know her mind.” Jason’s jaw clenched and a muscle ticked beneath his skin as he looked from one woman to the next. “I would therefore ask you to cease assuming that you do.”
Clearly offended, Mrs. Merrick clasped her hand to her ample bosom. “I can certainly presume to know how a lady will react when her husband springs to the defense of a scandalous woman. It is disgraceful.”
His features grew stoney. “Lady Fairhurst is a treasure among females, a woman with intelligence and wit who does not suffer fools. I know that upon acquaintance, she and Miss Ellingham will become fast friends.”
They all three studied him for a moment, trying to decide if he was being honest.
“Lady Fairhurst’s opinion will quickly change once she hears about Miss Ellingham’s scandalous past.” Mrs.
Hollingsworth bristled.
Without being asked, she began to recount the events of the scandal, with a degree of detail that bespoke of great exaggeration and numerous re-tellings. After just a few minutes, Jason had heard his fill.
“Enough.”
“But Lord Fairhurst, surely you must agree that—”
“Enough!”
“My lord—”
“Shh!” He brought a vertical finger to his lips. “I will not listen to another word.”
Mrs. Hollingsworth’s eyebrows rose so high they were almost lost under the rim of her bonnet. Mrs. Tiltondown looked near to bursting; holding her tongue was proving to be a Herculean task. She glanced frantically at Mrs. Merrick for guidance, but she shook her head slowly back and forth.
The silence was long and tense. Finally Mrs. Merrick spoke. “We did not intend to offend you, my lord.”
“But you have.” God, was this what his family had to go through on his behalf? Listening to an endless list of his transgressions and then being forced to defend him against snide remarks and sanctimonious innuendo?
And the worst part was that his actions were often in-defensible. He was guilty of exhibiting churlish behavior and neglectful of observing even the most basic proprieties. He had done things that had shocked society, had behaved in a way that deserved comment. He had been, for many years, a scandalous fellow, while Gwendolyn’s transgressions were minor and inconsequential, affect-ing no one but herself.
He speared Mrs. Merrick with a look of frosty disapproval. “It shocks and saddens me to witness such small-minded, petty behavior. I had hoped to spend more time in Willoughby, had even considered spending the winter holidays here, believing it to be not only a place of beauty but a place filled with noble individuals.
“I had even hoped to persuade a few of my unmarried male friends to visit and become acquainted with what I had thought to be a genteel society. They are always eager to meet new people, especially unspoiled young women. After all, the marriage mart does not only exit in London.”
Jason noticed the
look of horror on Mrs. Hollingsworth’s face and surmised she understood his meaning. Good. All three women had unmarried daughters. Mrs. Tiltondown had two. The opportunity to have eligible aristocratic gentlemen so close within their grasp was irresistible.
Even if they wanted to go to the expense and bother of trying to launch their daughters for a season in Town, they most likely lacked the necessary connections to be invited to the best parties. They would be fools indeed to toss away this golden opportunity. He was gambling that their practical nature would override their stubborn pride and stiff-necked morality.
“We would not want you to think us backward in our thinking, my lord,” Mrs. Merrick said. “But we must also uphold a standard of appropriate behavior to ensure our future.”
Careful. Though he really wanted them to squirm, Jason decided it would be far wiser to make it easier for them to acquiesce.
“I am aware of things regarding this unfortunate incident that no one else knows, ladies. You must believe me when I tell you that the rumors are greatly exaggerated, the facts long lost in the re-telling of the story. Miss Ellingham is only guilty of using poor judgment, which given her age at the time of the incident can surely be understood. And forgiven.” Jason cast them a grim smile. “I would consider it a personal favor if you could find it in your hearts and conscience to be the leaders of our community and embrace Miss Ellingham. For my sake.”
All three gave him a startled glance. They all seemed shaken by his request, not expecting such a direct plea.
“We should like to agree,” Mrs. Hollingsworth ventured, the first crack in the wall of intolerability. Her uncertain gaze drifted to Mrs. Merrick.
“Perhaps we have been hasty to judge, especially if all the facts were not revealed. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Tiltondown?”
“That is a possibility.” Mrs. Tiltondown’s smile looked forced, but she did manage one. “Our opinion could be changed, if his lordship would be so kind as to enlighten us with what he knows.”
How to Enjoy a Scandal Page 12
