He’d meant the reassurance as a joke, but saw the truth to it when Willem relaxed enough to smile.
“You gave us a bit of a struggle, my lord. We’re glad to see you better.”
“Thank you.” Though his words were meant for the well wishes, they would have sufficed for the food also as his stomach rumbled.
“It’s not much to fill you after so long, but the doctor said to start small. No telling how your stomach has shrunk since your injury.”
“From the feel of it, my stomach is as large as Hyde Park and as empty as same in the early morning hours.”
“Prove yourself steady, and I’ll have Cook make a heartier meal for you to feast upon.”
Aubrey had not waited for Jasper’s response so had to swallow before he said, “Once I’ve seen Barbara, your staff is welcome to do their best in stuffing me to full, but for now, don’t you have a carriage to order up?”
Jasper laughed, his relief evident in the sound even as he turned for the door. “I do at that, and I best be about it. I have a sour feeling you’d set off afoot if it’s not ready when you down the last sip. I should be grateful you’re using a spoon.”
He left before Aubrey could raise the bowl to his lips in teasing warning, a lucky fact from how the bowl trembled in his hands. Had he not been so hungered from the start, it would have had enough liquid to spill out.
After lowering his broth to the tray, Aubrey devoted his full attention to spooning the rich liquid into his mouth. He’d need every bit of strength he could muster if he were to succeed in convincing Barbara of his intentions.
SOME HOURS LATER, AFTER THEY’d gone down for tea and come back, Georgiana was still deciding on a dress for the poetry reading. She’d even pulled Sarah into the discussion.
“That one is much too formal for a simple reading,” Barbara said of the gown her cousin had pressed to her front this time. “You should save it for a ball.”
“But what if I never get invited to any? I’d have wasted the chance to wear it.”
Barbara crossed the room to pluck the overly ornamented cloth from her cousin’s hands. “That was never in question. You will be part of my mother’s party, and my mother is always invited.”
She’d never given it a thought before, but now it seemed as though she’d been trading on her father’s blood and her mother’s social standing her whole life. Certainly during this season.
All the men who sought her out, all of her suitors, and she had no way of knowing whether she herself had been the draw. The Whitfeld name held enough allure, even to those with higher-ranking titles than her father’s, that securing her hand had more to do with securing the bloodline, and her inheritance.
“I’m no more than one of Uncle’s mares.”
“What was that?” Sarah asked as she took the ball gown from Barbara’s hands.
Barbara shrugged the question off, not having meant to state it aloud in any case.
Only one man had come to her unaware of the titles she could offer his children, or the cushion marriage would mean to his coffers. One man had met her gaze and lingered even though her clothing had patches and her hair hung around her shoulders.
“Have you chosen a gown for her?”
Lady Whitfeld poked her head around the door, her gaze settling on Barbara despite the question being meant more for Georgiana or Sarah from the state of Barbara’s empty hands.
“She’s having some trouble deciding.”
Her mother’s gaze narrowed and tiny frown lines appeared in her forehead, a response not so much to the answer as the flat tone in which it had been spoken.
Barbara pushed aside her melancholy in an effort to assuage her mother’s concerns. “Georgie’s worried she won’t have a chance to wear them all.”
Lady Whitfeld choked on a laugh. “Oh, my dear, that is not a reason to hesitate. This will be your debut, if on a small scale. You’re young and beautiful. The men will twist their mother’s arms to make sure you get an invite and the mothers with daughters of their own will connive to keep you absent. Neither will matter, though. The Whitfelds are always welcome.”
Stifling a laugh of her own at her mother’s tone when making this pronouncement, Barbara arched an eyebrow at her cousin. Had she not said much the same?
“I’d be worried you’d outshine my very own daughter,” Lady Whitfeld continued, “if she didn’t have too many suitors to count as it was.”
Barbara found herself trapped once again under her mother’s piercing gaze, recognizing this to be something her mother shared with Uncle Ferrier.
“Word of your return has reached them already. You know how London has a way of spreading gossip faster than a plague. Two of your gentlemen have left cards this very day. I sent them invitations to the reading tonight.”
Barbara turned away, pretending to look at the dress Georgiana now considered as she controlled her features.
She’d told her cousin of her plans to choose one of them at random, but she had no inclination to spend time in their presence beforehand. It would only be awkward, especially when her mother had invited not one but two.
Lady Whitfeld laid a hand on her shoulder and turned Barbara back to meet her gaze. “It does no good to delay. We’d hoped your trip to the country had restrained you, and it seems to have done so, but hiding from the men vying for your hand solves nothing. You must choose among them and set the rest free.”
“I understand.”
Though Barbara had meant to add more, Georgiana chose that moment to come over with a gown.
“Surely she could wait to choose a little longer. If they’ve stayed faithful to her cause all this time, they won’t mind a few more days while my cousin guides me, will they?”
Lady Whitfeld gazed on Georgiana with twinkling eyes as she took in the gown now swirling around the girl’s ankles. “No, it will not harm them any, you’re right. And better not to cloud your introduction. A pity I didn’t seek your counsel before I added them to the guest list. It seems you have a good understanding of these things for one straight from the country.”
“I understand the strength of faith,” Georgiana said with a pointed look to Barbara, “but I’m at a loss in choosing.”
The shake she gave the gown in her arms showed her meaning, but Lady Whitfeld’s murmur of, “You are not alone in that difficulty,” had no object beyond her daughter.
“Don’t worry, Mother. We’ll have her appropriately dressed for the event even if it takes a blind choice to make it happen.”
Her mother had no way of knowing just where that option had its roots, but she gave Barbara an intent look as though she understood all too well.
“I’ll leave you young ones to the task then. Sarah, make sure they are both ready to shine by this evening. Though small, this gathering must quash any of the rumors began by Barbara’s sudden departure. Cinch her gown tight in the latest fashion.”
With that admonishment, Lady Whitfeld swept out of the room, leaving them no better off than they were before, and with an added complication for Barbara to address.
She’d thought to have a few days at least to contemplate her future, barren as it was without Aubrey in it, but it seemed she was to be thrust into the center as though she’d never been absent at all. Certainly not as though she’d spent a few short weeks running wild in the fields, finding—and losing—her one true match.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Aubrey refused to admit how exhausting the carriage ride out to the farm had been despite the strength offered by the broth. He couldn’t hold back a relieved sigh when they reached the fence.
“You don’t have to do this now,” Jasper said, catching Aubrey’s arm when he went to exit the carriage.
Aubrey shook him off. “I need to speak with her. You won’t stop me, and I’d suggest you don’t try.”
His friend gave him an intent look, clearly seeing both his conviction and weakness. “Well, then, we might as well get it over with.” He reached past Au
brey to swing the door open.
Whether they’d lingered a bit too long within or their arrival proved momentous, a small gathering had collected outside.
Aubrey stepped down and scanned those nearest. Charlotte stood among them, her solemn expression at odds with what he expected of her. Stern, yes, but not solemn.
“I need to speak to Barbara.”
Her eyes widened, though she must have guessed at his reason for arriving there. Daphne told him how Charlotte had been in charge of his care before the doctor arrived. Surely the woman knew how he’d come to be there in the forest.
“Your father, then,” he added when she showed no signs of taking him to the one he needed to see.
That earned him a stiff nod.
“Marian, get the gentlemen something to refresh themselves while I get Father.”
Aubrey put up a hand to stop both from leaving. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be coming with you.”
She glanced beyond him and exchanged a silent communication with Jasper. “I’ll take you to his study. Marian, get Father and bring him there.”
As much as Aubrey wanted to argue, he could feel the weakness of too little food and too much rest in his knees. Standing in a field or stable would not be possible soon enough.
“Are you sure I can’t get you some water at least,” Marian said as he settled into one of the chairs and Jasper took another.
“Fetch him some vinegar juice if you have any,” Jasper said.
Aubrey had no chance to protest before she left the room, not that he would reject something more to sustain him.
“You need to calm yourself or they’ll think you came to lay charges. Something doesn’t feel right here.”
He couldn’t reject the statement, not when he’d seen first Charlotte and now Marian acting both solemn and skittish, but the need to see Barbara was all that kept him upright. Calming himself might drain what little strength he had.
Mr. Ferrier entered just then, his daughter following with a tray of vinegars, bread, and cheese.
She placed the tray on her father’s desk and left with unseemly haste.
Ferrier settled at the desk, his hands steepled in front of him. “You wanted to see me, my lord? Are you healing well? Last I saw you was to deliver you unconscious to the manor, so you seem much recovered.”
Aubrey pushed to the edge of his seat, waving a hand to brush off the man’s concern. “I’m well enough, thank you for that though it’s not why we came. I need to see Barbara.”
The farmer shifted so the wood of his seat creaked. “She is not here.”
Aubrey leapt to his feet only to freeze as the room spun. He narrowed his focus to Ferrier. “Don’t try to deny me. I know she’s your servant. She has no other place to be.”
Ferrier rose as well, coming round the desk to catch Aubrey’s arm and offer a support Aubrey wished he didn’t need. “You should sit. Have some of the treats Marian brought for you. Conserve your strength.”
Though Aubrey sank onto the chair once again, he shook his head to deny the rest. “I’ll be better when I’ve had my say to your servant girl. Bring her here promptly.”
The farmer let out a heartfelt sigh and rubbed a hand along his jaw.
His response sent a jolt of fear through Aubrey. “Where is she? She’s not fallen ill, has she? She came from the forest healthy. I saw her myself. Tell me nothing has happened to her since.”
Ferrier’s brow furrowed, and he rested against his desk for a moment before meeting Aubrey’s gaze. “She’s well. It’s not that. This is much more complicated than you might think.”
“Speak plainly, man. I have little patience.”
Ferrier glanced to Jasper first as though looking for guidance, but his friend said nothing.
After what seemed an age, the farmer sighed again. “She’s not a servant here. She never was.”
“But I met her working in your fields with your daughters. What else could she be?”
“She’s my niece.”
Aubrey took a moment to digest that information, rewriting the family care between the women as bloodline rather than kindness. Her clothing meant she came from a poorer branch of the family, but that made no difference, or rather, it made what he planned that much easier.
He raised his eyebrows. “This changes nothing unless you’re going to say she’s already wed. I know her too well to think she’d trifle with a man when she has one waiting at home, though.”
Ferrier shook his head. “That’s just the problem. You know her not at all. My eldest gave me the whole story. How she let you think all sorts of things about her uncorrected, and how she had some plan for revenge after you cut her direct.”
Anger uncoiled at the accusation and Aubrey’s fists curled though he rarely chose physical violence as a first action. “I never gave her reason to believe I thought less of her. Your daughter tells tales to keep us apart.”
Ferrier straightened at that. “My daughters are nothing but truthful. They are ashamed of their part in this, though you never saw fit to ask.”
Aubrey jerked to his feet, unable to stay seated in the face of these accusations. “How do I know any of this to be truth?”
Jasper rose and caught his arm before he could advance on the farmer and beat the truth from him.
At the same moment, Charlotte slipped into the room to catch his other arm, having clearly been listening outside.
“Barbara,” Ferrier continued, “Lady Barbara is not a simple country girl. Her father is a viscount. Her parents sent her down here after her season proved a little too frivolous for their tastes, a fact she credits to what you had to say of her.”
Aubrey wanted to shake off his restraints, but a wave of weakness crashed over him, and he could only stand there between them, frustrated.
“Lord Aubrey, you are correct,” Charlotte said from his side. “You never spoke to her before that day in the field.”
He turned to face her. “Are you admitting now what you told your father was lies? Is there any truthful female in this family?”
She paled, and her father crowded forward, but Charlotte stopped him with a hand. “I suppose we deserve that, but you misunderstand me. You are as quick to judge now as you were in the fields, and the ballroom. You did not speak to her directly. She happened to be within hearing when you destroyed the character of almost every debutante at the event.” Her tone sharpened as she continued, “But you singled out Lady Barbara Whitfeld with excessive care.”
Aubrey opened his mouth to deliver a sound denial only to have a hint of memory trickle in to silence him.
He exchanged a pained look with Jasper, a moment of frustration with the frivolity of the season having consequences greater than he could ever have imagined.
He slumped into his chair, eyes closed on the vision of a white-clad girl with brightly colored ribbons who danced through the crowd of willing suitors. His only charge against her came from Jasper’s mother attempting to create a connection where he saw none, but he’d let that control his tongue as he scorned her nature to Jasper.
Memory of his cutting remarks burned. Had he only given in to The Dowager Lady Pendleton’s matchmaking, he would have spent the season squiring his Barbara around and securing her affections.
A groan slipped from him as he remembered his desperate search for Lady Barbara after their encounter in the park.
No wonder she cut him that day, not for an imagined offense but for one quite real, if unintended. Only arrogance made him bundled her in with the other debutantes who judged him by how they measured his purse or title. He’d had no cause to suspect her of being the same.
His head sank between his hands and he stared at the floor, cursing the time lost.
“Are you unwell?”
Aubrey looked up to find Ferrier, his daughter, and Jasper gathered close, their expressions matched in worry.
“It’s not my injuries that pain me now but my past mistakes. I have much to apologize for. Char
lotte, you called me out for jumping to conclusions, and you spoke the same truth you always had. If I’d seen fit to question, I have little doubt you’d have been direct whether Barbara—Lady Barbara—held to her plan. If I’d been willing to meet her before judging…Can you now bring her forth? I swear I will not condemn her for her game. It’s a fair enough return for my false commentary.”
Charlotte stared into his eyes for a long moment, and Aubrey made no attempt to mask the desperate longing within, but then she shook her head as though finding him wanting.
“I need to see her,” he burst out. “Don’t deny me this.”
“It’s not that. She’s not here anymore. My father spoke faithfully. She returned to her parents, unwilling to chance facing you once again after all the harm she’d caused you.”
Aubrey gave a bitter laugh at that. “Any harm done was of my own doing.” He pushed to his feet, finding them steadier than they had been with understanding to give him strength. “Jasper, it seems I’m off to London.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Discovering the truth about Barbara had taken most of the afternoon. Even if he’d convinced Jasper to lend him the fastest horse in the stables, his friend pointed out by the time he arrived, they would be off at some gathering or another, the Whitfelds lacking a reputation for staying home most evenings. He might as well have a good meal and take the carriage through the night, or so his friend declared.
As much as he heard the logic in Jasper’s words, his continued weakness drove compliance more than his agreement, a fact that had him grumpy over dinner.
“Are you sure you’re healed enough for the journey?” Daphne asked, her brow furrowed with a concern he knew he should appreciate. “I doubt your doctor would agree.”
Aubrey gave a bark of laughter. “My doctor would hardly agree to me sitting at the table with you. If he had his way, I’d still be in a laudanum-induced stupor.”
“It might be better if you were.”
Jasper held up a hand to still his wife’s words a bit too late, but Aubrey didn’t want to argue.
“From what Ferrier told us, if I hesitate, she’ll give in to her parents’ wishes and marry one of a handful of offers she’s received. I have to speak to her before all is lost.”
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