Marriage Made In Shame (The Penniless Lords Book 2)

by Sophia James

  ‘And he has numerous brothers?’

  She nodded. ‘Four, but I cannot envisage him ever hurting a soul. Please, Gabriel. You owe me this one favour at least.’

  ‘I do?’ He tried to think of why.

  ‘You left me with barely a word. That hurt. A lot. And the one promise you did make before you disappeared was that you were sorry and that if there was anything you could do to make things easier...’ She stopped. ‘This is the thing you can do to make it easier. I am calling in the favour.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Do you? You broke my heart once and Gavin put it back together again. You have no idea of your effect on women and you have never once really been so much in love that you care.’

  Her words cut into the quick of truth. Henrietta Clements had said almost the same thing to him and the guilt stung. He couldn’t ever make it up to her, but here with Cressida he had the chance of redemption.

  ‘God. I can think of a hundred reasons why this scheme of yours will not work.’

  Warm fingers came into the cold of his palm. ‘But you will try?’

  * * *

  Adelaide and her uncle and chaperon arrived a lot later at the Whitely ball than they had intended to, Lady Harcourt’s brother having visited in the afternoon and staying on until well after dinner.

  The theme of the soirée was an underwater one with long strands of shiny green silk hanging from the ceiling around all the four walls of the room. With the lighting dimmed and the chandeliers painted blue the whole place appeared almost unreal. Huge statues of sea gods graced the room; Neptune seated in a shell pulled by seahorses, the goddesses behind with the Tritons and other various nymphs. Fish sculpted from blocks of ice sat on the many scattered tables.

  Adelaide had never seen anything remotely like this excess before and even Imelda was speechless as they walked through into the throngs of people.

  ‘Lady Whitely has quite outdone herself this year, I think. Rumour has it that it might be their last big party so we are so lucky to be a part of it. Something to remember with a thrill, I think, my dear. I know I shall.’

  The crush tonight was far more noticeable than it had been all Season and it was hard to even move from one side of the room to the other.

  ‘Should you not miss this sort of excitement if you do decide to return to Northbridge, Adelaide?’

  Her uncle asked the question, his interest in her answer obvious.

  ‘Indeed, there is something to be said of the scope and wonder of the London soirées. But perhaps after a while a certain indifference might set in.’

  Alec laughed and gestured to a passing footman to bring them each a drink.

  Adelaide looked around to see whether the Earl of Wesley was in attendance, but she could not see him at all. The room was a large one, but partitions divided it into two and she wondered if he could be further down towards a band she could hear playing. Standing on her toes, she tried to see if she could find him.

  ‘Who are you looking for?’ Imelda Harcourt raised her lorgnette. ‘Ahhh, there is Berrick, my dear, and he does look well tonight. Why, I do believe he is coming our way. Smile, Adelaide. Men like to see a welcoming face, not a dour one, and you look so much prettier when you are happy.’

  If Eloise or Jean could have heard such advice they would have been far from pleasant, but the guileless and earnest way her chaperon expressed such a sentiment made Adelaide smile. Lady Harcourt honestly believed that she was helping, that a woman’s role was as an adjunct to a well-connected and wealthy man and that a good marriage made the whole world right.

  This was the way of London society. A way to survive and prosper and never let those from the strata below gain a foot up in the world. Solidarity and isolation buoyed by the cohesiveness of the ton.

  As the Earl of Berrick joined them Adelaide took in breath and made a conscious effort to be at least polite.

  * * *

  She did not see Lord Wesley until almost halfway through the night and any joy that she had from noticing him was snatched away by the beautiful girl beside him, his hand resting lightly on the sway of her back.

  She was like a porcelain doll, with blond hair arranged into a cascade of curls, brown eyes that sparkled even from this distance and a dress that mirrored the theme of the evening. Blue-green shots of silk radiated around her and Adelaide gained the impression of a sea creature long hidden and suddenly revealed in exactly the setting she should be.

  A large crowd had gathered about them and when the woman’s hand crept into the crook of Gabriel Hughes’s arm, he laid his own across it in return.

  They were so perfectly matched Adelaide could not look away though her heart was thumping in a fashion that she did not like. Almost scared, she thought. Of what?

  ‘Mrs Gavin Murray is back, I see.’ Even Imelda for all her short-sightedness had noticed the couple. ‘I knew her mother once and what a time she had with that girl, I can tell you.’

  ‘She is very beautiful.’

  Imelda nodded. ‘Yes, that she is and strong willed with it. It seems the marriage to her Yorkshire beau has come to nothing, then, and she has her talons into the Earl of Wesley once more.’

  Her uncle then asked the question Adelaide wanted to.

  ‘Once more?’

  ‘They were an item a few years back and all thought the banns would be called and the deed done. But Lord Wesley went off to the Continent and she disappeared up north and the next thing we knew she had tied the knot with a Mr Gavin Murray. No connection to the Murrays of the ton, either, but rich in their own right. Her mother was not pleased, but in the light of the Wesley family fire and its failing fortunes perhaps Cressida made a wise choice...then.’

  ‘The Wesleys had a fire?’ Adelaide did not wait for her uncle to ask a further question.

  ‘The family manor of Ravenshill was damaged badly six or so months back and if gossip is to be believed they have not the wherewithal to have it rebuilt. It is why Lord Wesley is here, I suppose. He has finally been brought to the heel of Holy Matrimony by the dire circumstances of an expected financial ruin. Cressida Murray is, however, a poor choice given every other wealthy and unattached woman in the room would probably take him in an instant. Beauty has a certain allure, you understand, but I doubt even with a ring on his finger Gabriel Hughes would have the wherewithal to be faithful.’

  Suddenly collecting herself, Imelda Harcourt snapped open her fan. ‘His grandfather, Lytton Hughes, was just the same. Every judicious and level-headed girl in court was made half-witted by him and it is happening again. Here.’

  A slight stammer led Adelaide to believe the older Hughes patriarch had been important to Imelda somehow.

  ‘The Wesley men are like well-formed rainbows, capturing everyone’s notice, but disappearing at the first sign of permanence. Mark my words, Lord Wesley will take what is on offer and then he will leave.’

  When Adelaide looked over towards the couple it certainly did seem as though the earl was enjoying himself. He was leading Cressida Murray into a dance now, a waltz, and when he pulled her into his arms there was no space left between them.

  Looking away, she was angry with herself for this close observation. Of course a man like Gabriel Hughes would choose a woman of the same ilk: magnificent, resplendent and striking.

  Lucy Carrigan chose that moment to come forward and speak and when she saw where Adelaide had been gazing she shook her head.

  ‘They have been the talk of the ball all night because the Earl of Wesley has hardly been a foot from her side. Her husband has just arrived, too, if you can believe it, and yet still she has no shame.’

  ‘Husband. My God.’ Adelaide glanced around in consternation. Even given the dubious standards of behaviour amongst the very wealthy of the ton she could not imagine this to be...acceptable. �
�Where is he?’

  ‘The dark-haired man over there by the pillar with a face of thunder.’

  ‘The man standing in the company of two others all of the same build and colouring?’

  Lucy nodded. ‘His brothers, and they do not look remotely happy.’

  The crush seemed to be the only thing that was saving a skirmish, a hundred bodies between adversaries and a good few moments of pushing.

  As Adelaide took in a breath the golden glance of Lord Wesley fell directly upon her before sliding away. No recognition or humour was apparent in his hard and glittering observation. In fact, he looked furious.

  * * *

  Damn it. Adelaide Ashfield was here. Watching him like half of the ton was with bated breath and undeniable interest. He had hoped against hope that Adelaide might not have attended tonight but been elsewhere instead.

  It was not every day, after all, that a love triangle was played out in such an obvious public space. God, if he had been them he’d probably be looking, too. But for a second the smile on his face faltered. He didn’t want Adelaide here watching this and there was no way now he could insist on it being any different.

  ‘My husband is coming over, Gabe.’ Cressida whispered this into his ear. ‘Remember that no matter what happens you promised me you would not hurt him.’

  The stakes rose again, an assurance of non-action balanced against the safety of those around them and weighed out in the presence of Murray and his two brothers. Nay, three, he amended as the third burly Murray joined the group.

  If he had any sense he would leave now, simply turn and make his way out of the room with his tail between his legs and his face intact.

  But other things also mattered. His honour. His troth to Cressida and the ignominy that such a cowardly retreat might paint in the eyes of Miss Adelaide Ashfield.

  Around them space had opened, an amazing feat in itself given the numbers in the room. A footman dressed as a sea sprite and carrying a well-stocked tray tottered through the emptiness with no inkling of the tension. Gabriel pushed down the need for a drink. If he was to have his teeth knocked out by the jealous fit of a furious husband, he did not want to be holding crystal.

  ‘Gavin.’ Cressida’s voice was breathless as her unhappy spouse came to a halt in front of them, her hand dropping from Gabriel’s arm.

  ‘I have come to take you home.’ Murray’s tone was anything but friendly.

  ‘To Yorkshire?’ Gabriel could hear the hope in Cressida’s words, but the dolt of a man seemed to miss it altogether, simply striding forward and laying a heavy blow to his right eye.

  At any other time Gabriel would have fought back with ease. He prayed that the brothers might get involved because he hadn’t made a troth concerning them and was itching to beat someone up as the full force of pain kicked in.

  The second blow was delivered to his mouth and he could taste blood as he went down, the third landing squarely on his temple and blackening his vision.

  Cressida, to give her some credit, leant towards him and whispered, ‘I am so sorry, Gabriel. If you stay still, he is not a man to kick someone when they are vanquished.’ But Gabriel could not have moved if he had tried, the breath gone from him. As she turned to join her husband, Gavin Murray did away with any last shred of humanity and lashed out with his boot, connecting heavily with the soft tissue of Gabriel’s back.

  Then they left, heads held high as they threaded through the crowd, Cressida tucked within them like a diminutive and valued prize that the Murrays had come to collect.

  The green light and the sea creatures swam before him in a dizzying blur, the pain of the blows setting in and making him shake. Then there was a hand on his brow and the soft words of Miss Adelaide Ashfield in his ear.

  ‘You should have fought back, Lord Wesley. There was no reason for you not to.’

  Gabriel swallowed and then spat. Blood dripped from his nose and his mouth, the sour tang of copper out of place here amongst luxury and excess.

  ‘Don’t stay here, Adelaide. It is too dangerous for you.’

  Already he could hear the whispers all around and the hem of her skirt was splattered with red.

  ‘But you are hurt and I can help.’

  He shook his head. ‘If you stand and leave now, your reputation may not quite be ruined. Please.’

  He watched the worry in her eyes turn into anger.

  And then she was gone, the blue of her gown disappearing between the legs and skirts of all those within his vision, the floor slippery with his own blood as he sat up, trying not to look at anyone.

  Alone.

  This is what his life had felt like for so very long. The fury within him vibrated as he made himself stand and walk from the room.

  * * *

  ‘Why would you even think to interfere, Adelaide? You must have realised what a scandal Wesley had caused and how fitting his punishment was. And now you have placed yourself at risk and at peril, an accessory to the fact of marital disharmony and your dress ruined.’

  Her uncle was furious, though Imelda stayed very quiet on the other side of the carriage, her fingers tightly wrapped around the stem of an ancient silver cane.

  ‘Why on earth did you try to help him? You, a débutante, a young woman, a girl of grace and tender years? What possible thought could have been going through your head to imagine you should be the one to do this?’

  ‘No one else was, Uncle.’

  Alec laughed at that, but the sound wasn’t kind. ‘Perhaps, after all, you should not have come to London. Perhaps I should have allowed you to stay at Sherborne and live the sort of life your aunts favoured because now...’ he faltered ‘...because now I do not know what to do.’

  Imelda chose that moment to add her twopenn’orth.

  ‘We can wait to see how the land lies in the morning, Penbury. Adelaide’s foolish reaction may after all be attributed to a kind heart or an innocent foolishness. There may be some dividend in that.’

  ‘Dividend? Did you see the other girls rush forward? No. They were far too sensible to get themselves embroiled in such a scandal. Lord Wesley is trouble with his wild ways and insolence and good common sense has taught them to keep well clear of a man who ruins everything he touches.’

  ‘He was not the one throwing the punches, Uncle.’

  ‘Because he knew he was in the wrong. God binds a man and a woman together for eternity in marriage and only a dissolute womaniser would want to interfere with that.’

  Her uncle looked out the window after this outburst and Adelaide did the same. The lights of London flickered by in myriad colours, the streets almost empty of people as bells somewhere rang out the late hour of two. In the reflection of the glass she could see the stilled outline of Alec and the smaller form of Lady Harcourt. Her own face, too, was mirrored back, her hair tied in an intricate form that had taken her maid, Milly, an hour to secure.

  For nothing. For disaster. She wondered what had happened after they had left. Had anyone helped Gabriel Hughes or had he limped off out of the mêlée with a curse? Or not left at all? Had worse things happened? Had the Murrays waited outside for him and beaten him again? Was he now lying somewhere no one could find him? She shook her head against such worries.

  The Earl of Wesley had barely looked at her and he had been furious. He’d made no effort at all to protect himself, either in words or in actions, though she knew without any shadow of a doubt that he was nowhere near as civilised as he seemed. Why had he not fought back? Why had he allowed the husband of a woman he must have expected to confront him beat the daylights out of his non-resistance and so very publically? Nothing of it made any sense.

  ‘Lord Berrick will probably withdraw his interest in courting you now.’ Her uncle’s words broke into the silence. ‘And although your fortune is substantial, Adelaide,
every family of the ton would shy away from a girl who shows such poor judgement in a social situation.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘No, you don’t, my dear.’ A thread of cynicism that was unusual for Alec Ashfield could be heard in his words. ‘With just a little good sense you could have made a glorious union and now...now they will all be fleeing and you will be left, unattached, unwanted and ill thought of. There is sadness in that which will become more poignant as you age and miss out on all the milestones of your counterparts.’

  Adelaide frowned. In his words were the seeds of truth, she thought. Lady Imelda simply stared at her and said nothing.

  * * *

  Cressida Murray sent a note to his town house the next morning, the flourish of ink enquiring after his health and telling him that she would be leaving that day with her husband to go back to Yorkshire and that he was not to contact her again.

  Gabriel screwed the paper up and threw it into the fire where the dainty sheet of paper was caught in orange flame and disappeared.

  No doubt Gavin Murray had been present when she had written it, but he was glad for the closure. He now owed her nothing. A debt paid in full.

  Crossing the room, he looked into the mirror and almost smiled at the face that stared back at him. Hardly recognisable, his left eye swollen closed and his lip split. But it was the bruise that spread from ear to cheek that was the most noticeable, a broken blood vessel that had marked and darkened the surrounding tissue.

  Nothing that could not heal though, he thought, as he took Adelaide Ashfield’s lavender concoction down from the shelf and layered it thickly over the places that hurt. The ointment had worked like magic on his knuckles and had eased some of the scarring on his thigh. He hoped it would do the same for his face.

  He imagined the gossip that must be swirling around the ton this morning after the spectacle last night. God, if he did not have his mother to look after and Ravenshill Manor to rebuild he’d be off on the next sailing to the Americas. Somewhere far and wild and free. Somewhere he could make his own way in a world not bound by propriety and manners and expectations.