A Date with Dishonor

by Mary Brendan

  Elise glanced thoughtfully at her papa, but a moment later slipped from the parlour.

  ‘Help yourself to more if you would like,’ Walter said after a few quiet moments, having noticed the viscount’s cup remaining idle. He jabbed his pate at the tea tray. ‘I’d do the honours, but as you’ve seen it takes me a while to get up and move about. By the time you had your tea it would be cold.’

  ‘One cup is enough for me, sir, thank you.’

  ‘I know...’ Walter sighed, sloshing tea into his saucer as he pushed it away. ‘Truth to tell I’d had my fill of it before you arrived. Now, if I had something stronger close to hand, I’d offer you a glass. The port is in my study...’ He sent the viscount a twinkling look from beneath wiry brows.

  * * *

  As Elise hurried out into the sunshine her head was crammed with a host of worries. The most pressing anxiety, of course, concerned that blackguard Whittiker and the havoc he might wreak. A short while ago, on reading Verity’s letter, she’d been elated that gossip appeared not to have spread in town, but doubts were again creeping in. The absence of any mention of a scandal didn’t mean the swine had changed his mind.

  Then she had Alex’s marriage proposal constantly tormenting her. She wished she could lock it firmly away, for no good could come of it...could it? If he asked her again, she might succumb to that wistful yearning that wouldn’t quit niggling at her and accept him. Once married, her joy and relief would soon turn to ashes when the honeymoon was done. Unless... His scold that she knew nothing about his requirements in a wife and marriage meant he could grow to love her in the way she knew she’d come to love him. Did he hope to model their marriage on his parents’ happy union? Elise sighed, throwing back her head to beg wisdom from the heavens. Was she allowing hope to blind her to sense and reason? Why would he give up his mistress—the woman who just a short while ago had travelled beside him, adoring him with her eyes—when he didn’t have to...had not promised to...

  Should she cede to a need to have him at any cost she would be miserable and resentful, she decided, and constantly wondering whether she would not sooner have faced ostracism than endure a hollow sham of respectability. Yet dismissing salvation for her own sake was selfish; like rippling circles on a still pond her disgrace would spread widely and affect people she dearly cared about. With a pang she remembered the delightful news she’d received just a short while ago. The idea that her shame might taint her best friend’s future happiness was intolerable. She prayed that Jago Clemence would be able to withstand gossip about his fiancée being friends with a woman ruined beyond redemption.

  Overriding the muddle in her mind was one poignant certainty: she hadn’t expected Alex to arrive today, but now he was here she didn’t want him to go. She’d insisted he take some refreshment before leaving, as though the idea of his departure was of no consequence to her, yet she knew as soon as farewells had been said she’d be desolate.

  Elise slowed her pace along the gravel path as she glimpsed her sister and Dr Burnett just ahead. Immediately she recalled her father’s odd hint that Beatrice had already formed an infatuation for the doctor. Elise had thought her papa joking in view of her sister’s obsession with finding a mate, but the scene in front of her was cosy and made her feel rather intrusive.

  The couple were kneeling on the grass by a raised bed of herbs, absorbed in each other’s company. Bea was teasingly dangling what looked like a frond of bronze fennel in front of Colin’s smiling face. Elise had never known her sister show any interest in horticulture before, yet she appeared now to be digging out a plant by the root with her bare fingers. They complemented each other rather well, Elise realised: Beatrice with her fragile fair loveliness and the doctor with his capable sturdy body.

  Snapping out of her dreamy daze, Elise stepped closer. ‘Papa said you were looking for feverfew and borage.’

  Colin Burnett sprung to his feet, clutching a wilted stalk of greenery. Her sister got up more slowly, rubbing together her palms to remove soil.

  ‘We have found some borage.’ Beatrice smiled at her sister, squinting against the sunlight. Unusually she had come outside without a hat. Beatrice was normally very conscious of her clear pale complexion being darkened by the sun.

  ‘You have forgotten your bonnet,’ Elise said as the three of them fell into awkward quiet.

  ‘Oh...Dr Burnett says that rays from the sun benefit us.’

  ‘When not too hot,’ the doctor modified his advice with a finger wag. ‘Late afternoon such as this is ideal, or early morning. It is best to avoid the midday heat and a lengthy exposure. But I’m certain that sunlight cures a multitude of ills.’

  ‘As does feverfew and borage,’ Beatrice piped up with her new knowledge. ‘Colin...Dr Burnett,’ she hastily corrected herself with a blush at the familiarity, ‘says that chewing feverfew leaves cures a bad head.’

  ‘But not too many or a sore mouth is the result.’ He smiled at his pupil.

  Elise glanced at the collection of herbs arranged neatly on the lawn. She couldn’t spot a daisy-like plant among them. ‘I think there might be a small clump of feverfew up by our bonfire site. Oh...and we have another guest,’ she continued casually, as they strolled together towards the rear boundary. ‘Alex Blackthorne has arrived.’

  That did make Beatrice stop and stare. ‘Really? What a surprise!’ She quite naturally slipped her hand through Colin’s arm as he offered it, his other elbow extending for Elise to take. ‘He is the important fellow I was telling you about who gave us a ride in Hyde Park in his landau.’ Bea’s eyes widened in emphasis. ‘He is a viscount and very distinguished.’ She brushed more soil off her stained fingers, sweeping the debris from the doctor’s sleeve. ‘We had a good time, in town, didn’t we, Elise? But it is nice to be back home.’

  Moments earlier Elise had been wondering how to break the disappointing news to her sister that Alex Blackthorne had arrived, alone, without even a message from Hugh. Now she was not sure that Beatrice would mind much at all, or even remember to ask after him. Bea had known the doctor for just hours, yet she seemed completely at ease with him. Elise slowed her pace to let them walk ahead, arm in arm, as the cinder path narrowed close to the bonfire site.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘I’ll not pretend ignorance of my uncle’s debts, sir, or the other wrongs he did you. I intend to do whatever I can to put matters right.’

  Having made his opening gambit, Alex settled back in his wing chair with his glass of port resting on a knee. He gazed at the shrunken, elderly man dwarfed by the huge oak desk. As he noticed a suspicious gleam reddening his host’s pale eyes Alex felt a surge of anger at Thomas Venner. He’d always liked his uncle, but at that moment he would have choked the life from him had he been present.

  Walter drew out a handkerchief and made a show of polishing his glasses, giving inconspicuous dabs at his eyes now and then. ‘I didn’t imagine you would toe that scoundrel’s line. I certainly didn’t expect you to come in person to deal with the matter. I’m afraid you have made a wasted journey.’

  ‘You knew of my uncle’s plan to pass on to me his debts?’ Alex asked, softly incredulous.

  ‘My wife told me. It was the last conversation we had, shortly before she passed away. She thought it grossly impertinent of Venner to impose on you like that. It was odd for us to be in agreement upon something.’ Walter gave a hollow chuckle. ‘By then her infatuation with him had withered and Lord Reeves was her gallant of choice. But Arabella never could cut all ties with your uncle.’ Walter swivelled his creaking chair so he might gaze out of the window and blink rapidly.

  ‘It appears I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did,’ Alex said with a mix of regret and apology. ‘When younger I considered my uncle Thomas a nice fellow. He would give me riding lessons or take me fishing in school holidays if my father was too busy to accommodate
me.’

  ‘You were young and he had a gift for turning the heads of innocents. My wife discovered that to her cost,’ Walter stated with weary bitterness. ‘I bumped into Arabella in town when I was on a visit to my sister. It was awkward, but we managed a civil conversation. I had my daughters with me, but before the girls spotted her in Oxford Street I sent them into a shop to buy some pretty fripperies. I don’t know why I did that. They would have adored seeing her. Beatrice longed to join her mama in London.’ An expectant quiet followed Walter’s dreamy-voiced introspection, then he turned his head, fixing his watery eyes on Alex’s face. ‘Oh, I wasn’t being wholly spiteful in denying my wife her children; I would have allowed occasional stays. But Reeves didn’t like youngsters, so Arabella said.’ His bony chest undulated in a grim laugh. ‘I’m not sure my wife did either...not really; despite all her fulsome declarations her daughters bored her, inconvenienced her, just as I did.’

  Walter frowned, becoming conscious that he’d revealed a great deal of his private thoughts to a man he’d never spoken to before. Oddly, he felt that he liked and respected this young fellow, just as he had his father before him.

  ‘It seems such a long time ago...’ He breathed out in conclusion and allowed the ticking clock and a chink of crystal to fill the silence. Having replenished his own glass, he pushed the bottle across his desktop towards Alex in wordless invitation.

  ‘How much did he owe you, sir, if you don’t mind me asking? I’ve no record of the sum.’

  ‘In cash? Not a great deal. Fifty pounds, perhaps.’ Walter closed his eyes and a soundless laugh puffed his withered lips. ‘In every other way he took from me what was priceless.’

  Alex got up and placed his empty glass on the edge of the desk. ‘It is what is priceless that must be accounted for.’

  ‘I want nothing from you,’ Walter interrupted rather harshly. ‘No money, no apologies. What happened was not your fault or your business.’ Through the window Walter’s eyes alighted on his fair daughters as they came into view walking with the doctor. A quiet smile curved his lips as he watched them. ‘Even now he’s dead and buried I can’t escape Venner tainting my life. I won’t have it, I tell you. You may tear up whatever papers you have relating to me. I wrote and told him to keep his damnable money when he started to send it. But still in dribs and drabs it arrived.’

  Alex swiped a hand around his jaw, wondering how best to proceed. And then he caught sight of the trio outside in the garden and his gaze softened, held steady.

  He knew how he wanted to proceed with Elise if not with her father. He wanted her quiet grace and beauty always in his life because with a burst of wonderment he understood she held the key to his heart and his future happiness. He felt his mouth tilt wryly. All he had to do was convince her of it. And do so he would. It had taken just a kiss for him to lose himself to her. When her mouth and body had merged against his so naturally she’d stirred in him equal measures of desire and tenderness that had penetrated deep into his soul. Never before had a woman—even a mistress he’d allowed himself to grow fond of—affected him in such an immediate and explosive way.

  Walter pushed to his feet and made a grab for his stick, making Alex rip his eyes from Elise and spring forwards to steady her father.

  Courteously Walter removed his elbow from the younger man’s grip and tilted his chin in a display of defiant independence. He looked up into Alex’s dark features. ‘You resemble your father...not just in looks. I know you are alike in other ways, too.’ He nodded at the cane that lay on the floor. ‘Would you be good enough to get that for me.’

  Alex handed over the wooden stick. ‘Will you allow me to escort you to wherever it is you are going?’

  ‘I’m just off to stretch my legs in a turn about the room.’ Walter smiled. ‘Then I’ve a letter to read.’ He tilted his head at the window. ‘It is a fine afternoon. Why do you not join the young people outside for a breath of air.’

  ‘I think I will, sir.’ Alex hesitated at the door to watch for a moment as Walter started his ramble. A moment later he went out and closed the door quietly.

  * * *

  At first sight of his familiar dark figure striding along the gravel path towards them Elise had to curb an urge to hurtle to meet Alex and fling her arms about him.

  Not that she’d really expected him to act impolitely and depart without saying goodbye. But she’d fretted over whether her frosty attitude might have made him think she’d sooner he left directly after his business with her father was done.

  ‘Look! Lord Blackthorne is coming to join us,’ Beatrice piped up, noticing the newcomer. Slipping a hand quite naturally around Colin’s elbow, she urged him back along the path.

  ‘Lord Blackthorne, I should like to introduce you to Dr Burnett,’ Elise made the hasty introduction.

  ‘It is a fine afternoon to be outside,’ Alex pleasantly said, firmly shaking the doctor’s hand.

  ‘Indeed it is, sir, but I must soon be on my way.’ Colin looked regretful. ‘I have a patient to visit on my return journey to St Albans, so will make a diversion through the village of Woodley. I suspect a young lad might have contracted the measles.’

  ‘The viscount has been troubled by that nasty disease spreading in the villages around his estate,’ Elise spoke up.

  ‘It can be hard to control if the afflicted are not quickly isolated.’ Dr Burnett turned his attention to Beatrice. ‘I shall collect those herbs we uprooted, Miss Dewey, and take them with me, if I may.’

  ‘Would you mind checking on our papa before leaving, sir?’ Elise interjected. ‘He was coughing earlier and seems unusually pale.’

  ‘The pollen affects his lungs, I believe,’ Dr Burnett said. ‘But certainly I’ll examine him and see if he has a fever.’ He hesitated, turning solemn. ‘I don’t think he would mind me telling you that I have taken his pulse on a few occasions and found the rhythm irregular and weak. He maintains he is as fit as a fiddle, but I have to disagree on that. I don’t want to worry you unduly; it is to be expected that the health and vigour of a man of his age will decline.’

  Elise and Beatrice exchanged frowns of concern. ‘I appreciate you telling us, sir,’ Elise said quietly.

  ‘But he is so very stubborn about accepting help,’ Beatrice chipped in, pulling a face.

  ‘I’ve noticed he is a fellow not naturally given to taking advice or assistance,’ Dr Burnett agreed, his expression rueful. He gave Beatrice’s arm a gentle, comforting pat.

  ‘If you come back and dine with us later, you could collect your plants then,’ Beatrice blurted. ‘I will pot them in soil so they don’t wither in the meantime.’

  Elise shot her sister a cautionary glance. Before issuing an invitation it would be wise to check that they had enough to feed everybody. Their father was a proud man. She knew he would sooner forgo company than serve up meagre portions.

  ‘It is most kind of you to offer, but I would not like to impose at short notice...’ Dr Burnett flicked a glance between the sisters. His unsuspecting host was obviously oblivious to his elder daughter’s generosity. Nevertheless his expression made it clear the invitation was appreciated and welcome.

  ‘You also must dine with us, Lord Blackthorne,’ Beatrice extended the invitation.

  ‘It is a kind offer, but my reply must be the same as the doctor’s.’

  ‘Oh, Papa will be delighted,’ Beatrice encompassed them all in a sunny smile. ‘He likes nothing better than to take port with gentlemen after dinner. When we have had the vicar and his wife and daughters over in the past he has got quite merry.’

  ‘Oh...here is Papa now...’ Elise frowned as she caught sight of their father looking anything but merry. She knew only a matter of some urgency would bring him out of doors to find them. Elise felt her heart plummet on suddenly noticing he seemed to be struggling to run rather than take his time
in a pleasant stroll. He stumbled, despite employing his walking stick to aid his poor bent legs, and at once Elise hurried towards him.

  ‘So you are not your father’s son, after all, but more like that blackguard of an uncle of yours,’ Walter cried out as soon as he was within earshot. He jostled a path past Elise, his face tense with fury, and limped on towards Alex, waving a parchment in a fist.

  Elise pivoted about to watch, her complexion draining of colour. She’d guessed her father had in his hand Aunt Dolly’s letter and his irate reaction to having read it could mean only one thing...

  ‘You came to offer me recompense for what was priceless!’ Walter thundered. ‘What had you in mind to pay for? The loss of my wife’s virtue, or my daughter’s?’

  ‘Please...Papa...do not blame the viscount! He has come here not only to speak to you, but to me, too.’ Elise darted after her father and clutched at his thin, quivering arm.

  ‘Has he now!’ Walter snapped, his weak eyes savagely attacking the viscount’s face. ‘And what was your answer to his damnable impertinence? What’s he offered? Carte blanche? I believe that’s what his uncle offered your mama, yet the wretch could manage no more than a seedy room and a few cheap clothes.’ He shook the letter in Elise’s face. ‘This fellow will treat you better, do you think, just because he has the wherewithal and you are a maiden?’

  ‘I think we should go inside and finish this,’ Alex said with quiet authority. His features were taut, yet expressionless, and he extended a hand as though inviting the others to precede him.

  ‘I’ll not have you again in my house, sirrah!’ Walter’s apoplectic fury came to an abrupt halt. He sagged against his stick for support, prompting Alex to easily bear the weight of his limp body. Walter roused himself and weakly shook off his saviour.

  ‘You must calm yourself, sir!’ Doctor Burnett had swiftly drawn close, replacing Alex’s assistance with his own by firmly gripping Walter’s arm to prevent him wobbling. ‘Come...do as his lordship says and repair indoors where you can sit down and debate in a sensible manner.’