Kind Ella and the Charming Duke_A Historical Regency Romance
Page 29
“Yes, in a manner of speaking.”
“But tell me there is some hope for me. Tell me that my return home will be enough to put things right again. If so, then I shall have my horse saddled now and go directly to her.”
“But Hunter …”
“I shall ride over to Walney Hall this minute and hope that the moment she sees my face, our love for one another shall be returned to her.”
“Riding over to Walney Hall will do you little good, cousin, for Felicity is not there.”
“Then, where is she?”
“She lives now in the very heart of the Duchy of Galcross.”
“Felicity lives at Galcross Hall?” Hunter said incredulously.
He could not begin to imagine why it was that Felicity no longer remained at her father’s home but had chosen instead to live at the fine mansion of the Duke of Galcross. Surely she was not so well acquainted with that family? But perhaps she had been a friend of the Duke’s younger sister at some point in time that Hunter had not known of.
“Yes, she lives at Galcross Hall.”
“As a guest of the Duke’s sister? Ariadne Burton, is it not?”
“Ariadne Burton?” Algernon said and seemed suddenly confused.
“The younger sister of Christian Burton, the Duke of Galcross.” Hunter sought to make things clearer.
“Oh, I see,” Algernon said, understanding the family connection finally. “No, Felicity is not staying as a guest of Ariadne Burton, I am afraid.”
“Then in what capacity does she stay at Galcross Hall?” Hunter said, feeling confused and annoyed in equal measure.
“She stays there as the Duchess of Galcross,” Algernon said and finally tore his eyes away from Hunter’s so that he might look down at his own knees.
“Felicity is the Duchess of Galcross? But that is ridiculous, she is not …” Hunter stopped dead in his tracks; finally, he had realized exactly what had happened. “You mean to tell me, cousin, that Felicity Morgan has married Christian Burton? Whilst I have been away no more than six months, the woman I had intended to marry has married another? Is that what you mean to tell me?”
“In truth, try as I might, I could not find the right words. Forgive me, cousin, for I have gone about this most clumsily. I had thought to write to you at the time, but I could not think of a worse way of doing things. After all, you had enough sadness and concern as you watched your own father waste away before you that I could not, in all faith, have written or sent such a letter.” Algernon seemed beside himself, and Hunter was curiously compelled to put his cousin at his ease.
“And you have done the right thing, Algernon. Such a letter would not have changed things, would it? Unless, of course, you had seen the whole thing coming, and you might have put me in mind to stop it all.”
“I swear to you this day, Hunter, that I did not see it coming. I do not think that anybody saw it coming, and that is the truth.”
“But you must have some of the details, surely,” Hunter said, suddenly keen to know everything, despite the deep, dull ache in his chest.
In the most unusual way, the whole thing seemed like simple, scurrilous gossip; something to be enjoyed over a brandy and discussed at length. Something about somebody else, not himself, and not the woman he loved. Another couple, another family altogether. But, of course, it was not.
“I have them if you want them, Hunter. But really, is the news itself not enough for now?” Algernon looked at him with concern, and it was concern which Hunter knew to be entirely genuine.
“I think I need to hear all of it now, my dear fellow. I think it would be easier to hear it whilst I still do not entirely believe it if that makes any sense at all. If I leave it a day or two for things to settle in and for the truth of the thing to hit me, I shall not be equal to the task. No, I think it far better that you tell me now. Tell it to me quickly, before your words have the capacity to hurt.”
“Very well,” Algernon said on the back of a long sigh. “I shall tell you everything that I know, but please know that I have it second-hand. You see, the first I knew of any of it was the news that the Duke had married.”
“But was it not announced? Surely such a thing would be an event in the county,” Hunter said, marvelling at his curious detachment.
“Ordinarily, yes. The marriage of a Duke would undoubtedly be a very fine affair. And it is its very lack of grandiosity and announcement which makes me realize that the two of them knew the great wrong they were doing you. The entire county knows that you were away in Scotland, and they know why. Your father was much admired in these parts, as well you know, and there was not a person who did not approve of what you did for him in his final months.”
“Indeed, he was much admired.”
“And so, I would say without compunction that Felicity and the Duke of Galcross scurried off like thieves in the night to get married in a most low-key manner so that they might not draw the comment and condemnation of all around them.”
“Christian Burton is a Duke, Algernon, and I doubt he cares a good deal for the condemnation of others. It would be so much water off a duck’s back, would it not?”
“But that would not be the case for Felicity, I daresay. After all, she is a vain young lady and one who would not care to hear herself talked about in disapproving tones. And she has not been seen out much in society ever since. I cannot help thinking she has been awaiting your return before doing so. She knows that you will not make a scene of any kind, and the moment you are seen out in society to be quite upright and without emotion upon the thing, she will set herself free from the prison of her own making. She will unleash herself upon the world again so that she might strut and preen and primp as a Duchess for all to see.”
“Did you always feel so about Felicity, my dear cousin, or is it simply now that she has done me a good deal of wrong?”
“I have always felt so, Hunter. Forgive me, but it is true. Although I must admit, I find the feeling has grown since her betrayal has reached my ears.”
“You need not look down, Algernon. You are free to speak your mind, and I should not have you do any other, really I should not.”
“Your understanding does you credit, Hunter. But surely you cannot be so understanding of Felicity herself. Surely you will never be able to forgive such a thing.”
“Perhaps, when the truth of it finally hits me, you shall be quite right, and I will never forgive her. But now, as I sit here and say the words, I feel as if I am talking about another man and woman entirely. I cannot believe that the woman I had intended to marry is now already married to another. Tell me, when did it happen?”
“As far as I know it, the two of them had met at several events during the early part of the London Season. Of course, the Season being what it is, I do not think that anybody thought their growing acquaintanceship amiss in any way,” Algernon said and shrugged. “But I have no doubt that Christian Burton has flattered her greatly, for how else would a man of his age seek to entice so young a woman?”
“Whilst it is true that Christian Burton is, at forty years, almost twice Felicity’s age, he is a Duke. Perhaps he had no need to flatter her at all, especially if the woman I once thought I knew really is as vain as you perceived. Perhaps the idea that she would be a Duchess, instead of just the Countess that she would have been had she married me, was enough for her.”
“Yes, you are likely right. And please do forgive me for speaking so plainly about Felicity. Her behaviour has caused you pain enough, and I would not seek to add to it with my pronouncements on her character which have simply come too late.”
“But her character is something that I ought to have discerned for myself, Algernon. You have absolutely nothing to reproach yourself for, my dear fellow, and I will not hear it.” Hunter rose to his feet and strode over to the drinks cabinet. He lifted the brandy bottle and walked back with it, pausing briefly to add a little more to his cousin’s glass before almost filling his own.
“An
yway, I believe that they were married five or six weeks ago. As I said before, there was very little fuss made about the thing.”
Hunter thought about her last letter to him and tried to remember the exact details. He had kept the letter, of course, and knew that he would return to it the moment his cousin left him alone. He knew, of course, that it had contained little of personal content, and now he knew why. But what he wondered more than anything at that moment was if she had written that letter to him when she had still been Lady Felicity Morgan. Had there still been a moment where chance might still have brought them together? Or had she written the letter to him from her own chamber at Galcross Hall? The chamber she now occupied as the wife of another man. For reasons he could not quite explain at that moment, it was somehow vitally important that he knew.
Chapter 4
“I thought that Clara might have ridden over with us in the carriage, Emmeline,” Rose said as they made the short journey from Tarlton Manor to Ashton House, the home of the Lennox family. “You have not had a falling out, have you?” Emmeline’s younger sister went on.
“No, not at all,” Emmeline said and laughed as she reached out to take her sister’s hand.
They sat side-by-side in the carriage, despite having the whole thing to themselves. Their mother, still in full mourning for the next three months, had not come with them. Still, Emmeline and Rose were no strangers to Ashton House, and there would certainly be no impropriety in the sisters arriving there together, albeit unaccompanied.
Emmeline had received the invitation by letter, and it had been made by Christopher’s mother. At the time, she had thought it a curious thing; after all, Christopher would ordinarily make such invitations himself, and in person. Still, it was a little thing and of no matter as far as Emmeline was concerned.
“And Clara is going with her parents today, is she?” Rose seemed unsettled.
“Yes, I presume so,” Emmeline said a little uncertainly.
The evening soirée of buffet and music seemed to have been arranged quickly, and Clara had seemed a little distant when Emmeline had spoken to her of it. Ordinarily, Emmeline and Clara could hardly be parted and travelled almost everywhere together, whether it be in Emmeline’s family carriage or in Clara’s. But the last couple of weeks had felt a little unusual, ever since Emmeline had been back out in society again once her period of full mourning had been over. However, she had just put that down to the fact that she and her dear friend were finding their feet once again after the upheaval of so great a loss. And yet, there was something, something Emmeline could not quite put her finger on.
“It is not like Clara to travel separately,” Rose carried on innocently, entirely unaware of Emmeline’s curiously unsettled feelings. “And what a strange thing that Christopher’s family have arranged an event so suddenly. And why did Christopher not deliver the invitation himself? Ordinarily, he just calls upon us and asks us in person.”
“Rose, I do not know,” Emmeline said a little shortly and immediately regretted her tone. “Forgive me, Sister. Really, I do not know what has become of my humour.” She tried to laugh.
“I am sorry,” Rose said, and her cheeks turned pink.
“There is no reason for you to apologize for my poor humour.” Emmeline squeezed her sister’s hand.
They made the rest of their journey in silence and, by the time they had arrived at Ashton House, Emmeline felt curiously nervous. For some reason, she did not want to go inside; as ridiculous as it was, Emmeline wanted to climb back up into the carriage and instruct the driver to take them home again.
“Are you quite well, Emmeline?” Rose said, her concern clear.
“Yes, I am quite well.” Emmeline forced a smile and reached out to link her arm through her sister’s as they made their way to the front door of Ashton House.
Mr and Mrs Lennox were waiting in the hallway, greeting their guests as they arrived. When Mrs Lennox set eyes on Emmeline, she seemed suddenly flushed and uncomfortable.
“Good evening, Mrs Lennox,” Emmeline said with forced cheer. “Thank you kindly for your invitation.”
“Not at all, my dear.” Mrs Lennox seemed greatly distracted. “You are more than welcome. And do have a good evening,” she said, politely dismissing her much more quickly than ordinarily she would.
“Something feels a little wrong, Emmeline,” Rose said as the two of them walked uncertainly into the great drawing room of Ashton House.
“I must admit, I do feel a little uneasy.” Emmeline finally admitted that something was wrong. “Mrs Lennox is ordinarily very much more talkative. Really, I felt like a little-known acquaintance as we made our entrance.” Emmeline was whispering.
“Yes, as did I. Mrs Lennox, I thought, seemed greatly disquieted. Uncomfortable, even.”
“My mouth is a little dry, Rose.”
“Then let us get some fruit punch and find somewhere to sit.” Rose took her sister’s arm again.
As they made their way into the room, Emmeline looked all around her for any sign of Clara. When she did finally set eyes on her, she felt greatly relieved and had been about to make her way over with her sister when something in Clara’s countenance stopped her.
Clara was standing with her mother and father, and the three of them were in seemingly deep conversation with Christopher, no less. Emmeline had smiled to see them all together and had been about to take a step in their direction when Clara had looked at her with an expression she had never seen on her face before. It was a mixture of fear and a certain amount of guilt. But why on earth should Clara look at her so guiltily? And yet, the look was so pronounced that Emmeline knew she had not for one moment imagined it. It was very real, and there was no mistaking it.
“Emmeline?” Rose said quietly.
“Shall we get that fruit punch?” Emmeline felt sick, and yet she did not know why.
“But Clara and Christopher are over there?”
“I know.”
“I wish I knew what was happening.” Rose sounded upset and afraid. “I wish I knew why it was that Clara regarded you so.”
“Then you saw it yourself?” Emmeline said and began to feel as upset as Rose sounded.
“Yes, I did. And I saw Christopher’s look also.”
“I did not see it, and he stands now with his back to me. Really, I almost dare not risk crossing the room for I am not sure of our welcome. But what on earth can I have done wrong? Really, Rose, I do not understand. If it would not cause such embarrassment, I would take your hand and lead you out of here now. I would give anything to be in the carriage and on our way back to Tarlton as we speak.”
“And can we not do that, Emmeline?”
“I fear we cannot. Surely everybody here expects that I would be in the company of Clara and Christopher at this time. For us to leave now would cause all manner of comment.”
“I am not sure I very much care about the comments, Sister. I have the greatest feeling that we should leave and leave now.”
At that moment, the musicians began to play, and all present in the room looked towards the area where the violinist stood. They immediately drew approving glances from all around and, on any other day, Emmeline would have enjoyed how skilfully they played.
However, Emmeline felt too afraid and on edge to be able to relax for long enough to listen. Instead, she looked around the room to see if there was anybody else with whom she and her sister could stand for a while. Even though neither Clara nor Christopher had strictly forbidden her their company, still she knew she could not go up to them. Something was terribly amiss, and she knew it would not be improved by walking across the great drawing room and asking what it was.
She studied Clara and her family out of the corner of her eye and could see that the three of them were still in a deep and determined conversation, despite the music. And what was more, Christopher seemed very much a part of that conversation as if all of them in that group had some secret, a secret which Emmeline would be denied.
Of all things, Clara’s determined dismissal of her seemed peculiarly frightening. They had been the closest of friends since they had been girls, and the idea that Clara could turn her back on her for any reason was quite unthinkable. But surely something had been coming these last weeks, something that Emmeline had determinedly ignored. She thought of how Clara had asked her again and again how sure she was that Christopher truly had any intention to marry her. As she tried to swallow her fruit punch, Emmeline wondered why she had not asked her friend about it before.