by Lucy Adams
“That is not surprising,” Lord Hazelton replied, with a chuckle. “I am sure that he did not mention me simply because I refused to do as he asked! Although I am certain that he would have found someone other than I to do as he wished.” Again, he chuckled, his eyes growing a little distant. “I always found him most entertaining and he certainly made me laugh on numerous occasions. How sad you must have been to have had him taken so early.”
Bridgette stiffened, her fingers tight on the handle of her teacup. When the Earl had died, she had found herself caught between guilt, sorrow and relief. She had never cared for her husband. When he had asked her father for his permission to marry Bridgette, Bridgette had known that her future had already been decided. Whilst the Earl had been eager and ready for their marriage, she had been reluctant and afraid. That had changed shortly after their return to Lord Callander’s estate, of course, for she had discovered her husband to be rather dull and disinterested in her, giving her a good deal of time to do as she pleased and to go wherever she wished. He had not made great demands on her time nor insisted on her company whenever he wanted it. They had rubbed along very well together for the first few months, and Bridgette had been surprised at how her husband had never once come to demand his husbandly rights. He had pressed her hand or touched her shoulder briefly, but he had never tried to kiss her, had shown no eagerness to pull her into his arms and certainly had not come to her bedchamber at night. It had been an awkward way of living, Bridgette had found, for she had not known the Earl’s intentions for their marriage and certainly had not the gall nor the strength to ask him such a thing, so when he had passed away from a weakness to his heart, she had felt such a myriad of emotions that, even now, she could not quite make out all that she felt.
One thing she knew for certain, however, was that the Earl of Callander had cared very little for the beau monde, had not been particularly entertaining and certainly had never been to London on any other previous occasion, save for the time he had come in search of a wife.
“I do not think my husband was very entertaining or humorous, Lord Hazelton,” she said, as primly as she could. “I knew him very well, of course, and found him to be very dull indeed. He did not often converse but rather spent his time in his study or his own rooms, doing whatever it was that he was so eager to do. In addition, he did not like the ton and only came to London for a very short time indeed.” She lifted one shoulder, thinking to herself that Lord Hazelton must be confused with someone other than her husband and chose not to state that her husband had not been to London more than once for fear of insulting the fellow. “But if you found him to be an interesting and engaging character, then I am glad.”
Lord Hazelton looked nonplussed for a moment. His bright blue eyes stared at her, his smile no longer present and his jaw a little slack.
“How very odd,” he murmured, presently. “I am quite sure that I recall being in your husband’s company and finding him to be very jovial. We were often at Whites together, although mayhap he did shun balls and soirees and the like.”
Bridgette frowned, then looked away. There was no need for them to discuss whether or not her late husband had been a decent character or not, for he was long in the grave and she did not need to think of him anymore. “Regardless of that,” she said, eager now to change the conversation and hoping that very soon, Lord Hazelton’s visit would be over, “I will say that I am glad you were acquainted with him, Lord Hazelton. It seems as though not many here in London knew of him.” This was, of course, simply because Lord Callander had only been in town a few short weeks but given that Bridgette simply wanted the conversation to turn to something entirely new, she chose not to pursue the matter.
Lord Hazelton’s eyes narrowed, his lips pulling tight. Bridgette, taken aback by this sudden change in Lord Hazelton’s demeanor, darted her gaze to the door and held it there, feeling as though a cold breeze had run across her arms.
“I think I must be entirely mistaken, Lady Callander,” Lord Hazelton said, after a few moments. “Either that, or you thought very ill of your husband and wish to ensure that I do not think well of him also.”
Her eyes shot back to his, her spine stiffening as she lifted her chin a notch. “I do not believe, Lord Hazelton, that you have any right to speak to me in such a manner,” she said sharply, expecting the gentleman to deflate a little and mayhap, to apologize, only for Lord Hazelton to shake his head and hold up one hand towards her, as though he wanted to silence the words that came from her mouth.
“I speak only of what I see before me, Lady Callander,” he said, his tone now a little ugly, his eyes burning and his brows knotted. “You say things of your husband that I know cannot be the truth, and yet you demand that I believe them!” He shook his head, as though he pitied her. “Lord Callander was one of the most excellent gentlemen in all of London, with a kind nature and a good humor,” he continued, as another protest burned on her lips. “His plans for his business were very sound indeed and whilst I was sorry not to — ” He stopped dead; a small twist of his lips and a distant look in his eyes told Bridgette that he was lost in past memories. “Upon occasion, I might suggest that Lord Callander was a bit of a flirt, but only on the very rare occasion that we were with mixed company,” he continued, as Bridgette closed her eyes and shook her head, knowing full well that Lord Hazelton was becoming quite confused in what he said. No doubt, he was thinking of someone else entirely different but had mistaken him for Lord Callander.
“In short, Lady Callander, your late husband was the sort of gentleman I must hope one day to be,” he finished, with a flourish. “Good natured, good humored, filled with delightful conversation and always willing to explain his intentions for what he had planned — and he managed it all with ease and grace. I never once would have found him dull or dispirited. You are mistaken there, Lady Callander, although why you would speak such mistruths to a gentleman who knew your husband, I cannot say.”
So saying, he sat back in his chair and eyed her coldly, as if he expected her now to fall at his feet, to beg his forgiveness and to admit that yes, she had been doing just as he said.
Bridgette only smiled, shaking her head at him as she did so.
“Might I ask, Lord Hazelton, what you recall of my husband’s appearance?” she asked, knowing for certain that this would ensure that she knew whether or not he had made a mistake. “Would you describe him as somewhat aged?”
Lord Hazelton frowned hard, his gaze like ice. “Your husband was not an old man, Lady Callander.”
“I am aware of that,” she told him, primly, “but he had the appearance of age, given that he was always so dulled and quiet.” Seeing him about to protest, she held up one finger, silencing him. “The color of his hair?”
“Brown.”
She hesitated. “And his eyes? Was he rotund or thin? Tall or a little short?”
Lord Hazelton’s jaw worked for a moment, his eyes flashing, and she feared he might refuse to answer. Then, with a heavy sigh, he set his jaw and looked at her again.
“Your husband had green eyes, if I recall correctly,” he stated, quite firmly. “He was as tall as I and certainly not rotund by any means. In addition, he had a thick, full beard and moustache, which were tinged here and there with grey.” He cleared his throat. “I am sure of it.”
Bridgette let out a laugh at this, rising to her feet and waiting until Lord Hazelton did the same.
“Then I can assure you, Lord Hazelton, that you are quite mistaken,” she said, dropping into a quick curtsy. “My late husband had blue eyes, was only a little taller than I and certainly was not of a slim build, and nor did he have a beard nor a moustache! In short, my lord, I believe that you have him confused with someone else.” She arched one eyebrow at him, seeing his confusion as he looked at her with a furrowed brow but no anger now in his gaze. “Mayhap there is a Lord Callanish or a Lord Carrington that you might have confused with my late husband.”
“I do not think I have
done so,” Lord Hazelton said, blinking rapidly as he dropped his eyes to the floor. “Lady Callander, the reason I came to call upon you was not to argue with you.”
Looking up into his face, Bridgette sighed inwardly and forced herself to smile at him again. “I am sure you did not intend to have such a heated discussion,” she said, practically. “For neither was that my intention.”
Lord Hazelton seemed to be struggling to find the right words to say, clearing his throat roughly as he tried to speak. “The fact is…..” He stopped. “The truth is, Lady Hazelton, I — ”
A scratch came to the door just as he was about to express something that Bridgette was quite sure she did not want to hear. Calling for the person to enter, she turned back to Lord Hazelton and dipped into another curtsy.
“I am sure we will have a much better conversation the next time we meet, Lord Hazelton,” she said, with as much sweetness as she could muster. “Until our next meeting.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the butler coming into the room, no doubt about to introduce yet another gentleman caller to her. With a small smile in Lord Hazelton’s direction, she turned bodily to face the butler, turning all of her attention onto whoever was next to come into the room.
“You have Lord Hessington come to call to you, my lady,” the butler said, with a small inclination of his head. “Will I ask him to come in?”
Bridgette glanced back at Lord Hazelton, who was frowning still, one hand rubbing between his brows as though he was trying to erase the confusion that grabbed at his mind.
“Yes, if you please, once Lord Hazelton has taken his leave,” she said loudly, turning back to Lord Hazelton and fixing a smile to her face that she knew did not reach her eyes. “I bid you good afternoon, Lord Hazelton.”
It was as if she had spoken into a long silence, for Lord Hazelton started violently and then looked at her in puzzlement. After a moment, his expression cleared and he began to stammer, stumbling towards the door as he went.
“I thank you, Lady Callander,” he said, bowing again, his features still etched with confusion. “I thank you for your time and your willingness to listen to me.”
Bridgette wanted to say that she had not been permitted anything other than to listen to him but wisely chose not to do so. “Good afternoon, Lord Hazelton,” she said again, eager for him to step out of the room so that she might take even just a few seconds to collect herself. After another moment, Lord Hazelton nodded, bowed yet again, shuffled his feet, muttered something to himself and then stepped out into the hallway.
Bridgette let out a long sigh, falling back into her chair and closing her eyes. No doubt the butler would be at the door in a moment with Lord Hessington ready to launch into another banal conversation which she would have to endure. Whatever had Lord Hazelton been speaking of? Why had his description of her late husband been so very different to her own? She simply could not make sense of it, frowning hard to herself as she tried to understand what he had meant. Lord Hazelton had seemed to be very certain that the man he had been describing had been Lord Callander, whereas she knew for certain that it could not be. Even though his description of the fellow had been incorrect, she knew for certain that to describe him as ‘jovial’ and ‘good humored’ was almost laughable! The late Lord Callander had been never been cruel to her but certainly had never been in a good humor. He had been dull and dispirited, and even though she had never quite understood his urgency when it had come to marrying her, Bridgette was quite certain she knew the gentleman she had married.
Lord Hazelton had simply confused him with someone else, she decided, sitting up a little straighter and forcing herself to smile as the door opened and the butler came in. There was no need to think of it any longer, it had merely been an error on his part. And what did it matter now? Her husband was long in his grave and she now entirely free of him.
In fact, she decided, rising to curtsy towards Lord Hessington, she did not even want to think of Lord Callander again. Her life was her own, her choices hers to make and nothing was going to take any of her newfound happiness away.
Chapter Two
Studying his cards carefully, Sebastian, the Earl of Millerton, picked up one from the pile in the middle and then looked at his cards anew. It was a very basic game but one that he very much enjoyed, for it took both skill and luck to win.
“You are taking much too long, Millerton,” one of the other gentlemen complained. “Do hurry up.”
Sebastian chuckled, the chose another card from his hand and set it down in the middle. A murmur ran around the group of men seated at the table but Sebastian did not make any comment nor allow any expression to come across his face. All that he required was to keep his nerve, hide his hand and pray that the rest of the cards would treat him well.
“So,” said Lord Chesterfield, who had only just played his hand. “You are back for another Season, it seems.”
Sebastian shrugged. “What else is there to do but come to London?” he asked, as Lord Chesterfield laughed softly. “To remain at the estate would make me a very dull gentleman indeed.”
Lord Chesterfield lifted one eyebrow, giving Sebastian a knowing look. “You hope to find a wife this Season, mayhap?”
Trying not to feel the ripple of awkward tension that ran down his spine at such a remark, Sebastian tried to keep his face in a nonchalant expression. “I do not know,” he said, sounding rather bored. “There has never been anyone to catch my eye thus far, but you can never tell what will happen!”
“That is true enough,” Lord Chesterfield grinned, giving Sebastian a sly wink. “But I know you well enough to state that you will certainly need a wife soon, given that you must produce the heir.”
Again, Sebastian felt his skin prickle at such a remark but said nothing, letting out a small sigh as though he was wearying of such a conversation.
“You may pretend otherwise,” Lord Chesterfield continued, chuckling, “but do not think that you can hide such a truth from me.” His smile slipped and the light faded from his eyes. “You are not the only one who finds yourself in such a position.”
Sebastian looked at his friend in surprise. “But you have never once mentioned an eagerness to wed,” he said, taking the opportunity to mock Lord Chesterfield a little. “Do not tell me that you have to step away from the joyous pursuit of pleasures and excitement in order to properly focus on finding yourself a wife?” He grinned, knowing full well that Lord Chesterfield liked nothing more than to spend the majority of the Season going from one occasion to the next, reveling in all that came with being a part of the beau monde. In all the years he had been friends with Lord Chesterfield, Sebastian had never once seen him take even the slightest notice of any young lady in particular. Yes, he liked to flirt with them, to dance and laugh with them, and certainly appreciated when their attentions were fixed solely upon him, but he had never once taken any young lady courting! Were things truly about to change?
“In short,” Lord Chesterfield said, eyeing his cards as he considered what was now on the table before them, “my mother has returned to my estate instead of living at the Dower house, as she ought.”
Sebastian frowned. A lady of the house did not tend to remove to the Dower House until her eldest son was wed. Most likely, Lord Chesterfield had encouraged his mother to do so, simply because he did not want her company.
“And she will not return there until she finds that I am secured to a young lady of good breeding and an excellent fortune,” Lord Chesterfield continued, heavily. “Can you imagine it?”
Unable to keep the smirk from his face, Sebastian dropped his head, pretending to scrutinize his cards rather than to look at the gentleman. Lord Chesterfield sighed and then placed his card down on the table, meaning that it was now Sebastian’s turn.
“The old witch has me quite stuck,” Lord Chesterfield continued, muttering under his breath as Sebastian took his turn. “I do not know what I am to do!”
“I do not think I
have ever seen you cowed before a woman,” Sebastian remarked, with a sly smile.
Lord Chesterfield let out an exasperated sigh. “It is only because her dear friend, the Dowager Netherdale, has been blessed with a grandchild of late,” he said, with a roll of his eyes. “And thus, my mother has decided that she would also like such a thing—not because she has any sort of affection for the idea, but rather so that her friend will not outdo her in some way.” Rolling his eyes, he waited for the gentleman next to him to play his hand, eyeing the cards on the table in an auspicious manner. “Therefore, if I am to rid her from my house, I must find a wife this Season.” He suddenly looked at Sebastian hopefully, his eyes flaring with a light that spoke of a new idea. “I say, could we not both assist each other in such a manner?”
All joviality left Sebastian at once as he looked at Lord Chesterfield. “Assist?” he repeated, as though such a word tasted quite bitter on his tongue. “You forget that I am not searching for a bride.”
Lord Chesterfield waved a hand. “Nonsense,” he stated, with a firm shake of his head. “Of course you are. You must. Now, even if you court the lady but decide that she is not the sort of creature for you, the task at hand remains the same. You shall assist me in securing a promising, pretty creature for my bride, and I shall do the same for you.”
“I have no need for your advice,” Sebastian replied quickly, only for Lord Chesterfield to wave a hand dismissively.
“Of course you do, of course you do,” he said, firmly. “Everyone knows that a gentleman ought to secure the opinions of others before he decides on a wife! Else, he might be caught up in only the lady’s beauty and miss the viper tongue that is so plain for others to see!” He chuckled at this but Sebastian only winced, fully aware that everything Lord Chesterfield said was true but still finding himself quite reluctant to agree.
“As I have said, I have no desire to secure a wife at present,” he said, but it was to no avail. Lord Chesterfield, appearing now to be in very high spirits, slammed down his hand of cards, showing the rest of the gentlemen that he had won and, chuckling, slapped Sebastian hard on the back.
