Marion knew that she was right, but it did not calm her fears – perhaps nothing ever would. Still, there was no option but to go on. Soon, they reached the head of the line. Lady Chesterton greeted them, all effusive welcome, and then they moved on into the ballroom, being announced by the footman stationed at the door.
“The Duke and Duchess of Windemere, and the Countess of Scartwick.”
A few heads turned towards them, curiously, for Marion had not been about in society much.
She lifted her chin, forced her face to steady calm, and stepped into the room, as if she had always belonged in such a place. But in that instant, she longed for her mother. But her mother was still in the country, with her new husband, and would not be here in London for a month or more. The footman announced the next arrivals, and attention moved away from Marion. She breathed a sigh of relief, and allowed the Duke to lead them to a group of people on the other side of the room.
From there, the evening became a whirl of introductions, as the Duke and Duchess made certain that she became known to those of influence, and reacquainted with those she had met before. She was glad to find that Lady Setford, who she had known before when she was still Lady Farnsworth, was present, and greeted her with genuine affection. As the evening wound on, Marion began, a little, to relax. So far, she had not seen even one of the faces she dreaded, and people, if curious, had been kind and courteous. Somehow, she found herself amongst a group of younger women, not so far in age from herself. Their conversation seemed innocuous, mostly about fashion, and the most favoured gentlemen of the Season. She allowed herself simply to listen, to learn what she could of what went on in society now.
She noticed that the young woman beside her rarely spoke, but mostly listened, and watched the others, often with a slightly amused look on her face. She wondered why. As that thought passed through her mind, the woman turned to her.
“I have just realised that I have been remiss. No-one introduced us, and I have not told you who I am. I believe that I heard you announced as the Countess of Scartwick? I am Lady Faith St. John. I am happy to make your acquaintance.”
“Yes, I am Marion Stafford, Countess of Scartwick. I am pleased to meet you.”
It still felt wrong to call herself Countess, even after this long. But she would not avoid it – to do so would be to dishonour Martin’s memory. She had a sense of familiarity with the woman’s name – St. John – where had she heard it? She did not know, and pushed the thought aside for consideration later.
“You seem as disinclined to wax lyrical about fashion as I am, if I may be so impertinent as to say so.”
Marion laughed, the girl’s forthright manner was charming.
“Indeed, you have the right of it. I am, to some extent, interested in the chatter about people – for I have been long away from London, and must catch up on who is in favour, and what scandal has most recently caught the interest of the ton. But fashion – I find that I do not really care, shocking as that may seem.”
For a moment, as Marion mentioned scandal, a frown creased Lady Faith’s brow, but it was gone as soon as it came, and Marion wondered if, indeed, she had imagined its existence in the first place.
“Well then, let me tell you what I know of those present – where shall we start?”
From there, Marion found herself drawn into a long and enjoyable conversation, full of laughter and astute observations, which far enhanced her understanding of the current favourites and fads. She was grateful for the information, and even more grateful for the kind and unquestioning company.
Chapter Five
Sin stared across the ballroom, glaring at the man who stood so nonchalantly against a pillar. Lord Alfred Bernwelt had been amongst the crowd that Martin had run with, the crowd that Sin had been led into by Hugh. He had not matured all that well, Sin thought. He’d run into the man in the street, a few days back, and been greeted like a long-lost friend. And greeted as Sin. Whilst he thought of himself that way, as he’d been called it by many of his acquaintances, since Eton, it was still a shock to hear it here. At sea, he’d chosen that appellation, feeling it appropriate, given his dishonoured state – Sin the sinner, the seamen had joked, and he had accepted it. But obviously Bernwelt had been talking, for the whispers behind fans now seemed to encompass that name, as well as all of the other salacious rubbish they whispered about him.
He turned away, wishing that he need not attend such events as this. But he had no choice, if he was to restore his honour, his family’s honour. The Norwood Ball was a crush, and the swirl of colour was almost dizzying, the stench of over-used perfume sickening.
Perhaps respite might be found on the terrace, at least for a while. He slipped across the room, followed, as always, by a wave of whispered gossip. As he did, he scanned the room around him, habit making him assess those present. Most were faces that he now recognised, but, at the far side of the room, a woman stood with an older couple. He had never seen them before, at any event he had attended.
Something about her drew his eye. She was of middle height, with soft pale brown hair, not quite blonde, and a face which was not classically beautiful, yet was striking. Her gown was magnificent in its simplicity, and suited her perfectly. She was a few years older than most of the young women present – not too far from his own age, he would guess.
He wondered who she was, for there was something about her which seemed somehow familiar, as if he had once known who she was, and could not quite bring the name to mind. He shook the thought aside - he had not been amongst these people for nearing seven years, before this last few weeks – why would anyone be familiar? Finally, he pushed through the last of the crowd to reach the terrace doors and stepped out through them, gratefully. The air was cool, crisp, with just the faintest hint of the spring to come. Sin leant on the balustrade, looking out at the gardens below, the sense of the familiarity of the woman still with him. He did not like it when he could not be sure of something like that – for too long, his safety had depended on knowing all he could about those around him – it still did, he supposed.
He stayed there, staring up as the moon rose in a sky far clearer than usual in London, for as long as he considered possible, before steeling himself to face the ballroom again.
Once back inside, he dutifully sought out the ladies whose families held most influence, and begged the favour of a dance. They grated on him, but it was necessary – the more people he could convince that he was a respectable man, who had grown beyond his ‘dishonourable past’, who would not repeat his brother’s excesses, the better. The women were flattered, simpering and flirting, more enamoured of the rumours about him, than of he himself, but their good opinion was a path to conversation with their fathers and brothers, which might lead to a better situation for his family.
They were a far more certain path than the card room, for when he had ventured there, the response from most men had been barely civil. So he danced, and flattered, and even flirted a little. As the dances took him about the room, and he turned, following the intricate patterns of the country dances, he found his eyes, repeatedly, falling upon the woman he had noticed earlier. The more he noted her, the more she intrigued him, for she seemed nothing like most of the women present – she appeared quite reserved, yet also not shy, and she did not seem to be seeking the attention of the gentlemen present.
When each dance set ended, he delivered his partner back to her mother or chaperone, and moved on, unwilling to be caught in deep conversation with any of them. Finally, supper was announced, and relief slipped through him as he went in search of his mother and sister. Supper was a reprieve from dancing, from the need to be socially engaged with those around him. When he reached them, Faith was chattering away about who she had danced with, and what she thought of various gentlemen – her remarks were astringent, and not entirely kind.
But they were accurate enough that Sin was hard put to avoid laughing. Faith sipped at her glass of orgeat, whilst considering her dance card.
r /> “Oh dear! Lord Fotheringham. I fear that I feel the most dreadful megrim coming on… so dreadful that we will just have to leave early, so that I can go home to recover. So sad, for I will therefore not be able to dance with Lord Fotheringham.”
Both Sin and his mother considered Faith carefully, as she dramatically wilted in her seat, putting a hand to her brow. Again, Sin was hard put to prevent himself from laughing. But she had a point – he would be happy to leave early, using his sister as an excuse.
“Why of course Faith, I find myself able to put aside my disappointment at the need to leave early, for surely Lady Phoebe will understand when I renege on the dance which I had promised her, for the sake of your health.”
It was Faith’s turn to repress the urge to laugh – for she knew that her brother found Lady Phoebe quite the dullest of her friends. Lady Hungerwood waited until she was sure that Faith had managed to avoid laughing, then spoke.
“My poor dear – of course I will sacrifice another hour or two of Lady Templeton’s gossi… errr… insights on society, for the sake of your health. Do let us gather our things and depart immediately.”
Faith half choked, and quickly sipped her orgeat again, while Sin turned and looked away, quite certain that he would laugh if he continued to watch his sister. The first person his eyes fell upon was the mystery woman – again. He would have to ask if Faith knew who she was, he simply had to know.
They gathered their things, bid farewell to their hostess, and moved to the door. As they did, Sin leaned in close to Faith, and whispered to her.
“The woman near the potted palms – the one with light brown hair, wearing a blue gown – do you know who she is? I have never seen her before tonight, I believe.”
Faith lifted her head from her ‘half-fainting’ impression just long enough to look, then nodded. They stepped through the door, into the refreshing night air, and nothing more was said until they had settled in the carriage. As they bumped over the cobbles towards Saint House, Faith turned to Sin.
“The woman you asked about – she is Marion Stafford, the Countess of Scartwick. I like her – we spoke at the Chesterton Ball.”
The name sank into Sin like a knife to the heart. His face must have shown his shock, for Faith raised her eyebrows.
“Drummond, are you well? You look quite as pale as I was supposed to be from my ‘megrim’.”
He swallowed hard. His mother met his eyes, and shook her head gently. Faith had no idea, it seemed. He would need to speak with his mother later. For now, his world spun madly as all of what he had thought to be truth was turned on its head in an instant, and the bitterness rose within him, again, for wrongs done which could not be undone, and the recognition that the dishonour he had taken on was far deeper than he had ever imagined it could be.
So – Martin really had married her. It was clear in that instant, that he might never restore his honour.
~~~~~
Faith went to bed, genuinely tired. Lady Hungerwood turned to Sin, her face sad.
“Let us settle in your study, with some brandy. It is clear that we need to talk, for I gather from your reaction that you did not know.”
“I did not.”
They did not say anything further, until they were sitting in the armchairs either side of the fire, in his study, with brandy glasses in hand. The warmth of the liquor was welcome, as it slipped down his throat – for at that moment, everything else seemed bitter, cold, and terrible.
“I will tell you what I know of it, although some is only informed by gossip, so may not be entirely true.”
“Whatever you know…”
“After his son died, the Duke of Windemere became quite reclusive, then more so after his wife died. I will be uncharitable here, and say that she was no loss to society, or to him, I suspect – she had always been a rather nasty woman. A year after her death, he came out of his isolation somewhat, and began to help two society ladies with a charitable project. Through that, somehow, a chain of events was set in motion, the details of which I do not know, which led to him discovering that, before his death, his son had actually married, at Gretna Green, a young woman. At that time, her whereabouts were not known.”
“Then how…?”
“It seemed that the son had, as he lay dying, given the proof of the marriage into the hands of a friend, charging him with taking care of his wife. But she had fled London, for whatever reason, and hidden herself in the country. She was, at the time, increasing.”
“Increasing? There is a child?”
“Yes. The Duke has acknowledged him as his heir, and Earl of Scartwick, and his mother as Countess. The marriage and the birth have all been entered into the records. There is no question of the validity, although at first many of the ton were doubtful about accepting it.”
Sin dropped his head into his hands. No wonder the ton were so cold to him. This was far worse than simply having been thought to have incited Sinclair to challenging Martin Stafford to the duel – it was all clear now – they thought Sin a man who had incited a man to a completely wrongful duel, a duel which had not only cost a man his life, but a woman her husband and a child his father, in circumstances so bad that she had felt the need to flee and hide. It was a miracle that anyone spoke to him at all!
In that moment, he hated his older brother, was glad that he was gone, wished him to hell, in fact, that he might pay for his sins.
The desire rose in him to do something, anything, which might, in the smallest way, give reparation to Martin’s widow. His honour demanded it – even if no one but his family believed him an honourable man.
“How will I ever…”
Sin had not realised that he had spoken aloud, until his mother replied.
“I do not know. But I believe that you will do your best. As you did then, when you need not have taken such a weight upon yourself. Yes, I know that it was Hugh, being Second at that duel, and that you took the blame, to preserve our reputation. That sort of behaviour was always more in Hugh’s personality than yours. Perhaps I should not have let you do what you did, but….”
Again, Sin felt his world twisting. He had believed that no-one knew, save Hugh and himself. Even the others present at the duel did not know, for he and Hugh had looked quite alike, back then, and in the drama of the moment, it had been easy to convince them that they had mistaken the brothers.
“I hope that you understood then, why I chose to do what I did. I deeply regretted not having the chance to truly bid you goodbye, and my greatest sadness was that I might never see you, or Faith, again. Although… now I feel rather a fool, for it seems that my sacrifice was utterly in vain, that my brother had no appreciation for it, whatsoever. Or surely, he would not have continued as he did, have died as he did.”
“I did. For I could not countenance that you would have done such a thing – that you had taken the blame for Hugh’s actions seemed the only possible explanation. I know my children’s characters – I could not believe such a terrible thing of you – but I could believe that you would do anything to maintain our honour.”
“Does… does Faith know any of this? I had the impression that she surely could not know, for if she had, she would have understood my reaction in the carriage.”
“No. she knows nothing of the detail. That you did something bad, and that the only option was to leave the country, that she knows, but no more.”
Sin laughed, a shaky sound in the quiet confines of the room.
“Then, Mother dear, your knowledge of your children’s characters has failed on one point. She may not know what it was that ‘I’ was supposed to have done, but she does know that it wasn’t me – that I took the blame for something that Hugh had done. For she told me so, but a few days past. I confirmed that she was correct, but refused to tell her anything more.”
Lady Hungerwood gaped at him, shocked.
“Faith has always been observant, and far too astute for her own good at times. And you were always her favourite
brother. I suppose that I should not be surprised. I suspect that my desperate desire that she never need know the sordid details blinded me to the fact that she was working things out.”
“That is most likely the truth. I think it better that Faith continue in ignorance of all the details, for now at least. Let her enjoy this Season as best she can, even under the shadow of my dishonour.”
“For now, I agree – although I begin to wonder if we will be able to keep it from her for much longer. Drummond… what will you do, when you come face to face with the Countess? For I cannot imagine that such an event can be avoided forever.”
Sin took a large swallow of his brandy, suddenly feeling ice cold at the very idea of it. His mother said nothing, leaving him the space to consider the idea. There was, in the end, only one possible answer.
“I will be as polite as it is possible to be, praying that she does not give me the cut direct – but if she does, so be it. When I first saw her, she seemed somehow familiar, but I could not imagine why. Now that I know – yes, I can see her in my memory. She was less confident then, unsure of how to go on, but the face… it is the same. I saw her with Martin, more than once. I was a fool, I let the others convince me that he was lying, that he could not have married her, yet… her father was in trade, and it seemed so unlikely. I must, somehow, do whatever I can to compensate for my error, for Hugh’s blindly arrogant foolishness. But, as yet, I have no idea what that might be.”
“It will come to you. I believe in you Drummond, I believe that you will find a way to untangle the mess that your brother left us all, to let the world see the truth of your honourable nature.”
Sin wished that he believed in himself as much as his mother did. He finished the brandy, and retired, but sleep was elusive until after dawn, when exhaustion finally took him.
Chapter Six
Marion stood in the ballroom, a polite smile positively glued in place on her face. She wished that she could be anywhere but there, that she could be back in the Park in the morning, where everything was as simple as playing with Daniel. But she had no choice. If Daniel was to have the life he was born for, she needed to be here, making connections, becoming more accepted, becoming truly part of the ton. She still felt like an imposter.
Restoring the Earl's Honour: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 17) Page 4