by Rose Pearson
“Yes, Hetty?” she asked, finding that she was a little frustrated with having been disturbed. The novel was rather exciting and it had distracted her from the fears and worries she felt over the imminent arrival of her betrothed.
“My lady, you have a gentleman here to see you,” Hetty said quietly, closing the door firmly behind her. “In fact, he asks if you wish to take a short stroll with him about Grosvenor Square.” A frown settled over her brow, making Marianne more than aware that her maid thoroughly disapproved.
“What is the gentleman’s name?” she asked, setting her book aside.
“It is a Lord Henry Redmond, my lady,” Hetty answered, looking at Marianne with interest. “Have you been introduced to him before?”
Marianne considered for a moment before the memory of their introduction came to her. “Yes,” she replied, getting to her feet with sudden, swift excitement. “Yes, I have been introduced. He is the heir to the Earl of Crompton. We danced at Lord Thornton’s Ball and I believe he called upon me some two days ago, although I was not at home at the time.” She remembered the card that he had left for her, recalling that he had stated that he would write to her in order to arrange another meeting. Apparently, he had chosen simply to appear at her father’s door instead. The persistence of such attentions recommended him to her, although she had to take a moment to remind herself that she was betrothed to another.
“Is my father at home?” Marianne asked, looking up at her maid with a sudden, sharp look. If he was at home, then he would, most likely, be rather cross with her if she was to go out walking with a gentleman other than her betrothed. But if he were not at home, then she had nothing to concern herself about.
“No, he is not, my lady,” Hetty replied slowly, her eyes flickering with concern. “He took your sister to afternoon tea with Lady Henstridge and her son, the soon to be Earl of Henstridge.”
Quite aware that her father was keen to find a suitable match for her sister just as soon as Marianne herself was married, Marianne resisted the unladylike urge to roll her eyes. The silence that followed, however, was quite misinterpreted by the maid, who began to nod slowly.
“I will tell the gentleman that you are indisposed, of course,” Hetty murmured, bobbing a curtsy. “Do excuse me, my lady.”
“You shall do no such thing,” Marianne exclaimed, angry at her maid’s impertinence. “Hetty, you are forgetting your place.”
Hetty, to her surprise, frowned and did not appear to be in any way sorry for her attitude. “I think, my lady, that to be seen out walking with another gentleman when you are soon to be publicly engaged is –”
“It is not a matter that you need concern yourself with, Hetty,” Marianne interrupted briskly. “To walk with a gentleman means very little, given that there is no courtship or the like. Come now, go and prepare yourself to join us.”
Hetty’s frown did not disappear, but she did begrudgingly walk away from her mistress, leaving the door ajar as she did so. Marianne smiled to herself, smoothing down her gown with careful hands before making her way to the door. Lord Henry was not a gentleman she knew particularly well, but she had enjoyed the dance they had shared at the ball and she had found his conversation witty and delightful. To walk with him was simply that – a walk they would share together – and Marianne told herself, as she prepared herself, that she did not need to worry that anyone would think anything of it. London society was rife with gossipmongers and she knew full well that even a small indiscretion could ruin her pristine reputation, but this was nothing more than a short stroll in the cool September air. There were only a few smaller occasions during the autumn months before the little Season began in earnest. Whether she would be in London or at her husband’s estate, Marianne did not know.
“Enough,” she told her reflection, tucking in one errant curl underneath her bonnet before pulling on her gloves. “You need not overthink this, Marianne. Walk with Lord Henry and enjoy the afternoon air. You need not worry about anything else.”
“My dear lady, you are quite a delight!”
Marianne found herself smiling despite herself, walking alongside Lord Henry as they made their way back to Grosvenor Square. “You are much too kind, my lord,” she replied, looking up at him and seeing the way his green eyes sparkled with mirth.
“No, indeed not!” he exclaimed, waving his arm in an expansive gesture. “Indeed, I do not think that I can find the words to best express the delight that comes from being in your company.”
“Now you are doing it much too brown, Lord Henry,” Marianne replied, firmly, taking some of the sparkles from his eyes. “We are only just introduced and I fear that there is a good deal more to my character than you are aware. Why, I might be quite the most selfish, most arrogant creature you have ever met!”
Lord Henry did not appear to be turned away by this suggestion, the corner of his mouth tipped up with a smile. “Then I suppose I shall have to call upon you again, my lady, so that I can see whether or not this claim of a selfish nature is quite true.”
Marianne’s stomach dropped to her toes. She had been enjoying Lord Henry’s company so much that she had quite forgotten about her betrothed. She could not allow another man to court her, not when Lord Galsworthy was to propose to her once he returned to England.
“This does not please you, I think,” Lord Henry murmured, his expression now a little disappointed. “I am sorry.”
“No,” Marianne protested, turning towards him, and finding herself more confused than ever. “No, indeed not, Lord Henry. I confess that there is a good deal more to my situation that I am currently able to reveal at present.”
“I see,” Lord Henry replied with a look of understanding. “You are promised to another?”
She swallowed hard, her words refusing to come to her lips. Marianne found that she could neither deny nor confirm that statement, struggling to know what to say when she herself was so uncertain.
“I will not pry,” Lord Henry stammered, now looking quite embarrassed as he shifted from foot to foot, his face a little flushed. His eyes darted away from hers, his hands clasped behind his back as he cleared his throat. “I do apologize, my lady.”
He took her hand and bowed over it. A little embarrassed herself, Marianne pressed his hand for a moment as he bowed. “You need not apologize, Lord Henry,” she stated, her heart quickening in a way it had never done with Lord Galsworthy. “It is I who ought to apologize. I am not making myself clear and that is only because my thoughts themselves are all twisted together.” She gave him a warm yet rueful smile as he dropped her hand, stepping back quickly as he ought.
“Then, might I be permitted to call on you again, my lady?” he asked, his voice filled with hope as the air around them seemed to warm, taking away the chill from the wind that swept past them.
Marianne did not know what it was that made her say yes, but the word escaped from her mouth before she could prevent it. Lord Henry beamed with delight, bowed again, and took his leave, letting her climb the steps to her father’s townhouse with Hetty just behind her.
Closing the door, Marianne handed her bonnet and gloves to the butler without a word, her brow furrowing as she considered what she had just agreed to. It had been a moment of foolishness, for she certainly could not agree to a gentleman courting her when she was betrothed to another. Her thoughts clouded. The depths of her fear told her that Lord Galsworthy would turn from her, that he would break their betrothal and leave her without hope. Where would she be then? Besides which, having such an attentive and conversational gentleman by her side had been a welcome happiness such as she had never experienced with Lord Galsworthy.
“My dear Marianne, where have you been?”
She looked up, torn from her thoughts as Harriet came rushing down the staircase towards her.
“I – I took a short walk,” she stated as Hetty disappeared down the hallway, her back ramrod straight, displaying her stern dislike of Marianne’s behaviour. Marianne ignored thi
s and turned towards her sister, walking up the staircase towards her. Her stomach tightened with nerves, fearing that her father had seen her walking with Lord Henry as he had returned, and that Harriet was coming to warn her about his impending wrath.
“Oh, my dear sister, I have just heard the news from Miss Harestone! Why did you not tell me?” Harriet caught Marianne’s hands and began to half drag her up the staircase. “When did he call? Was it when I was not at home yesterday evening? I am surprised, truly, that you did not say a word about it, not when you –”
“Harriet,” Marianne interrupted, impatiently. “Of what are you speaking?”
Harriet stared at her for a moment, her mouth agape.
“I do not understand to whom you are referring,” Marianne continued when her sister said nothing. “No-one has come to call.”
“But – but he has been back in England for a day already,” Harriet breathed, her eyes a little wide. “I thought that…” She trailed off, looking away from Marianne for a moment. “Well, I am quite sure he will call upon you very soon. After all, we are to go to his townhouse for the celebration in a few days.”
“Celebration?”
“Yes, did Father not tell you?” Harriet exclaimed, looking as though Marianne was deliberately not understanding what she was saying. “Lady Galsworthy has arranged a celebration for Lord Galsworthy’s return. It is to take place on Friday evening.”
An ache began to burn in Marianne’s mind. “Are you telling me, Harriet, that Lord Galsworthy has returned home to England?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I am saying,” Harriet replied slowly. “I thought he would have called upon you almost the moment he came from the ship, but apparently he has not.”
Marianne shook her head, her heart sinking towards the floor. “No,” she said, numbly. “He has not called. Goodness, Harriet, I have not even received a note from him stating that he is safely returned!” Her eyes burned with sudden, sharp tears and her sister, on seeing this, pulled her quickly into the library so that none of the servants might hear their conversation.
“I am sure that he is simply tired from his journey,” Harriet murmured as she pulled Marianne into a tight embrace. “Perhaps he wishes to ensure that he is entirely recovered before seeing you again. Mayhap he wishes to make the very best of impressions.”
Marianne shook her head. “Or mayhap, my dear, he is quite unconcerned about me. I have no place in his thoughts from what I can see. It is just as I expected.”
“No, surely not,” Harriet replied gently, pressing Marianne’s hands. “You are thinking much too poorly of him, my dear. Mayhap he is ill, mayhap he –”
“Being ill does not prevent one from writing a note to one’s betrothed!” Marianne exclaimed, suddenly angry with Harriet’s defense of him. “Being tired is no excuse either, surely! It is clear to me that he has no feelings towards me whatsoever. I am nothing more than a responsibility that must be fulfilled at some point, but he has no eagerness to do so.” She shook her head, tears landing on her cheeks with some force as sobs began to rack her frame. All she had been feeling began to tear through her, all her fears and doubts suddenly bursting into life. She had listened to Harriet and allowed herself to feel some sort of hope that he might return to England with a greater depth of feeling for her than before, but it appeared that she had been quite mistaken. She certainly felt no guilt now in allowing Lord Henry to take her for a short stroll, nor for agreeing to allow him to call upon her again!
“I shall be nothing more than a neglected bride,” she said, pulling her hands from Harriet. “If I wed him, of course.”
Harriet looked astonished. “Of course you must marry him, Marianne. He is your betrothed!”
“And yet, I still have a choice, do I not?” Marianne asked tightly, dabbing at her cheeks with her lace handkerchief. “I know that Father would be greatly displeased and the ton would not be easily forgiving, but surely it is better to have the opportunity to find one’s own husband than to be forced into a marriage such as this?” Her voice was rising steadily, her upset growing with every word she spoke. “No, Harriet, I will not simply agree to this marriage as I have done before. I have another –”
She stopped dead, realizing what it was she had been about to say. Her sister eyed her carefully, her cheeks a little pale.
“Do you mean to say you have another gentleman caller?” Harriet asked softly, once a few moments of silence had passed. “Yes, I am aware that a gentleman has called here at the house in search of you but I had thought that you would have sent him away, given that you are betrothed.”
Marianne lifted her chin and removed her gaze from her sister. “I have enjoyed his company very much,” she replied steadily. “Besides which, Lord Galsworthy has not yet proposed, so I will not consider myself engaged. Not until such a thing occurs and I have accepted.”
Harriet’s face was now quite pale and she grasped Marianne’s hand tightly, which Marianne both was grateful for and disliked in equal measure. Her sister could not understand, not really. She was not the one in Marianne’s situation and was, therefore, able to study it without any sort of emotion. There was a detachment there that Marianne did not have. There was very little true understanding on Harriet’s part, although Marianne was grateful that she was, at least, willing to listen to Marianne’s tumultuous thoughts.
“You must be careful, Marianne.”
Having expected Harriet to rail at her about her lack of consideration or appreciation for her betrothed, Marianne shot her sister a sharp look.
“I can see that you are deeply wounded by Lord Galsworthy’s lack of attention to you,” her sister said softly. “I have tried to understand his reasons for refusing to even send you a note announcing his arrival in town, but I cannot.” Sighing heavily, she shook her head and let go of Marianne’s hand. “If there is another gentleman who wishes to call upon you, then I cannot criticize your desire to accept him. I would only bid you to be more than careful, knowing that our father will be furious should he hear of it. He is not, after all, a gentleman with a good deal of understanding when it comes to matters of the heart."
Marianne gave her a wry smile. “No, he is not,” she agreed. “I thank you, Harriet. I confess that I am greatly troubled by it all and yes, I am deeply wounded that my betrothed has not had the thought to send me even a note to speak of his return. That I had to find out the news from my sister, who heard it from someone entirely unrelated to us all!” Feeling tears threaten again, Marianne swallowed hard and turned her head away, blinking furiously. “It is quite thoughtless,” she finished, her voice breaking just a little.
“It is,” Harriet agreed, walking over to the bell pull and tugging it, evidently thinking that tea would bring a good deal of respite to Marianne’s present troubles. “And might I ask the name of the gentleman who has come to call upon you?”
Marianne felt a warm glow rise up in her heart as she thought of how they had laughed and talked that afternoon. He had been almost everything she had been hoping for with Lord Galsworthy, and certainly, he was a good deal more considerate! “Lord Henry Redmond,” she replied with a small smile tugging at her lips. “He is rather persistent in his attentions, which I will not fault him for. It is a wonderful thing to be so desired, Harriet.”
A warning climbed into Harriet’s expression but, to Marianne’s relief, she kept her mouth closed tightly.
“I did tell him that he could call again,” Marianne confessed, seeing Harriet nod. “At the time I felt as though I were being unfair and quite rude to Lord Galsworthy, but now…” She shook her head to herself, feeling her resolve growing steadily. “Now, I feel as though I am quite absolved of all guilt. Should he come to call again, I will welcome his attentions and will not turn from them.”
“Just so long as our father does not find out his intentions,” Harriet reminded her darkly. “Else I fear it all may come tumbling around your ears.”
Marianne shrugged, trying to remain as
nonchalant as she could. “He will not,” she replied airily. “I will be just as he expects of me when it comes to speaking with Lord Galsworthy. He will find no fault with me, I am quite sure.”
“I do hope so,” Harriet replied just as the door opened to reveal a maid with a tea tray held in her hands. “I cannot imagine what would happen should Lord Galsworthy hear that you are being courted by another!”
The thought caught Marianne’s mind and she held it there for a moment, choosing to let her thoughts linger on the notion. What would Lord Galsworthy do should he find out that she was the sole focus of another gentleman’s attentions? Would it rouse his passions, force him to actually feel something for her, other than clear disinterest? Or would he, as she expected, simply shrug, and turn away, not particularly interested in her or her actions?
“We will see,” Marianne murmured to herself as Harriet began to pour the tea. Tomorrow’s dinner with Lord Galsworthy would certainly be interesting, although Marianne was glad that, even if her betrothed said nothing more than a few words to her, she would have the knowledge that another gentleman thought her both interesting and witty. Another gentleman wanted her company and her time. Another gentleman showed her more consideration than her own betrothed and, mayhap in time, he would become more to her than Lord Galsworthy ever could.
Chapter Six
Having been desperate to escape from yet another of his mother’s speeches about how terrible a gentleman he was for not calling upon his betrothed almost the moment he had set foot on shore, Philip had chosen to step out of doors this afternoon.
He did not exactly relish the idea of being out in the fresh air, given that he would much rather have been in bed, or at the very least, spending a quiet afternoon in his study getting himself reacquainted with all of his current responsibilities. However, knowing that his mother would be constantly at his arm, haranguing him until, most likely, he decided to do as she asked, he had braved the outdoors.
