“He said he knew you. What was his name, Mama?”
“Isyanci,” Lady Sayle said with unexpected precision.
Hazel relaxed. Not Selim.
“At any rate, we invited him to the ball,” Emma said, “though he said he would probably not be able to come.”
Joe smiled faintly and turned to Hazel. “A walk in the garden, perhaps, Miss Hazel?”
She stood at once, for there were many things she wished to talk to him about in private.
“You won’t see much in the dark,” Lord Standish pointed out.
“True, but I believe I would like a breath of fresh air before I retire,” Hazel said lightly.
“Emma, you and Mr. Sprigg should go, too,” Lady Sayle said. “Otherwise, your restlessness will jangle my poor nerves.”
“Your what?” Joe asked politely.
“My nerves,” Lady Sayle replied with dignity. “I do have some, you know! Impudent boy.”
Joe laughed and dropped a kiss on her head before offering his arm to Hazel. It was not quite the confidence-exchanging walk she had hoped for, but she supposed the proprieties had to be observed. She and Emma were clearly supposed to chaperone each other. The trouble was since her journey out of London had begun, she had become too used to doing exactly as she liked, with no thought for what anyone would think. But if she were to stay here, ruined or not, she had to play by Lady Sayle’s rules.
It was a warm evening, so no heavier covering than a shawl was required. By the time they stepped out of doors, Emma was chattering away happily with Bart. Before long, Hazel suspected he would be telling her of his undying love for Agatha, though hopefully not about the highway robbery.
They walked in the formal garden close to the house, where they could easily be seen from the drawing room window.
“Is everything well?” Joe murmured as the other two fell a little behind.
“Apart from imposing so horrendously upon your family, yes. But what do you think we should do about Lord Barden? I never thought I would come upon him so soon, though I’m sure you did when you manipulated us all into coming here.”
“It crossed my mind,” he admitted.
“Did any other ideas cross your mind? Such as how to find out if he really did set out to ruin us deliberately, and if so, how to make him take it back?”
Joe was silent a moment. “The trouble with scandal is that it does not depend on signed statements or evidence. It is based on rumor, which grows and spreads like a plague. And the devastating thing is, it can never be completely undone. The words were written, and the story is clearly circulating even now. Even if Barden admitted what he’d done and retracted every word, the story would still be there.”
She gazed up at him in dismay. “You mean there is nothing I can do? That any of us can do?”
He patted her hand. “No, I don’t mean that. I just mean things are more complicated. Recovering your reputation will depend on many things, including your acceptance by certain important members of society.”
“I don’t know important members of society,” she said flatly. “Certainly, none who would speak for me. I am acquainted only with the princess’s court, which is little recommendation to most.”
“It could be worse,” Joe observed. “It could be the prince’s court. No, don’t get in a miff,” he added as she tried to tug her hand free in irritation. “And you know us. The Sayles and the Standishes are not nobodies. The Standishes are well-known high-sticklers.”
“But if I am known to be here, surely that compromises Emma’s innocence in the eyes of the world? We have already agreed, I should use the surname Hazel.”
“Lord Barden,” he pointed out, “knows exactly who you are.”
“Then I shall have to keep out of his way.”
“That would make it difficult to find out what, if anything, he is up to.”
“Hmm. If he is innocent, he will sympathize and keep my secret.”
“And if he isn’t, he will expose you, and it will look as if you have something to hide.”
She sighed. “It seems I am damned either way.”
“My mother would not invite a genuinely ruined lady to her daughter’s birthday party. It is your best defense.”
“But Emma—”
“Emma will be fine,” he said. “If scandal ever touches her, it will be by her own doing. But…perhaps we can make use of ‘Miss Hazel’ to set a trap for Barden. If he falls into it, then he is guilty, and we can act accordingly.”
She mulled that over and sighed again. “There are too many other people to consider.”
“My mother,” Joe remarked, “is good-natured and frequently forgetful. But she has navigated the storms of society for almost thirty years without once taking a wrong turn. Perhaps you should speak to her again.”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, perhaps I should.” She glanced up at him and smiled. “You have gone out of your way to help me since I first saw you at the Blue Boar. I have no idea why.”
He gazed steadily back. “Don’t you?”
Her heart fluttered, but she only shook her head. “No. There are better women than I to flirt with. I think you prefer to hide the fact that you are simply kind.”
His arm tightened, squeezing her hand against his chest. He cast a quick glance behind him and let out a short breath of laughter. Emma and Bart had almost caught up with them.
“One day, my handmaiden,” he murmured. “One day. Shall we go back?”
As they reentered the house, Wilson told them that Lady Sayle and the Standishes had already retired.
“I suppose we should do the same,” Emma said without enthusiasm. “It will probably be chaos from tomorrow until after the ball.”
“I confess, I am tired,” Hazel said. “So, I shall bid you all goodnight.”
“Let me give you a candle,” Joe said, lighting several on the table at the foot of the staircase. As she took one from him, the flame flared, illuminating the sharp bones and mysterious hollows of his face, and the steady, unusually serious gaze of his eyes. For some reason, an ache formed in her heart. “Good night,” he murmured.
“Good night,” she said again, appalled at the faint tremble of her voice. She coughed to cover it before she fled upstairs.
The others followed, and she heard them turn the other way on the second landing. She walked on alone toward her chamber, listening intently, just in case he followed her. Just in case he wanted to talk more. Alone.
What is the matter with me?
There were no following footsteps, no sound at all until she reached the window just before her bedchamber.
“Ah, you found your way,” a voice said from the embrasure.
Hazel jumped, almost dropping her candle, and Lady Standish said at once. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you! We always used to meet here, my brothers and I—and Emma, too, when she was old enough—to discuss important matters without the presence of servants or parents.”
“And to get up to mischief, I imagine,” Hazel said lightly. “I think everyone else has gone to bed.”
“Quite right. I was just looking at the moon.”
Hazel followed her gaze to the night sky and then lower.
“I saw you all walking in the garden, while the lanterns were lit at the door.”
“I would like to see it in daylight,” Hazel volunteered.
“Yes…I suppose you know I was waiting here to speak to you.”
“It crossed my mind,” Hazel admitted.
Roberta smiled. “I just wanted to apologize for my rudeness earlier. It was inexcusable, and now that I have met you, I can see—as must everyone—that you are innocent as a lamb.”
“Thank you,” Hazel managed. Such a generous apology took her by surprise. But then, Roberta was Joe’s sister. The family was a little eccentric, a little too arrogant perhaps, but there was surely no malice here, only unique kindness.
“Which is why,” Roberta said delicately, “I wanted to offer you a word
of warning about my brother. Don’t misunderstand me, he is as good-natured as he is charming, and his assistance is always genuine and quite without strings. It’s just that he cannot help himself. Flirting, you know. Women have always fallen at his feet, but I see that you do not know him very well at all. I would hate you to take him seriously and be hurt.”
Outrage that she could dare say such a thing left Hazel speechless with anger, on both Joe’s account and her own.
“My dear,” Roberta said, reaching for her hand.
Hazel snatched it out of reach. “I believe I know him well enough. I do not flirt, and he cannot hurt me.” What lies, what lies… She was already aching and didn’t know why.
“Forgive me, I just saw the way you looked at him in the garden, and I knew he had not told you.”
“Told me what?” Hazel asked with sudden foreboding.
“That he is all but engaged to Lady Theresa Thorne.”
Of course he is. Whoever she is, there was always bound to be someone.
Hazel smiled. “Then I wish him and his bride every happiness. Goodnight, Lady Standish.”
Somehow, she got into her chamber before the tears started, a silent revelation of grief and love and pain, induced by simple jealousy.
She even smiled through some of it, because, in spite of everything, there was still sheer joy in loving him.
Chapter Thirteen
As far as possible the following day, Hazel kept her distance from Joe. She avoided being alone with him, or, if they were both part of a group, she used one of the children or Emma as a shield. Any exchanges, she kept brief, light, and friendly. By the afternoon, she wondered if he suspected her attempt at distance.
The whole party, including Lady Sayle and the Standishes with their small sons, were strolling through the less formal part of the garden. This was bounded, as Joe had once told her, by a large, sprawling hazel tree.
“I thought we could have an al fresco here while we have guests,” Lady Sayle said. “The tree would provide shade, and we would have this rather fine view over the downs.”
“It’s beautiful,” Hazel agreed. “I’m sure the guests would love it.”
“There’s a pleasant walk over the hill, too, for the more energetic among us,” Joe observed. “I’ll show you now, if you like.”
He spoke openly and casually, although it was clearly directed at Hazel, and she knew if he had suggested this yesterday, she would have jumped at the chance.
“Another time, perhaps. The children are desperate for tea.”
The children, of course, had not been invited but could have served as careless chaperones. As she turned toward them, she caught the perceptive glance he cast at her. She thought he had noticed the difference in her manner and was glad.
It was not that she believed everything Lady Standish had said to her last night. The picture she painted of her brother, desperately flirting with every female in his path as though to feed his own smug pride at the expense of everyone else’s feelings, hardly rang true. She knew he was far more and far better than that. But his pending engagement did have the ring of truth to it, and it was clearly important to his sister. Of course, Joe would marry where he chose, but Roberta’s words had brought home not just the truth of her own growing feelings for Joe, but the impossibility of happiness with him.
The difference between them was too great. Even his hints about courtship could only have come from pity for her situation, a way to fight her ruin offered by a man who had given up on ever meeting his great love. She could not take that possibility from him. Nor could she live with a man who did not love her. Not when her own heart was in pieces over him.
She walked back to the house beside Bart, with Louise on her other side, swinging from her hand. Sometimes, she wondered if she could feel Joe’s gaze boring into the back of her head, or if it was just wishful thinking—which was something else she would have to control.
As they approached the house, the presence of carriages and scurrying footmen proclaimed new arrivals. “Ah, this will be the Wellbournes,” Lady Sayle said, pleased. “Along with your friends, Bart!”
Bart looked, in fact, suddenly petrified. This was the moment he had gone to prison for, almost stood trial for, and his presence among the Sayles was hardly likely to be greeted with pleasure by Agatha’s parents. Hazel was more interested in Agatha and found she was walking faster as Bart hesitated.
“Courage, my dear,” Hazel murmured. “You have every right to be here, remember? You are Lady Sayle’s guest, and as such, are the equal of everyone else.”
Bart squared his shoulders and fixed a smile to his face.
A few moments later, Hazel had her first glimpse of Agatha. She had been handing a small bag to a footman, and as he hurried away with it and several others, Bart breathed, “That is her. With the pink bonnet.”
Hazel was dumbstruck. She had expected the girl to be pretty to have made such a powerful impression on Bart, but she also knew love was blind and was prepared, she thought, for just about any type of appearance. Except what she saw now.
Agatha was not simply pretty. She was beautiful, stunningly so, from the riot of golden curls peeping out from her bonnet to the delightfully curved lips smiling her gratitude to the footman. Limpid blue eyes, a short, delicate nose, softly curved cheeks and chin, were all placed to perfection in a charmingly shaped face. With a slender, elegant neck and a graceful figure, the girl was simply dazzling.
It was Joe who put Hazel’s thoughts into words. “Beyond his touch?” he murmured in her ear.
“This, and an heiress to boot? I’m afraid…” She never finished her sentence, for Agatha, having curtseyed politely to her hostess, suddenly caught sight of Bart, standing like a statue just beyond Hazel and Joe. The girl’s face lit up in a spontaneous smile of joy that made her already heart-stopping beauty positively sparkle.
“Bart!” she exclaimed, rushing toward him with both hands held out. Fortunately, she remembered etiquette a second later and dropped one to her side before Bart’s paralysis broke, and he strode forward to meet her.
Hazel could only guess what it cost him to greet her with such propriety, especially in face of her clear delight in coming across him. But he merely bowed over her hand and released it, although his eyes shone like beacons.
“Miss Renleigh,” he breathed.
“Well,” Joe murmured with amusement. “So much for our worldly insight.” He strolled past her to welcome the guests and in due course, was presented to the beauty.
Finding Irene beside her, Hazel murmured, “She likes him.”
“Oh, yes,” Irene agreed. “What I doubt is her ability to stand up to her parents and insist on marrying him. And then, there is her ability to make Bart happy. She is lovely and sweet-natured, but between you and me, Miss Hazel, she is slightly…er—dull.”
Hazel couldn’t see that the latter mattered much to Bart. She doubted the girl was dull to him. Her parents, on the other hand, looked utterly stunned to find him here, only managing to close their gaping mouths when Joe casually presented him to them.
“I believe you already know our friend, Mr. Sprigg? He and his siblings are staying with us for a while.”
Bart bowed respectfully.
“Indeed,” Mr. Renleigh said in a dazed voice. “Er…how do you do, Sprigg?”
“Very well, sir. How do you do?” He bowed with perfect manners to Agatha’s mother and waved one hand toward his siblings, who bowed and curtseyed accordingly. Hazel was spared an introduction as their attention was claimed by Lady Standish and Emma.
“Let’s go inside,” Hazel murmured to the children. “Perhaps by the side door to avoid the crush.”
They rather liked the idea of slipping away from the adults, and it allowed Hazel to adopt the role of their governess. She hadn’t forgotten Joe’s advice of last night, but she had not yet had the chance to speak privately to Lady Sayle.
*
Despite the presence of higher-ra
nking guests, Emma dropped by Hazel’s bedchamber before dinner to compare evening gowns.
“I thought you would have lots,” Emma said, clearly disappointed by the selection Hazel had hung in the wardrobe. “Since you were with the Princess of Wales.”
“No, I have two. And a ballgown for special events.”
“Well, that will be useful for our ball, at any rate.”
“Hmm,” Hazel said noncommittally since she very much doubted she could be present at the ball. If she was a governess, she had no business there. And she had no desire to ruin the event.
“Miss Renleigh is very beautiful, is she not?” Emma said as they left the room to go downstairs.
“Indeed, she is,” Hazel agreed.
Roberta, emerging from her own chamber in time to hear this exchange, gave her sister a tolerant smile. “Are you worried she will eclipse you at the ball?”
“No, although she will,” Emma admitted. “But I am not exactly on the marriage mart yet, so I don’t mind.”
“And by the time you are, that girl will already be married to a duke. Or a duke’s heir at the very least,” Roberta said, presumably having counted off the currently available dukes. “At any rate, she is no threat to your chances.”
Emma laughed. “I never thought she was! You make this all sound like a military campaign, which takes all the fun out of it.”
On the landing below, several new arrivals were being welcomed by Lady Sayle, who was promising to hold up dinner for their convenience. A middle-aged couple hurried toward the stairs, closely followed by a young lady and gentleman, Another, dark-haired gentleman, stood civilly aside for them, and glanced up the staircase at Lady Standish, Emma, and Hazel.
Hazel’s stomach plunged most unpleasantly.
Lord Barden.
Her fingers, just touching the banister, curled around the wood in panic. But this was why she was here, to look him in the eyes and discover the truth. Had he truly, deliberately tried to harm her?
Her legs kept moving as her gaze locked with Lord Barden’s.
Pursued by the Rake Page 13
