Page 25 of An Earl Like You (Games Earls Play #6)

Chapter

Thirteen

“ I think it’s best if I return to Melrose House today.”

There, she’d said it.

As expected, three heads swung toward her as the words left her mouth, and Sarah dropped her fork with a clatter.

Hattie sat quietly, the eggs she’d been pushing around her plate for the last half hour in front of her, her hands folded neatly in her lap and waited for a storm of protests to break over her head like a thundercloud.

That Margaret, Sarah and Lady Fosberry would protest went without saying.

Margaret would remind her it had been her idea to come to London in the first place, and that they’d risked rather a lot to carry out her plan. Sarah, who was no coward, and had never been one to give way in a battle would insist they face the gossiping ton head on, and as for Lady Fosberry…

She’d be the most disappointed of all except for Hattie herself, who was so ashamed of her own cowardice she couldn’t meet her ladyship’s eyes.

It was a bitter pill indeed to have made it so far and overcome so much only to scurry back to Kent with her tail between her legs, but surely they weren’t surprised? They must see that after the fiasco at Lady Dumfries’s ball last night there was no question of her remaining in London.

The moments ticked silently by, one after the next until at last, Lady Fosberry patted her lips with her serviette. “You don’t wish to see the Elgin Marbles today?”

“The Elgin Marbles.” Lord Egerton had stumbled into the ballroom last night with a river of blood gushing from his mouth, most of the ton had labeled Cass a villain and Hattie a shameless liar, and if that weren’t enough, Lord Egerton had forever destroyed the joy she’d taken in her lovely Prussian blue gown.

Her first and last ballgown, and it was ruined, just as her hopes were.

All this, and Lady Fosberry was concerned about the Elgin Marbles.

“Yes, dearest.” Lady Fosberry gave her a bright smile. “You did say you wanted to see them, did you not?”

“The Horticultural Society’s lectures haven’t ended yet, either.” Margaret set her fork down beside her half-eaten plate of toast. “Indeed, they’ve scarcely begun. Sir Joseph Banks’s Kew Gardens lecture is tomorrow, and I know you wish to hear it.”

“It’s bound to be a fascinating account, and it may well be his last public lecture,” Lady Fosberry added. “It would be a great pity for you to miss it, Hattie.”

Sir Joseph, the Elgin Marbles…it was all pure nonsense. “Are we still acting as if we came to London for the lectures?”

Margaret frowned. “What do you mean? Of course we came for the?—”

“No, we didn’t, Margaret, and you know it as well as I do. I came to London to see Cass, and you came in hopes of meeting Lord Hayward again.”

Margaret stared at her, open-mouthed, her cheeks turning scarlet.

Dash it, she shouldn’t have said that, or at least she might have said it with a bit more kindness. She’d made an utter mess of things from the moment she set foot in London, and now she’d hurt Margaret’s feelings, as well.

But surely there was no point in pretending any longer?

“I beg your pardon, Margaret.” She pushed her plate aside with a sigh. It wasn’t as if she could choke down a single morsel of food, not with her stomach still in knots from the events of last night. “That was unkind of me.”

She dropped her gaze to her plate as another heavy silence fell over the table, and it might have gone on for the whole of eternity if Sarah hadn’t broken it by delicately clearing her throat.

“I don’t care one whit for either the lectures or the Elgin Marbles.

I came to London to see if Alice Weatherby was telling the truth about the ton ’s shocking scandals. ”

Lady Fosberry chuckled. “Of course you did, dearest, and who can blame you? Those who haven’t witnessed the ton ’s disgraceful antics can hardly credit a word of the gossip until they see it for themselves.”

“Well, I daresay you have your answer, Sarah.” Despite her misery, a reluctant smile twitched at Hattie’s lips. “It turns out Alice was telling the truth.”

“Alice is a dear, sweet thing, if a touch featherbrained.” Margaret smiled at Sarah to take the sting from her words before she turned her attention back to Hattie. “Are you certain you want to return to Kent now, after we’ve come so far? I don’t deny last night’s ball was a bit trying, but we?—”

“Trying?” A soiled pair of gloves or a misplaced book were trying . “My dear Margaret, last night’s ball was an utter disaster.”

The whispers and stares when she’d returned to the ballroom after such a prolonged absence, Lady Laetitia’s mocking laughter and Lady Tremblay’s gloating expression were the stuff of nightmares.

But none of that compared to the expression on Cass’s face when he burst onto the terrace and found her out there alone with Lord Egerton. It had been the single worst moment of her life.

What must Cass have thought of her, when he’d come upon her on a darkened terrace with Lord Egerton, particularly when he’d taken such pains to warn her away from the man?

At best, he must think she was every bit as na?ve and foolish as he’d accused her of being, to allow herself to be lured away by a scoundrel like Egerton.

At worst, he might have believed she’d gone with Egerton willingly.

The thought made her shudder, but even that wasn’t what had kept her awake all night, tossing in her bed.

No, the worst of it was that the ton was putting the entire blame for the incident on Cass.

She’d heard the ladies whispering behind their fans as Lady Fosberry had whisked them out of the ballroom last night.

They said that it wasn’t Cass’s first brawl, and almost certainly wouldn’t be his last. They claimed he was dangerous, an unrepentant villain.

Those who didn’t blame the hereditary Windham wickedness for the incident were quick to point to Cass’s childhood spent in the rookeries as the reason for his behavior.

They’d called him low-born. They said it would have been better if he’d remained in St. Giles.

They’d said he might be an earl, but he wasn’t a gentleman.

All this, because he’d saved her from something too awful to contemplate.

How could she ever ask his forgiveness for something like that? His reputation was in tatters, and it was all her fault.

Coming to London had been a mistake.

She’d thought so a dozen times since they arrived, but only because she’d believed she would be the one who’d end up hurt. All the while she’d been worrying that Cass would reject her—that he’d tell her he’d decided to stop writing to her because he no longer wished to be her friend.

It had never once occurred to her that he’d be the one who’d end up hurt.

How selfish she was, how unthinking?—

“Here, drink this, dearest. You look a trifle pale this morning.” Lady Fosberry refilled Hattie’s teacup. “When did you wish to leave for Kent?”

“Today, if possible. This morning, if the thing can be managed.”

Margaret exchanged a glance with Lady Fosberry. “So soon as that?”

“Yes.” Now she’d made up her mind to go, she couldn’t leave London quickly enough. “You and Sarah needn’t return with me,” she hastened to add. “If Lady Fosberry can spare a servant to accompany me, I’m happy to make the journey alone.”

In truth, “happy” might be a bit of an exaggeration. With the memories of last night’s awful scene still fresh in her mind, she wondered if she’d ever be happy again.

“I have no objection to your returning home.” Margaret cast another cryptic glance at Lady Fosberry. “If you’re certain that’s what you?—”

“Of course, you must go if you wish, Hattie, but alas, I’m afraid I can’t accommodate you today, dearest. The, ah…well, you see, it’s the carriage. It’s broken.”

“Broken? But we took it to and from Lady Dumfries’s ball last night, did we not?”

“Yes, indeed! We did, but this morning Coombs informed me that one of the, er…the axles is cracked, and the, ah…what do you call them? Oh, yes. The wheels! The wheels are damaged, and the horse’s harnesses are in a terrible state. A terrible state, indeed.”

“The axle, and the wheels, and the harnesses? My goodness. That is unlucky.” More like unlikely, but her suspicious glance was met with identical bright smiles from Margaret and Lady Fosberry.

“It’s dreadfully unlucky indeed, but Coombs is seeing to it, and I daresay you can leave tomorrow, or perhaps the next day. Will that do, dear?”

It would have to, wouldn’t it?

She dredged up a smile from somewhere, but it felt stiff on her lips. “Of course, my lady. I don’t wish to inconvenience you.”

“Not at all, my dear child, not at all.” Lady Fosberry patted her hand, but her brow was furrowed with worry. “Last night was dreadful, but I have a feeling it will all be fine in the end. We’ll soon see you set to rights again.”

There was only one thing that would set her right again, and that was to return to Kent. Just the thought of her beloved home made her ache with longing, but she’d be there soon enough, and once she was back, she’d never make the mistake of venturing into London ever again.

“You haven’t eaten a bit of your breakfast, Harriet.” Lady Fosberry glanced at her untouched plate. “Shall I have the footmen fetch some of those peach tarts you like? I believe cook made some just this morning.”

“No, thank you, my lady. I don’t have much of an appetite. I didn’t sleep well, and my head aches a bit. I believe I’ll retire to my bedchamber.”

“All right, dear.”

Their anxious gazes followed her as she rose from her seat, but none of them ventured a comment, and she let out a breath of relief as she passed from the breakfast parlor into the corridor.

She didn’t like to worry them, but she couldn’t bear to sit there any longer, pretending everything was fine as her heart broke in her chest.

She dragged herself up the staircase, but just as she reached the upper landing one of the downstairs maidservants called out to her. “Lady Harriet, wait! I beg your pardon, but you have a visitor.”