Page 9 of Falling for the Earl (Improper Ladies #2)

A fter waiting for ten minutes, Lucy followed Lord Dorchester to the drawing room. Lucy’s fears rushed back when she met Mrs. Vellacott’s critical gaze from the whist table.

When Lord Dorchester had left her alone in the library, it had helped Lucy think more clearly. She had to keep a discreet distance from him while gossip was spreading about her. Yet it became more difficult when Lady Sarah greeted her with a wave from across the room.

Aunt Mary left her seat and approached Lucy, with Jane and Anabel following closely. “Lucy, where have you been?”

“I felt in need of fresh air, aunt.”

A frown deepened the fine lines on her forehead. “What nonsense.”

“It is very stuffy in here, Mama,” Jane said with a sympathetic glance at Lucy.

Lady Sarah’s approach gave Lucy a chance to resolve her problem. “Lady Sarah, how good to see you,” she said, going to greet her.

“I hoped to find you here, Miss Kershaw,” Lady Sarah said, with an encompassing smile as she took in her aunt and cousins.

Lucy introduced them.

“You must meet my brother.” Lady Sarah motioned towards Lord Dorchester, who had abandoned the card table to engage in conversation with another man.

He pardoned himself and came to join them.

Lady Sarah introduced everyone to him, while Lucy covertly observed Mrs. Vellacott’s stony expression. Surely, the woman could make nothing of this.

Lucy could see by the smiles that Aunt Mary and her cousins were affected by Lord Dorchester’s easy charm, as any lady would be. When they took their seats at the tables again, Lady Sarah took Lucy aside once Lord Dorchester had resumed his conversation with the gentleman, and Aunt Mary and her cousins returned to the tables. “Mr. Beaufort is in attendance tonight. He has completed his game. Don’t turn around,” she urged with a giggle. “I should like to talk to him, but I can’t go over boldly and address him. Shall we take a turn about the room?”

Lucy smiled and nodded, wondering why Lady Sarah didn’t ask her brother.

“I would ask Hugh,” Lady Sarah said, supplying the answer as she slipped her arm into Lucy’s. “But he would learn of my interest in his friend.”

“And you don’t want him to?”

“No. You never give brothers the upper hand, Miss Kershaw.”

“I’ve had no experience with brothers. Since I’ve had none.”

Lady Sarah smiled and led the way. “No, of course, you haven’t. They believe it is their duty to oversee everything their younger siblings do, and I have no intention of giving in to him.”

Lucy tried not to grin while thinking of Lord Dorchester in a new light. “I’ve noticed that men always seem to think they know better. Even though they aren’t always correct.”

“No, and they almost never admit it.”

While conversing, they strolled across the length of the room and came upon Mr. Beaufort. Lucy found him remarkably attractive in his evening attire, with his blue eyes and black hair. And he seemed such a nice person, although rather reserved. As if he guarded his heart.

“Good evening, Mr. Beaufort,” Lady Sarah said warmly. “I trust luck is with you tonight?”

He bowed. “Now that I am in the presence of two lovely ladies, it will surely improve.”

“Miss Kershaw and I plan another ride in Rotten Row,” Lady Sarah said surprising Lucy. “Perhaps you might join us?”

He took a step closer to Sarah. “I should be delighted.” He gazed at her fondly. “Am I correct in assuming your brother is to be part of the invitation?”

“But of course.” Lady Sarah looked up at him, perhaps a little distracted by his closeness. “Upon his return from the country. He leaves tomorrow.”

Lucy hid her surprise, as the dowager countess was still in London. Perhaps Lord Dorchester would visit his betrothed while in Kent.

Mr. Rattray’s entrance prompted her to groan under her breath. He stood for a moment, casting his eye around the room. His thoughtful gaze rested on her, and he nodded before Aunt Mary approached him.

Mr. Beaufort had been called to a table, and Lady Sarah returned to join her, having obviously enjoyed talking to him, for her eyes sparkled.

They continued their stroll. “I don’t trust that gentleman,” Lucy said, needing to express her doubts to someone.

“Who?” Lady Sarah looked past her.

“Mr. Rattray. The gentleman with my aunt. Do you know him?”

Lady Sarah glanced casually in their direction. “No. I don’t. Perhaps Hugh does.” She took Lucy’s arm. “It’s hot and stuffy in here. Fresh air would be welcome. Shall we go out onto the terrace?”

Lucy eagerly agreed. The night seemed filled with complications.

They donned their wraps and stood by the rail, delighting in the sight of a sliver of moon amidst a cloudless sky adorned with stars. Rose bushes scented the air, and a faint breeze lifted the leaves in the trees. The scene was ripe for romance, and Lucy yearned to be alone with Lord Dorchester again. She silently scolded herself.

Lady Sarah turned to her. “Now, tell me why you don’t like Mr. Rattray.”

“I’m not sure. Doesn’t that make me sound mean? He has set his sights on pursuing my aunt. It’s possible that he wants to marry her. It’s an innate sense, but I feel something off about him, something… false… perhaps even sinister.” Lucy shrugged. “It’s possible that I am being fanciful.”

“Women are gifted with instinct,” Lady Sarah said. “You should trust it.”

Lucy had to agree. “It’s rarely failed me in the past.”

“Mr. Beaufort is handsome, isn’t he?” Lady Sarah said in a warm voice. “I had hoped… but he has shown little interest in me.”

Lucy put a hand on her friend’s arm. “I would give him time. I believe him to be a careful, very proper man. One who has suffered a terrible loss. And after all, your brother is his friend.”

Lady Sarah’s eyes widened. “Yes, he has been through a lot. You are right, as usual.”

A brown-haired gentleman, appearing young and slim in comparison with Mr. Beaufort, stepped through the terrace door.

“Here you are, Lady Sarah.”

“Lord Cardew, I wasn’t aware that you planned to come to London.” Lady Sarah crossed the terrace to him. He took her hands and gazed warmly down at her.

“It was on impulse. Mama wanted to visit a sick friend in Mayfair and wished for me to accompany her. A friend informed me he saw you riding in Hyde Park with a lady and two gentlemen. I went to your home and learned of your direction, so here I am.”

“Oh, please excuse my poor manners, Lord Cardew, may I introduce you to Miss Kershaw?” Lady Sarah sounded flustered. “Lord Cardew hails from Bath.” She turned back to him. “Miss Kershaw also lives there.”

Lucy bobbed. “How do you do?”

His hazel eyes roamed her face as if trying to place her. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said finally. “Strange, when Bath is such a small society.”

“No, my lord, we have not.”

“Wait,” Lord Cardew said, sounding a few degrees warmer. “I recall having heard your name mentioned, Miss Kershaw. The Marquess of Berwick is a family connection, is he not?”

Horrorstruck, Lucy’s heart banged in her chest. She fought to calm herself. “A distant relative, my lord.” She wondered where he had heard the rumor. Was it even more widespread than she thought? She glanced back at Mrs. Vellacott, who watched her over her hand of cards.

Dismissing her, Lord Cardew turned back to Lady Sarah. “I was surprised to hear you were riding, Sarah. It’s not a favorite sport of yours. Who accompanied you?”

“Miss Kershaw, Hugh, and Mr. Beaufort, a friend of my brother’s.”

“Beaufort? Don’t know him.” He gazed into the drawing room. “Is he here?”

“Yes. The gentleman standing watching play at the whist table.”

“Ah.” He studied Beaufort for a moment.

Lord Dorchester joined them on the terrace. “I’m surprised to find you in London, Cardew. Knowing how much you prefer Bath society.”

Lord Cardew bowed. “Lord Dorchester. Mama is here to visit a friend,” he said coolly.

His lordship nodded. “I see. And shall you be here long?”

“No. We return to Bath within a few days,” Lord Cardew said. “My mother has obligations to fulfill in Bath.”

“Of course.”

Lord Dorchester’s reply seemed crisp. It made Lucy wonder if he liked the gentleman. It appeared Lord Cardew was also wary of Lord Dorchester.

A strained silence followed, which Lady Sarah hurried to fill. “Shall we go in and find somewhere to sit?” she suggested, her cheeks flushed. “Unless someone intends to join a table?”

“I came to see you.” Lord Cardew’s hand on her arm ushered her toward the drawing room in a proprietary manner. “I can play cards anytime.”

Lord Dorchester watched them cross the room and disappear into the dining room next door, where supper was served. When he glanced at Lucy, he appeared troubled. “Miss Kershaw, stay awhile?”

Her pulse galloped while her head told her sternly to refuse. “Perhaps I should…”

“We are in full view of the room, and we have been introduced.”

“But Mrs. Vellacott is here tonight,” she admitted, casting a discreet glance through the glass doors to where the woman played cards. “And the lady watches us now from her seat.”

“Confound the woman! Ah, so that is what this is about. She will see nothing worthy of gossip here, and there’s something I wish to discuss with you while Sarah is absent.”

She widened her eyes. “Certainly, my lord.”

He glanced at the brazier, its flames attracting insects. “I must travel to the country tomorrow. You seem eminently sensible, Miss Kershaw,” he said, turning back to her, his eyes taking in every feature of her face. “I’d be grateful, if Sarah should seek your advice, that you would dissuade her from being swayed by anything Lord Cardew might suggest.”

“I doubt it will occur. I am not a confidante of Lady Sarah’s, and I know Lord Cardew not at all,” Lucy said firmly. “I cannot imagine she would listen to anything I might have to say.”

His eyes searched hers. “My sister is not foolish. Please understand. But she has one weakness, and that is Lord Cardew. He might consider the time right while I am away from London to lead Sarah astray, and I’ve no doubt he will act on it. I don’t believe he has Sarah’s best interests at heart. Should you feel Sarah is about to make a mistake, if you could please try to counsel her, I’d be grateful.”

“I would love to help, my lord. But I am hardly in a position to counsel anyone. I have made mistakes of my own, of which you are very well aware.”

He laughed softly, his gaze resting for a moment on her mouth. “What a disgraceful woman you must be, Miss Kershaw.”

Lucy smiled. Oh, why did he look at her like that? They were on display before the whole drawing room. She tried so hard to keep away from him, while he drew her like those moths around the brazier fire. She felt herself wishing for the impossible. “Rest assured, Lord Dorchester, if I am in a position to offer advice to Lady Sarah and feel it would be helpful, I shall do so, although I can’t imagine anything to occur to warrant it.”

He straightened. “That is all I ask, Miss Kershaw. Shall we go inside? I believe supper is being served in the dining room.”

When Lucy took his proffered arm, emotion rushed through her so strong, she missed a step.

“Steady there.” He looked down at her, a world of meaning in his eyes. “I’ve got you.”

Perhaps in her dreams, she thought, wryly trying to pull herself together as they passed through the door.

*

Hugh drove his town carriage east toward the rising sun. Departing London at cock’s crow, he planned to spend as little time as possible in Kent. He wasn’t sure his mother could handle Sarah, even supposing Sarah took her into her confidence. She might confide in Miss Kershaw, however. Could he trust Cardew? The man had narrowed his eyes when he looked at Luke, as if sizing him up as a rival. There was no misinterpreting his possessive manner toward Sarah. If he’d done what had been expected of him several years ago, he might have that right. But as it was, he must stand in line with other suitors who showed an interest in his sister. How he would handle that was something Hugh couldn’t guess at. But Cardew lacked maturity. He was spoiled and remained under his mother’s thumb. Nor was Hugh sure of Sarah. She was obviously still fond of the man. Hugh had hoped her attention might be drawn to Luke Beaufort, but so far, it hadn’t blossomed into a romance.

Hugh drove into the stable courtyard at Woodcroft in the afternoon. Entering the house, he greeted his butler and arranged to see his secretary, estate manager, and bailiff the following day, then went up to change.

He rode his horse, Chance, along the road to his neighbors’ estate. When he arrived, the day was drawing to a close, and as he’d skipped luncheon, he hoped to be invited to dinner. He had known the Ashton family since he’d been a boy. His father had been a staunch friend of Sir Phillip’s.

Hugh was shown into the drawing room. “Lord Dorchester, good to see you.” Sir Phillip, a very tall gentleman whose head almost brushed the door lintel, came to shake his hand. His stance was upright stance his jaw strong. “How is your mother?”

Lady Ashton remained seated.

“Good to see you, Sir Phillip, Lady Ashton. Mother is in need of rest. I hope to persuade her to come home soon, but as Sarah is enjoying the Season, it proves difficult.” Hugh shook his hand, thinking new lines of strain marked Isabel’s father’s face. Lady Ashton, a small, bird-like woman, was also in some distress, her eyes swollen and red from crying. Hugh crossed the carpet to greet her where she sat rigidly in an armchair. She offered her hand, a damp handkerchief clutched in the other. Her eyes were red, and she actually glowered at him. Hugh was taken aback. What was this?

“I came hoping to see Miss Ashton,” he said, feeling the need to explain.

“We have news,” Sir Phillip said, standing with legs apart in front of the fireplace. “Unpleasant as it is, you must be informed of it.”

“What is it?” Hugh asked, frowning slightly. Not an illness?

Her mother dabbed at her eyes with the lace-edged square. “Isabel is unwell.”

“She is not unwell,” Sir Phillip said. “Confound it, Marion. Isabel is with child.”

There was a stunned silence while Hugh struggled to find the appropriate response.

“The father is Benson, our vicar,” her father said plainly outraged. “The bloody vicar !”

“Hush, Gerald,” Lady Ashton said in a faint tone. “The servants will hear. If only you hadn’t gone off to war, Lord Dorchester.” She continued to glare accusingly at him. “And left Isabel for years! You barely know each other.”

Hugh thought it remarkable that she expected him to have spent a good deal of his time with a girl not yet out, but she was so upset, he didn’t attempt to counter her argument. Lady Ashton put a hand to her pale cheek. “You might be married now.” She gazed at him hopefully. “Perhaps you might still…”

“No, Marian,” her husband thundered. “Allow him to deal with this as he sees fit.”

“What does Miss Ashton want to do?” Hugh asked.

Sir Phillip shrugged. “Who knows? She has some convoluted notion that makes no sense at all.”

“Miss Ashton is here? May I see her?”

“But of course, Lord Dorchester.” Lady Ashton straightened her back, sniffed and dried her eyes. “You’ll find Isabel in the conservatory.”

Hugh strode down the hall, wondering what Miss Ashton might say to him. Would she want him to marry her? Whatever her mother said, and despite her being in the schoolroom while he’d been at university, they had been friends. He’d taught her to fish for trout in the river. Miss Ashton had once unsuccessfully tried to teach him to crochet with a great deal of laughter. If she needed him, he would marry her and claim the child as his. But the thought made him bitter.

He found her examining a pot of pink cyclamens, a trowel in her hand. When she saw him, she gave a start and her face paled. “You’ve heard?”

“Yes.” He came to kiss her cool cheek.

She placed a hand lightly on his shoulder, holding herself stiffly.

“Do you wish to marry me, Miss Ashton… Isabel?”

She shook her head. “What sort of marriage would we have? Even if you are the generous man I think you are, I would make a terrible wife and the babe will not be yours. I won’t do that to you. No doubt Mama hopes we might still marry. But it will not happen.”

“What about Mr. Benson?” He frowned. “Why isn’t he here to support you?”

“Michael had to attend the village fete,” she said. “He has discussed our future with my parents.”

Hugh would have liked to hear that conversation. “So that makes this all right?”

She looked defensive. “He is the third son of a wealthy, titled family.”

“I wonder more about his beliefs.” Hugh knew not all vicars were especially religious, but one expected them to be upstanding members of the community.

“I know what you’re thinking. But it was all my doing.” She shrugged. “We love each other. Michael has told them he is prepared to take a parish somewhere in England if we marry. But I don’t want to remain here. It wouldn’t matter where we went in this country. Rumors spread. It would be too hard on Mama.”

“But where would you go?”

“Michael has had a living offered him in Ceylon,” she said, motioning Hugh to a pair of wicker chairs. “He requires a wife.” Her lips firmed. “I shall go with him.”

Hugh stared at her as they took their seats. “That would be difficult, Isabel, even dangerous.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“It would be a very harsh life. You have not been brought up to face such hardship.”

“Nevertheless, I intend to go. It is for the best. Papa feels my disgrace will ruin the family name and standing in the community. While Mama still yearns to see me married to you and living nearby.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

She shook her head. “Thank you, but no. Because I was yet to make my debut, our betrothal was never formally announced. It’s my hope that gossip and speculation will die down quickly after I leave England. Father will come up with some acceptable reason for my absence.” She reached across and took his hand, squeezing it, her eyes gentle. “You are free to marry someone you love, Hugh. Be happy.”

“We could have made a go of marriage, Isabel,” he said. “Your mother seems to feel I failed you when I joined the army.”

“What nonsense. We were only ever friends. This is entirely my fault. I want more from life than an arranged marriage, and so do you.”

He had to admit it was true. While he feared for Isabel’s future, he realized how strong she was, mentally at least. But physically? “Is the vicar a good man?” He clamped his jaw at the urge to draw the man’s cork.

“Indeed, he is.”

“I’ll visit him and ensure he has your interest at heart.”

She placed a hand on his arm. “No, Hugh. Michael was quite prepared to remain here. He put no pressure on me. It was I who refused. This is the work he has always yearned for, and he is passionate about it. I want to help him. To be by his side through thick and thin.”

“But will you leave before the baby is born? The sea voyage…”

“I shall endure it. I sent you a letter, explaining all this, but you obviously haven’t yet received it. Michael has arranged for the vicar of St. Martin’s in Canterbury to marry us in a month’s time after the banns are read. We’ll sail the following day.” She looked so different, so animated, her eyes gleaming, her cheeks flushed. “I am looking forward to the trip. To visit a new, exotic land. To have the Lord’s work to do. Never have I felt this excited and hopeful. And you must know I would have made a very bad countess.”

“I doubt that.” He sighed, concern for her tightening his chest. “Will you write?”

Isabel nodded with a smile. “Of course.” She bent forward, put a hand on his shoulder, and kissed his cheek.

Hugh declined to dine with the Ashtons. Isabel’s determination to depart England in a few weeks had brought on a fresh set of tears and moans from her mother. Her father glowered, a line of white around his hard-clenched mouth.

“We need to keep this secret until Isabel leaves the country,” he said to Hugh. “There were many expecting you two to marry. Can I ask that of you, Lord Dorchester?”

“But of course, sir.”

Hugh thought he was intruding and that he no longer had any place there. As he rode home, he felt as if a chunk of his life had been ripped away. But at the same time, the sudden release of tension in his body that he’d hardly been aware of, made him gasp. After supper, he sat in the library with a book on his knee he barely glanced at. It suddenly hit him. In a month, he was free to choose his partner in life. Acknowledging it made him lightheaded. He’d never realized how much his and Isabel’s arranged marriage had weighed on him. And shaped his life.

The clock struck midnight when he finally climbed the stairs. With his batman-come-valet, Wickstaff, visiting his sick mother, Hugh prepared for bed and slipped beneath the covers. Blowing out the candle, he lay in the dark, his mind too busy for sleep. He had not wanted to marry Isabel, in truth. But for it to end this way…

With a deep sigh, he decided to visit Mr. Benson tomorrow and make sure the vicar was everything Isabel thought him. But if Hugh was unconvinced of the man’s ability to take care of her, what could he do? She was so determined, he doubted she’d listen to reason. And the truth was that her life as she knew it would be finished should she remain in England. Unless a suitable husband was quickly found. It didn’t stop the anger boiling inside him. The vicar didn’t deserve her. What does a tenderly raised girl know of life at eighteen? To seduce her before marriage, and whatever Isabel said to the contrary, he should have taken control of the situation to protect her. It will be difficult to face the man when Hugh itched to give him a good thrashing.

Giving vent physically to his anger was impossible. It would only make matters worse. After he’d seen his staff in the morning, he’d stop at the presbytery on his way up to London. He was anxious to be back in the city. He didn’t trust Cardew, who seemed put out by a possible rival. Might the man now be considering marrying Sarah? Hugh very much doubted Cardew would go against his mother’s wishes. Yet Hugh didn’t trust him an inch. As Sarah’s older brother and guardian, he could insist she never spoke to Cardew again. But he knew her too well. It would only serve to make her rebel.

He allowed his thoughts to dwell on Miss Kershaw. Would he see her again soon? She was as skittish as a foal, determined to remain aloof from him because of some misplaced idea that she would draw him into a scandal. But he had to admit there was reason for her concern. Word had obviously spread about her supposed inheritance, thanks, he supposed, to Mrs. Vellacott. He had noticed the woman’s sour expression as she’d sat at the table at the Williams’ party. She might believe the rumor to be true and was gaining some notoriety for herself by being the first to share the news, but his gut feeling told him she knew it was a lie and had taken it upon herself to spread that nasty rumor, keen to discover more fuel to add to the fire. Though the reason why it concerned her so much, he couldn’t imagine. Was it merely the loss of a few pounds in a bad investment?