Page 21 of The Incident at Ingleton (Beau Monde Secrets #3)

A fter staying up all night, Hester had expected to sleep well into the afternoon. Heaven knew she needed rest! But Mrs. Potter shook her awake at noon.

“Miss! I mean, Lady Hester! There’s a visitor who wishes to speak to you!”

Hester sat up and rubbed her eyes. “What now? Can you say that again?” She smothered a yawn.

She’d expected visitors who wanted to see Rose and the new baby. The vicar was an important member of the community in a village like this, and the birth of his first child would be a memorable event. But she hadn’t expected any visitors who wanted to see her . Who on earth could be calling?

“It’s a young gentleman,” Mrs. Potter explained.

For one panicked moment, Hester worried that the putative “gentleman” might be Neville Butler himself. Why else would he linger in the area?

She was relieved when Mrs. Potter added: “A Mr. Haworth, I think he said?”

“Tell him I’ll be down in—er, in about five minutes.” She knew that was a generous estimate, given that she’d fallen asleep still wearing yesterday’s soiled gown.

In reality, it took more like a quarter of an hour to wash up, dress, and tidy her hair. Her heart pounded with anticipation as she chose her prettiest morning gown. Utter silliness, she knew. She did not need to impress Mr. Haworth with her beauty or charm. But she wanted to look her best today, though she shied away from asking herself why that mattered so much.

She found the visitor in the parlor, in earnest discussion with Frank.

“Ah, Hetty, good to see you awake.” Frank made a show of pulling out his watch, feigning amazement at the hour. “I’m afraid I’ve letters to write!”

Though Hester stared at him beseechingly, Frank only smiled at her as he left the room, once again leaving her alone with a handsome young man. The only comfort was that Mr. Haworth seemed to feel as tense and uncomfortable as Hester did. Her nerves might be wound tight, but at least she had company in her nervousness.

“I hear that your sister-in-law is to be congratulated on the birth of a son,” he offered.

That drew a genuine smile from Hester and eased some of her awkwardness. “Yes. Little Alistair seems to be a fine, healthy child.”

Rose thought Alistair was the most beautiful baby in the world, but Hester had her doubts. Even after being bathed, he seemed rather wrinkly and red to her. Mrs. Potter claimed all newborns looked like that, but Hester remained unconvinced.

After that, she fell silent, not knowing what to say. Mr. Haworth did not seem to know what to say, either. First, he took a small, leather-bound notebook out of his pocket. Then he made a show of examining the point of his pencil to see if it was sharp enough for writing.

She cautiously broached the awkward silence. “So. Did you meet with my father?” She clasped her hands together, feeling unexpectedly anxious. Her father’s letter had sounded terribly angry. She could only hope that his bad temper had passed before Walter reached Bracknell Hall.

Mr. Haworth smiled. “Yes, I did meet with him. Once he understood the situation, he received me most graciously.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, suggesting that perhaps Lord Reading hadn’t behaved so pleasantly at first. Then Mr. Haworth looked down at the notebook in his hands, as if he needed to refresh his memory of the conversation.

“What did he say?” While she waited for his answer, Hester saw that each of her hands tightly clutched her skirt. That would not do! She smoothed out the skirt and folded her hands neatly in her lap, hoping to appear less anxious.

“After I explained things, he realized that the situation had been misrepresented to him, and he agreed that he’d overreacted.” Mr. Haworth shot an odd, quick glance over the top of his lenses. “He’s taken back the threat of summoning you back to Bracknell Hall. Though, of course, you are welcome to return home if you wish.”

At that moment, a distant wail sounded from one of the rooms upstairs. The baby was awake and unhappy about something. The sound of galloping feet indicated that the either the nurse or one of the maids was rushing to assist, since Rose was not supposed to leave her bed.

“I think I might still be needed here,” Hester suggested. “Babies seem to take a lot of work.” Mrs. Potter rather alarmingly claimed the baby might grow even fussier and more demanding after the first couple of weeks. If that was true, Hester’s help might be needed even more.

“Yes, I told Lord Reading that your sister-in-law might appreciate your assistance during her lying-in.” He blinked owlishly. “However long that takes.”

“Her doctor advises her to stay in bed for at least a couple of weeks,” Hester explained. “Though I don’t know if she will really do it. She was supposed to spend all her time resting before the baby arrived, and you could see for yourself how well that worked.” Rose insisted that the resting regime made her feel worse.

“Yes, I’d be surprised if she decided to strictly follow the lying-in rules. In any case, your father wants me to tell you that you are welcome to stay here as long as you wish, or as long as your brother’s family needs you.”

Hester let out a tiny sigh of relief. “So, he’s no longer trying to force us to marry, then?” she asked hopefully.

For some reason, the question put a flush on Mr. Haworth’s face. “Um, no, he won’t insist on it.” He turned the pages in his notebook as if he were searching for a specific bit of information. “He did want you to know that he thought marrying might be the best way to protect your reputation from any further scandals.”

Hester narrowed her eyes, suddenly guessing why Mr. Haworth seemed so bashful about this. “You mean he still wants me to marry you?”

His blush deepened. “That may be putting it too strongly. Let us say rather that he wishes you to consider it.” He cleared his throat. “Believe me, I fully appreciate the awkwardness of this situation. I am aware that you don’t want to marry me, and—”

She rushed to reassure him. “It’s not that I want to NOT marry you, but rather that I don’t want to marry you. If you see the difference.”

Mr. Haworth gaped at her. “I’m... not sure that I do see the difference, but in any case, you may be assured that no one will force your hand on the matter.”

“Good? I mean, good.” A wave of doubt swept over her, leaving her momentarily uneasy about her decision. What would life have been like married to Walter Haworth? Would she have a better chance of having a marriage of mutual support and affection with him than with some young sprig of fashion she met in town?

Hester shook her head and tried to dismiss those doubts. It wasn’t as if Mr. Haworth wanted to marry her. He had only offered in order to save her reputation. She didn’t want to trap him in an unwanted marriage merely because she thought he might make a comfortable husband.

“Is there anything else I should know?” she asked brightly, hoping to change the subject.

“Ah, there is one more thing.” For the first time, he appeared to actually read the words in the notebook, rather than just using it as some sort of shield. “I talked to Lord Reading about the blackmail case, you know.”

“Oh, yes! Did he know who L. could be?”

Mr. Haworth shook his head. “He didn’t have a name. But he suggested that L. might have been one of the men your brother knew from the Narcissus Club. Do you happen to know anything about it?”

Hester sucked in her breath. She knew a little bit about the club, but only because Simon had been a member. Simon! She expected her heart to ache at the thought of her former suitor, but, to her surprise, she felt nothing. Her heart must have healed over the last few months.

“The Narcissus club is patronized by the younger set in town,” she explained. “It’s very exclusive. I only know who a few of the members are.”

He looked at her more keenly than before. “Do you happen to know if there are any members named Lawrence, or Lucas, or Lowell?”

She startled at the sound of Simon’s surname.

Mr. Haworth didn’t miss that movement. He leaned forward. “You do recognize one of those names?”

A shiver of cold dread swept from her head to her feet, but Hester nodded. “Colonel Lowell is a member of the Narcissus Club. Simon Lowell, I mean.” She licked her lips nervously. “Do... do... you think Simon had something to do with the blackmail?”

“I couldn’t say.” Once again, Mr. Haworth evaded her gaze. “It’s merely something to look into.”

Should she tell him? Hester wavered for a moment, then took a leap of faith. “It’s because of Colonel Lowell that I was sent away from London, you know. We were... we had been... sweethearts, I suppose.”

“Sweethearts” might not be a strong enough word. Her face burned as she remembered the embraces she and Simon had shared in dark corners, balconies, and gardens. She had been so certain that she and Simon would wed that she thought it wouldn’t matter what they did together during their courtship. She was fortunate not to have gotten caught in something more compromising than a good-bye kiss.

“Oh. I am sorry to bring up such painful memories.” Mr. Haworth darted his eyes up at her and grimaced. “It might not be him, you know. There could be more than one Lowell at the club.”

“It could be him,” Hester admitted. “I am sorry to say that Colonel Lowell seemed to be rather unprincipled.” Though she hadn’t admitted it to herself so bluntly before now.

Kissing Hester even after his marriage wasn’t the first rakish thing Simon had done. One night, he’d cajoled her to walk down the dark walk at Vauxhall with him. She had resisted his appeals that time, thank goodness! For the first time, she realized that she would have been thoroughly ruined if she had followed him into the darkness.

“Well, it’s something for us to look into, anyway,” Mr. Haworth concluded. “But if you think of anyone with a similar name who might have a connection to the club, do let me know. Or let your brother know, though I suppose Frank has his hands full at the moment.”

He rose to his feet and returned the little notebook to his pocket. “I had best return to the castle now.”

Mr. Haworth hesitated, and she wondered if he was about to say something personal. This entire time, their previous conversation—the one when he’d more or less offered to marry her—had haunted her, lurking in the back of her mind while she tried to focus on other issues.

Was he going to say something about his near proposal? She sat up straight, hands neatly folded, hoping she looked like a perfect model of deportment. Whatever she might look like on the outside, internally, she fizzled like a shaken bottle of champagne. Her heart pounded, her hands sweated, and the very slight smile she forced on her lips felt shaky.

When the awkward silence lengthened, she tried prompting him. “Is there anything more you have to say to me, Mr. Haworth?” To Hester’s relief, her cool, collected voice betrayed none of her inner agitation. For all he knew, she might receive declarations of love every day.

Walter Haworth merely adjusted his glasses and smiled a polite, emotionless smile. The moment Hester saw that artificial smile—so different from one of his real, engaging grins—she knew he had no intention of making any kind of romantic declaration. Her own smile vanished as if it had never existed.

“No, my lady, that is all. I wish you good day.” He bowed, she inclined her head in response, and he strode out of the room, his long legs taking him quickly away from her.

She stared after him, surprised by how anti-climactic his departure felt. No, worse than anti-climactic. There were actual tears prickling at the corners of her eyes!

Hester had the sinking suspicion that she had, once again, made a fool of herself over a man who did not care tuppence for her.