by Georgie Lee
No, I am nothing like that man.
They’d entered into their relationship freely and parted on amiable terms. If he left her like this, she would suffer far more than he would for their indiscretion. He might not wish to marry her, but he wasn’t cruel enough to destroy her completely. He would do his duty and the honourable thing.
‘Elizabeth, will you marry me?’
A wide smile of triumph spread across Elizabeth’s face and Hugh wished he could take back the words, but he didn’t. He might not have Sir Nathaniel or Clara’s regard, but he had his honour and he would damn well hang on to both even while he was losing everything else.
Chapter Eleven
Clara left her bedroom and walked down the Stonedown Manor hallway with heavy feet. She’d remained in her room for as long as possible this morning, lingering not so much over her dressing, but the dark circles beneath her eyes from a night spent crying. If she could’ve avoided coming down altogether she would have, but it wasn’t possible. To linger in her room would be to admit defeat and she wasn’t about to lower herself any further in the eyes of all the guests more than Hugh’s actions had already done. She’d left her jewels behind in her room and decided against wearing one of her new dresses in favour of an older one. There was no point putting on airs now that everything she’d come here to accomplish had been shattered.
At the turn to the stairs, she slowed her steps. Lord Westbook and Lady Fulton walked together a number of paces before her, their backs to her, heads bowed together, their voices low, but not low enough for Clara to miss what they said. They were so involved in their conversation that they didn’t notice Clara descending behind them.
‘I pity the girl,’ Lord Westbook tutted. ‘Despite her lineage and wealth this is the second time she’s failed to catch a poor marquess.’
‘What do you expect from a plain mouse? She might dress herself up in London fashion and Kingston jewels, but she is no better than that country girl who didn’t even have the sense to employ a London modiste all those years ago. She might be well off, but she can’t compare to a woman of sophistication like Lady Frances and men search for such qualities in a wife.’
At the bottom of the stairs, they made for the back of the house instead of the dining room and their nasty words faded away.
Clara wanted to climb the stairs and return to her room, to lock the door and crawl beneath the covers and stay there until Boxing Day, but instead she forced herself to continue towards the dining room. She had no choice but to put on a good show and make the best of things, to try to reclaim what remained of her dignity. Except she didn’t feel dignified, but lonely and hurt and eager for this day and this house party to be over.
With reluctant steps she approached the dining room and paused just outside it to listen to the mix of voices as the other guests chatted with excitement about the ball last night and no doubt about what happened between Clara, Lady Frances and Hugh. Unable to linger here all day and unwilling to have anyone catch her skulking in the hallway, she took a deep breath, composing herself in a manner that would have made her parents proud, and strode inside.
Her suspicion about being the topic of every conversation was confirmed when she appeared and all the voices settled to awkward looks and stares punctuated by an occasional whisper. She didn’t chide anyone for speaking about her, but made her way to the sideboard to try to eat breakfast even if she had no appetite for the food. She had to carry on as if everything was not falling apart, just as she’d been forced to do on that Christmas six years ago. Christmas Eve and the annual Christmas Eve ball at Stonedown Manor would be tomorrow night. The next morning would be Christmas and then the morning after that she could safely leave without drawing any more attention to herself than events had already done. She only had to get through the next two days and then she could go home and nurse her broken heart in private and decide what to do next. With the silence behind her growing to fill the entire room, she sensed it would be a very long two days.
‘Lady Kingston, it’s a pleasure to see you.’ Lord Stanhope stepped up beside her, standing much closer than she would have preferred, but having the decency to keep his voice low while the conversation behind them slowly resumed. ‘I admire your fortitude in coming down this morning. There are many London ladies who, after having endured what you did last night, would’ve taken to their beds. I’m glad to see you’re made of sterner stuff.’
‘Thank you, Lord Stanhope, for your faith in me.’ At least there was someone here who appreciated her better qualities far more than Hugh ever really had. Strange it should be Lord Stanhope.
‘You are most welcome, Lady Kingston, for I hate to see someone as nice as you subjected to such an awful thing.’ When she finished dropping a small spoonful of eggs on to her plate, he took it from her hands and carried it along with his to the table. ‘Please let me know if I may be of some assistance to you for the remainder of our time here. Your new activity partner, perhaps, for I doubt very much that Lord Delamare will have the wherewithal to participate.’
‘No, I suppose he will have other matters to attend to.’
Such as arranging for the announcement of his engagement in the London newspapers.
Clara closed her hands into fists at her sides, making her nails bite into her palms before she forced them to relax.
‘And if he is so bold to try to come and ruin your good time, I will be sure to call him out and teach him a lesson.’
Lord Stanhope’s willingness to serve as her champion brought a small smile to Clara’s face. As he set her plate down on the table in front of her before taking his own seat a little of the gloom that had covered her this morning began to lift. Hugh was not the only man in the world and if Clara had the strength to get through this, then in the spring she might have the temerity to endure London, to risk again the chance that she might find love or disappointment. With Lord Stanhope beside her, she felt a little better, but not nearly as hopeful as when Hugh had been with her.
* * *
After breakfast, Lord Stanhope’s prediction that Hugh would not turn up for the games or insist on remaining Clara’s partner was proven correct. Everyone gathered in the sitting room, waiting for the game of charades to begin and Lady Frances and Hugh were nowhere to be seen. In many ways Clara was glad, for it spared her the awkwardness of facing the two of them together since last night in front of all the guests. However, his absence also pointed out once again that she’d been thrown over in favour of a previous lover. It left Clara to sit on the sofa where she’d once enjoyed his attention and bear the many sympathetic looks being tossed her way. Except not all the looks were sympathetic. Lady Fulton stood with Lord Westbook by the window whispering behind her fan. The craven delight brightening her eyes every time her gaze landed on Clara made Clara want to walk over and knock the silken slats away from her and call her out. However, Clara was not a man to defend her honour in such a way, instead all she could do was keep her back ramrod straight, determined not to crumble or to allow any of the nasty woman’s whispering to undermine what remained of her confidence. She must pretend all was well and endure everything alone once again.
To her relief, Lord Stanhope came to stand over her. He wore a fine fawn-coloured coat that contrasted well with his dark waistcoat and added to his debonair air. ‘Might I assume by your former partner’s absence that I will have the privilege of stepping into his place?’
‘I think you may make that assumption, Lord Stanhope, and I appreciate very much your willingness to make such a sacrifice on my part.’
He flipped up the tail of his coat and sat down beside her, stretching out his legs and the highly polished boots covering them up to his knees. ‘I assure you it’s no sacrifice. Pretending to be a swan or a rose or whatever other object Lord Tillman has selected for us to draw for this game of charades will be much more pleasant with you here to cheer me on.’
&n
bsp; ‘I hope I’m enthusiastic enough to secure your victory.’ Clara wondered where she would find the resolve to care enough about this game. It was already taking so much effort to appear before everyone as though her heart was not breaking.
‘With you behind me, I’m sure I cannot fail in this endeavour.’ Lord Stanhope took her hand and raised it to his lips. He glanced up at her from beneath his eyelashes, the look beguiling and for some reason, at the same time, uncomfortable.
‘What have I done to be so worthy of your belief in me?’ She withdrew her hand as politely as possible. Although everything he said should turn her head, his touch and his words did not affect her in the same way that Hugh’s had. Perhaps it was simply her disappointment in her misplaced faith in Hugh and what it had cost her that kept her from enjoying Lord Stanhope’s attention, or maybe it was something else. With her emotions and thoughts in such disarray it was difficult to tell. She was growing weary of all this confusion about men. It made her wish once again that she’d never left Winsome.
‘Your mere beauty and charm make you worthy.’ He laid his hand on his heart, the gesture drawing her attention to his cravat pin in the shape of a family crest.
‘That is a unique cravat pin. Did you have it made in London?’ she asked, eager to turn his attention away from his over-exuberant fawning to something more mundane.
‘No, it was left to me by my father. One of the men on our estate made it for him. Usually I wouldn’t bother with the simple work of country craftsmen, but the man who did this one was quite good.’
‘You don’t seek to better those who reside on your land?’
‘They’re hardly worth the effort when it comes to trying to better them. They resist all opportunities to do so, nor can they possibly hope to compete with London craftsmen.’
‘But surely your concern for their welfare is one of your top priorities?’
‘They must look to their own welfare and work as their station in life dictates. Whether they succeed or not is up to them,’ he dismissed, almost regarding her as if what she’d said was to point out that he had two heads instead of one.
Clara laced her fingers in her lap and shifted away from him a touch, his attitude towards those in his care so much different from Hugh’s.
He isn’t a man I should be holding up as an example.
In the end, Hugh had proved himself to be far less noble than she’d once believed. Perhaps Lord Stanhope was the better man, although at this moment his dismissive words put him in close competition with Hugh. ‘I think it very necessary for a landowner to be concerned with the welfare of those on his estate, for if they don’t prosper then neither will he. It’s something my father always instilled in me.’
As if seeming to realise his mistake in being so flippant about those employed by his estate, Lord Stanhope tilted his head in contrition. ‘Yes, of course you’re right, I shouldn’t sound so callous about their welfare, but I’ve had great difficulty with them. Many are lazy and refuse to do the work necessary to make sure the estate prospers. They don’t care if the harvest is good or not and it’s caused me no end of difficulties.’
Clara wondered if their lack of concern was because their landowner didn’t care about them, but there was no time to pursue the matter. Lord and Lady Tillman entered the room with the hat full of slips of paper with objects to be used for charades. It was time for yet another game to begin.
A new energy surged through the room, but it didn’t touch Clara. She was tired of games, especially ones where she had to guess again and again at what something really was. She forced herself to sit through this one, laughing and clapping as required even while her heart wasn’t in it. She wished she could be anywhere but in this room, but especially back at Winsome.
At last the game ended and Clara applauded Mrs Alton and her partner Sir Nathaniel along with everybody else.
‘Would you care to join me in a walk to the orangery?’ Lord Stanhope offered as she rose with the others to take her leave.
‘No, I think I’ll return to my room to rest and read. I want to finish the story before the end of our trip here.’
‘I hope you enjoy your book and your time in bed,’ Lord Stanhope said through a sly smile.
Any other time Clara would’ve laughed at his attempt at innuendo, but all she could offer him was a wan smile and mumble her excuses, leaving before he or anyone else could think of some reason why she should remain.
Clara went upstairs to her room and sat down near the window with her book, trying to read, but the story held little interest for her. Where she’d craved quiet in the midst of the charades game, it overwhelmed her here and she found herself unable to sit still. Setting the book aside, she wandered from one part of the room to the other, unable to shake the nervous energy building inside her, the one that threatened to bring back all the thoughts about Hugh that had kept her up last night and made her want to burst into tears. Not content to spend another moment alone crying, she went downstairs in search of company. Except when she heard the laughter of the people in the rooms around her, the desire for solitude swept over her again. She wandered down the hall to the library and the illuminated manuscript. She wasn’t sure what it was that drew her to this book, but she longed to enjoy the beauty of the words and the serenity of the figures painted on the vellum.
She was not two feet into the room when she regretted coming here. Hugh stood over the book, flipping slowly through the pages. He stopped reading at the sound of someone behind him and turned, the regret in his eyes as powerful as the one in her heart. Whatever it was that had happened last night, it was clear that he was genuinely sorry, but Clara hardened her heart against him. Once again he’d dallied with her when he had not been entirely free to do so and for the second time it was she who would be left without.
‘I’m sorry to intrude. I’ll leave you to your reading.’ Claire began to back out of the room, but he raised his hand to stop her.
‘No, please stay.’
‘Why?’ He wasn’t likely to tell her that he’d proven that Lady Frances’s child wasn’t his and that there was some way for them to be together. It was ridiculous to even think he would. He’d never once fought to be with her, but always followed duty into the arms of another. If she weren’t so upset she might even admire him for it, but she couldn’t, not today.
‘I wish to speak to you.’ He stood with his hands behind his back and with all the formality and deference he used to show her parents whenever he would stay at Winsome Manor in between school terms. There was no trace of the swooning lord from last night, no twinkle of humour in his eyes and no hint of his charming smile. Instead, his expression was distant and apologetic, the way the doctor’s had been when he’d informed her and Adam that their mother would not recover from her illness and soon follow her father to the grave. It was the same way he’d looked before he’d told her he was going to marry Lady Hermione.
‘I think we said all we needed to say to one another last night. There’s nothing further to discuss.’ Just as before, no questions had been asked or accepted and no promises between them had been made. There was nothing holding them together, no obligations and no reason for her to stay here and endure any more of Hugh and his lies and disappointment. She’d been jilted before she’d even had a chance to accept him and during the Christmas season of all times.
‘I want you to be the first to know that I’ve asked Lady Frances to marry me,’ he stated before she could object or leave, his announcement dropping like a piece of stale plum pudding between them. From somewhere down the hall, Lord Westbook’s and Lady Fulton’s voices carried through the still. Clara couldn’t understand what they said. All she could do was focus on Hugh and the disappointment filling her.
The strength she’d employed to face the other guest this morning began to crumble as whatever small hope she’d held that this would turn out all right, as he’
d promised, was crushed beneath his announcement. ‘Just like last time.’
‘This isn’t how I wanted things to end between us.’
‘And yet it is.’ Her words struggled to find their way out of her throat and through the tight air of the room.
‘I would give up my title and Everburgh if I could take us back to the moment last night beneath the mistletoe and see it through, to make you my Marchioness instead of her.’
‘But you can’t.’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘Once again duty compels me to wed someone else instead of where my heart is.’
‘Stop, Hugh, please, I don’t wish to hear it or to know that your love for me is never strong enough for you to fight for us to be together, that your duty to Everburgh or the Delamare line or anything else never includes me.’
‘I can’t treat her so shabbily, Clara, surely you must see that. I would be less of a man if I did and you know it. If the situation was reversed and it was you instead of Lady Frances carrying a child, you would want to know that I’d do right by you and not cast you aside.’
He moved closer to her, standing over her with the same conviction that she’d faced him with the first day of the house party. Back then she’d intended to dislike him for good and to do nothing more than endure his unfortunate presence. Instead she’d grown to see beyond her prejudices and the London rumours to a man she’d thought was honourable and worth a second chance. It would be easier to forget him if she could continue hating him, but he was right and she hadn’t been entirely wrong about him. He was willing to do what was required of him even at the expense of his own desires and happiness. That it also kept being at her expense rankled. She didn’t want to listen to his reasons or any other excuses, but wanted him to hurt as much as she did, to experience even a small amount of the pain and humiliation flooding her. ‘Yes, I realise you must do the honourable thing. I only wish for once that it was me you were willing to uphold duty and honour to win instead of being cast aside because of it.’