by Jenna Jaxon
Oh, God, he did know. Somehow, his solicitous behavior toward her today had suggested he hadn’t learned of her shame. She raised her head and looked him in the eyes. “And having learned about the gossip that ruined my reputation, I suppose you wish to revile me as well?”
“No, Miss Burrowes.” The hard planes of his face made him seem distant and unapproachable. “I wish to hear your side of the story.”
* * * *
From the way her eyes widened, that request had been unexpected. Nathan clenched his jaw. Had no one ever asked for her explanation of the events surrounding her betrothal and the aftermath of Carrington’s death? Gossip and rumors were often no more than that, but just as capable of ruining a lady or gentleman’s reputation. He wanted to hear it from the lady herself. He owed her that. If he’d stayed in England and married her, none of that unpleasantness would’ve occurred. And he found he wanted to retain the untarnished memory of their brief time together. He’d believed her a true lady then; he wanted to believe it now as well. “Please tell me if the rumors are true.”
“You are bold, my lord.” A steely blue-eyed gaze pierced him. “Why should I tell you anything, as it does not concern you in the least?”
“I think it does concern me, Miss Burrowes.” Grasping her hand, he clasped it between both of his, the sudden warmth assailing his senses. “It concerns me that you may have been reviled all these years unjustly, due, in part, to my folly. I beg you, please tell me what happened.”
Her shoulders slumped and she shook her head. “It matters very little what truth you tell. The ton will believe what it will.”
“But I will judge for myself what I believe is true, if you will tell me.” He wanted the rumors to be false. Wanted it badly. So he could believe in her still.
For a long moment, he doubted she would tell him anything. The bleak look on her face spoke of her distress then she dragged her gaze away from him.
“When you did not appear again that Season, I was angry and hurt. I had believed you honorable and had even fancied myself a little in love with you. So when I found you were gone, with no word as to why, I was determined to forget you, to get on with my Season and finding a man who would care for me. Lord Carrington and I were introduced a week or so after you disappeared. He was tall and handsome, had some wit in his conversation, and was very attentive to me from the beginning of our acquaintance. It took almost no time for me to believe myself in love with him, so when he proposed, I accepted him.” A ghost of a smile played across her lips. “He was a good man and we seemed to suit tolerably well. The wedding date was set, and we continued to appear together at entertainments, for all the world like a happy couple.”
The story so far was as Nathan had expected. Her last words, however, pricked his interest. “You seemed like a happy couple, yet you were not?”
“You know the prevailing thoughts on how a proper young lady should act, do you not, my lord?” She arched an eyebrow. “I’m certain you also are aware that many betrothed couples consider themselves married from the time the proposal is accepted.” Pink deepened the roses already on her cheeks. “Lord Carrington was one of those proponents. He begged me to…surrender myself to him before the nuptials were spoken, but I refused. We were to be married in a matter of weeks, as soon as the banns could be read. I told him we could surely wait that long.”
“But…?” Nathan’s heart hurt as though it had been caught in the teeth of a vise.
Her fierce frown took him aback. “There is no ‘but,’ my lord. I did not acquiesce to his demand, no matter what people may have said. We quarreled over it almost every time we met or wrote, until I wished for my wedding day just to make the arguments stop.”
“No gentleman should’ve put you through such anguish.” Nathan’s opinion of Carrington, not good to begin with, plummeted. “One ‘no’ from you should’ve been sufficient.”
Her sad little smile tore at his heart. “I am not surprised to hear you say that, my lord. I daresay things would’ve been quite different if the gentleman in question had been you.”
By God, but that was true. From the depths of his heart, he wished for the thousandth time he’d never listened to his father, had instead married this beautiful woman and lived a contented life all these years. Wishes, however, would never make that come true.
“When Jonathan…Lord Carrington fell ill, we assumed it was a trifling sickness. But the nagging cough became pneumonia, the doctor said. I journeyed with my mother to Bedfordshire, to his home seat where he’d gone when the sickness worsened.” Unable to hide her agitation, Miss Burrowes fell to pulling at the strings of her purse. “We kept praying he would recover, and for a while, he did rally. That is when Mama suggested we have the wedding go forward, by special license. Lord Carrington agreed, for he believed he would recover, but wanted me to be provided for in the event of his death.”
At least the man had attempted decency in the end. “But he did not recover?”
“No, he succumbed.” Her matter-of-fact tone seemed odd, but perhaps she’d come to terms with her grief.
“And you were grief-stricken for a time, I was told.”
She paused before answering, again unusual. “Yes, I secluded myself for a time, out of respect for Lord Carrington’s passing.”
“And then the gossip began.”
Bowing her head, she nodded.
“Was there anything that might have precipitated it? Other than simply your betrothal?” There must’ve been some reason for the gossip to start, although the ton’s tongues might wag if a dog died.
With a deep sigh, the lady raised her head, her mouth set in stern lines. “About a month after his lordship died, I became…ill. A slight indisposition only, and one that had occurred before.” Now she avoided his eyes and her cheeks grew rosy red. “I remained in bed for several days. We believe one of the maids told this to a neighbor’s servant and that is how the tale of a child began. A story that is far, far from the truth, but has nevertheless been believed from that day to this.”
“I see.” Nathan did see how such an indisposition, coming at that particular time, could be construed as a miscarriage. And there would be no way to refute it, save denials. Which would not be believed. The prevailing lax climate that unofficially condoned couples acting married when they were not, would be cited as the norm, and the guilt of the lady would be automatically assumed. “Was there anything else?”
She paused then nodded. “I was not with Lord Carrington at his death bed, but people who were there said that he continually asked about…a child. His child.”
Nathan closed his eyes briefly then asked in what he hoped was a normal tone of voice, “What do you make of that, Miss Burrowes?”
“All I can think is that the illness caused him to speak wildly.” Defiantly, she met his gaze. “I can only tell you that I bore him none.”
A disturbing development to say the least. No wonder the lady’s reputation had remained in ruins.
“So now that you know the truth, my lord, what do you intend to do?” Her tone affirmed that she believed he could do nothing.
Likely, she was correct. He’d sought her version of the facts simply to corroborate what Haversham had told him, and to hear it from her own lips, in the hope that he would discover her innocent. But did he believe her tale?
“Thank you so much for your candid words, Miss Burrowes. I know it was not easy for you to relive this episode in your life.”
“On the contrary, Lord Ainsley, I have relived it almost every day of my life since the gossip began. It no longer upsets me as it used to.” She set her jaw, giving her a fierce countenance. “I hope my story has illuminated the situation, although if you are like most people, you must make up your own mind as to my guilt or innocence.”
A swift nod of his head and he raised the ribbons to start the team. She was absolutely correct. He would need to consider her words, play them against Haversham’s account, and decide which version seemed more li
kely. And then act upon that decision.
Chapter 5
Mulling over Miss Burrowes’s story, trying to reach a decision as to her innocence or guilt occupied Nathan much more than he would’ve thought over the next several days. He’d been certain when he’d asked for her explanation that he would be able to instantly ascertain the truth of the matter, but the facts as they’d been presented by both Lord Haversham and the lady herself seemed extraordinarily plausible. The crux of the matter of his belief seemed to come down to that passionate kiss they’d shared under the cherry tree. Would a woman who had welcomed such a moment with him—before even an official courtship had been established—be more likely to have allowed similar kisses and more with a man to whom she was betrothed and expected to marry?
He needed to make up his mind and quickly, for time was of the essence. Mr. Burrowes would surely complete his arrangements for the marriage of his daughter to Mr. Burke soon if Nathan did not speak to him. And the more he thought of that eventuality, the less he liked it. Much to his surprise, his reacquaintance with Miss Burrowes had brought back the feelings of their brief but intense association those years ago.
To say he was still attracted to the lady minced words indeed. In fact, he’d thought about nothing else but Miss Burrowes ever since they’d met at Lady Hamilton’s earlier in the week. The sight of her once more, the knowledge that she was not married, and that her reputation had been ruined had actually kept him up these past nights. Damned inconvenient when he had business that needed attending to, but he’d been totally unable to help himself. If not for the uncertainty about her character that ate at him constantly, he’d have already met with her father and likely come to an accord with the lady herself.
So this evening he was on his way to dine with Haversham and hash out every objection to putting forward his suit for her. His friend would likely have very loud, very strenuous protests, but he cared not a jot for that. Deep down in his soul, he wanted her, believed he belonged with her. If his friend could talk him out of that belief, then so be it. The ensuing discussion would likely be lively, to say the least.
Upon being announced, Nathan entered the drawing room in Haversham’s townhouse to find he was not the only dinner guest this evening. Lady Letitia, Haversham’s sister, was in attendance, of course, but so were Marcus’s aunt, Lady George Pye, and his own aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Ivor and their daughter Celinda. Both Celinda and Letitia were out this Season, which must be the reason for the small dinner party. Perhaps a session in strategy for the young ladies had been planned. Still, he could speak to Marcus while they were having their after-dinner port.
“Ainsley, well met.” Marcus greeted him with a smile.
“Haversham. Good of you to invite me. How goes the courtship?” Nathan couldn’t help deviling his friend a bit. He’d begun his courtship of Nathan’s sister Kate a few days previous after losing a large wager. Nathan had been so consumed with thoughts of Miss Burrowes he’d neglected to monitor his friend’s progress.
Haversham rolled his eyes. “So far so good, although your sister could try the patience of a plaster saint sometimes.” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “She’s actually been quite good company, though I’d not have believed it. We went for Gunter’s ices today and discovered we both particularly like the lemon ones.”
“A match made in heaven, then.” Nathan chuckled. “By way of the gaming tables. I am very glad to hear it, Marcus. Carry on.” As his friend was about to step away, he grasped his arm. “We need to speak later, alone. About Miss Burrowes.”
“Lord God, Nathan.” His friend’s sudden menacing scowl almost made Nathan chuckle. “What the hell do you mean?”
“After dinner.”
Haversham groaned softly but nodded and turned back to his duties as host. “Shall we go in?”
The seating arrangements were not strictly conventional, and Nathan again assumed they were for the purpose of the parents and guardians of the girls needing to discuss the prospects of their charges. Marcus and his sister sat at head and foot of the table, Lord and Lady Ivor together on Marcus’s right, Lady George, Nathan, and Lady Celinda on his left. As the first course began, Lady Ivor leaned her head toward Haversham, and Nathan turned to Lady Celinda. His cousin was a particular friend of his sister. Perhaps she could shed some light on Kate’s perspective of Marcus’s courtship.
“Kate tells me you’re being particularly wicked this Season.”
Nathan froze. Dear God, had Kate found out about his wager with Marcus?
Celinda laid her napkin primly in her lap, as though she’d just remarked on the weather rather than that volatile opening volley. “I do hope it’s true. We’ve never had a true scandal in our family. I cannot help but think it will be most exciting. Of course, the most exciting thing will be my marriage to Lord Finley, but that will not be a scandal. At least I don’t think it will.” She paused to consider, her soup spoon poised above her bowl.
“Has Lord Finley declared his intentions toward you already?” The Season had just begun. He’d not even scraped an acquaintance with the man yet, although Marcus had.
“Oh, not in so many words, no. But we’ve gotten along famously since we met at Lady Hamilton’s ball the other night, where he danced the supper dance with me.” She smiled gaily. “It’s only a matter of time before he approaches Papa. Oh, I know what I was about to say. About the scandal. I haven’t planned for Lord Finley and me to be the object of gossip, save the good-natured kind—remarks on how handsome a couple we are, or how happy we look together. But one never knows.” She took a bit of soup then nodded toward him. “Just look at Miss Burrowes. I’m certain she never dreamed of becoming an example of a ruined woman when she first came out.”
Nathan’s soup got caught halfway down his throat. He had to calm himself, risk embarrassing himself by spewing the white soup everywhere, or drown in it. The rock-hard discipline he’d learned at Jackson’s salon, to push through pain or surprise, came to his aid. Slowly, he relaxed and managed to get it down, though he went into a fit of coughing afterward.
Good-naturedly, Celinda pounded him on the back while every eye in the dining room turned on him.
“Are you quite all right, Ainsley?” Haversham called from his end of the table.
“Never better, thank you,” he croaked. Clearing his throat helped, followed by a long sip of the good Bordeaux Marcus always served. He smiled at everyone around the table and when they resumed their animated chatter, turned back to Lady Celinda. “What are you up to, imp? Has Kate put you up to killing me? And how do you even know anything about Miss Burrowes?”
Waving her hand, Celinda laughed merrily. “Kate is much too taken up with Lord Haversham at the moment to think about you, Nathan. I believe they will make a match of it, and sooner rather than later.” She leaned over toward him and lowered her voice. “I have known of Miss Burrowes ever since Mama began preparing me for my come out. Her story was the example used to frighten me into behaving as decorously as possible where gentlemen were concerned. Never be alone with a gentleman, even one to whom you are affianced, or people will assume the worst and ruin your reputation the first chance they get.” The light-hearted Celinda actually shuddered. “I’ve known what happened to her for years as a caution against folly.” She arched her eyebrows at him “And I daresay the poor lady would just as soon hide as go riding in your curricle, cousin, for all the ton to see.”
Blast. Who had seen them in the park? He’d been so careful. “I wished to speak with the lady privately and thought a ride might be a pleasant outing for both of us.”
“And of course you had a tendre for her once as well.”
Thankfully, he’d not taken another sip of his wine yet, though now he wished for something a lot stronger. “What are you talking about, Celinda?”
“Your father told my mother about it, apparently just after you went on your Grand Tour. She told me of it when she warned me about Miss Burrowes and her plight.�
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His cousin knew damn well too much for her own good. “I knew the lady that summer, yes. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a tendre.” Although, truth to tell, his feelings had run much deeper than that. That was the problem now. He wanted desperately to believe her, but how could he?
“You didn’t ruin her, did you, Nathan?”
“Celinda!” The child was impossible. Heads had turned toward them again. “Your sense of the dramatic will land you in trouble one of these days, mark my words.”
“It has stood me in good stead until now.” Smiling sweetly, she lifted her wine glass. “And you neglected to answer my question, cousin.”
“Of course I did no such thing. I wanted to marry her. If only I’d been allowed to stay in London, I would have.”
“Do you wish to do so now?” His cousin stared at him frankly, much too knowing for one of nineteen.
“The situation is more complicated, as you must know. I have no way to know if she’s telling the truth about the matter.” And likely never would unless they did marry. By which time it would be too late if the worst turned out to be the truth.
“Does it truly matter so much after all these years, Nathan?” All teasing aside, Celinda looked earnestly into his face. “If she did make the mistake of which she is accused, can the behavior not be excused? I had this same conversation with Mama, who was totally unsympathetic. But really, the whole ton knows such behavior goes on and little is done to discourage it. I daresay when Lord Finley proposes we, too, shall anticipate our wedding night. I shall be disappointed if we do not. It seems almost the fashionable thing to do.”
“Celinda, your parents must be considering locking you up and having all your courtships handled expressly by the post.” His cousin was totally out of control to be proposing such wild behavior. Not that she wasn’t correct in her estimation that the ton turned a blind eye to the behavior of betrothed couples. Nor in her observation that such behavior, while officially condemned, was nevertheless unexceptional.