This latest invitation was to a week-long house party, in celebration of that betrothal. The guest list, as discovered by his mother, was extensive.
He had to assume that summer boredom was responsible for so many of substance attending – or perhaps the spreading gossip meant that they all simply wanted to see the baker’s daughter who had captured the heart of a Viscount. Oddly enough, Isabelle had not seemed enthused at all, even though she normally loved social events. Regardless, his mother had almost begun to salivate at sight of the names of all of the eligible women who would be present.
Garrett knew when he was fighting a losing battle – he would have to attend, at least some of the activities – thank God he lived close enough to not have to stay at Hallingbrook! But his mother would not allow him to escape this – the Duchess was a force to be reckoned with, when she had set her heart on something.
Of course, if he attended, he would almost certainly see Lady Prudence. Lady Prudence Baggington was the bane of his life. She had decided some years before that she was destined to marry Garrett – and had thrown herself in his path at every opportunity since, even whilst he was still in mourning for his father, and his brother. She was the most irritating woman he had ever met.
He swallowed the last of the brandy, and deposited the glass on a side table. Perhaps a brisk ride in the summer twilight would improve his mood.
~~~~~
Lady Juliana Willoughby stared out of the window as the coach bumped over the last miles of the road to Upper Nettlefold.
The Nettlerush River ran beside the road, and the scenery was rather pretty, with the summer flowers and the green grass. She would have enjoyed visiting such a pretty place, had they been visiting for any other reason.
“Aren’t you excited, Juliana? We’re nearly there!”
Eleanor’s voice was light, musical, and always full of delight in the world. Juliana, as always, felt the contrast between her, and her sister, acutely. She sighed, and leant back against the padded seat as they bounced over another rut in the road.
“I have nothing to be particularly excited about, Eleanor, although I will admit that the scenery is pretty. This visit is, after all, primarily for your benefit.”
“Oh, don’t be so gloomy, Juliana – I am sure that you will meet some interesting and eligible men as well. There will even be a Duke present – an unmarried Duke!”
“Who will, undoubtedly, not even notice my existence. You, however, are far more likely to be noticed.”
“Don’t be so silly Juliana – I am sure that you will be noticed.”
Juliana sighed again, shaking her head. Their mother, used to this type of conversation, decided to distract them. Their father, as always on long journeys, was propped against the corner of the seat, and gently snoring.
“Girls! Must you have this conversation over and over? Eleanor – Juliana is older – why she’s nearly a spinster by most people’s accounting, and it stands to reason that you, at nineteen, and pretty as you are, will get more attention. Just accept it, and concentrate on finding yourself a husband – preferably a wealthy one.”
Eleanor nodded, with a sidelong glance at Juliana, and began to discuss with their mother who might be in attendance. Juliana kept the gentle smile fixed on her face, and went back to watching the world go by outside the window. Her eyes pricked with pointless tears, but she repressed them ruthlessly. By now, she should be used to it.
Being a spinster was infinitely preferable to being a clumsy, inelegant, too tall, too old woman amongst the glittering parade of young beauties. The tongues of the gossips of the ton were cruel. She’d had enough of their edge three years ago, and had avoided society as much as possible since.
Soon, they rumbled over an old stone bridge, the river rushing beneath, and the road took them into a large open square in the centre of the town of Upper Nettlefold. At one end of the square stood their destination – Hardcastle House.
It was a large building, which had once been an elegant manor, and now had been converted into a boarding house for the upper classes, a summer retreat for those who could not afford the prices in nearby Bath, or who were attending an overfull house party at one of the surrounding estates.
Which was exactly their situation. Funds were tight, for her father still had not managed to entirely repair the damage which his father had done to their estates and their wealth. And the house party at Hallingbrook Grange had overflowed to here, and to the two Inns. Her father had drawn the line at the idea of them staying in even a higher-class Inn, but had accepted the boarding house as a necessity.
Their driver turned into the narrow arch through the building and pulled to a halt in the courtyard within.
Soon, Juliana stood in the warm summer sun, watching as footmen rushed out to unload their belongings, and a stablehand came out to show their coachman where the vehicle and horses were to be housed. The bustle was pleasant, and mildly interesting to observe – far different from their stableyard at home.
“Come girls, let us go inside, away from all of this dust and dirt – your father can deal with the arrangements here for now.”
Juliana and Eleanor followed their mother dutifully, but Juliana cast a longing glance back outside – perhaps there was a garden, somewhere, where she might sit and read in the sun. The slight chill of the building closed around her, and she turned her attention to the woman who came forward to meet them.
“Good afternoon, my Lady – am I correct in the assumption that you are the Countess of Delbarton?”
“That is correct. Mrs Hardcastle, I presume?”
“Yes – and these must be your charming daughters.”
“Indeed. This is Lady Juliana, and this is Lady Eleanor. The Earl will be here in a moment – he is just directing the footmen who are dealing with our baggage. Our maid and his valet will be along in the other carriage shortly.”
“Excellent. Do let me show you to your suite of rooms, and then I’ll get some tea sent up. You must all be fatigued after your journey.”
They nodded, gratefully, and followed her up the stairs.
Chapter Two
Juliana was pleased when her mother chose a quiet spot on the edges of the ballroom at Hallingbrook Grange, where a couch and two chairs provided enough seating for them all. The potted palms and the draperies which also filled the edges of the alcove gave her some hope of remaining inconspicuous. Eleanor saw things completely differently.
“Oh Mother! I know that having seats is a good idea, but here? In this dingy corner? How will any of the gentlemen even notice me here?”
“Don’t fuss, Eleanor. We will move about the room for a time, meeting others that we may know – although there are precious few here that we do know. At least there are enough that we will be able to obtain introductions as needed. And this does mean that there are many eligible gentlemen here that have not seen you before…”
Eleanor stopped, struck by the significance of her mother’s words, then turned to study, more closely, the people filling the room.
Juliana was also studying them, but for completely different reasons. She found people fascinating if she did not have to interact with them. Their mannerisms and movements gave away so much about their thoughts and their personalities.
It was only when she had to speak to them, or, heaven forbid, dance with them, that she wished herself anywhere else but there. If a gentleman spoke to her, she became, in her own mind, instantly as she had been three years before, when she had stumbled through dances, tripped over her own feet, and embarrassed herself in every way imaginable. Her first Season had been her last, by her own choice – she never wished to expose herself to feeling like that again. It did not matter that she had spent the three years since being intensely careful about how she stood, how she moved, how she spoke – the second that a man addressed her, all of that fell away, and she was the gawky clumsy, too tall girl again.
Her father, aware of how Juliana usually approached the world,
began to quietly inform her of who was who. Most of the wealthy and titled people from the local area were there - the Earl of Rothlyn, the Marquess of Westwood, Baron Torsford, Viscount Mooresfield – whose house this was – and Mr William Allgood. Notably absent was the Duke of Kilmerstan – Eleanor would be disappointed if he did not appear for the evening. The Ball was the official start of the long house party, and was quite the glittering event.
There were others of significance, drawn from Bath, and even as far away as London. Her father did not know them all by name, but their dress and manner marked them out as of the nobility. Juliana studied them all carefully, amused by the posturing of the newly rich.
Even amongst the wealthy and titled, there were layers in society – layers that were quite visible, as people interacted – or chose not to. Layers in which Juliana’s family were, despite the title, rather close to the bottom, for they were by no means fabulously wealthy.
Eleanor and Lady Delbarton moved off into the room, circulating amongst the guests, garnering introductions. Soon, as was to be expected, Eleanor was surrounded by a cluster of hopeful young men. Juliana marvelled at how easily Eleanor dealt with it, how happy, how graceful she seemed, no matter what. She envied her that ability, oh, so much!
Turning her eyes away from Eleanor, suddenly unable to stand watching it, she looked to the door where Viscount Mooresfield stood, welcoming arriving guests. He had just finished speaking to a gentleman who turned to move into the room as the next guest stepped up to the host.
Juliana became completely still. He was striking – tall, very dark hair, a lean hard body, well displayed by perfectly tailored clothes, and a handsome face, with strong, almost severe lines to it. There was nothing of the fop or dandy about this man. Plain colours and simple elegance made him stand out far more than any amount of ostentation could. And he moved with the kind of fluid, controlled smoothness that Juliana longed to be able to emulate.
For the first time in a very long time, Juliana was gazing at a man she found undeniably attractive. It was a rather disturbing thing to realise.
“Ah, Juliana – see, over there by the door – the Duke of Kilmerstan has made his appearance.”
Her father’s voice broke the spell the new arrival had cast upon her, and she turned, looking as casually unconcerned as possible.
“Oh? That’s the Duke? I’m sure that Eleanor will be thrilled. He’s rather… severe looking, isn’t he?”
“By all accounts, most women find him attractive. He’s unmarried, but the gossips say he’ll be looking for a wife soon, for his only heir is a distant cousin that, it’s said, he doesn’t like. His brother was killed in France, and he’s two sisters to find husbands for, so he’ll be a busy man for the next few years.”
Her father chuckled, amused by the fact that, no matter a man’s title, some things remained the same – finding husbands for young ladies was a daunting task.
Juliana turned back to studying the room, finding her eyes drawn to the Duke, inescapably. He had greeted various people, then stopped to talk to Baron Torsford. The eyes of most of the young women in the room were on him, and it seemed obvious that they were all hoping for his attention. One rather determined looking woman was moving in his direction. She was a little solidly built, and dressed in the height of fashion, as far as style, but in such a terrible combination of colours and patterns that Juliana felt ill at the sight.
Observing the manoeuvring that would undoubtedly occur throughout the evening should be amusing indeed. She settled in to simply watch, quite confident that, if she stayed quietly trucked away, no-one would ask her to dance.
~~~~~
Garrett had forced himself to regard the Ball at Hallingbrook Grange as potentially interesting, when his first instinct was to avoid it completely. Isabelle and Eugenia were full of enthusiasm, and his mother was determined that they took the opportunity to meet potential suitors. Apparently, there were eligible gentlemen coming from London, and Bath.
Upon arrival at the Grange, his mother and sisters had almost immediately disappeared into the crush of people, seeking out friends to chatter with, and to leverage for introductions, leaving him to greet George, Viscount Mooresfield, at the door.
“Good evening. I must apologise for my mother and sisters somewhat unseemly haste. It appears that the lure of gossip is greater than that of ordinary conversation.”
“Your Grace, it’s good to see you here tonight. And as for gossip… I’m sure that your presence will set off a cascade of hope in the hearts of the unmarried ladies here, who will then discuss you incessantly. I have recently come to realise that the benefits of being betrothed are manifold, and one of those benefits is no longer being the subject of that kind of discussion and attention.”
Garrett laughed, and gently clapped the Viscount on the shoulder.
“Yes, congratulations. I hope that you’ll be happy. Although… I doubt you’re done with gossip, for, by marrying the baker’s daughter, you’ve given them plenty to whisper about, haven’t you?”
“Very true, very true. But I shall weather the storm.”
They spoke a moment more, then Garrett moved away into the room. People greeted him as he slipped through the crowds, and he could feel the eyes of the women upon him – the mothers who wanted their daughters to be a Duchess, and the daughters who craved the title. He doubted that one in twenty of them cared at all about him as a man. Although he was equally sure that they were pleased that he was young, and not ill favoured.
He spotted Torsford and moved towards him. They had been at Eton together, and the man was as close as he had to a friend amongst the local nobility, although of late Torsford’s house parties had been drawing the wrong set. It was disturbing to see him entangled with the rakes, gamblers, and wastrels of the ton.
Tonight, Torsford seemed in a better mood, and they spoke of the new Irish Hunter he had purchased, and his plans for his estate. Garrett carefully avoided meeting the eye of any of the young women, no matter how much they tried to attract his attention. He expected that he would, by evening’s end, be forced to dance, but he would avoid that also as long as possible.
He scanned the room, checking who was present, and assessing the likelihood of having to deal with people he found annoying. As he did, a most unwelcome sight greeted him. Lady Prudence Baggington, headed in his direction. She was unmistakeable - her gown, as always, well cut, in a most fashionable style that displayed her ample assets well, but made from a fabric of a pattern and colour as strident and grating to the eye as her voice was to the ear. It was enough to give a man a headache. Lady Prudence almost towed her mother, Viscountess Mortel, across the floor.
He sighed, and Torsford glanced past him, then grinned.
“Ah, the baggage has seen you. You’re doomed, old man, you know that she thinks she’s fated to be with you, or some such rubbish.”
“I know it all too well. I must escape her somehow, or I’ll be forced to dance with her.”
Garrett shuddered, and Torsford laughed again, completely lacking in sympathy. Lady Prudence’s pursuit of Garrett was rather a joke amongst the local nobility. But it was too late for escape – Lady Prudence and Lady Mortel were upon them.
“Good evening, Your Grace, so delightful to see you here! And your sisters too – we haven’t seen enough of you, this last few years.”
Garrett looked at her, and swallowed, trying not to breathe too deeply, for her choice of scents was as aggressive and tasteless as her choice of fabrics.
“Well, mourning does rather limit one’s socialising.”
His tone was dry and he was looking desperately for a way to end the conversation rapidly.
“It does, it does. Still, you’re past that now, aren’t you? Time to move on with your life.”
Lady Mortel looked significantly at her daughter as she spoke, and Garrett forced himself not to visibly flinch.
“Indeed. And the first part of that will be giving my sisters the Season th
ey missed.” Garrett saw a chance, and looked to the drapes near the terrace doors, pretending to see someone. “And it seems my sister wants me now. Do excuse me.”
He turned and fled, feeling Torsford’s amused eyes upon him as he did. But at least the man had the decency to continue the conversation with Lady Prudence and her mother, forcing them to stay and talk, out of politeness.
Garrett slipped out onto the terrace with a sense of relief, the slightly cool air of evening clearing the last of Lady Prudence’s terrible perfume from his nostrils. He moved to the end of the terrace, into the dark shadowed area past the windows, and stood, leaning back against the rail, the scent of the riot of summer roses in the garden below surrounding him.
As he stood, a door opened at the far end of the terrace, and a woman stepped through. The light from the open door briefly showed him a tall elegant figure, well-shaped and dressed simply in a beautiful gown of an amber shade, with hair like burnished gold coiled upon her head, a single tendril falling from it over her shoulder and drawing the eye inexorably to her décolletage. Then the door closed, and she was just a shadow amongst shadows.
He did not move. He simply watched. Why was she out here? And why alone? Her movements were smooth, careful, and beautiful, almost like dance, as if she took precise care with every step. Everything about her was in contrast to the young women who hoped to marry him, and as opposite as could be imagined to Lady Prudence. He felt a sudden desire to meet her, to find out more. He shook the thought aside – what kind of foolish idea was that!
Yet he moved forward, slowly, watching her and, when she slipped back into the ballroom, he also slipped in through the nearest door. Once inside, he halted, and watched her.
She went straight towards a secluded corner, and sat beside an older man and woman, and a younger girl. Her family, he supposed. Seeing her in full light, he was even more struck by her beauty, and by her self-effacing behaviour. She made no attempt to be seen, no attempt to do anything but sit quietly, unlike the other girl – her sister? – who was up again, tugging her mother after her, and off to speak to a group of women on the other side of the room. He had never before seen a beautiful woman choose to hide away in a circumstance such as this.
Lord of the Storm: The Common Elements Romance Project (Regency Gothic Book 1) Page 9