by Joyce Alec
Not that she had ever deeply loved her husband, nor he her, for that matter. They had made a good match and had enjoyed a marriage of convenience, and whilst they had no affection for one another, there had been a fondness between them. A fondness that meant she cried for some time over his death, feeling as though she had lost a very dear friend.
Now, a little over two years later, she had found herself longing to rediscover the happiness and contentment she once had, although being a widow and a rich one at that, made things a good deal easier than when she had been one of the many eligible debutantes seeking a gentleman’s approval and attention. She had been welcomed back into society by almost everyone, with enough invitations to keep her well occupied. She had enjoyed it thus far, although she was not at all inclined towards any of the gentlemen who were so obviously desperate to seek her attention. She knew full well that her fortune was what made her so endearing to them and was quite certain that most, if not all, were either rakes or foolish enough to have lost most of their fortune or their allowance on cards or the like.
Unfortunately, Lord Hertford was exactly that kind of man and, despite her continued lack of response towards him, despite her ongoing refusal to allow him to court her, he was never turned away. Lord Masters also seemed determined to have her as his bride. Of course, she knew full well that both men sought her fortune in seeking her hand, but she was certain that neither man would ever achieve their prize.
No, that kind of gentleman was not the sort she would ever be inclined towards. Lord Ashton had been wise, kind, and caring, with a studious nature that she had come to appreciate. He had never been cruel to her, had never once treated her as though she were below him in some way or other, which was a rather wonderful quality not often seen in gentlemen of the ton.
“My lady?”
Realizing that she had been lost in thought, Mary turned towards the butler, seeing him hovering in the doorway. “Yes?”
“There is a gentleman here to see you, my lady.”
A frown immediately broke across Mary’s face, her heart quickening with a sudden anxiety. “I was not expecting anyone.”
“He is most insistent, my lady, even though I told him you were not taking callers this afternoon. He states that he must apologize for his absence last week, when he was due to call upon you but did not?” The butler evidently did not understand this explanation, given that he was all too aware that Mary had never once been left waiting for a gentleman caller.
“I do not know what he means,” Mary said slowly, her frown deepening. “There was no one absent from their calls last week, as far as I am aware. What did you say the gentleman’s name was?”
“He is one Lord Johnston, my lady,” the butler explained quickly, handing her his card. “A viscount, I believe.”
Looking at the card, Mary tried her best to recall the name but felt her mind grow blank. “No,” she murmured to herself, “I have never met nor seen this gentleman before. What can he mean by his supposed need to apologize?” Her voice echoed gently around the room before drifting into silence, letting the atmosphere quieten.
After a few moments, the butler cleared his throat. “Should I ask him to leave, my lady?”
Hesitating, Mary felt a sudden stab of curiosity in her heart, looking at the card for a moment longer. “No,” she said slowly. “No, I will meet with him and discover what it is he is talking about. Might you send one of the footmen in, however? Simply to stand by the door. And send Polly in also.”
She knew that, whilst no eyebrows would be raised at her meeting with a gentleman alone, it would be best to have both a footman and her maid, Elizabeth Polly, present in the room for both propriety’s sake and her own protection. She did not know this gentleman, she was quite sure, and certainly had not even been introduced to him, even though he appeared to believe that they had been introduced before this.
Quickly glancing into the looking glass above the fireplace, Mary resisted the urge to pinch her cheeks, which was still something that she did often. It had been something she had been taught to do from the moment she began to prepare to enter society, simply to show herself in the best of health and, therefore, more attractive to any gentleman who might take notice of her. Her hands resting by her sides, Mary lifted her chin and gazed back at her reflection.
Pale, smooth skin with white-blonde hair that she knew glowed like gold in the sunlight. It was, as far as she was concerned, her only attribute, given her light blue eyes that held no depth of color. She carried herself with as much grace and elegance as she could, but no matter what she tried, her waist refused to shrink itself any further, as it had always done ever since she first made her debut. Not that Lord Ashton had ever once thought this to be something of a disappointment, for he had often complimented her on her appearance. A smile tugged at her lips as she turned towards the door, recalling just how kind her late-husband had been. He had never sought the perfection so many other gentlemen looked for in a bride. She was not and had never been a diamond of the first water, and yet her husband had called her beautiful.
He had been a very good man indeed.
“My lady.”
She tugged herself out of her reverie as a gentleman whom she did not recognize stepped into her drawing room, bowing before her.
“Thank you for allowing me to call upon you.”
Mary curtsied quickly, lifting her eyes back to the gentleman’s face almost at once. She found that he did not have any sort of dark appearance, giving her no sense of fear or apprehension in any way. Whilst his square jaw was tight, and he appeared ill at ease, she could not help but sense that there was something anxious about him. His face was white, his hazel eyes darting from place to place about the room as though he expected to see someone else. His dark hair was neatly in place, with only a few small curls about his ears, and his hands were held carefully behind his back. Of course, being a gentleman of the ton, he was absolutely perfect in his appearance, although he was only a head taller than she. As she studied him, Mary became all the more convinced that she had never before set eyes on this gentleman in her life.
“I must apologize, Lord Johnston, for I do not believe that we have ever been introduced,” she began carefully, seeing her maid scurrying into the room to sit in a corner. “Unless I have forgotten it, which is most unlike something I would do.”
Lord Johnston’s expression grew a little confused. “Your brother did not inform you that I would be calling upon you?” he asked, shifting on his feet. “I confess that he did not, however, inform me of your name, and therefore I must also beg your forgiveness.”
Mary felt her heart quicken with a sudden, anxious fright and gestured for Lord Johnston to sit down opposite her, relieved when the butler opened the door to allow the tea tray to be brought in. It gave her a few minutes more to study the man in front of her, wondering whether or not he was, in fact, quite well. He did not appear to be distraught or upset, but that did not mean that he was not confused in some way, perhaps requiring assistance to return home. Her heart filled with compassion, feeling safe given that both the maid and a footman were within the room with them.
“Lord Johnston, my name is Lady Ashton and, unfortunately, I do not have a brother,” she said softly, quickly pouring the tea but registering his astonished look at the same time. “Are you sure that you are well? I can send you home in my carriage if you require it.”
Lord Johnston looked both affronted and astonished in equal measure. It was some moments before he accepted the cup of tea from her hand, but he did not drink it as he ought. Instead, he set it down in front of him and studied her carefully, making her flush under such scrutiny.
“My lady,” he began slowly. “Some days ago, I found myself in White’s. Having sat alone for a time, I was then joined by one Lord Shafer, who stated that we had been acquainted before. I did not recall him but, not wanting to make a fool of myself, pretended that I remembered our introductions.” He shook his head, his gaze droppi
ng from her own for a moment. “Foolish or not, we conversed for a time, and he brought up the fact that he had a sister whom he did not think much of.”
Mary arched an eyebrow, a little insulted even though she knew that it had not been directed towards her. “I see.”
“He asked me to call upon her the following day, stating that he, too, would be there. I was to make her acquaintance and give him my thoughts thereafter. I believe,” Lord Johnston continued, looking a little abashed, “that Lord Shafer hoped that he might find his sister inclined towards me although I did not hold out a good deal of hope.” Clearing his throat, he sat up straight and fixed his gaze on her again. “But that is beside the point. I found, unfortunately, that my head had become rather heavy that evening and Lord Shafer had to assist me outside and into a hackney.”
“Imbibing is always a little dangerous,” Mary commented dryly. “I cannot understand what this has to do with me, Lord Johnston.”
He smiled tightly, his eyes still focused and stern. “It appears, my lady, that I was drugged by laudanum, which was mixed with the brandy I was drinking. I have been abed for some days, regaining my strength. I believe the doctor thought I was close to death.”
Blinking rapidly, Mary took in this news and found herself feeling a little more compassion for the gentleman, now understanding the reason for his pallor. “I am glad you have recovered, Lord Johnston.”
“However,” Lord Johnston continued, as though he had not heard her, “I was sent this note as I lay in my bed, which I thought to be from Lord Shafer himself.” He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to her, which Mary had no choice but to accept. “I came to apologize for my absence, Lady Ashton, but now you tell me that you were never expecting me at all.” His sigh tugged from his lips, his shoulders slumping just a little. “And apparently, you do not even have a brother.”
“No,” Mary promised, her eyes now fixed on the note in her hand. “No, I do not.” She read the note a few times, seeing her address and the time Lord Johnston had been meant to call upon her without understanding it in any way. “I have never met a man named Lord Shafer.”
“Then what can it mean?”
Lord Johnston’s voice was exasperated, and he threw up his hands, almost knocking the cup of tea from the table.
“Why was I drugged with such fierceness that it almost took my life? Why was I supposed to call on you, if you do not know this Lord Shafer in any way?” His hazel eyes darkened, his lips thinning. “Can you offer any explanation, Lady Ashton?”
Her heart was clamoring wildly in her chest, and for a moment, she could not breathe, such was her fright. Lord Johnston had a good deal of fierceness about his expression and the ferocity of his exclamation was now still ringing about the room.
“I apologize, Lady Ashton.”
Lord Johnston was sitting slumped in his seat, one hand over his eyes.
“I apologize,” he said again, in a voice that was filled with despair. “Nothing makes sense to me, and I have brought my frustration and confusion out into this room without considering you in any sense. Do forgive me.”
Lifting his hand, he rose from his seat and bowed. “I will take my leave of you now.”
“Please.”
The word escaped her before she could stop it. She had not meant to call him back, but in saying such a thing, she had forced him to stop directly where he stood. Looking up into his face, Mary felt her heart free itself from the constraints of fright and upset, filling with sympathy for the gentleman who now stood before her.
“I fear, Lord Johnston, that this mystery does not only concern you any longer,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “I cannot understand what has occurred here. However, I must take this note for what it is – a note that gives my residence and encourages you to meet with me at a certain time.” Tilting her head, she looked at him carefully, aware that her instincts were to believe this gentleman’s explanation even though she did not know him in any way at all. “Unless, however, you wrote this note yourself and are using it in some way to enter into my acquaintance.”
Lord Johnston’s face hardened. “Should I wish to enter into an acquaintance with you, Lady Ashton, I should go about it in the correct fashion. Until this meeting, I have been entirely at a loss as to who you were, for I did not even know your name. I have been very ill these last days, which both my staff and the doctor who attended me can profess to. I have no reason to write a note and bring it here as an explanation as to why I have to call upon you.” Lifting his chin, he straightened his jacket and bowed again, making to take his leave. “Good day, Lady Ashton.”
“Wait, please.”
She was on her feet now, a stirring of anxiety rippling through her heart. She had insulted Lord Johnston, she knew, but she had needed to see his reaction to her words. From his expression, she believed him to be as lost as he made out to be, clearly confused as to what this note meant.
“I shall have someone verify this with the doctor who attended you,” she said slowly, moving towards him. “But I can see from your expression that you are greatly troubled.”
The anger in his eyes began to fade.
“I confess that I am now ill at ease, given that someone has attempted to have us meet without knowing why.” She handed the note back to Lord Johnston, her fingers trembling just a little. “I have no known enemies, nor does my husband.”
Lord Johnston’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “I apologize, my lady,” he stammered at once. “I did not know you were wed.”
“My late husband,” she corrected quickly, seeing the flash of understanding cross his face. “Lord Ashton has been in the grave some two years now, but he was as kind and as amiable a gentleman as there ever could be. I cannot think that…” Trailing off, she bit her lip, her eyes lingering on the note in Lord Johnston’s hand. “What are you to do now?”
Lord Johnston relaxed just a little. “I intend to go to White’s and speak to the footman who served both myself and Lord Shafer, whoever he is. I must know whether or not Lord Shafer did something to my brandy. I cannot shake from myself the feeling that the brandy was, in fact, meant for him, which means that he may now be in some sort of danger.”
“But why then would Lord Shafer insist that I was his sister and encourage you to call upon me?” Mary asked, feeling as though she was stepping further and further into danger with almost every word she spoke to him. “That does not bring me any sort of understanding, Lord Johnston.”
Closing his eyes, Lord Johnston let out a long breath. “You do not need to involve yourself, Lady Ashton. That was never my intention.”
“I am to be involved now, however you may feel about the matter,” Mary replied, with a sudden strength that added a sharpness to her words. “I am not about to be used in such a way without any understanding as to why that may be. For some reason, Lord Johnston, we are to be pushed together, you and I, and therefore I have no intention of remaining here whilst you attempt to find the truth about this mystery.”
Lord Johnston appeared taken aback by this, allowing Mary’s spirits to lift just a little, the corner of her mouth twitching.
“It seems, Lord Johnston, that we are to be acquainted with one another after all,” she finished grandly. “Now, please, do sit down and let us have a fresh pot of tea together. You can tell me all about yourself, and I will do the same. Perhaps we will find something in common, something that may bring a little more clarity to this situation, simply by having a conversation.” She did not allow him the opportunity to argue but rather turned her back and moved towards her seat again. The maid quickly took the tea tray away, leaving her with only the footman standing guard, but Mary did not feel in any way frightened any longer.
“Do hurry, Lord Johnston,” she said, seeing the way he still hesitated. “The sooner you acquiesce, the sooner we may begin our conversation.”
Lord Johnston cleared his throat, shoving the note back into his pocket. “As you wish, my lady,” he
stammered, before hurrying forward to retake his seat. His cheeks were now a little flushed, as though he had suddenly come to life again right before her very eyes. Feeling satisfied with herself, Mary smiled at him and saw how his gaze softened as he managed a small smile in return.
“Very good,” she stated, settling her hands in her lap. “Now, Lord Johnston, where shall we begin?”
4
Mary had not slept particularly well the last two nights, ever since Lord Johnston had appeared in her drawing room with his very strange note and even more confusing explanation. But, given that she and Lord Johnston had now had a few more conversations, at least she now felt a little more certain about the man. He was not, as she had first been concerned, a gentleman who was attempting to push her into marriage in some sort of convoluted way. She had already been pursued by more than a few gentlemen, and whilst finding it fairly easy to remove herself from their company, she had found one or two to be particularly dogged. It was almost a relief to be able to converse, dance, and even laugh with Lord Johnston without fearing that he was going to ask to court her.
As far as their short acquaintance was concerned, Mary thought quite highly of Lord Johnston. He was quick-witted yet thoughtful, almost considering each and every word he was to say before he said it. There was no false arrogance in him, no vain conceit that made him repugnant to her. Instead, she found him to be self-effacing, as though he thought little of himself in comparison to others. She did not think him to be any less of a gentleman, simply because of his quiet nature and thoughtful speech. Rather, she thought him to be a very refined gentleman indeed and, in her own way, was glad of his company. It appeared that—whilst he was acquainted with a good many gentlemen and ladies—he did not have any close friends, although he explained this with a brief description of what had occurred last Season. Her heart had broken for Lord Turner and then mended itself with delight and happiness. When she had asked if Lord Johnston had found himself doting on any particular lady, he had shaken his head, his eyes a little sad. No, he had told her; there was no one. He had once hoped that a young lady might choose to accept him over another, but she had not done so.