‘Lady Fanny, the Dowager Countess, appears to have formed a friendship with Mrs Godwin.’ Hollamby indicated the area near the long, shuttered windows, where Beatrice Chester—no, Mrs Godwin—was laughing with Lady Fanny, whom he recognised. Both fair-haired, both bird-witted. As Lady Fanny typified the silliest of the ton widows, he had taken pains to avoid deepening his acquaintance with her. Lady Fanny, like Mrs Godwin, had been a fixture in society for many years. While she was welcomed everywhere, she had held no particular power or position since the death of her husband, the previous Lord Kingswood. Her friendship conferred no special status on the Godwins, and so his opinion of the unknown Miss Godwin remained unchanged.
‘Lady Fanny’s daughter,’ Mr Hollamby continued, ‘is also friendly with Miss Godwin. Now, where are they?’ Mr Hollamby searched the room with his eyes. ‘Ah—there they are! Two beautiful young ladies, I dare say!’ He indicated a settee at the far side of the room, where two vaguely familiar young ladies were indeed conversing.
Perhaps I have met them both previously.
He had no idea when or where, as he had no interest in debutantes. Or maybe it was simply that all young ladies looked remarkably alike. Lady Fanny’s daughter was likely as silly and bird-witted as her mother, so this friendship conferred no added worth on the Godwin girl.
He eyed them closely. Neither wore matron’s caps, and both were attired in the pale colours of the debutante. Good. This was a further indication that the marriage was unannounced. Which one is Tom’s wife?
Jack assessed them both with a critical eye. The one he could see in profile seemed pretty enough, with auburn hair and very pale skin. The other—
He caught his breath. She was a vision of loveliness. Her fair hair gave her an angelic look, and her rosy cheeks, dark eyes, and perfect form seemed flawless.
Oh, Lord! He thought. If that is Tom’s wife, then it may be possible after all that he believes himself to be in love.
Suddenly it began to make sense. An unwelcome sort of sense.
She was looking directly at him, he realised.
She must be the one. And someone must have told her who I am.
Her gaze was level, steady, assured—unusually bold for so young a person. Strangely, as their eyes met, he momentarily felt lost, as if standing on soft ground, the world tilting about him in the most alarming matter.
She broke their gaze, her attention wandering around the room. Jack brushed an imaginary speck from his sleeve, determined to regain his equilibrium. It had not been she who had affected him. Of course not. It was simply the realisation that, given her beauty, extricating his brother from her clutches might prove to be rather more challenging than he had anticipated.
When had they met before? He thought hazily that he must have been introduced to her at some point in the past. They had probably attended the same parties, yet she had clearly made no particular impression on him.
See? he thought. She is not special in any way. Seeing her merely brought back my shock at Tom’s folly.
Mr Hollamby had moved on to a treatise on the Kingswood earldom and the Thornhill family. ‘Lady Cecily,’ he was saying, ‘is the daughter of Lady Fanny and the Fourth Earl, and the current Lord Kingswood—that is, the Fifth Earl—is her guardian. He was cousin to the Fourth Earl. Unusual that the mother was not given guardianship but, then, Lady Fanny has never been the most, er...reliable matron, eh?’
‘Quite.’ Jack was barely listening. What to do?
I must speak with her.
He had no idea what he would say but trusted the instincts that had carried him through negotiations with hard-headed mandarins, stubborn French vineyard owners and people of dubious reputation here in London. A chit, an untried girl, would be no match for him.
The gong sounded for supper, and he followed the crowd into Lady Jersey’s dining room. Keeping an eye on her was easy. Her fair head and blue gown were easily spotted in the throng. And so it was that he noticed her glance around furtively, checking that the people near her were focused on their plates. She murmured something to her auburn-haired friend, then left her side. His senses now wide awake, Jack watched as she walked towards the long, glazed doors that led to the terrace. With one final look around, she pushed one of the doors open a little and slipped outside.
It took a couple of minutes for him to work his way across the room and follow her. The dim light that met him on leaving the brightly lit house seemed inadequate. After only a moment his eyes began to adjust. There she was, on the edge of the terrace. Despite his aim of speaking to her directly, he could not help but be struck by how delightful she looked. The faint, warm light of the flambeaux lit her back, the blue gauze of her elegant gown seeming to shimmer in the orange glow. He could see part of her face, uplifted to the heavens, bathed in white moonlight. Her eyes were closed.
Aphrodite, he thought idly. Or perhaps Athene.
Did she know how beautiful she was? Did she have any idea that he was there? Pushing away the distraction of her beauty, which was making him feel decidedly uncomfortable, he reached into his heart to find the anger banked within him, and the knowledge that she was married to his brother.
Is this marriage due only to Tom’s foolishness, or has this woman deliberately tricked him into such a hasty decision?
He allowed his indignation to rise, then spoke. ‘So here you are. I have found you.’
Chapter Five
Cecily whirled around, somehow knowing as she did so who was standing there.
Do not let him intimidate you.
‘You were searching for me, my lord? To what end?’
He strode towards her, tension visible in the rigid lines of his tall frame. Something in his demeanour was alarming.
Oh, I should not be out here alone, Cecily thought. If something untoward were to happen, no-one would even hear me if I were to call out.
She was glad that her voice had sounded reasonably steady. Now, how could she escape to the safety of the dining room?
‘My lord? Then you know who I am?’ His tone dripped with arrogance. A man clearly sure of his place in the world.
‘We have been introduced,’ she returned calmly, adding, ‘Indeed, we have spoken on two occasions.’
There! Was that a flicker of uncertainty in his expression? It was hard to tell in the dim light. Perhaps he disliked her exposing the fact that he had not remembered her.
‘Of course. Yes.’ He paused. ‘At this moment I cannot exactly recall...’
Ha! He clearly had no notion where and when he had met her before. Well, she thought, suddenly angry, I have no intention of enlightening him.
‘Nor I,’ she declared blithely. ‘After all, one meets so many people during the season. It is difficult to keep them all clear in one’s head, do you not think? I arrived before you tonight and had the advantage of hearing the footman announce you.’
He blinked, clearly unused to such disinterested anonymity. ‘I see. Yes. I see.’
Cecily was beginning to enjoy this. ‘For what purpose did you wish to speak to me, my lord?’
‘Ah, yes. My purpose...’ He seemed to gather himself. ‘My purpose is to ask you what on earth you have done to my brother!’
She recoiled in shock. ‘What I have done to him?’ Her brow creased. ‘I am unaware of having done anything to him at all!’ She thought back to her hostile encounter with Tom Beresford the night at Christmas when Nell had gone missing. ‘I was angry with him, for good reason. Is that what you are referring to?’
He waved this away. ‘I care nothing for whatever games you play with him. It is this foolish marriage that concerns me.’
Oh, dear.
So Nell was correct—the Earl was unhappy about Tom and Nell’s marriage. She eyed him helplessly. It was not her business to comment on what should be a private matter between Tom, Nell and Tom’s brother. ‘M
y lord, I do not think it helpful for us to discuss this.’
‘Not helpful? Not helpful?’ He glared at Cecily. ‘What I wish to know is, why did you do it, and what will it cost me to remove you from Tom’s life?’
Cecily gaped at him. He is quite mad! She began to edge sideways so that he did not stand between her and the doors. She knew, of course, that there were people who experienced bouts of madness—why, the King himself was known to be seriously unwell. She herself had never been in the presence of a lunatic, until now. Although there had been no rumours of his insanity. Biting her lip, she glanced at the moon. It was only half-full, thank goodness.
I must keep him talking.
‘What it will cost you?’ she replied smoothly. ‘Why, nothing at all! I am quite happy never to see you or your brother again.’ She took another small step to the right.
He laughed harshly. ‘And I am expected to believe this?’
Strangely, anger now replaced Cecily’s fear. How dared he address her so? Summoning all her self-restraint, she replied silkily, ‘I refuse to discuss this with you, my lord, and you should know better than to accost a young lady on a deserted terrace and speak to her in such a way! I am unused to such vulgarity. Good evening!’
Her head held regally high, she swept past him towards the doors. Sweeping inside, she closed the door behind her with a firm click.
* * *
Jack watched her go, unable at that moment to think what he should do. Never had he felt such rage. It boiled within him, white-hot and ravenous. Oh, he had known how evil men could be. How selfish. How shallow. And he had known that women, despite their reputation for warmth and softness, could be just as ruthless as any man. But never in his adult years had he faced a situation where he had felt so lost.
Her calmness and serenity in the face of his approaching her had been frustrating, but the fact that she, a slip of a girl, had had the temerity to admonish him—well, that was not to be accepted in any way! Vulgarity? How dared she? A country miss of ‘respectable’ background and no title.
Does she not know I am the Earl of Hawkenden?
He stopped short. She had known exactly who he was. That, after all, was why she had somehow persuaded Tom into marriage.
She had not, he noted, engaged with his accusation of entrapment at all. Indeed, she had lied to his face, pretending she would be happy to never see Tom again. Naturally she would not engage properly, for she believed herself the victor. Aligning herself with an earl. Marrying an honourable gentleman. Self-advancement, at Tom’s expense.
And mine.
And she looked so angelic! Her skin, so pure and clear. Her eyes, wide with feigned innocence. Her beauty a disguise for the vanity and self-interest that drove her.
She cannot be more than one-and-twenty, he thought, and already she has persuaded my brother into marriage in quite the most pitiless manner.
Stepping down from the terrace, he paced Lady Jersey’s gardens by moonlight, barely able to contain the rage within. He recalled his brother’s face, soft with hope as he had spoken of his marriage. In contrast, he recalled Tom’s wife’s demeanour as she had serenely chastised him—a peer of the realm! She had showed no proper respect for him as head of the Beresford family, no understanding that he had the perfect right to question her. If she was now Mrs Beresford, then she would soon need to learn how to go on.
If Tom truly believes he loves this creature, then it is my moral duty to rescue him.
Until Tom’s defiance in the library earlier, Jack had rarely had cause to consider his obligations as head of the family. And yet, somewhere within, the responsibility had eaten into his bones, his gut, become part of him. It could not be ignored.
For the first time in a very, very long time Jack was at a loss. Anger and frustration consumed him. To return indoors was impossible—he would simply be unable to disguise his disdain for the hussy. In the end he made his way to the kitchen door and bribed a surprised and grateful footman into fetching his cloak, hat, cane and boots, and calling for his carriage. ‘Tell your mistress I am unwell and send my apologies for not taking my leave of her properly. Tell her I shall call on her on the morrow.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ replied the footman, opening the front door.
Jack had never been so relieved to reach the refuge of his well-sprung carriage. Although part of him recognised that his enemy was causing him to run away, still he knew it was the right moment to retreat. A public incident would not help his cause. As long as the marriage was not widely known about, he still had the slightest chance of ridding his brother of the heartless chit who had entrapped him.
* * *
‘Lady Cecily!’ It was Lady Jersey, her hostess. ‘Have you been out to take some of the night air?’
Cecily managed a half-smile. ‘Indeed. I became too warm, and feared a headache might come on, so I stepped outside for a moment.’
‘Oh, how vexing!’ Lady Jersey looked at her closely. ‘You do look rather pale, my dear girl—and you are trembling!’
‘Oh! I—Actually, it was colder outside than I had anticipated.’
‘But you might have caught a chill!’ She patted Cecily’s hand. ‘I shall order a tisane, and your mama shall take you home directly.’
‘Oh, no!’ Cecily protested weakly. ‘I am sure I shall be quite well again shortly.’
Lady Jersey would not be denied, her kind heart leading her to insist—in much too public a manner—that Cecily should withdraw to a quiet parlour at the back of the house, while a tisane was prepared and Lady Fanny found. Cecily, glancing around, could not see Nell, Beatrice or Fanny.
They must be in the other room.
Conscious of too many eyes upon her, she agreed with alacrity, following her endlessly chattering hostess to a delightful parlour hung with red satin stripes. Once alone, she paced the floor, reflecting in quite unladylike language about the character, behaviour and general wickedness of arrogant earls who had no business judging young ladies, or speaking to them harshly on deserted terraces. ‘Oh!’ she fumed, hands bunched into fists. ‘How I should love to call him out to a duel! I should like nothing better than to put a bullet through his empty, frozen heart, or stab him with a sharp sword!’
A maid arrived then, with a hot tisane. Cecily smiled crookedly, drank it slowly, and tried to calm her mind. A few minutes later the door opened again, admitting Nell. ‘Here you are! Lady Jersey has said that you are unwell.’ She hurried to Cecily’s side, her face creased with concern. ‘What has happened?’
Cecily opened her mouth to reply, then shut it again.
What could she say to Nell? Lord Hawkenden was either mad or was so implacably opposed to Nell’s marriage to his brother that he even wished for Nell’s friend to be removed from Tom’s life.
She gripped her cup a little tighter. Of course she could not add to Nell’s distress. ‘I have the headache, my dear Nell. It was such a crush in there and, truly, the thought of supper made me feel ill.’ That part was true, at least.
‘Oh, my poor Cecily!’ Nell pressed a hand to Cecily’s forehead. ‘I see you have a tisane. Is it helping at all?’
‘It is.’
‘I shall find Lady Fanny. You must go home this instant!’
‘Oh, no. I think Lady Jersey will already have spoken to Mama. Mama may be displeased if she is asked to take me away—you know how she hates to leave a party before she herself wishes to.’ They exchanged a wry glance. Both Fanny and Beatrice tended to put their own wishes first.
‘Very well.’ Nell pulled a chair close to Cecily’s. ‘Then I shall stay here with you.’
‘Would you not prefer to remain at the party? I am perfectly comfortable here, I assure you.’
Nell grimaced. ‘I am too uneasy to enjoy the soirée now that I have seen Lord Hawkenden.’
Cecily sat up straighter. ‘Has he spoken to you?’
>
She shook her head. ‘He has left, I think. At least, I have not seen him since supper.’
Cecily let out the breath she had been holding. ‘Good. I do not think I would like to face him.’
‘Why not?’ Nell’s forehead creased. ‘I mean, I know why I am nervous, but you? You have ten times my courage.’
‘I—er—encountered him briefly on the terrace earlier.’
‘You did? What happened?’
‘I have met him before, as I mentioned earlier,’ Cecily replied carefully. ‘We spoke briefly tonight.’
‘Oh, Lord!’ Nell put her head in her hands. ‘Did he speak of me and Tom?’
Cecily bit her lip. ‘I do not mean to repeat what he said, but it would be well if you and your husband give him time to come round to the notion of your marriage.’ She could not be completely open with Nell about what had just happened. Or that Lord Hawkenden’s tirade towards her had had nothing of logic in it.
Now that she had had time to reflect, she regretted not encouraging Lord Hawkenden to speak more plainly. Why would he try to remove Nell’s friend from their lives? It made no sense.
In all of this, Nell was her primary concern. Nell had already entered into this marriage, and Cecily saw—reluctantly—that she would have to counsel her friend through this trouble.
‘You mentioned earlier that you believe Lord Hawkenden to be opposed to your marriage. I fear you may be right.’
Lord, what a muddle!
‘I am happy to discuss all of this with your husband too, if he would be willing to engage in such a conversation.’ Perhaps Tom could explain what ailed his brother.
Captivating the Cynical Earl Page 4