Angel lightly touched the gentleman’s arm. “It was a most unfortunate event. Lord Mannington took the man’s death hard. Mr. Brothers remained a trusted member of the earl’s household for more than forty years.”
“It speaks well of Mannington that he recognizes the loyalty of those who serve.”
Angel looked up at the sound of a familiar voice. Silver eyes smiled with amusement at her. Belatedly, she dropped into a curtsey. “My lord,” she murmured.
“I believe we are to be table mates, Miss Lovelace.” The Earl of Remmington stood with casual confidence before her.
Angel shot a quick glance to where Lord Malvern spoke to his brother. Had the marquess sent Lord Remmington to question her on what to expect from her father? “Cer—certainly, my lord. I am pleased for the company. Pardon me, Lord Newsome. Mr. Connell.” She placed her hand upon the earl’s proffered arm and permitted him to lead her upon a stroll about the room. When they were from earshot of the others, she whispered, “What is amiss? I am certain the duchess indicated Mr. Christian would lead me in to supper.”
The earl leaned a bit closer. “I could not bear another evening of Lady Falonwick’s so-called witty repartee. I made a few discreet changes in the duchess’s seating arrangement.”
Angelica could not resist the genuine smile turning up the corners of her lips. “Yet, you will be banished to the end of the table where no one holds a title,” she teased.
Remmington laughed easily. “As long as I maintain your company, my dear Miss Lovelace, I hold no objections to taking my place at the end of the line.”
She swatted at his arm with her fan. “Despite our supposed uncivilized manners, even an untitled American will not be placed at the line’s end. My father is the son of a viscount and my mother an earl’s daughter. I am the niece of two earls.”
“And here I thought to become insignificant,” he said with a smile.
Angelica leaned closer. “I possess a plan,” she taunted. “Tonight, we will observe who is the last among us, and tomorrow, I shall arrange an introduction to the young lady in question. If insignificance is your desire, my lord, you possess a loyal companion in me.”
Sympathy crossed his expression. “And what do you hope to achieve at this fête, Miss Lovelace? An appropriate match?”
Without her permission, tears rushed to Angel’s eyes, and she swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “It is my duty,” she whispered through the rush of emotion. “Yet, in truth, I would be content with the power of invisibility, my lord.”
* * *
His mother had placed Lady Gunnimore beside him during the supper hour, which earned Hunt’s gratitude. He was in no mood to entertain another insipid miss this evening. Lord Remmington’s claiming of Miss Lovelace as his table partner rubbed raw against Hunt’s desire to be all things to the woman. Moreover, the couple was seated so far from him, Hunt held no hopes of snatching a phrase or two from their conversation. And to complicate the matter, their heads were often together in private conversation.
“She is quite beautiful, is she not?”
Hunt looked to his right to discover the Countess of Gunnimore’s knowing expression.
“I beg your pardon, Countess,” he said in awkward embarrassment. He did not realize his study of the girl would draw anyone’s notice.
“Miss Lovelace. She is quite beautiful.” The dowager countess enunciated the words as if he were slow of wit.
A significant pause followed. Hunt searched for a reason for his interest. “Lord Remmington is one of my most loyal acquaintances, and I was curious as to where he took himself off to. Ironically, despite the earl and I being long-time chums, he and my father are often at crosshairs in Parliament. Perhaps the duke banished Remmington from his sight.” He added a smile for good measure.
The countess spared the couple a wistful glance. “If so, Lord Remmington won the round. Mr. Lovelace and I agree that his daughter is Lady Victoria reincarnated.” She smiled in remembrance. “Lady Victoria Copley was the most beautiful and most cordial of the women with whom I made my Come Out. Lady Victoria could have had her choice of any among those interested in claiming a bride that Season. I should know. Victoria was my childhood friend. From the age of six, we shared everything. Little did I know, my friend would choose the man I thought to marry.”
Hunt tilted his head to one side, studying the woman. “Mr. Lovelace?”
Lady Gunnimore laughed with self-deprecation. “It was neither Victoria’s nor Horace’s fault. They were meant to be together. My friend and my beau looked upon each other with such fondness, I could not be the one to keep them apart.” Hunt noted how the countess’s fingers trembled as she lifted her wine glass to her lips. “I accepted Lord Gunnimore and became a countess, a much better position than a mere missus. Simon Connell was an excellent husband, and we experienced great satisfaction together.”
Intuitively, Hunt knew the countess would disclose a secret, which would impact his relationship with Miss Lovelace, and he held doubts as to whether he wished to be responsible for another secret. “Yet, Lord Gunnimore was not Mr. Lovelace,” he suggested.
The dowager countess presented Hunt a weak smile. “And Lady Mathild will never be Angelica Lovelace.” She sighed in resignation. “I suppose such a confession appears foolish to a young man whose life stretches before him.”
He thought to deny the countess’s insinuations, but when he glanced at the woman, Hunt noted her creased forehead and worried gaze.
“Of late, I have learned a deeper appreciation for the value of cherished memories,” he insisted. “Therefore, I would never give criticism to your reflections. Your thoughts are safe with me. Moreover, it appears you discovered my distaste for the duke’s plan for my marriage.” Despite admitting his confusion over his marital felicity, Hunt would refuse to confirm his interest in Miss Lovelace.
The woman patted the back of Hunt’s hand. “A kindred spirit,” she teased.
Hunt shrugged in self-consciousness while redirecting their conversation from Miss Lovelace and how much he desired the woman. “Why do you not confide in me, Countess? I find sometimes it is best to speak one’s fears aloud.”
Her voice pitched low. “I fear your family’s entertainment is about to become livelier, and I possess no means to prevent it.”
“Perhaps you should begin again, and do not spare the details. I would not see the duchess embarrassed,” Hunt whispered.
The countess’s mouth curved upward, but Hunt noted that the shadow of wariness remained. “When Lady Victoria chose to marry Horace Lovelace, I was not the only one to know disappointment. Victoria was thought to marry Horace’s older brother.”
Hunt glanced to where Miss Lovelace and Remmington conversed with the couple directly across from them. He wondered if Angelica knew the dowager countess’s secret. “I am aware Mr. Lovelace is the son of a viscount, but I do not recall if anyone mentioned which peer is the man’s sire.”
“Lord Moses was a viscount then. Horace’s father was Jonathan Lovelace, but at the time of Lady Victoria’s marriage, the title had passed to the eldest son, Cadon.”
Hunt searched his memory for any details of Cadon Lovelace, Lord Moses, but he abandoned the search for ready information from the Countess of Gunnimore. “Lady Victoria was to marry Lord Moses?”
The countess dropped her voice farther. “Not the viscount, but Moses’s heir presumptive, the second of Jonathan Lovelace’s sons, Carpenter. There was a major rout as Horace and Victoria eloped to Scotland. Her father, the then Earl of Northerson, disavowed his daughter’s marriage and refused Horace her dowry. The couple held no choice but to leave for America. Cadon presented his brother Horace with Horace’s share of their maternal inheritance, but Carpenter did all he could to prevent the transfer. Carp knew deep-seated anger with his younger brother’s duplicity. Horace Lovelace, realizing Cadon could not disown his heir acted with honor. He abandoned his family ties rather than to attach rumors and innuendo
s to the Lovelace name. Despite the odds against them, Horace and Victoria proved themselves an imposing force. He became a financial success, and she the epitome of polite society. I suppose I was the only English friend either claimed.”
Hunt attempted to sound casual. “I fear I do not recognize Lord Moses’s name as one of my mother’s guests. Of what disaster do you speak?”
The countess arched a dark eyebrow. “Carpenter Lovelace!” she said as if the name should hold significance for Hunt. When he shrugged, she huffed, “My Goodness! Before you accede to the dukedom, Malvern, you must study Debrett’s more closely.” With a quick glance about her to assure privacy, she whispered, “Viscount Moses is an obsolete title, one that could be employed by the heir apparent, if one existed, as a courtesy title.” She shook her head in sad reality. “Some fifteen years prior, Cadon Lovelace became not only the head of the viscountcy, but also the head of the Wesket family. Lord Moses became the Earl of Sandahl.”
Her reality became Hunt’s. “Cadon Lovelace is Lady Mathild’s father?” Again, he looked at Angelica Lovelace. This time her gaze met his and held.
“No,” the countess said in bitterness. “Some ten years prior, Cadon chose to marry Lady Rachel Summerset. He and the then Lady Sandahl were to sail from Scotland’s shores to Dover and then on to Calais as part of the celebration of their joining. Alas, Cadon fell overboard during the night’s middle, and the searchers never recovered his body. It was the first night Cadon spent with his new bride.” The countess paused to emphasize her skepticism, and Hunt struggled to keep up with her implications. She sighed and continued. “At length, it was determined Lady Rachel had not conceived, and the English Parliament declared Cadon dead after three of the ship’s crew swore they saw him fall overboard. After many years of waiting for Cadon’s hopeful return, the Crown, as fount of honor, accepted Carpenter Lovelace’s petition to claim his place in the peerage after the House of Lords’ Select Committee for Privileges ruled in Carpenter’s favor. Cadon’s brother assumed the title many thought Carpenter always coveted.”
“Do you mean?” Hunt throat tightened as his heart hitched higher.
When she responded, the countess’s voice was a bit deeper, filled with hard-fought tears. “I knew all the Lovelace brothers. Cadon and Horace were very much of the same nature—both sensitive and accepting of their responsibilities. However, God cut Carpenter from a different cloth. It is no wonder Victoria looked beyond Carpenter to Horace, who is a true gentleman.” The countess paused to gaze lovingly upon Angelica’s father. “Nothing could be proved, but duplicity rings in the tragedy. The moment Cadon chose to begin a family—a family, which would take precedence over Carpenter’s claim to the title, Cadon lost his life in an unparalleled accident. The rumors say Cadon was deep in his cups when he plunged to his death, but I never knew him to be much of a drinker. I suppose he could have celebrated his nuptials. Even so, I cannot imagine why he would have left Lady Rachel’s bed for a stroll upon the deck. Much of the story makes little sense. The former Lady Rachel Lovelace is now Lady Caulton. She has presented Lord Caulton four sons in the last five years. All Carpenter has sired is Lady Mathild, and some believe with her coloring, she belongs to another. If Cadon survived and produced the sons granted to Caulton as Lady Rachel’s husband, Carpenter would never have known anything beyond being an earl’s brother and addressed as Mr. Lovelace, the same as my dear Horace.”
“What should I know of this family drama? What concerns you the most?” Hunt implored. It was deuced difficult to maintain his countenance while he scrambled to keep abreast of the countess’s tale. It would be so much easier if he possessed a memory of English Society to make the appropriate connections.
“I wrote to Victoria of these events. I thought she should know if Lord Sandahl meets an untimely death, Horace would be next in the line of succession. However, my friend assured me Horace held no such aspirations, and she would not inform Horace of anything beyond Cadon’s passing. Mr. Lovelace remains unaware of Carpenter’s succession to the earldom. Horace assumes Carpenter is Lord Moses. To the best of my knowledge, the man knows nothing of a lack of heirs for the title.”
Hunt shot a quick glance about the table. “Where are the Sandahls and Lady Mathild this evening?”
So as not to draw attention, the dowager countess sipped more of her wine. “Thankfully, Sandahl held pressing business in Oxford, and his family accompanied him, although I understand Lady Sandahl has been ill since her arrival at Devil’s Keep. The below stairs gossip says she asked the earl if she could remain in Warwickshire, but Sandahl insisted she accompany him. His demand appeared a divergence from character for those who know him, for Sandahl often leaves his countess at his country estate while he enjoys the pleasures of London. They will return in two days, and then Lovelace brothers, who have not spoken to each other in more than twenty years, will come face to face in the Duchess of Devilfoard’s drawing room. It should be interesting fodder for the gossips.”
“Is my mother aware of this impending event?”
The countess’s mouth compressed into a tight line. “I kept my counsel for I feared the duchess might send Mr. Horace Lovelace and his daughter away because of the duke’s preference for Lady Mathild as your mate, but last evening, I noted your obvious disquiet with Sandahl’s daughter. There is only softness in your eyes when you look upon Miss Lovelace.”
“You jest?” Hunt declared with skepticism.
The countess’s eyebrow lifted. Her amusement bled into every pore of her expression. “I have the distinct impression, Lord Malvern, you possess no more desire to witness Miss Lovelace’s departure than I care to observe her father’s. The question remains: What shall we do to prevent it?”
* * *
When the ladies retired to the music room, Hunt sought Sir Alexander. He thought to include Lord Remmington in the conversation, but the earl and the duke had resumed their debate on one of Devilfoard’s favorite bills.
Moreover, Hunt could not abandon the pique of betrayal he experienced over the earl’s attentions to Miss Lovelace. “I have a question,” he said softly as he lit a cheroot.
Sir Alexander smiled in acceptance. “Personal or professional?”
Hunt presented the baronet with a rueful expression. “Of late, I cannot delineate between the two. I require the sensibility of my associates.”
Sir Alexander’s mocking humor lit the baronet’s eyes. “Then it is excellent you sought the most sensible of your companions.”
Hunt shifted in self-consciousness. “Lady Gunnimore shared a bit of scandal, which could explode in my mother’s drawing room. Should I attempt to prevent this disaster or simply permit it to play out?”
Sir Alexander’s look of admiration surprised Hunt. “Even without your memory, you understand your role in the dukedom’s history.” He sighed in resignation. “I suppose you refer to the presence of both the Earl of Sandahl and his younger brother Mr. Lovelace among the duchess’s guests.”
Hunt frowned in marked puzzlement. “You know of Miss Lovelace’s connection to the earldom?”
The baronet’s gaze narrowed. “It is my duty to England to know such details.”
“Yet, you chose not to inform me of the situation?” Hunt accused. “Not two days prior, we spoke of Miss Lovelace’s role in my accident.”
Sir Alexander’s cordial expression did not relay the glacial tone within his response. “No need existed for me to bring the Lovelace’s family drama to your attention. Until your accident, you held no connection to the Lovelace family beyond a mild interest in the lady upon your brother’s behalf. Who would suspect that after more than twenty years, Sandahl and Lovelace would encounter each other at a house party in Warwickshire?”
Hunt gulped for a steadying breath. “Lady Gunnimore indicated there are facts regarding the accident, which do not align with the former Earl of Sandahl’s personality.”
“The dowager countess did not err in her estimation, but beyond the fall
acies in the investigation, I cannot share more details of Cadon Lovelace’s death,” the baronet admitted.
“Cannot or will not?”
The baronet sipped his brandy. “Which ever you choose to believe.”
Hunt tamped down his frustration. “Then I should speak to the duchess.”
Sir Alexander smiled without amusement. “Only if you wish to see the Lovelaces asked to leave the house party. Your mother’s party could prove beneficial for Miss Lovelace’s acceptance in Society.”
“Will not the scandal of a confrontation prove worse for the lady?”
“That depends upon whether an actual row occurs.” The baronet shrugged. “Perhaps neither gentleman will acknowledge the other, and your concern will be for naught.” Sir Alexander focused on Hunt with grave eyes, eyes that spoke of an unpronounced revelation. “Rather than exploring what you previously knew, it might be best to place your energies into discovering what would make the Duke of Devilfoard believe the Earl of Sandahl’s daughter a worthy choice as the next duchess. Anyone with half a brain can observe the girl lacks substance, and Devilfoard’s intelligence never was in question, even by his critics.”
* * *
With her performance on the pianoforte and her melodic voice, Miss Lovelace impressed even her most severe detractors and, despite the number of young men in attendance who now looked upon her with greater favor, Hunt never knew more pride. Even Remmington’s presence at the lady’s side to turn the music for her could not spoil the memory.
Yet, as much pleasure as he knew while watching her outshine all the “fine” ladies his mother had gathered in the estate’s music room, Hunt could not shake the feeling misfortune lurked over his shoulder. Even after he retired to his quarters, the dilemma firmly dropped into his lap by Lady Gunnimore robbed him of his sleep.
“I could be fretting for nothing,” he reasoned aloud as he sipped a second brandy, hoping the drink would bring him sleep. “As Sir Alexander noted, both Sandahl and Lovelace are gentlemen. Neither would seek censure of their family name.” Yet, as he said the words, Hunt recognized the possibility of a heated confrontation loomed. Moreover, according to the Countess of Gunnimore, rumors associated with Lord Cadon’s death and Mr. Lovelace’s elopement haunted Carpenter Lovelace’s succession to his family title.
Daring Lords and Ladies Page 53