by Kelly Boyce
Why then, did she feel so unhappy, as if she were trying to squeeze into an old pair of shoes that no longer fit? They pinched her toes so tightly she wanted nothing more than to shuck them off and run barefoot through the grass.
Ah, the freedom of that notion.
Perhaps that was why she missed her time at The White Stag so much. It wasn’t as if the inn provided all the comforts of home, but at least while she stayed there she did not need to worry about saying or doing the right thing, of ensuring she wore the latest fashions or upheld all the proper strictures society demanded. At the inn she had been free of such things. Free to speak her mind, to laugh as loudly as she wished, to spend time unencumbered by chaperones and propriety with a man who kept her entertained and made her feel alive despite how ill she had been in the beginning.
It was as if she had been released from shackles she hadn’t realized she’d been wearing. Yet now, with each passing day, she could feel the shackles slipping back into place. The rules and etiquette and judgment brought back Mother’s harsh admonishments as if she still stood next to her, whispering them in her ear.
Would it always be like this? Even after she married, would she still have to play the part of the proper lady, always worrying about the censure and criticism of others? It did not seem a very happy way to spend one’s future.
Suddenly, and with startling clarity, she understood Spencer’s bid for freedom in sailing away from London. Guilt clouded her heart. She had kept him from succeeding and thrown him back into the fray.
Her heart sank. Was it any wonder he’d withdrawn from her? Despite what had occurred between them the night they returned home from Almack’s—and something had occurred, though she could not put a name to it—Spencer now avoided her.
She hated how dismayed this left her. The desperation she felt for him bordered on shameful. Every inch of her skin had begged for his touch that night. What would have happened had Lord Ellesmere not chosen that moment to step out from Mr. Bowen’s bedchamber? But he had, and any hope she’d had of anything happening crashed and broke into a million tiny pieces.
She was such a fool.
Had she left every last moral, every last ounce of propriety adrift in the English Channel? Had she learned nothing from her past mistakes?
“Oh bother,” Lady Rebecca muttered under her breath.
Caelie glanced at her companion. “What is it?”
“Lady Susan and her mother.”
“You do not like her much, do you?” Hardly surprising. A spiteful sort, Lady Susan rarely said anything pleasant if she could say something nasty in its place.
“No. And it does not help that she has set her sights on Lord Selward. How am I to compete with the daughter of a duke?”
Caelie squeezed Lady Rebecca’s hand. “I am certain your beauty inside and out far outweighs the merits of marrying Lady Susan, despite what title her father possesses.”
“I hope you are right. If I do not procure a proposal from him this Season, I do not expect one will ever come. And then what am I to do? My heart is quite set on him and I cannot imagine marrying anyone else.”
“My dear,” Lady Blackbourne said as they neared the carriage conveying Lady Franklyn and her daughter, as well as another gentleman. Both Lady Franklyn and the gentleman sat across from Lady Susan, their backs facing Caelie. “If Lord Selward does not offer you a proposal, he does not deserve you. Now smile ladies, we are about to enter the lion’s den.”
“Lady Blackbourne, how lovely to see you again!”
Their carriage came to a stop next to Lady Franklyn’s more stylish barouche. Both ladies were decked out in the latest fashions until they rivaled the most colorful of peacocks. Caelie thought it a bit hard on the eyes, so many colors and feathers and beading and such. She paled in comparison in her much more sedate attire.
“Lady Caelie,” Lady Franklyn said, her grin brittle and lacking warmth. “I understand you have become quite the spectacle of late.”
“I believe the word you are looking for is sensation,” Lady Blackbourne said, coming to Caelie’s defense for which she was imminently thankful. Such criticism rarely came in such an open and snide manner. Most of the attacks on her had taken place behind a fan and well behind her back. Apparently, Lady Franklyn preferred a more direct approach, though she couched it in pleasantries and a brittle smile, as if she were paying a compliment.
Lady Franklyn ignored Lady Blackbourne’s admonishment though and lifted a hand toward her gentleman companion, his face obscured by the ornate feathers dripping from the duchess’s hat. “I believe you are well acquainted with my dear friend, Lady Caelie.”
Caelie’s heart froze as Lord Billingsworth leaned forward past the feathers and tipped his hat toward her. “My lady. Lovely to see you again.”
“Again, yes,” Lady Susan smiled though there was nothing pleasant within the gesture. “Lord Billingsworth has indicated he ran into you in Hampshire. How lovely it is to run into old friends when one travels, is it not?”
Caelie struggled to breath. “Indeed.” Though from the spiteful gleam in Billingsworth’s gaze, friendship had no part in this.
His plans were for ruination.
Hers to be exact.
“I have only just returned from Hampshire. Imagine my surprise at hearing of your successful re-entrance back into society,” he said. “Quite a boon for you.”
“You are kind to say.” She choked on the words. Kindness had no place in Lord Billingsworth’s repertoire.
Lady Franklyn inserted herself into the conversation. “Was your journey home from Hampshire a pleasant one, Lady Caelie? We had so little time to discuss it when I visited you at Lady Ellesmere’s.”
What had Billingsworth told her? What had he intimated? Lies or truth, either one could destroy her.
Fear crawled up her spine like a spider. “Pleasant enough as far as journeys go.”
“So good to hear, though I am certain there must be more to tell. Is there not?”
“Mother,” Lady Rebecca, interrupted. “As we are planning on attending Lord and Lady Remington’s fete this evening, we really should be on our way.”
Lady Blackbourne nodded at her daughter and Caelie wanted nothing more than to hug her on the spot. “We truly should and I’m certain Lady Franklyn and Lady Susan will wish to be on their way as well as they will likely need much time to prepare, will you not?”
The veiled barb caused Lady Franklyn’s false smile to tighten. “Indeed. I suspect we will see you there then.”
“Good day, ladies.” Billingsworth tipped his hat at them again, though his gaze remained on Caelie. “I wish you all a good day and am certain I will see you again soon.”
The barouche traveled down the path and around a bend before Caelie breathed again.
“Oh, Caelie.” Lady Rebecca took her hand and held it. “How awful it must be for you to come face to face with him after what he did.”
Lady Blackbourne looked at her and concern creased her brow. “I had not realized you had run into Lord Billingsworth before your return to London?”
Caelie nodded. She had hoped not to reveal that fact but it appeared Billingsworth did not share the sentiment. She had suspected he wouldn’t, but the reality of what she now faced frightened her far more than the possibility of it had. “Yes, as we were leaving the inn where I convalesced, we encountered Lord Billingsworth.”
“And he saw you with Lord Huntsleigh?”
“Yes.”
Lady Blackbourne pursed her lips. “Do you fear he will suggest something inappropriate took place?”
Lady Rebecca spoke up in her defense. “Why would he? She was properly chaperoned.”
But the sharp look in Lady Blackbourne’s gaze told Caelie the Dowager Countess had put several pieces of the puzzle together. “Several doors have been closed to Lord Billingsworth since he broke off his engagement with Lady Caelie. Many families are unwilling to consider him as a viable prospect for their daughters. The
y view his actions as dishonorable despite the circumstances and do not want to take the risk he may prove fickle with their own daughters.”
“But what will his spreading rumors about Lady Caelie do to change this?”
Caelie closed her eyes. “If he suggests I am…dishonorable, that my morals are wanting, then it will provide justification as to why he broke our engagement. If he can do this, the doors now closed to him will open once again.”
Shock widened Lady Rebecca’s eyes and she pulled away slightly. “He wouldn’t dare!”
“He may,” Caelie said. In all likelihood, he would. Had he not already proven how little honor he possessed?
“Is this the sudden haste in finding you a husband?”
Caelie stared down at her hands. “Yes.”
“But that is ridiculous. The worst that would come of that is Lord Huntsleigh must marry you to save your reputation. Hardly an undesirable fate for any lady, I would think.”
Caelie gave her head a vehement shake. “I would never put him in such a position. He has done me a great service, safely conveying me home and then assisting me in finding a husband. I will not reward him by forcing him into a marriage neither he nor his family wants.”
“Even at the risk of your own reputation?” Lady Blackbourne asked.
“Even then.”
Lady Rebecca’s voice turned panicky. “But you will be exiled. A lady without her reputation is…is—”
“Nothing.” Caelie bowed her head. “As I have discovered. But that I could live with. What I could not live with is the thought of forcing Lord Huntsleigh or his family into circumstances they do not wish for.”
“While I do not support your decision with respect to this,” Lady Blackbourne said. “I will do whatever is in my power to aid your cause of finding a husband. We will not leave you to be damaged by the likes of Lord Billingsworth, will we, Rebecca?”
“Absolutely not!”
The solidarity shown by these two women warmed Caelie’s heart and chased out some of the chill put there by their encounter with Lord Billingsworth and his new association with Lady Franklyn, who had her own stake in the game. “Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it,” Lady Blackbourne said. “I only hope your sense of honor toward the Kingsleys does not prove to be your downfall.”
Caelie wished the same thing.
* * *
Spence was surprised to find Lady Blackbourne and Lady Rebecca in the drawing room with this grandmother. He had seen them leave only a short while ago to take Caelie to the park and promenade her amongst the most fashionable lords and ladies.
Except that Caelie was nowhere to be seen. A fact he asked after once the pleasantries were out of the way.
“I’m afraid we had a bit of a run in with Lord Billingsworth and Lady Franklyn,” Lady Blackbourne informed him, her voice grave.
Spence’s hands clenched into fists. “What did Billingsworth say?”
“He made reference to having seen you both in Hampshire. It seemed to upset her greatly.”
Spence’s blood heated to a boil and his fisted hands wished to wrap around Billingsworth’s neck and choke the words out of him. He struggled to keep his composure but he danced a fine edge.
Lady Rebecca stepped forward. “She explained to us her fears that he might try to clear his own reputation by sullying hers, insinuating something untoward occurred between the two of you.”
He nodded, too angry to speak. He had hoped they would have more time, that his threats would have given Billingsworth pause before he acted. Apparently not. And if Lady Franklyn had inserted herself into the mix and knew of what had occurred between Caelie and Billingsworth, he feared what she might do with the information.
The whole thing sickened him. As if ruining Caelie could justify Billingsworth’s own lack of honor or make Lady Franklyn more attractive to him. It would do neither, but in their attempt at both, it would give the ton exactly what they wanted. Another salacious scandal to sink their teeth into and take their minds off their own petty existence.
After Lady Blackbourne and her daughter said their good-byes and promised to do whatever they could to ensure Caelie’s reputation remained intact, Spence turned to his grandmother. “Where is she now?”
He needed to see her, to put her mind at ease and promise her he would not let anything happen to her. As if he could stop it. He shook his head. He could offer her little protection as today well proved. Rage coursed through him.
“She was quite shaken,” his grandmother said. “She went to her room to rest.”
“I will speak with Billingsworth.”
“I think it best not to poke the bear where Billingsworth is concerned, my dear. Or Lady Franklyn for that matter.” His grandmother stepped forward and rested a hand on his arm. He had yet to unclench his fists and the strain ran up his arms and into his neck.
“I cannot stand here and do nothing!”
“Of course not. But the best course of action now is to continue on with our plan of finding Lady Caelie a husband. If we can hurry things along, all the better. Given the number of callers we received today, I do not anticipate it will be a problem, but we must have the proposal before any scandal breaks.”
Marry her off. The ton’s solution to everything. As if binding her to some gentleman—Shaftsbury or Cranbrook or some other fop—would improve her situation. Yes, she would have respectability, but would she be happy? Would they make her laugh with abandon the way he had? Would they make her eyes burn with desire the way they had when he stood with her outside her bedroom door only a few nights before?
Would they protect her? Cherish her? Allow her to flourish?
Could he stand it if they didn’t? Or perhaps the better question was—could he stand it if they did?
Deep inside he knew it didn’t matter. He had made her a promise to find her a husband and honor dictated he keep his word, regardless of his conflicting feelings on the issue.
“We are attending Lady Remington’s fete at Vauxhall Gardens this evening. Both Lords Cranbrook and Shaftsbury are expected to be there. I believe they are our best opportunity to cultivate an offer as both have shown particular interest in her. Lord Shaftsbury called on her earlier today and Lord Cranbrook sent flowers.” His grandmother waved at the colorful bouquet blooming from a vase on the table behind the sofa.
The flowers were positively ghastly in his estimation.
“Fine. I will be there,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
“Good. Perhaps you should go see her.” His grandmother patted his cheek. “She may need some encouragement to attend this evening’s festivities.”
Chapter Nineteen
Spence heeded his grandmother’s advice but when he knocked on Caelie’s door, he received no response. He continued on down the hallway and eventually found her in the solar Grandmama kept. It was a small room, but the sunlight that poured in from the large windows made it perfect for reading and needlepoint.
He hovered near the open door of the small room that captured the last remnants of afternoon sun before it made its descent from the sky. Caelie sat on the chaise, turned slightly away from him to peer out the window on the far side of the room from where he stood. An open book lay on her lap and her shoes rested on the floor. She had tucked her feet up beneath her skirts.
The vision knocked the breath from him. Sunlight bathed her pale complexion and made her red hair glisten like liquid fire. He had almost kissed her twice now since their return to London. Both times, it had taken every last ounce of his will since then not to try again, but he had conquered his desires for her sake and for his own sanity.
Yet when he tried to conjure up that same will now it deserted him and before he could stop himself, he had quietly shut the door behind him and turned the key in the lock.
She glanced up as the door latched but made no motion to reprimand him for the impropriety of it. He crossed the room and sat down next to her on the chaise to f
ace her. One fat red curl had escaped the elaborate hairstyle Miss Brampton had concocted, refusing to be confined. It rested against her cheek where a hint of pink bloomed. Spence longed to touch it, but kept himself in check.
“I understand you had an unpleasant encounter with a certain individual at the park this afternoon.”
A small smile softened her features. “Yes, with three individuals to be exact.”
“Was it upsetting?”
Caelie shrugged. “Lady Franklyn was her usual mean-spirited self.” Bewilderment livened her expression for a moment. “Whatever did you see in that woman?”
“I no longer remember. Likely that she was married and therefore no threat to my bachelorhood.”
“Cad,” she said, though her tone lacked any true admonishment. If anything, the word sounded almost affectionate.
“Indeed.” He reached out and touched the curl, unable to help himself any longer. She didn’t pull away. “Tell me about Billingsworth.”
“There is little to tell, though I do not believe he intends to keep his silence with respect to our encounter at inn.”
“Even though you could expose him for taking your innocence and ruin him as well?” He hated speaking of it, hated the image it put in his head of Caelie being with another man. Most of all, he hated that he would have to get used to the idea once she married. How he would manage such a feat he did not know.
“Perhaps he believes people will think I am lying to save myself. To trap him into marriage to avoid the shame.”
She dropped her gaze but he caught her chin and lifted it back to him. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You did nothing wrong.”
“Then you are the only one who thinks so. I behaved a reckless fool.”
His hand slid along her jawline to the curve of her neck. Her skin was smooth and warm. “I have made a career of being a reckless fool.”
“You wear it much better than I,” she said. “And you will not be ruined because of it.”