Gina’s heart was breaking, but she’d been given no time to mourn. The stress of the enforced evacuation from her home had affected Lady Whitelaw’s already fragile health. Gina’s days were spent in a whirl of caring for the invalid and cherishing her two small charges. Each night her pillow was wet with tears, but by day her expression gave no hint of her anguish.
Now, after all these years, she realised that the experience would stand her in good stead. No one must be allowed to guess that she still loved Giles.
She’d tried to crush that love, telling herself that he was faithless and that his promises were false. She’d even tried to hate him, but such a destructive emotion was alien to her character. Instead, she’d attempted to banish all thought of him from her mind.
Sometimes it worked. Then some remark, some fragment of a song, would bring her memories flooding back, often just as she was beginning to congratulate herself that the pain was growing less. It was in vain.
Then she would throw herself into a flurry of activity, studying the history of each place to which they travelled, noting the customs of the country, attempting to learn the language, and even to record their expeditions with her modest attempts at painting.
After a few years she didn’t often permit herself the indulgence of looking back. What was done was done. She could not change it, nor must she waste the rest of her life in vain regrets. Just as the girls developed, so did Gina. Now, at the age of twenty-six, she was no longer the child who had offered her love so freely. She had learned to face reality, and she’d discovered that life was a mixture of triumphs and disappointments. What mattered, she’d decided long ago, was how you faced them.
This philosophy had served her well. She’d had no hesitation in marrying Sir Alastair after the death of his wife. She loved him dearly, though not as she had loved Giles. Sir Alastair was her closest friend, and she’d known how highly he regarded her.
It was not until Lord Isham had married India Rushford that she had news of her lost love. Then she learned that Giles had never taken a bride, although sometimes she had pictured him with children of his own.
Perhaps it was not too late to find happiness the second time around. Giles was living close to Abbot Quincey, her own birthplace. Swiftly she made plans to move there from the Whitelaw estate in Scotland. She had the perfect excuse. Sir Alastair’s daughters were growing up. In a year or two she must give each of them a Season, and Abbot Quincey was not too far from London.
She summoned Anthony Isham to her aid. It was he who had found the ideal house in the centre of the village. Next year she would ask him to suggest a suitable place in town.
Meantime her plan of campaign was working well. She’d been undeceived by her former lover’s stiff manner. Gina was not lacking in perception and she’d sensed at once that Giles was far from happy. Mair had been right. His eyes were sad and the tracery of lines upon his brow had almost broken her heart. Even so, he was still the handsomest man she had ever seen. The blond hair might have darkened a little, but nothing could alter the wonderful bone structure of his face, and that brilliant blue gaze still had the power to make her tremble.
But Gina knew her man. This would be no matter of simply resuming a former love affair. Now their roles were reversed.
When they met Gina had been a servant, and worse, the daughter of the local baker in Abbot Quincey. They’d known the difficulties ahead of them. A gentleman would be shunned by society if he married beneath him.
Now Gina had a title and a handsome fortune. That obstacle had been removed, but there was a greater one. The Rushford family had suffered a great reversal of fortune, saved only by India’s marriage to Lord Isham. Giles himself had nothing but his position as India’s estate manager.
Even if he still loved her, Gina knew that his own pride would make it impossible for him to offer for her. A match with a wealthy bride might be considered desirable by the Ton, but her own heart told her that he would have none of it. That was unless…unless she could persuade him otherwise.
But how was she to do it? The problem exercised her constantly. Certainly she would not throw herself into his arms. Even if he longed to do so, he would not respond. For the time being she must go slowly, treating him in a friendly way as an old acquaintance and giving him no hint that she remembered what had been between them.
Her first opportunity to carry out this plan came at the Ishams’ dinner party. Gina had dressed with care in a favourite gown of cream silk creˆpe which she had bought in India. It was trimmed with tiny pearls and with it she wore an overdress of lace.
‘Gina, you look positively splendid!’ cried Mair. ‘You are putting us in the shade.’
‘Nonsense! You both look charming. Elspeth, would you like to wear my necklace of river pearls? Mair may have this ornament for her hair.’
‘Pearls too!’ Simple as the jewels were, the girls preened themselves, reconciled to the fact that they were both in the simplest of white dresses.
Gina smiled at them. ‘We’ll do,’ she teased. ‘At the very least we won’t frighten the horses.’
They were still laughing as they set off for the Grange, but as they drew closer Mair grew silent.
Gina was quick to sense it. ‘What is it, darling?’ she asked.
‘I shan’t be able to think of anything to say,’ Mair whispered in despair. ‘They’ll all think me stupid.’
‘Not a bit of it! Ask them about themselves. After that you won’t need to say another word of your own, but you’ll gain the reputation of a brilliant conversationalist.’
‘That’s an unkind thing to say.’ Mair began to laugh. ‘I’m sure it isn’t true!’
‘Try it!’ Gina advised. ‘The most absorbing topics of interest for most people are their own concerns.’
‘Gina, are you what is known as a cynic?’ Elspeth enquired.
‘No, darling, just a realist.’ Gina picked up her wrap as the carriage drew to a halt, and led the way into the house.
As she walked into the salon followed by the girls there was a hush. Then India came towards her with a welcoming smile.
‘I don’t propose to treat you as a stranger, Lady Whitelaw,’ she said quickly. ‘Welcome home to Abbot Quincey. We are all so glad to see you again, are we not, Mama?’
Mrs Rushford had had much to think about in the past few days. If the former Gina Westcott was now as wealthy as Lord Isham had suggested, it would be the height of folly to ruin the chances of her only son with an ill-timed fit of pique. Besides, she dared not snub the girl or attempt to quell her pretensions with Isham’s eyes upon her.
She came forward holding out her hands. ‘Little Gina!’ she said in sentimental tones. ‘Who would have thought that you would come back to us as Lady Whitelaw?’
‘Not many people, I imagine, ma’am.’ Gina affected not to see the outstretched hands. ‘May I present Mair and Elspeth to you? They are my stepdaughters.’
‘Charming…charming…and scarce more than children, Lady Whitelaw…’ Mrs Rushford was about to give her views on the unsuitability of allowing young people to dine with their elders, but Gina turned away.
‘You will remember my sister, Letty, I think?’ India continued.
‘Of course. I remember you with pleasure. You were always such a happy child.’
‘Letty is even happier now. She has just become engaged to Oliver Wells.’
Gina’s felicitations were sincere. As a child growing up in Abbot Quincey she had always liked the Rushford children and their father. They’d been kind to her, unlike their snobbish mother, who’d spoken to her only to administer some sharp rebuke for speaking up too freely when accused of some trivial misdemeanour.
‘Anthony you know very well, but this is Mr Thomas Newby, who is our house-guest, and already one of the family.’
Thomas bowed. ‘You are too kind. I have already had the pleasure of meeting Lady Whitelaw and her daughters. We met when Giles and I were out riding some few days ago.’ He
beamed at the girls and won a smile from each of them.
‘Giles, you said nothing of this. What a dark horse you are!’
His sister’s teasing had no effect on Giles. His formal bow was perfection, but his face was expressionless.
‘I see what it is,’ India began to laugh. ‘Giles fears for his dignity. He knows that you remember him as a grubby lad, forever falling out of trees.’
This brought a smile from the assembled company and Gina turned to the object of their amusement.
‘I promise to forget it,’ she said lightly. ‘There, it is gone, and lost in the mists of time.’ She nodded as if to dismiss the subject, and turned back to India.
‘I was hoping to offer my condolences to the Dowager Lady Isham,’ she announced. ‘Isham has told me that she lost her son. It must have been a great sorrow to her.’
‘It hit her very hard,’ India agreed. ‘Lucia has been very brave, but sometimes she prefers to be alone. Tonight she will dine in her room.’
‘I understand.’ Gina grew thoughtful. ‘For a mother it must be the greatest tragedy in the world. You will give her my good wishes, will you not?’
‘So kind, Lady Whitelaw.’ Mrs Rushford sat down beside them and heaved a gusty sigh. ‘A mother’s heart must bleed for her. Should anything happen to my darling Giles I should not want to live. Such a tower of strength as he has been since the loss of my dear husband.’ She touched a lace-trimmed handkerchief to her eyes.
‘Mama, please don’t distress yourself. Did we not promise each other that this was to be a happy occasion? Lady Whitelaw and her daughters will be such an asset to the village.’
‘True!’ Mrs Rushford gave a brave smile and returned her unsullied handkerchief to her reticule. ‘Have you seen your parents yet, my dear?’
‘I called at the bakery,’ Gina replied in unaffected tones. If it was vulgar to be in trade so be it. She was not ashamed of her background. That, in her eyes, would be an even greater vulgarity. ‘My parents are both well, thank you, ma’am.’
‘You did not visit the new house? Why, my dear, it is very fine. I declare that I have been hoping this age for an invitation.’
India exchanged a look with her sister, half amused and half irritated by such a bare-faced lie. Mrs Rushford would have considered an invitation from a tradesman as an insult in itself. It would not even have merited a reply.
‘You intend to widen your circle of acquaintance, Isabel? A worthy notion…’ Isham looked down at his mother-in-law, his dark face alive with amusement.
Mrs Rushford gave him an uncertain glance. Totally devoid of humour herself, she was never sure whether Anthony was being sarcastic or merely funning.
‘Naturally,’ she replied in a defensive tone. ‘We must all move with the times…’ In its way this was an admission that the once despised lower classes were beginning to encroach upon the ranks of the aristocracy, but it was a faux pas which reduced her companions to silence.
Gina was the first to recover. A lesser woman might have been crushed by the condescending tone of Mrs Rushford’s statement, but Gina’s lips began to twitch. It was only with an effort that she preserved her countenance, and when she turned to India her eyes were twinkling.
‘Lady Isham, I believe that you and your sister attended Mrs Guarding’s Academy? Is she still accepting pupils? Mair and Elspeth must finish their education, and I will apply there if you recommend it.’
‘Pray don’t think of it, Lady Whitelaw.’ Mrs Rushford interrupted in an uncompromising tone. ‘That woman corrupts young minds. The place should be closed by order of the magistrates. She preaches sedition.’
Lord Isham took a seat beside her with every expectation of enjoyment. ‘Strong words, Isabel! Will you not explain?’
‘You know my views,’ Mrs Rushford retorted. ‘She tries to turn her pupils into blue-stockings, filling their heads with nonsense about independence and women’s rights. No man wants a pert, opinionated woman to wife.’ Her gaze fell upon Gina, who gave her the sweetest of smiles.
‘But neither does a sensible man wish for his lifelong companion and the mother of his children to be an empty-headed nincompoop,’ Giles said hotly.
‘Of course not, my dear boy. You misunderstand me. A girl must be trained to be an ornament to society. She must learn to carry herself gracefully, to dress well, to dance, to sing a little, and there can be no objections to lessons in painting and drawing.’
Gina’s shoulders were shaking. Her own ‘training’, such as it was, had been very different, especially as it had included lessons in marksmanship. She had also learnt how to throw a knife. These accomplishments were, however, unlikely to be of use to young ladies brought up in the heart of England.
She raised her head to find that Giles was looking at her. She suspected that, as always, he had read her mind, for his own eyes were dancing. She looked away.
‘Mama, we learned those things at Mrs Guarding’s Academy,’ Letty protested gently. ‘Her teachers were the best that could be found.’
‘Some of them, if not others,’ her mother said darkly. ‘However, I don’t propose to indulge in gossip.’
With a valiant effort, India avoided her husband’s eye, and also that of Letty, but the tirade wasn’t over.
‘What, may I ask, is the use of filling a young woman’s head with mathematics, and so-called philosophy, which, as I understand it, is simply another name for radical views? It will not help her to run her household or hire and fire her servants.’
‘Mrs Guarding seeks merely to teach a girl to use her mind,’ India protested. ‘The actual subjects do not matter over-much.’
‘That’s as maybe! That woman has done untold damage. Look at your cousin Hester! She’s a constant worry to her parents. And as for that trollop, Desire´e Nash, she should be whipped at the cart’s tail. Teaching philosophy, Greek and Latin. She’d have taught her pupils more than that if Mrs Guarding hadn’t dismissed her.’
India gave a discreet cough to call her mother’s attention to the fact that Mair and Elspeth had drifted away from Thomas Newby’s side when schooling was mentioned, and were both listening with avid interest to Mrs Rushford’s remarks.
It was fortunate that at that moment dinner was announced. With his customary courtesy Isham offered his arm to Mrs Rushford. Thomas Newby escorted India and Giles offered an arm to Gina and Letty.
Gina found herself seated between Giles and Lord Isham. She had not expected it, and was disturbed to be so close to her former love. His hand was inches from her own, and when he reached across her shoulders to help her remove her gauzy scarf his fingers touched the bare flesh of her neck.
Giles started back as if he’d been stung.
‘I beg your pardon,’ he muttered.
‘Not at all,’ Gina replied politely. ‘It is kind of you to help me. Some of these fashions are well enough in their way, but a scarf is not improved when it falls into the soup.’
It was not the most sophisticated of remarks. Gina felt that she was babbling to hide the fact that her senses were on fire. Her heart was beating wildly, but she was determined not to betray herself. The long-practised self-control came to her aid once more. She turned to Isham.
‘What do you think, Anthony? Shall I send the girls to the Academy?’
‘By all means. The standard of teaching is high. You won’t do better for them.’ Isham smiled down at his companion, apparently unaware of the tension in the air. Yet he had felt it from the first. Gina was more on edge than he had ever known her. There was some mystery here.
Chapter Four
‘Shall you go up to London for the Season, Lady Whitelaw?’ Thomas enquired.
‘We’ve decided to postpone that pleasure until next year, when Mair comes out. Anthony, I hope, will advise us as to a house when the time comes.’
Lord Isham nodded his agreement.
Then Gina was possessed by an imp of mischief. ‘Besides,’ she said, ‘before I go I must learn to waltz…�
��
‘Shocking!’ There was a sniff of disapproval from Mrs Rushford. ‘Young men careering about a ballroom with ladies in their arms? I must hope that my own girls won’t consider it.’
‘I’m sorry to hear you say so,’ Gina replied solemnly. ‘The Prince Regent finds it delightful. In future it will be the rage at all his parties.’
‘Which, of course, you will attend, Lady Whitelaw?’ There was no mistaking the malicious note in Mrs Rushford’s voice.
‘Why yes, I believe so, ma’am.’ Gina regarded her questioner with an innocent gaze. ‘We are invited to Brighton in September.’
This was enough to reduce Mrs Rushford to silence, and Thomas Newby stepped into the breach.
‘When I left town Lady Caroline Lamb was holding waltz parties in the mornings,’ he observed to no one in particular. ‘It gave me a chance to practice.’
‘Truly, can you waltz?’ Elspeth was seated beside him, much to her delight. Now she gazed at him with awe.
‘I make some kind of a stab at it,’ he admitted modestly.
‘I don’t suppose…I mean…if you came to see us would you show us how it is done?’ Elspeth knew that whispering was rude, but she wasn’t exactly whispering, was she? She was simply speaking in too low a voice for her words to reach Mrs Rushford’s ears.
Thomas replied in the same tone. ‘Glad to, Miss Elspeth, if your stepmama don’t mind. Got to be up to the mark with the latest fads and fancies, haven’t we?’
‘Oh, you do understand!’ Elspeth gave him a grateful look. ‘When one is almost out it is very hard to be treated like a child. Gina doesn’t do it, but other people do. I hope she won’t insist on sending us to that Academy to finish our education.’
‘Well, as I understand it, it isn’t a school, Miss Elspeth. It’s more like a university for ladies, in a small way, of course.’ He smiled. ‘It might turn you into a revolutionary.’
Mr. Rushford's Honor Page 5