Harlequin Historical May 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Sarah Mallory

  Smiling to himself, he stood and watched her as she walked beside Lady Sutton—though walked hardly described the way she moved, for she seemed to glide effortlessly, her body eternally female in its fluid movements, her slippered feet barely touching the ground.

  * * *

  Less than half an hour in the crowded ballroom, Lucy was painfully aware of the extent of her disgrace. She could feel everyone looking at her, talking about her. She chose to ignore the stares and whispers of impropriety, but it was a long way from Paris and Italy when she had been surrounded by admiring beaux. Those friends and acquaintances who did not wish to distance themselves from Lady Sutton were polite and courteous, but didn’t hesitate to ignore Lucy even though, unbeknown to her, some had a grudging admiration for the way she had come tonight.

  Before she had stepped down from the carriage Lucy had already declared war on those who still held her in contempt. The days leading up to tonight and the painstaking efforts she’d made in order to look her best, had set her nerves on edge and she was in no mood to back down when faced with their unacceptable attitude which continued to provoke her. She had entered the ballroom with an air of cool composure and when their eyes rested on her for only an instant before sliding away with a kind of contemptuous disregard, even though she kept her head high and her shoulders straight, something was dying inside her. She wanted to run from the house, but she would not give these strangers, these brittle, sophisticated strangers who resented her intrusion into their select society, the satisfaction of seeing how affected she was by their censure.

  Lady Sutton moved closer to her side. ‘It’s very much as you thought it would be, Lucy. How are you bearing up?’

  ‘I’m fine, Aunt Caroline,’ she replied in a voice that belied her calm expression and made it obvious to her godmother that she was deeply affected by the cruelty directed at her.

  The minutes dragged by. There was the same exchange of polite inanities, of pointless bursts of laughter and the fluttering of fans as ladies cooled their flushed faces in the heat generated by so many bodies crowded together and the warmth of the night. The large ballroom, adorned with huge banks of flowers, glittered at its most brilliant in the light of the immense crystal chandeliers ablaze with innumerable candles. Her eyes were drawn to Christopher’s tall, urbane figure in a plain, but perfectly cut black coat. His shoulders were squared with rigid hauteur, his hands clasped behind his back, the candlelight gleaming on his dark hair. His face was expressionless and for a brief moment their eyes met. He lifted his eyebrow and she was certain his lips quirked in the merest of smiles. He did not approach her—she suspected this was because he had no wish to draw attention to the two of them being seeing together, but his presence was reassuring.

  ‘I think I will just go to the ladies’ retiring room, Aunt Caroline. Excuse me.’ She moved away, threading her way thought the throng in the entrance to the ballroom. Nothing penetrated her thoughts, for her mind was turning like a disembodied wraith through everything but the quandaries which she faced.

  * * *

  The Duke of Rockwood had been highly thought of and respected in his day and in their eyes this handsome grandson of his who had appeared within the midst of London society over a year ago—a rich and worthy prospect for mothers with unmarried daughters—could do no wrong. As far as Miss Walsh was concerned—an unknown American girl, an upstart who was of no consequence as far as English society was concerned, especially those who had been present at the Skeffington ball and who was, in their opinion, sadly lacking in moral standards—she was the guilty party. The only thing that saved her from being cut completely was that Lady Sutton was well liked and respected within society and she had a reputation for being both fair and honest in her dealings with others.

  Christopher knew all this. From across the room, having witnessed her humiliation, he watched Lucy leave. Assured that Amelia was all right as she was twirled about the floor in the arms of an attentive beau, he made his way to Lady Sutton.

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘How do you think she is? This is worse than I expected. Everyone is whispering about how infamously wanton she was a year ago and now here she is again, tainting good society with her indecency. Lucy is going through the motions and behaving as if nothing untoward is happening, while all the time she is drowning in humiliation.’

  ‘She is a courageous young woman for putting herself through this.’

  ‘Yes—especially when you—along with Mr Barrington—had a hand in her downfall. She has certainly been fed to the wolves by coming here tonight.’

  Christopher flinched. He said nothing to defend himself for what she said was true. Thoughts of his mother came to mind when she had sought to share her wisdom she had gained from her own experiences, teaching her son not merely with words but through example. Above all she had shown him the true meaning of duty and honour, which Christopher had put into practice many times in his daily life—the same duty and honour that had been absent in his treatment of Lucy when he had left her to shoulder this damning situation. It had been remiss of him and he reproached himself most severely, but he had hoped everything would have been forgotten.

  ‘I really should have known better,’ Lady Sutton said. ‘I could not have been more wrong. I should not have taken it upon myself to defy the whole ton and introduce her back into the ranks. There is no lack of beaux here tonight, but not one will partner her.’

  ‘I have done her a great disservice and I have no choice but to rescue her from what she is suffering now.’

  ‘And how do you propose to do that?’

  ‘If I am to make things right for her it is important to play out a charade and appear casual. Since I can’t stop the gossip about what happened that night, I have to set out to turn it about, to ensure the attention is directed in the way I want it directed.’

  Lady Sudden looked perplexed. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about.’

  ‘The time has come to stem the gossip, to dispel this nonsense that is in danger of ruining Lucy completely. Leave it with me.’

  * * *

  Lucy was just leaving the ladies rest room when she met Amelia coming in.

  ‘Lucy! How lovely it is to see you. You mentioned you were coming when we met in the park. Is this your first ball since arriving back in London?’

  ‘It is—although I’m beginning to wish I’d remained at home.’

  ‘Why do you say that? Oh—is everyone still harping on about that unfortunate affair at the Skeffington ball?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘After a whole year it’s a pity they have nothing better to talk about—Christopher told me about it. You know all about me—I know. Christopher told me that as well.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘I’m glad. When you came to Rockwood Park I was still all mixed up—about what I had tried to do—but I’m not any more. Christopher told me about you and Mark Barrington. I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘No. Why should I? It’s no secret. What he did in collusion with my stepmother was unforgivable. If I had not had Christopher to turn to, I shudder to think what might have happened to me.’

  ‘I’m glad you managed to get away from him. I cannot forget or forgive his offences against me. He did me a great wrong. When he came to Charleston I fell in love with him as soon as I saw him. He was a popular man about town who had all the eligible ladies setting their caps at him—and he chose me. What I did when he left me was a terrible thing which I deeply regret. I hadn’t told him about the child and I often wonder if things would have been different if I had.

  ‘When Christopher brought me to England I had to accept that that part of my life was over, but for some strange reason I feel as if it is incomplete, not quite done with—and it will always be so unless I see him again and ask him why he left me. I know what Christopher believes, that he want
ed me for any money that would come my way from my grandfather, but there were times when we were so close that I cannot believe that was the only reason he was with me. In spite of everything it is difficult not to remember.’

  ‘But you have recovered from it, I hope.’

  ‘Yes, I think so. I’ve decided not to wallow in self-pity any longer. Life is meant to be enjoyed. There should be laughter and pleasure.’

  Lucy stared at her. She had changed, grown up suddenly, and looked so lovely in her dusky pink gown.

  ‘At first I blamed Christopher for sending Mark away, but when he told me about the blackness of his character, I realised that what I had done was very foolish and irresponsible and that Christopher had acted in my best interest. When Mark left me I truly thought I had nothing left to live for—but I’m better now.’

  ‘I’m happy to hear that, Amelia. You’ve had a traumatic time.’

  ‘So have you. I can only hope that he’s not doing it to someone else. Have you spoken to Christopher tonight?’

  ‘No—I thought I saw him earlier.’

  ‘No doubt he will seek you out before long. Let’s try to meet up at supper, shall we?’

  ‘Yes, let’s do that.’

  Lucy made her way back to her Aunt Caroline, not at all sure she would still be here for supper.

  * * *

  When Lucy returned to Lady Sutton, Christopher knew everyone was watching them both, positively bursting for a first-hand on dit about his relationship with her. After the Skeffington ball a year ago, everyone believed that in the wake of being ruined by his rival at cards and the young lady’s affections, Mr Barrington had thrown her over and hotfooted it back to America. Christopher was determined to turn things around. It did cross his mind that he should have done this before, but at the time there had been so much going on in his life and Lucy was leaving for the Continent that he had pushed it to the back of his mind. He should have known better, he realised that now.

  He mingled with the throng, giving a nod here and pausing now and then to shake hands and speak with an acquaintance, but all the while never losing sight of Lucy. A friend from his schooldays, Lord Timothy Cawthorn, came to have a word, having noted the situation and asking if he could be of assistance. Christopher smiled, deciding to make the most of the offer.

  A waltz was starting when Lord Cawthorn suddenly appeared by Lucy’s side and, with the permission of Lady Sutton, led her on to the floor, dancing her into the midst of the twirling couples. The fact that Lord Cawthorn was championing her was immediately remarked upon. Christopher breathed a sigh of relief. She was safe for the time being.

  Mingling with a group of flamboyant young lords whose tongues had been loosened by drink, he accepted a glass of wine from a tray and joined in the frivolity. One of them, having glanced with interest to where Lucy was dancing with Lord Cawthorn, turned to Christopher, commenting on her beauty and with a leer and a nudge remarking that he would know, wouldn’t he, having been caught in a passionate embrace with the said young lady at the Skeffington ball. Showing his lack of polish—and also his inability to hold his drink—he gave Christopher another nudge and a wink and remarked that he had heard that Christopher knew her intimately.

  ‘Do I?’ he uttered in an amused tone.

  ‘By all accounts you do—don’t you?’

  Christopher laughed. ‘Not in the way you imply.’ Then he automatically added a proviso to forestall further gossip. ‘However, Miss Walsh should count herself fortunate that I was there that night.’

  The young lord noted that with some surprise. ‘She should? What are you saying? I thought you two were...’

  Christopher lifted his eyebrows with some amusement. ‘Were what? Lovers? I should be so fortunate and all the rumours about that night are just lamentable nonsense and people should learn to separate the rubbish from the truth. It was nothing but a gross misunderstanding.’

  ‘But—are you saying you did not compromise Miss Walsh?’

  ‘That is exactly what I am saying. When I arrived at Skeffington House I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw an old sparring partner of mine, Mark Barrington, a man who made his living seducing wealthy young ladies in order to get his hands on their money—which was exactly what he was about to do to Miss Walsh and she just fresh out of the schoolroom and her father dead three months past. When I managed to draw her away from him I informed her of his character, telling her the man was a charlatan. It’s fortunate I was there that night otherwise she would have found herself married to Barrington—although it wouldn’t have lasted.’

  ‘It wouldn’t?’

  Christopher shook his head. ‘He would have absconded with her money. Naturally she was relieved to know the truth and immensely grateful to me.’

  ‘And Miss Walsh was innocent in the whole affair.’

  ‘Absolutely. The lady is a paragon of virtue and a finer example of refinement you couldn’t hope to meet. Seeing her here tonight, I intend to renew our acquaintance and hope she will look on me with favour.’

  Christopher almost felt sorry for the young man. He’d taken everything in like a hungry dog eager to set about a meaty bone, but Christopher had other things on his mind and was in no mood to indulge in further conversation. Draining his glass he walked away, leaving the young man to impart this new bit of information to his friends, that the beautiful Miss Walsh had been saved from a terrible fate by Viscount Rockley. He was confident that what he had disclosed would filter through the gathered guests like quicksilver.

  Seeking out his sister, who was breathless from so much dancing and taking a moment to cool herself with a long, cold drink, he watched with satisfaction as the story he had imparted to the eager youth was circulated and in no time at all male heads turned to look at Lucy with renewed interest and speculation. It wasn’t long before several presented themselves to Lady Sutton and requested she introduce them to Miss Walsh. Glancing across the room to where Christopher stood, he gave her a knowing smile, leaving her in no doubt that it was his doing. More than happy with this new direction, Lady Sutton was delighted to oblige.

  From a distance Christopher watched a group of young bloods with flirtatious grins and with furious persistence toadying around this gorgeous creature who had suddenly appeared in their midst. They were effusive in their compliments and attentions, requesting introductions and dances with her, vying for her attention. He noted how, without a qualm, she happily used all her ability at flirtation—no doubt this was how she had been on her year abroad. She smiled happily, allowing first one and then another to lead her into the dance, clinging on to their arms and hanging on to their every word, carrying it all off with aplomb. Christopher stood watching from the sidelines, his face a veneer of bland sophistication, while inside he wanted to stride out on to the dance floor and drag her from their arms.

  Satisfied that everything was going to plan, he casually shrugged himself away from the pillar and left the ballroom by the French doors to the terrace. Thankfully the gardens were quiet.

  * * *

  At first Lucy was bewildered by all this sudden attention, but she was so relieved that she was no longer being ignored that she said not a word as one young beau followed by another led her on to the floor to dance. She danced with Lord Cawthorn again and laughed when he danced her through the open French doors on to the terrace, where he released her. Looking at him with a good deal of confusion, she was about to ask him what he was about when he laughed and bowed his head before slipping back inside.

  And then she knew. Christopher was responsible for the sudden change in everyone’s attitude towards her.

  ‘At last,’ Christopher said. ‘I was wondering when I would get you alone.’

  Lucy froze at the sound of his voice, her shoulders tense. Christopher moved from the shadows to stand being her. After a long moment she at last turned.

  ‘I take it
you are responsible for this about-turn. My coming here tonight has turned into a nightmare. Have I not been humiliated enough without you adding to it? What did you do to get them to dance with me—bribe them?’

  ‘Of course not, but I did the best I could to change people’s opinion. Those men wanted to dance with you. They are not nearly as malicious as their female counterparts and were looking for any excuse to lead you on to the floor. I provided them with the opportunity.’

  She laughed, which was not without a ring of bitterness. ‘My, my, Christopher. Not only were you an accomplished captain on the high seas, you also appear to have a gift for strategy and subtlety on the dance floor, too.’

  ‘I do my best,’ he replied, ignoring her sarcasm.

  ‘You must have seen what was happening to me in there. They might as well have strapped me to a ducking stool and dropped me in the Thames.’

  At any other time Christopher would have laughed at the image her words conjured up in his mind, but now he would not insult her by doing so, for the strain of what she had gone through—was still going through—was there on her lovely, troubled face for him to see.’

  ‘I did see, Lucy. You have done nothing to deserve that and I wanted to repair the damage. I merely thought it was time to put an end to the scandal.’

  ‘And how did you manage that? By telling them what really happened before I left for France? How it was not my fault and that the two men who ruined my reputation had escaped being vilified?’

  ‘Something on those lines—which is the truth. I started a rumour—which soon spread like wildfire—to blacken Barrington’s name, of the cunning and villainy he used to get his hands on the fortune of a vulnerable young woman.’

  ‘And everyone actually believes that?’

  ‘That you have been wrongly maligned? Yes. It might gratify you to know that I did not exonerate myself either, freely admitting that some of the blame was mine and that I hold myself accountable. I made it known that I had designs on you myself and that you evaded all my advances. I have no doubt they admired your good sense in steering clear of me. Personally I don’t care a damn what people think of me, but no matter what you think, it is not my wish to cause more gossip that will hurt you.’