by Emma Evans
“Good evening, Miss Newton,” Lord Cardan murmured as she stepped away from him. “I do hope you have a very pleasant evening. I doubt we will see each other again this evening, but should you wish to speak to me, I would be more than happy to call upon you. A note to my residence will bring me to your side without hesitation.”
Sophia could not speak, feeling her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her throat ached with a sudden, sharp pain as she tried to find her way, blindly, back towards Mrs. Drake. Lord Cardan could not be speaking the truth, surely! To be divorced was the greatest of all scandals, regardless of whether or not it was the gentleman or the lady at fault.
Her steps were slow, her heart beating loudly in her ears as she found Mrs. Drake waiting for her, a gentleman standing by her.
A gentleman she recognized as Lord Guthrie.
He was in a blaze of fury, she could tell. His eyes were practically balls of flame, his face red and hands clenched. All because she had waltzed with Lord Cardan, against her will.
“I had no choice,” she whispered, praying that Lord Guthrie would not make a scene and bring shame to them both. “Please, Lord Guthrie, let us talk about this at home and not in front of the ton.”
His eyes were not on her but on Lord Cardan who was walking in the opposite direction. Slowly, his gaze moved to her, his jaw set and throat working.
“You should not have waltzed.”
“She did not have much of a choice, Lord Guthrie,” Mrs. Drake replied firmly. “What would you have had her do? Scream and shout until the gentleman let her go? That would have brought the ton’s notice, of course, and that is precisely how rumors start.”
Shooting a grateful look towards Mrs. Drake, Sophia drew in a long breath and tried to settle the shaking of her soul. She could not look at Lord Guthrie the same way, slowly beginning to understand why so many gentlemen and ladies of the beau monde whispered about him. She understood why he kept himself away from the crowd, why he lingered in the shadows and chose not to dance. He was divorced. The ton did not take kindly to those who had chosen to have their marriage dissolved. She had been firmly told, on more than one occasion by her father, never to acquaint herself with a gentleman who had done such a thing, although they were few and far between.
“You ought to have stepped away from him the moment he approached you,” Lord Guthrie hissed, as the music for the next dance struck up. “You know that you have not been granted permission!”
Sophia, angry with him for being so upset with her when he himself had been keeping such a great, shameful secret from her, put her hands on her hips and pinned him with her gaze.
“Lord Guthrie, you are angry with me, yes, but as Mrs. Drake has said, I had very little choice. When Lord Cardan took my arm and began to lead me onto the dance floor, I could have shouted and screamed and caused all manner of upset—but as you can see, I did nothing of the sort. There is no one here looking at us, whispering about me behind their hands and their fans. The ton simply thinks that I have been granted permission to waltz, that is all.”
His jaw clenched. “Yes, but I told you expressly—”
“Lord Guthrie,” she interrupted, a little louder this time. “You are not to berate me as though I am a petulant child. I had every intention of doing what you had so expressly told me, but Lord Cardan was insistent. Had you been at my side as my chaperone, then mayhap he would not have had the gall to be as insistent as he was.” She narrowed her eyes and saw that her words had hit its mark. Lord Guthrie flinched as though she had slapped him, his anger slowly beginning to fade.
“Now, if you will excuse me, I think I see Lord Falconer approaching,” she continued, pulling her mind away from Lord Guthrie and his fury with her. “I am due to dance this with him. If you don’t mind…” She trailed off, waiting for him to tell her to come back but nothing was said. Mrs. Drake gave her a small, encouraging smile and, with a slight lift of her chin, Sophia turned to greet Lord Falconer, and within a few minutes, was out dancing again.
The carriage ride home was a quiet one. Lord Guthrie said very little, sitting in the corner of the carriage and staring intently out of the window as though the dark streets held some great secret only he could decipher. Sophia watched him carefully as Captain Drake talked with Mrs. Drake about the very pleasant evening he had enjoyed, playing cards and talking with various gentlemen whilst enjoying their hosts’ very good brandy.
It did not so much as raise a smile to Sophia’s lips. Instead, she sat quietly and wondered what Lord Guthrie might be thinking. He had retreated into himself further than she had ever seen before, her heart clenching as she thought of his anger that had been so furious the moment she had come back to him after the waltz.
He is a divorced man.
Her heart ached as Sophia realized she knew very little about Lord Guthrie. He had never given even the smallest hint that he had ever been married before. There had not been a word mentioned about his divorce, and she had never once considered it. Divorce was not something that was looked upon with any kind of favor and those who pursued it were given a wide berth by the beau monde for a very long time afterwards.
Apparently, it had been some time ago if Lord Guthrie was willing to attempt to reenter society, although he seemed to glean no pleasure from it.
Chewing her lip, Sophia wondered whether or not she ought to say something to him before they were home, but nothing came to her mind. The tension grew like a thick cloud between them, shrouding him from her view. When the time came for them to leave Lord Guthrie’s carriage, she found herself murmuring only the smallest of goodbyes, which he did not return. It was as if he did not even see her there, did not realize that they had left him alone.
Standing on the London street, Sophia watched as the footman shut the carriage door and tapped on the roof. It was as though they were sealing Lord Guthrie and taking him away, hiding him within the confines of the carriage. That was the life of a divorced gentleman, always hiding away from the limelight, knowing that people would never look at him the same way again.
In the same way that Sophia knew she could never look at him in the same light again. His divorce was a secret he had been hiding from her, one that could taint even her own life here in London as she made her way through the Season. Why had he never told her? Why was he so afraid to be honest with her about who he was and what he had been through? Was it that he liked to keep his true self hidden, wrapped under layers of a façade that he was afraid she might see through?
More confused than ever before, Sophia sighed heavily to herself and turned away, climbing the steps into Lord Thackery’s townhouse. Whatever was she to do about Lord Guthrie?
Chapter Nine
It had taken Hector three brandies followed by another two whiskies before he’d been able to go to sleep. That meant that this morning the gentle knock on the door from his butler sounded like a thunderstorm.
Groaning, Hector rolled onto his front and slammed his pillow down over his head. He was in no mood to speak to anyone, not even his ever-faithful butler.
However, regardless of what he wanted, the door opened and the butler stepped in, clearing his throat loudly.
“My lord, I am sorry to awaken you but I—”
“You are a divorced man?!”
A loud, familiar voice filled his ears, and with a sudden gasp of horror, Hector opened his eyes and looked to see none other than Miss Newton standing in front of him, her eyes wide and her hands planted firmly on her hips.
“What are you doing here, Sophia?” Hector exclaimed, pulling the sheets up over his shirt and blinking at her in astonishment. “You cannot just come in here and expect—”
“Why did you not tell me?”
Shrugging off the butler’s restraining hand, Sophia glared at him furiously, her eyes wild with anger and upset.
“This is not the time or the place to discuss this,” Hector said firmly, his heart thundering so wildly in his chest that he thought it might begin
to echo around the room. “Sophia—I mean, Miss Newton, you are to leave my room at once.”
She did not do as he had asked, stepping away from the butler who had attempted to step in front of her so as to shield Hector from view.
“I knew there was something you were keeping to yourself, something you did not want anyone to know,” she continued loudly. “I had to hear it from another gentleman instead of from your own lips! Do you know how mortifying it was to hear something about my own chaperone that I did not know myself?”
“This was from Lord Cardan, I suppose,” Hector murmured, his eyes squeezing tightly shut as he tried to put his thoughts into coherent order. “Miss Newton, if you will just wait for me to explain, then I might be able to—”
“You have had more than enough time to explain,” she interrupted, clearly still furious with him. “What did you think, Lord Guthrie? Did you think that I would turn from you, that I would run away in shame and point the finger?”
Sighing wearily and wishing that his head would stop thumping so hard, Hector opened one eye and looked at her, feeling embarrassment shoot up his spine and into his face. Here he was, clad in only his nightshirt, trying to have a civil conversation with Miss Newton, the lady he was meant to be protecting from any kind of scandal. He had known for some time that she had a stubborn will and an insatiable curiosity, but he had never thought her to be so forceful when it came to finding out what she wanted to know.
“Divorce is one of the worst things any gentleman or lady can do,” he said slowly. “It has been close to five years and only now have I thought about returning to London. I came to stay in my townhouse, having no intention of going to balls or the like, only to be encouraged by Lord Thackery, your cousin. It was he who showed me that not everyone would turn their backs on me.”
“And did you think that I would be one of those who did?” Miss Newton asked, her voice a dangerous whisper. “Tell me the truth, Lord Guthrie, I beg of you.”
Swallowing hard, Hector closed his eyes and shook his head. “There is so much shame, Miss Newton. Can you not understand that? And in my own way, I am trying to protect you.”
“Protect me from what?” Her hands slid from her waist, her anger fading as she looked at him with wide eyes, desperate to know what it was he had to say by way of explanation.
“Protect you from being tainted by my disgrace,” he replied heavily. “I can never undo what was done, Miss Newton. I am your chaperone, yes, but Mrs. Drake is the one who is by your side most of the time. I choose not to dance with you because I know what might be whispered when I do so, what might be said about me that might stick to you. Regardless of what I feel, I cannot allow that to happen.”
She stepped closer, her eyes brimming with sudden, unshed tears.
“You feel?” she whispered, putting one trembling hand on his arm as he held the blankets tightly against his chest. “Lord Guthrie, tell me what you feel.”
That was more than he could bear. “No, I cannot,” he replied firmly. “I will not. You do not need to know them, Miss Newton, and I do not need to dwell on them. I will not open my heart again, not when it has been torn from me before.”
“But I would never do that to your heart,” she whispered, a single tear tracking down her cheek. “Can you not see that my anger, my upset, my frustration, is solely because of you? You torment my heart and my mind. No matter which gentleman I dance with or converse with, my mind always turns back to you.”
The truth from her lips was more than he could bear. He could not accept what she offered, not when he was stained with the blemishes of his past.
“I am not worthy of you,” he replied hoarsely. “Please, Miss Newton. You need to go now. Return home and leave this matter to rest. Find another. Marry him. You will be much happier and much better off with another than you would be with me. I am too broken.”
She did not say another word to him, her throat working as tears fell like rain on her cheeks. He wanted desperately to reach up and brush them from her cheeks, to take her hand and kiss it and beg her to listen whilst he poured out his heart to her—but he held himself back.
Slowly, her hand pulled away from his arm, her feet stepped back from his bed. He blinked, and she was gone from the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.
“My sincere apologies, my lord,” the butler murmured, his eyes fixed to the floor. “I will send up your breakfast at once.”
“Thank you,” Hector replied automatically, waiting until the door had closed before letting out a long, languid groan.
Three hours later, Hector found himself standing in front of Lord Thackery’s door, where Miss Newton and her companions resided. Knocking smartly, he waited for the door to open, his nerves running wild all through him.
He did not know what he was going to say or what he was going to do. All he knew was that he could not allow Miss Newton to storm into his bedchamber whenever she pleased to talk to him about whatever was on her mind. They had to come to some kind of agreement, some kind of understanding where she simply left her interest, her… affection… for him to one side, leaving things be as they were. He had to get her assurance that she would no longer pursue the matter. He could not bear it if she did, knowing that he would break and tell her everything, declaring his own affection for her that was steadfastly refusing to die.
Recalling what he had said to her, Hector realized just how vulnerable with her he had been. He had revealed his broken heart to her without going into the reasons as to why he had been so badly wounded. She knew now that he was divorced, that the disgrace and dishonor that came with it would always cling to him. Surely, she had to see that there could be no future for them both? Miss Newton was much too pure and much too deserving to end up with a wounded, divorced gentleman of the ton.
The door opened and the butler greeted him, only for a rabble of voices to catch Hector’s attention.
“Oh, Lord Guthrie,” Mrs. Drake smiled as she walked towards the front door. “I am so sorry, but Miss Newton is just stepping out!”
“Stepping out,” Hector repeated, as though he had not quite understood the concept.
“Yes, indeed,” Mrs. Drake continued, glancing back over her shoulder. “I do hope you will not be angry with her for allowing him to take her walking after his very rude interruption last evening.”
A chill came over Hector’s heart, his eyes widening as Miss Newton stepped into his line of vision with none other than Lord Cardan by her side.
“He made a very handsome apology and I think Miss Newton has found a way to forgive him, especially since there has been no rumor or the like because of it. I would not say she is all too certain of him yet, but her heart is a tender one. I, for one, am glad that she has given him another opportunity to prove himself a gentleman.”
Hector found his breath gone, his mouth opening but no sound coming out of it. He stumbled back against the door just as Miss Newton spotted him. Her eyes widened for a moment only for her brows to come thundering together, her mouth pulling taut.
“Oh, Lord Guthrie, do excuse me,” she said, giving him barely more than a glance. “I was just about to go out walking with Lord Cardan. Do excuse me. I am sure we will see you again very soon. Tonight is the theatre, I think.” She did not give him an opportunity to respond and, in the melee that came of getting Miss Newton, Lord Cardan and the maid out of the front door, with Mrs. Drake close behind to wave them off, no one noticed the sly grin that Lord Cardan shot in Hector’s direction.
Hector reacted too late. His anger flared, his hands curled into fists and he made to rush after them, only to be interrupted by Captain Drake, calmly asking him whether or not he knew of any card games that he might be able to attend that evening.
Trying to find something coherent to say and well aware that he could not simply attack Lord Cardan for what would appear to be no reason at all, Hector drew in a long, deep breath and shook his head. Mrs. Drake laughed and waved as Miss Newton and Lord Cardan
rounded the corner, murmuring something about how glad she had been that Lord Cardan had called that afternoon to apologize.
“I am sorry you have missed her, but I am sure you are glad that gentleman has apologized so prettily,” Mrs. Drake finished, looking into Hector’s face with a smile that faded just a little as she took in his expression. “I do hope I did not do wrong, Lord Guthrie, in allowing him to walk with her. You have never expressed to me that she should not go, otherwise I would have, of course, not allowed her to walk with him.”
Hector shook his head, not wanting Mrs. Drake to take any kind of blame onto herself.
“This is not your doing, Mrs. Drake,” he said quietly. “This is all my own fault. Do excuse me, I must go after them. There is something that needs to be said.”
Chapter Ten
Sophia had been quite ready to dislike Lord Cardan intensely when he had come to call that afternoon, but, given that he had walked into the drawing room with an enormous bouquet of flowers in his hands, she had felt herself beginning to soften towards him.
“Miss Newton, I must heartily beg your apology for last evening,” he had said, presenting her with the bouquet and bowing deeply at the waist. “I was a little foolish, having perhaps indulged in one too many brandies, and my desire to speak to you overwhelmed all sense of decorum.”
“Indeed it did,” she had murmured, glancing across to Mrs. Drake who had a wide smile on her face.
As soon as Lord Cardan had managed to elicit her forgiveness from her, he had sat down with what appeared to be a great deal of relief, his handsome face lit with a bright smile.
Her heart had softened all the more towards him, realizing that, mayhap, he had been attempting to tell her the truth about Lord Guthrie for her own good. Mayhap he had thought that society was still rejecting him, having apparently not been back in London for long himself.