“Very well,” he said, sighing as he sat back down.
Brooks stayed for not one or two but three games, leaving long after Lady Sarah and Mrs. Ferguson did. August behaved the entire time, especially with Lady Ramsbury, who sat at the pianoforte nearby and played for them. When Brooks did finally rise to leave, the dowager duchess smiled at him. “You know, Mr. Brooks, you can call on Lady August whenever you want,” she said. “You do not have to feign having business matters to discuss.”
August thought she saw him blush. “Thank you, Lady Ramsbury,” he said, bowing. “I will remember that for next time. Good evening.”
When he was gone, Lady Ramsbury rose from her spot at the pianoforte. “It’s just as I said. He’s quite taken with you.”
August watched her aunt glide out of the room, then sat by herself in one of the window seats until it was time to dress for dinner. Chewing her lip, she watched people traverse the street outside as she considered Brooks’s feelings. Even if he had become attached to her, he would never admit it. So what was the point of hoping?
She sighed, massaging her chest. The uncertainty of it all had become a physical tightness there, and that couldn’t have been healthy. She hoped she met men who wanted to marry at Ridlington’s ball. Surely her feelings for Brooks would be a thing of the past in no time at all.
Chapter Eighteen
As April turned into May, August fell into what she found to be a most pleasant routine while living with her aunt. She still rose earlier than Lady Ramsbury every morning, unable to break the habit she developed at school and later in Portsmouth. August used the extra hour before Agatha came to her room to write letters.
She still maintained frequent correspondence with her friend Jane, who was in her last year at Hardbury. She also occasionally wrote to Mrs. Thorpe, her old headmistress, and the Dunn family. Mr. Dunn hired a new governess, who, according to Charlotte, could never compare to Miss Summer. August begged her two former pupils to be kind to the poor woman.
All her former companions had become very invested in August’s debut at Lord Ridlington’s ball, making August increasingly nervous for the event. Her lessons were going well enough, and Lady Ramsbury’s book club was an entertaining diversion.
Meanwhile, Brooks’s occasional appearances at Park Street only served to confuse her. He always claimed he was simply checking in on her—as all good friends do—but her aunt had other ideas. “I might as well reject Ridlington’s invitation,” the dowager duchess mused one day over dinner after Brooks had left. “You will be engaged before the night of the event even arrives.”
August tried not to get her hopes up. Brooks was quite stubborn, and no amount of flirting on her end could ever break his seemingly impenetrable shield of cool indifference. Yet he still came once or twice a week to play a few rounds of chess, usually in the late afternoon after he finished working.
Thus was August’s new life. According to Lady Ramsbury, all was going according to plan—until one day when Agatha was helping August get dressed, and they heard the dowager duchess shrieking from her bedroom. The two women exchanged terrified looks. August immediately rose from her seat at her dressing table, leaving her room and flying down the hall in nothing but her stays, chemise, and stockings. Her cloth curlers were still in her hair.
“What is the matter, Aunt?” August asked after swinging open the door to Lady Ramsbury’s bedroom without so much as knocking. August found her aunt pacing across the room, still wearing her nightgown and wrapper. She held a single broadsheet in her hand, manically waving it around in the air.
“What is the matter?” the dowager duchess echoed in disbelief. She continued to pace the room, looking at her niece with wide eyes. She shook the broadsheet, the thin paper crackling as she did. “This is the matter.”
Lady Ramsbury lifted the broadsheet to eye level and began to read. “Perhaps most notable of this season’s debutantes is Lady August Finch, the illegitimate daughter of the late Earl of Bolton, recently taken in by her distinguished yet notorious aunt, the Dowager Duchess of Ramsbury.”
Her aunt paused a moment, inhaling deeply. August took the opportunity to speak. “Well, they haven’t said anything untrue, have they?”
“I am not finished!” Lady Ramsbury snapped. Her eyes turned back to the paper. “Lady Ramsbury seems content to keep her niece hidden from society until Lord Ridlington’s ball next week, perhaps administering the much-needed polish that would make this country girl worthy of her rumored twelve thousand pound inheritance.”
Lady Ramsbury let out a loud, angry groan before continuing any further. August winced at the sound. “After all, this writer has it on good authority that Lady August was once known as Miss Summer, a governess from Portsmouth by way of Hardbury School for Girls, a mediocre establishment for females of questionable origin.”
August winced again, but the author of the piece still hadn’t written anything untrue. But how they came to discover all this information, August had no idea. Her aunt was purposefully vague when introducing August to her friends a month ago at dinner.
“This writer also has it on good authority that Lady August is the product of an affair between the late Lord Bolton and Lady Sarah Rowe, now known as Lady Sarah Talbot.”
Lady Ramsbury lowered the broadsheet from her gaze, her eyes meeting her niece’s. August became lightheaded, stumbling over to the bed and sitting down as she clutched her stomach. She turned to her aunt. “W-what? Lady Sarah is my mother?”
The dowager duchess nodded, folding the broadsheet and placing it on her bedside table. “You must finish getting dressed. We will call on the Talbots at once. If Mr. Talbot did not know… if he chooses to censure his wife for this…” August watched her aunt, who sighed. “Mr. Talbot is a very powerful banker amongst the Mayfair set. If he does not want the result of his wife’s indiscretion out in society, not even I can stop him.”
August thought back to how quiet Lady Sarah was at dinner the first night they met. She hardly even remembered the woman when she came to Park Street a week later. Perhaps Lady Sarah always knew August was her daughter, which would explain why she asked Lady Ramsbury to host a book club. August chewed her lip, looking at her aunt.
“Perhaps Mr. Talbot already knew,” she said. “Couples surely discuss such things, don’t they?”
Lady Ramsbury laughed bitterly. “I would not count on it. You do recall Lady Bolton’s reaction to your existence, don’t you?” August frowned as her aunt continued. No wonder Brooks despised the idea of marriage. August and the ton certainly had two very different opinions on what it should be. “Come, now. Go and finish getting dressed. We will leave at once.”
When August returned to her room, Agatha was still standing by her dressing room table, waiting for her. “Is everything all right, my lady?”
August attempted a smile. “Everything’s fine, Agatha. Please, pick out one of my visiting dresses. We are to call on Lady Sarah this morning.”
Agatha’s eyes widened. “So early?” she asked, clearly concerned. “Will you not at least have breakfast first?”
“Come, Agatha,” August ruefully replied. “You know my aunt. When she sets her mind upon something, nothing will deter her—not even breakfast.”
Agatha nodded and walked toward the wardrobe while August sat back down at the dressing table. She watched Agatha through the mirror that rested on top of it.
“Do pick out my best one,” August told her. If she was going to meet her mother’s husband for the first time, she wanted to look her best.
Once she finished dressing, August met her aunt in the entry hall. She paced across the marble floors, her mood much unchanged since August first came to her in her bedroom. Her aunt brightened—but only slightly—when she saw August descend the staircase.
“There you are,” she said, clapping her gloved hands together. She wore one of her characteristic ostrich plumes on top of her head. “I have already had the carriage pulled around front. We w
ill leave at once.”
August nodded, joining her aunt by the front door. One of the servants pulled it open for them, but an out-of-breath man standing on their doorstep prevented them from leaving. August nearly gasped when she saw him. “Brooks!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“I came as soon as my mother brought me the paper,” he said, removing his hat and striding straight past them into the entry hall. The two women spun around, watching him, both with very different expressions on their faces. Lady Ramsbury appeared irritated, while August could hardly contain her delight.
“Do you mean—”
“Are you all right?” Brooks asked, his blue eyes focused on August. “I know you wanted to know the identity of your mother… but to find out like this…” He trailed off, shaking his head. He pursed his lips, looking from August to Lady Ramsbury, who had taken a fan from her reticule and begun wafting it in front of her face quite vigorously. “I should have known. I should have remembered!”
August furrowed her brow, confused. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “When I was younger, I once overheard Lord and Lady Bolton arguing about a woman. A woman named Sarah Rowe.” He shook his head. “I did not recall it until now.” He glanced at Lady Ramsbury. “It’s no wonder she wanted to start a book club. She probably wished to get to know you without having to reveal herself.”
Lady Ramsbury cleared her throat. “And that’s what makes me nervous. If she did not want to reveal her true relation to August, surely her husband does not know about the girl’s existence. And if he does not take kindly to it, who knows what trouble he will cause. Men are such jealous creatures.”
August watched Brooks bristle at her aunt’s last statement. Then, he seemed to notice the women dressed in much too fine of frocks for a morning walk through Hyde Park. “Are you going somewhere?” he asked, narrowing his eyes, his voice uncertain.
“We are calling on the Talbots,” August explained, nervously glancing at her aunt, who had lifted her chin at least three additional inches in the air as she regarded Brooks. The solicitor looked confused.
“At this hour?” he asked.
Lady Ramsbury nodded. “I must ensure Lady Sarah is all right. Regardless of her secret, she is a dear friend, and I will not allow her husband to mistreat her over this news. And if she is all right, I must discern Talbot’s intentions toward August. Ridlington’s ball is only a week away, and I will not have any more surprises.”
August watched Brooks nod in agreement. “Very well,” he said, glancing at August. His gaze made her heartbeat quicken. “I will come with you.”
Her aunt huffed beside her. “That will not be necessary. I have this well in hand, sir. I am the girl’s guardian, after all—not you.”
“And I am the girl’s solicitor,” Brooks argued. “What if Talbot wants money in exchange for his support, or even just to ignore his wife’s indiscretion? You know how bankers are. I will not let him rob the poor girl blind!”
Lady Ramsbury scoffed. “You can come with us if you admit if it’s for purely selfish reasons alone.”
Brooks contorted his face. “Selfish reasons?”
“Yes,” the dowager duchess replied, nodding once. August looked back and forth between her aunt and the solicitor as if she were watching a particularly intense game of battledore and shuttlecock, a popular game amongst the girls at Hardbury during the summer.
“And what selfish reasons are those?” Brooks asked, practically fuming from the ears as he took a step closer to Lady Ramsbury. She groaned.
“Just admit you care for the girl!”
Brooks gritted his teeth. “I never said I didn’t.”
The dowager duchess groaned again. “You know what I mean. Just admit it! Why else would you have run here first thing in the morning after reading the latest scandal sheet?”
“I did not run,” Brooks said, putting his hands on his hips.
“Do not lie, Brooks. Why else would you be panting as you do? I can see the sweat on your brow—not to mention your jacket.”
“I beg your pardon! It’s hot outside today.”
The dueling pair seemed to have reached an impasse, growing quiet as they glared at each other. The only noise was Lady Ramsbury’s fan moving quickly in front of her face. August sighed. Brooks would never admit to such tender feelings as caring for someone like Lady Ramsbury meant. Her aunt did not know Brooks like August did. He would never concede to any sort of accusation that might demand a proper proposal.
“If Brooks would like to come, he can, with or without admitting anything,” August finally said. Her two companions turned to her as if they had forgotten she was standing there. August sighed. “Try to remember it’s my future at risk, won’t you? I will take all the support I can get.”
She spun on her heel, leaving the entry hall through the still-open front door. She did not bother turning to look if they were following her. Instead, August let one of the footmen help her into the carriage. Her aunt and Brooks soon joined her inside. When the carriage finally lurched forward, August realized Brooks was sitting in the opposite direction of where they were going. She frowned, knowing that would make him ill.
“Would you like to switch seats?” she asked him quietly, but in such close quarters, her aunt overheard anyway. The older woman suspiciously looked from August to Brooks, who smiled slightly.
“It’s a short ride,” he said. “I will be fine.”
August smiled back at him and nodded, then turned to her aunt. The older woman watched her with narrow eyes. “What?” August asked.
Her aunt only shook her head before turning to look out the window. August did the same, trying to ignore the tension inside the carriage. Lady Ramsbury may have been annoyed at Brooks, but August was too busy reveling in his kindheartedness. He came to her when she needed him most, just as a scandal that might damage her future irreversibly was brewing.
Perhaps there was hope for them after all.
* * *
When they arrived at the Talbots’ home in Grosvenor Square, the butler tried to turn them away at the door.
“Lady Sarah does not take social calls until three o’clock, ma’am,” the mustached man told the dowager duchess, who would not accept such a rule. Instead, she procured a small calling card from her reticule, handing it to him. He glanced at it, then looked back up at her with horrified eyes.
“Tell your mistress that the Dowager Duchess of Ramsbury would like to see her on a most urgent matter,” Lady Ramsbury said sweetly. August watched the butler’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he nervously swallowed. “Surely she won’t make me wait until the afternoon.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” he said with a slight bow, opening the door wider so they could wait in the entry hall. A portrait of Lady Sarah and her husband hung on one of the walls. August studied it, noticing similarities in their features that she hadn’t recognized before, their fair hair and square jaws being two of them.
The butler did not keep them waiting long, returning to the entry hall to lead them into the drawing room, where Lady Sarah—August’s mother—sat on a settee in front of the window, still wearing her morning gown. A pug stood on the cushion beside her, barking at them as they entered the room, causing Sarah to scold him. “Jasper! That is no way to treat our guests.”
The dog whined, then eventually curled up beside her. Sarah gestured to the empty settees that flanked her. “Please, sit. It would appear you have read the latest scandal sheet as well if you have decided to call this early.”
Lady Ramsbury gave a firm nod. “We have.”
Nervous, August tried not to fidget, though it was hard not to. The woman sitting before her was her mother, a person she believed was dead for the longest time. Now, August couldn’t decide if knowing Lady Sarah for the past month made it worse or better. Their familiarity with each other had become somewhat tarnished now that August knew she kept such a secret from her.
Sarah glanced at
Brooks. “I’m surprised to see you here,” she said.
“I am Lady August’s solicitor,” Brooks replied matter-of-factly. Whether he had a right to be there or not, Brooks was a calming force for August. She wanted him there, whether it made sense or not. But Sarah still looked confused.
“Do we have a legal matter on our hands, Mr. Brooks?” she asked.
“We might.”
August glared at him. “Brooks,” she warned.
Sarah looked at August. The girl blinked back at her, seeing all the similarities between their features now. “I apologize that you had to find out this way,” Sarah said ruefully. “I meant to tell you eventually, but there was never an opportune time.”
“So it’s true, then?” August asked. “You are my mother?”
Sarah nodded, and Lady Ramsbury sighed. “Does Mr. Talbot know?” the dowager duchess asked. Sarah turned to her, tilting her head to the side.
“Yes, my husband knows.” She looked back at August, who watched her mother with wide, hopeful eyes. “He’s always known. I could never marry a man without feeling like I could explain what happened all those years ago with Lord Bolton.” She laughed slightly. “Perhaps that’s why it took me so long to marry.”
“So he does not mind?” Lady Ramsbury carefully asked. Sarah quickly shook her head, and relief washed over August.
“No, he does not mind, though I imagine someone thought he would with that article published this morning,” she said. “Nevertheless, you do not have to worry about Mr. Talbot. You will have my husband’s full support in society—if that even means anything to you.”
“Believe me, it does,” the dowager duchess interjected before August could answer. “A rich and powerful man such as Mr. Talbot? It certainly helps a great deal.”
“In fact,” Sarah continued, still looking at August, “my husband has been trying to help me find you these past five years without much luck. Imagine my surprise when you showed up at one of Lady Ramsbury’s famous dinner parties one day.”
Lady August Page 17