The Husband Season

by Mary Nichols

  ‘Oh, no, why did you invite them?’

  ‘Why not? I want you to be as happy as I am tonight. You must surely choose one of them.’

  ‘Why? I have said I will not.’

  ‘Sophie, let us move on,’ her aunt said, accepting Sophie’s dance card from a footman who had a pile of them in his hand and handing it to Sophie. ‘We are holding up those behind us.’

  They moved into the ballroom, standing just inside to get their bearings and find a place to sit.

  Mr and Mrs Malthouse had not spared any expense. The ballroom consisted of two reception rooms normally joined by an archway and wooden partitions. The partitions had been removed to make one very large room. The carpets and all the furniture, except chairs arranged round the perimeter for the chaperones, had been removed and the floor polished until it gleamed. A dais had been erected at one end on which a full orchestra played. There were swathes of glittering material hung between the long windows and stands of exotic flowers everywhere. And it seemed half the beau monde was there.

  Sophie, not unaware of the stares of the young men and the disapproval of the matrons, stood up straight and smiled. No one, tonight, was going to guess that inside she was nursing a broken heart.

  Lady Cartrose spotted Lord and Lady Martindale and swept off to join them. Sophie followed. Lucy was in a country dance set partnered by Vincent. Sophie did not have time to sit down before her swains were upon her.

  Reggie reached her first. Apart from a white shirt, he was dressed all in green, even down to his cravat. ‘Miss Cavenhurst, may I have the honour of the next dance?’

  Silently she handed him her dance card. He wrote his name and gave it back, then stood aside to allow Richard, in a black suit relieved by a white waistcoat and cravat, to ask for a dance and put his name on her card. They were followed by Lord Gorange, dressed in old-fashioned breeches, stockings and buckled shoes. Then all three stood beside her waiting for the dance then in progress to finish.

  ‘Tell me, gentlemen,’ she said. ‘Why do you all go about together? I never see one of you but the others are in attendance.’

  ‘Well, I for one cannot allow the other two to steal a march on me,’ Reggie said. ‘I was the first to ask you for your hand and...’

  She laughed aloud, attracting those nearby to look round at her and make tutting noises at her behaviour. ‘So it’s first come first served, is it?’

  ‘No, it is not.’ Lord Gorange was the one to answer. ‘There are other considerations. What I have to offer...’

  ‘Is a dead wife’s shoes and two motherless children,’ she finished for him.

  ‘That is not all, it is far from all,’ he said, miffed. ‘You would want for nothing if you became the second Lady Gorange.’

  ‘And what about you, Mr Fanshawe?’ she asked sweetly.

  ‘It goes without saying you would want for nothing. I have a town house and a country estate, both of which are in superb condition, which you would see if you would only consent to visit them. I have never been married and do not have children, at least, not that I know of. You would not be burdened by past encumbrances.’

  ‘That is a consideration,’ she murmured. ‘But not the only one.’

  ‘Dash it, Sophie, how can you say that?’ Reggie put in. ‘I have known you since we were children and I have always adored you. Teddy knows that.’

  ‘What has Teddy to do with it?’ she asked, looking from one to the other. They were all looking sheepish.

  ‘Nothing,’ they murmured.

  She had been right when she said something smoky was going on, she decided. ‘Do you know where he is?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ Reggie said. ‘But it is strange that Viscount Kimberley asked the same question a few days ago. And come to think of it, I haven’t seen Teddy for nearly a week.’

  ‘He said he would keep out of it,’ Richard said.

  ‘Keep out of what?’ she demanded.

  ‘Helping you to choose between us,’ Lord Gorange put in quickly. ‘He did not want to influence you.’

  ‘He wouldn’t do that, in any case. I make up my own mind.’

  ‘And have you?’ Reggie asked eagerly.

  ‘Will you not take no for an answer?’

  ‘Not the first time, nor the second.’

  ‘Nor the third, fourth or fifth,’ Gorange put in.

  ‘Not until the end of the month,’ Richard added.

  The other two looked fiercely at him, and Sophie was constrained to ask. ‘Why the end of the month?’

  ‘It is a goal I have set myself. After that...’ He shrugged.

  ‘Oh, dear—’ she sighed, teasing them ‘—what am I to do?’

  The dance ended and everyone began to drift back to their places on the sidelines. Vincent escorted Lucy back to her mother and, having done so, claimed a dance from Sophie, writing his name on her card twice. This prompted the others to take back the card and put their names against a second dance. She was beginning to wonder if she would have any left for Adam when he came. But perhaps it was just as well if she were to keep up the pretence of not having a care in the world. If she stood up with him, she would give herself away.

  ‘Is Teddy not with you?’ Lucy asked. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I have just learned he is making himself scarce in order not to influence my admirers into persuading me to accept one of them.’

  ‘That is silly.’

  ‘Yes, it is. Very silly.’

  ‘He promised me he would be here tonight. I have kept two dances for him. I would have made it more, but Mama says until our engagement is officially announced, two is the most allowed.’

  ‘Perhaps he will turn up later.’

  ‘I hope he does. The whole evening will be spoilt if he does not.’

  * * *

  The whole evening was already spoilt for Sophie, though she continued to talk and laugh and dance. She kept glancing at the door, hoping to see Adam come through it but, though others came and went, he did not appear. He had said he would come, so where was he? Surely he was not still searching for Teddy himself. He had Mr Farley doing that for him now. She wanted to tell him what Richard Fanshawe had said about why her brother was keeping out of the way. It could be true, but why hadn’t Teddy told her so? She would have assured him it was not necessary; she was not about to change her mind. He had said, ‘Good’ when she’d last told him that. Nothing made sense.

  The supper interval came and went and Mr Malthouse made a short speech welcoming everyone and praising his daughter for being all things a good daughter should be. If he had hoped it might be a betrothal announcement, he gave no hint of it, and begged everyone to continue to enjoy themselves. Sophie found herself standing next to Cassie.

  ‘Where is Viscount Kimberley?’ her friend demanded in a whisper.

  ‘I have no idea. I am not his keeper.’

  ‘He promised to be here.’

  ‘Something must have turned up to detain him. If it is any consolation, Teddy is not here either and Lucy is looking as doleful as you do. You may commiserate with each other.’

  ‘It is all the same to you, isn’t it? You have admirers in plenty and may amuse yourself playing one off against the other.’

  ‘Yes, it is great fun, Cassie. You should try it.’

  ‘Oh, you are impossible. I should look out, if I were you. You are fast earning a reputation as a flirt. One day, someone will really break your heart and then we shall see how you like that.’

  Sophie did not answer. She had spoken out of bravado, but if that was what everyone was saying, then she might as well give them something to talk about. Vincent came to claim her for the second time, and she took his hand and went gaily on to the floor with him.

  * * *

  The r
est of the evening went by in a blur. She laughed too much, drank too much and let the neck of her gown slip down to reveal creamy shoulders. But in the carriage going home, she burst into tears. ‘There, there,’ her aunt said, patting her hand to comfort her. ‘It is over now. Cheer up. He did not come and there has been no announcement. I didn’t think he would offer for that chit. She is too empty-headed. All is not lost, though I must say, you did rather overdo the not caring.’

  ‘I don’t care.’ She sniffed. ‘I shall go home and help Jane with her orphans.’

  ‘You cannot go until Mark comes for you, nor before Edward is found.’

  ‘I have been told he left London so as not to influence me in making a decision as to whom I should marry. I can’t believe that’s true.’

  ‘It could be, I suppose. Now cheer up. Ten to one Viscount Kimberley has found him.’

  ‘He would have come and told us if he had.’

  ‘No doubt we will find out tomorrow. I’ll have Bessie make up a sleeping draught for you and then you will have a good night’s rest.’

  ‘What’s left of it,’ she said, managing to smile.

  * * *

  Adam was in his room at Wyndham House, examining his face in the mirror. It looked a mess. There was a huge swelling over his right eye and the skin had split, allowing blood to run down into his eye. His lip was cut and there was a bruise on his chin. He reached up to touch it and winced as the pain in his arm reminded him it had been twisted behind his back. He could not have gone to the ball looking like that.

  He poured cold water from the jug on his night table into a bowl and wetted a facecloth to clean off the blood. It did not look quite so bad when he finished, but he certainly could not go out and about until the swelling had subsided; he would frighten the life out of the ladies. He would write a letter of apology to Mrs Malthouse in the morning. He supposed he ought to write one to Sophie, too. But what could he say? ‘I was set upon and beaten black and blue. As an investigator I am a complete failure. I am a failure as a champion of the poor, too. They do not believe me. Worse still, I cannot even conduct my personal affairs with any degree of assurance. I am leaving London forthwith before I forget who I am and what I am.’

  He had been set upon, it was true, taken by surprise in a back street and robbed of his purse, his pocket watch, his signet ring and the cravat pin Anne had given him on their first anniversary; he was madder about that than any of the other items. As to the rest, he could not write any such thing.

  The strange thing was that he was convinced the robbery was not premeditated and neither of the two ruffians had been the one who had followed him before. That man had not been interested in attacking him; he could have done so on any number of occasions. In fact, he was sure it was that he who had come to his rescue and helped him beat off his attackers.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked after he had thanked him.

  He was a big, brawny man, handy with his fists and surprisingly nimble on his feet. ‘Names don’t matter, sir.’

  ‘Why have you been dogging my footsteps?’

  ‘Has someone been dogging your footsteps?’

  ‘Yes, and you know it.’

  ‘Let me see you safely home, sir.’

  ‘And you know where I lodge, I have no doubt.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I can see myself home.’

  ‘Very well.’ He’d picked up Adam’s hat and handed it to him.

  Adam would have liked to stride off, his head in the air, but his injuries had prevented that. He’d hobbled as best he could and known the man had not been far behind him. He had seen no point in trying to evade him and had made his way back to South Audley Street in the most direct way he knew.

  It had taken him through Hanover Square. The house was lit up from top to bottom and he could hear the music of a waltz. She would have been there, dancing with her admirers, pretending all was well, perhaps even enjoying herself, safe in the knowledge that he would not let her down. But he had and he felt his failure keenly. He’d passed on and the music had faded until he could not hear it any more.

  Farley was out when he’d arrived, no doubt still looking for that elusive Cavenhurst, and he had not wanted to rouse the housekeeper, so he had made his way up to his room. Without lighting a candle he’d gone to the window and looked out on the street. The man who had followed him was standing in the middle of the road, looking up at him. He’d smiled, saluted and walked away. Who was he? Why, if he meant him no harm, was he following him? He had nothing to do with Teddy Cavenhurst, because it had been happening before Teddy went missing. It had started after he’d spoken to Henry Hunt. But why would Hunt have him followed? He was desperately tired and his head ached. He would have to leave conundrums like that until the morning. He stripped off his clothes and flung himself on the bed.

  He must have been asleep, though he could not be sure, when a vision floated into his mind of Sophie dancing. She was smiling up at whoever she was dancing with, her lips slightly parted, her blue eyes shining. The vision faded and he was sitting beside Anne’s bed, watching her die. She was smiling, too. He groaned and thumped his pillow. ‘Forgive me,’ he muttered, though whether he was addressing Anne or Sophie he could not have said.

  Chapter Nine

  Lady Cartrose slept in even later than usual the morning following the ball, and Sophie was able to leave the house without any questions being asked. She did not even have Bessie with her. The necklace was in its box in her reticule. The inside of the box was inscribed with the name Rundell, Bridge and Rundell in Ludgate Hill, and that was where she was bound. Having no idea how to go about hiring a cab or a chair, she decided to walk. She was dressed in a green-and-yellow-striped gingham gown topped with a light shawl. Her plain straw bonnet, tied under her chin with green ribbon, had a wide brim that half concealed her face. She hoped this unremarkable attire would allow her to pass unnoticed.

  It was a longish walk, and she was not certain of her way, but she knew if she asked for help she would be advised not to go and certainly not alone, so she did not ask. Consequently she found herself lost in a part of London she had never been in before. It was dreadfully run-down. Washing hung across the road from the upper windows of the crowded tenements, ragged children played in the malodorous gutters and a dog and cat fought with snarls and hisses and bared teeth. Women stood in the doorways and an old man sat on a stool beside an open window. There were stalls along the street selling second-hand clothing, old shoes and cast-off finery that she guessed had passed through more than one pair of hands. She knew she was attracting stares, but could not retreat. Instead, she picked her way along, wishing fervently she had never ventured so far from Mount Street without an escort. She was not even sure she was going in the right direction.

  The road widened at last and she found herself at a crossroads, where several roads met. Here, thankfully, there was wheeled traffic, pedestrians and riders. She turned left and was relieved when, after walking a few yards she recognised the Covent Garden Opera House. If she walked past that she would come out on to the Strand. She had been along that way in the carriage with her aunt and knew if she continued in an easterly direction she would come to Ludgate Hill.

  Once there it was not difficult to find the jeweller’s shop, but when she produced the necklace and asked the young man who served her what it was worth, she was left standing while he went into the back of the shop to consult a colleague. She heard the murmur of voices, and then an older gentleman came out to speak to her. He had the necklace draped over his hand.

  ‘Where did you get this, miss?’

  ‘My sister gave it to me.’

  ‘And your sister is...’

  They thought she had stolen it! They would check with Jane and Jane would be hurt to think that she could even consider selling it. She snatched it back. ‘I’m sorr
y, I’ve changed my mind.’ She stuffed it in the pocket of her skirt and fled.

  ‘Hey, come back.’ The young man set off after her. She ran back the way she had come as fast as her feet would carry her with the young man in pursuit, shouting, ‘Stop, thief!’ Everyone on the pavement stood watching the chase, but no one thought to hinder her.

  Her breath was almost spent and her legs feeling weak, when a carriage drew up beside her, the door opened, someone got out and bundled her into it and they were off again. It happened so quickly she did not have time to protest. She turned towards her rescuer, if that was what he was, and found herself face to face with Lord Gorange.

  ‘Miss Cavenhurst, what happened? Who was that young man? And what are you doing so far from Mount Street on your own?’

  Sophie was still trying to get her breath back. ‘I don’t know who he is. I have been to Rundell, Bridge and Rundell. The clasp of my necklace was loose and I wanted to have it repaired before I lost it.’

  ‘You think that was what he was after?’

  ‘I expect so,’ she said, grasping at the explanation he offered.

  ‘But why did you not ask Lady Cartrose for the use of her carriage and someone to escort you?’

  ‘I did not want to trouble her.’

  ‘It is fortunate indeed that I was passing.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘I thank you, my lord.’

  ‘I should never forgive myself if anything happened to you.’ He paused, apparently taking in her dishevelled appearance. ‘My dear, I know you are not used to London ways, but you know, what is permissible in Hadlea is frowned upon in London. You will earn yourself a certain reputation...’

  ‘I think I already have.’

  ‘A good marriage would soon set that to rights.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ She knew what he was going to say next and needed to forestall him. ‘My lord, have you seen anything of my brother?’

  ‘Not for several days. I expect he is lying low somewhere.’

  ‘Lying low?’

  ‘Avoiding his creditors. It is common knowledge he is in dun country and Captain Moore is looking for him.’