Reluctantly, Jason admitted that was probably for the best. His brother would turn purple with mortification if Jason sullied the family honor and disgraced his lawful wife by carrying on an affair. If he was to continue masquerading as his twin, he was going to be forced to temper his actions and his lust.
The lovely Gwendolyn would have to remain off limits.
For now.
“You laughed at him! Oh, Gwen, how could you?”
Dorothea’s voice carried on the wind, but the sisters were alone as they walked through the open field on their way home and did not need to censor their conversation.
“I simply could not help myself.” Gwendolyn paused, her brows wrinkling together. “The meeting had gone so poorly for us from the beginning at that stage I knew I had nothing to lose. Lord Fairhurst’s final display of possessiveness towards me was ridiculous under the circumstance. He is very much like so many men, I’m afraid.
When in doubt, play the seducer.”
Dorothea’s eyes went round with shock. “Seduce? I thought he was merely flirting with you. Partially as a retaliation against me, a form of punishment for my disgraceful actions last night.”
“That might have been a contributing factor,” Gwendolyn conceded. “There is no other explanation I can fathom. ’Tis ver y obvious that the viscount is a clever man. There is hidden meaning in his behavior, a deliberate reason for all of his actions.”
And there was something else, but Gwendolyn did not voice this observation out loud. The discovery that she could not in any way manage or reason with him had un-dermined her usual confidence. That had been the main reason she laughed. For it was either laugh or risk being charmed.
“Well, I for one found his behavior shocking,”
Dorothea huffed.
“Did you?” Gwendolyn flicked an eyebrow upward. “I find that an unusual reaction from a woman who less than twenty-four hours ago slipped into his bed.”
Dorothea’s eyes sparkled quite suddenly. “My behavior was entirely different. ’Twas born of desperation and affected no one but myself.”
Gwendolyn knew she should argue the point, but decided to let it drop. “I suppose one would expect such a recently married man to act with more restraint and decorum,” she conceded.
“Perhaps it was an arranged marriage,” Dorothea suggested. “Perhaps Lord Fairhurst does not like his wife, nor she him.”
Gwendolyn’s frown deepened. How could any woman not consider herself fortunate to have a man with the viscount’s looks and virility as her husband? My goodness, if she was married to him . . .
Gwendolyn swallowed, unable to finish the thought.
“You might be right, Dorothea. It is possible that the viscount and his wife are not enamored of each other.
It is a common practice among the aristocracy. At a party several years ago, I overheard a baroness say that she was pleased indeed that her late husband had never loved her because she knew she could never return that love.”
Dorothea shuddered. “What an extraordinarily sad way to live your life.”
“Yes, it is ver y sad,” Gwendolyn agreed. “And I do hope that you realize now that you might have found yourself tied to exactly that sort of depressing, loveless marital situation with the viscount, had the charade you pulled last night been successful.”
The remark snared Dorothea’s undivided attention.
“Though you clearly believe otherwise, I am not so much of a peagoose that I did not understand all the implications of my actions before I climbed into the viscount’s bed. Including the possibility that he would reject me.”
Dorothea’s lovely blue eyes took on a keen focus. “Fur-thermore, under the right circumstances, I will gladly marry a man I do not love.”
Gwendolyn turned her head and stared directly at her sister. “It saddens me to know you would settle for so little.”
Dorothea shrugged. “’Tis a matter of survival, Gwendolyn. If I am fond of the gentleman, if he is suited to my tastes, is pleasing to me in looks and temperament, and if he possesses an adequate fortune, then I would try to win an offer from him.”
“What about love?”
Dorothea chortled. “Love is important, but there is no guarantee it will last. I would never marry a man unless the possibility of us falling in love existed. However, I would also prepare myself to be graciously accepting if no deep, passionate love between us ever grew. In that eventuality, I would find myself set in a perfectly acceptable marriage to a man that I liked and admired and I would be happy with it.”
Gwendolyn was unsure how to respond. She could find no fault in the logic of Dorothea’s thinking. Her ideas about a successful match were in fact a far more realistic and practical approach than Dorothea took on most matters. Which was precisely what made it the wrong approach for her headstrong, impulsive, passionate younger sister.
“’Tis a most practical and well-thought-out plan,” she said slowly.
“Yes.” Dorothea nodded, obviously pleased with herself. “I understand that marriage is a matter of convenience and fortune. To want more from it would be sheer lunacy if you select the wrong partner.”
Gwendolyn stopped walking and stepped in front of her sister. “Is that why you pursued the viscount with such single purpose? Because you thought he was the right partner for you?”
“He was convenient, titled, handsome and rich. And, I believed, available.” Dorothea gulped. “Yet the moment I saw him, I also believed he had the right elements to be a good partner for me. Circumstances forced me to be far too hasty in my judgement. Upon further reflection and interaction with Lord Fairhurst I have come to realize that it would have been a mistake to become his wife.
A dreadful mistake.”
A broad smile broke over Gwendolyn’s lips, though she had no idea why this made her feel so pleased. She hooked her arm through Dorothea’s and they continued walking, soon arriving on the grounds on the edge of their uncle’s property.
“I just hope Lord Fairhurst will easily disregard your mirthful exit.” Dorothea skidded to a halt, gasped, then grabbed her sister’s arm tightly. “Do you think there is any chance that he will go back on his word and reveal last night’s incident?”
“He had better not.” Gwendolyn fought to ignore the thread of doubt and unwelcome surge of panic. They would be powerless to stop the viscount if he changed his mind.
“’Tis over, Dorothea. The best thing we can do now is to push it from our minds,” Gwendolyn said, as she tried to reassure her sister, and herself.
As she had intended, the bold statement calmed Dorothea. Yet uncertainty gnawed at Gwendolyn’s insides and with each step she took, her worry continued to build.
“What did you discover about the Ellingham sisters, Pierce?” Jason asked his valet an hour later as he changed into his riding clothes. The restless, edgy feeling that invaded his body would not dissipate, especially since he kept replaying the exchanges of the afternoon in his head. He was hoping a punishing ride would clear his mind and settle his body.
Pierce pivoted on the heel of his finely polished shoes, and strode across the room, his hands carefully cradling Jason’s freshly pressed riding jacket. “I had heard a rumor below stairs that the women paid a call on you earlier in the day, though there seemed to be a great debate as to whether or not you would allow the older sister to stay. I assumed you had and were then able to uncover all you needed to know during that meeting.”
“The women started to tell me about the scandal involving the older girl, but the conversation veered off course.” Jason let out a low sigh of frustrated puzzlement. “What could possibly have happened to make Miss Ellingham such a persona non grata? The servants must be aware of the details. You must have learned something.”
Pierce cast his employer a haughty glare, the one he reserved for ill-mannered lower house ser vants. “It is necessary for me to remain discreet when making inquiries into these matters. As a Town ser vant I am already regarded with
a healthy dose of suspicion by the staff. I can hardly start questioning them all as if I were a Bow Street Runner hot on the trail of some criminal.”
Not in the mood to gainsay the valet’s attitude, Jason met his servant’s haughty glare with an even harder stare.
“Are you telling me that you have learned nothing?”
“You neglected to mention why you needed this information,” Pierce said.
“Nor shall I.” The incident in his bedchamber would remain a closely guarded secret, something Jason suspected he would take to his grave.
Pierce sighed dramatically. “Though I have never been one to take notice of gossip before, at your behest, I have endeavored to discover what I can. And I shall thus admit in the past twelve hours I have heard enough scandal to write one of those dreadful Miner va Press novels. Maybe even two.”
“Concerning the sisters?” Jason asked eagerly.
“Most definitely. Cook is a woman eager to gossip. I need only mention the name of Ellingham and she overwhelmed me with far more information than I should ever care to know.”
Jason took a step forward. “Well, out with it, Pierce.
What is the great scandal?”
The valet glanced at Jason, the expression on his face making it clear he had grown exceedingly tired of this topic of conversation. He held up the bottle-green riding coat and Jason turned and shrugged into it, gritting his teeth with impatience as Pierce smoothed the line and brushed the imaginary specks of dirt from the shoulders.
Jason appreciated looking well, but Pierce took the state of his clothing far too seriously.
“The scandal?” Jason prompted.
Pierce cupped his hand to his brow as though he were trying to remember, a gesture done purely for effect.
“According to Cook, the incident is over four years old, yet does not seem to have lost any interest among the locals.”
Jason nodded, pleased to finally be getting some answers. “I know that she was traveling to London with her great-aunt when the incident occurred.”
“Yes. That is how it all began. But they never arrived in Town. The poor aunt took ill and died unexpectedly in Berkshire.”
“And somehow Gwendolyn was blamed for it?” Jason asked in a befuddled voice. “How could she possibly be responsible? Was foul play suspected?”
“Murder?” Pierce’s eyes lit with speculative interest.
“Now that would make this a fascinating tale. One actually worthy of a novel.”
Jason’s mouth fell open in disbelief. He was stunned.
“They accused Miss Ellingham of killing her relative?”
The valet bowed his head in apparent disappointment.
“Alas, no. There is nothing of that nature to report, though I insist that would make a far more juicy tale.”
“Bloody hell, Pierce, stick to the facts,” Jason snapped.
The valet drew in a long breath through his nose, but after a stern glare from Jason, resumed the story. “After the older woman died, of natural causes, her niece stayed in Berkshire.”
Jason frowned. “After the funeral?”
The valet shook his head vigorously. “No, after the death, Miss Ellingham stayed in Berkshire. At the local inn. Alone. For seven days and six nights, she resided at the inn without the benefit of a proper chaperone, without another female companion, not even a maid.”
“Why?”
“The aunt’s ser vants were sent posthaste to inform Miss Ellingham’s family of the death. Apparently at that point there was some confusion about making the arrangements for the body and it took the girl’s Uncle Fletcher seven days to arrive in Berkshire. Hence, Miss Ellingham was alone.”
Jason tapped his fingers impatiently on the window sill. “Surely someone in the community offered assistance to a lone female traveler in such dire circumstance? What about the local vicar?”
Pierce crossed his arms over his chest. “She refused all offers of help and according to Cook there were many.
Not only did Miss Ellingham take up residence alone at the inn, she proceeded to conduct herself in a wildly inappropriate manner. Shopping for expensive clothes that were highly unsuitable for mourning, taking her meals in the inn’s public parlor, drinking spirits, engaging in conversations with men. It was most scandalous.”
Jason reached up, unlatched the window and pushed it open. The breeze was warm, yet soothing. “Were there any witnesses to report on this behavior?”
“Not precisely. Apparently Mrs. Hollingsworth has distant relations in Berkshire and they informed her of what occurred, though there seems to be some debate as to whether or not this relative was a reliable source.”
“But these tales were believed?”
“Oh, yes. Miss Ellingham was condemned before she even returned home. In my opinion, what Miss Ellingham truly needed, and unfortunately lacked, was a witness who could defend her behavior, who could claim that she conducted herself with great propriety at all times under the most difficult of circumstances.”
Jason let out a short grunt. “So she has, in essence, been condemned for what she might have done?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Pierce retrieved Jason’s riding boots from the armoire and held them toward the light, inspecting the shine. “There was no disputing that Miss Ellingham stayed alone, unchaperoned, in a public inn for several long days and nights and when questioned by the members of this community, she freely admitted it. Thus sealing her fate.”
Jason moved away from the window, sat upon the chair Pierce indicated and obligingly raised his right foot. “Lord, I would hate to be a woman,” Jason muttered as the valet grunted and groaned and struggled to get the tightly fitted boot properly positioned. “’Tis a monstrously restrictive existence.”
All things being equal, it hardly seemed such a heinous crime. Miss Ellingham had not sought to be on her own initially. Circumstances had landed her in a trying and emotional situation and while ultimately she had not made the most prudent decisions, the punishment she received seemed excessively harsh.
Jason’s thoughts shifted to his sister Meredith, who was an intelligent, free-thinking female. She too had experienced great difficulty being accepted into society. If not for her marriage to a marquess and the staunch support of her father-in-law, the Duke of Warwick, Meredith might have easily suffered a similar fate as Gwendolyn and been shunned.
His mind remained on Gwendolyn’s plight as he rode over the grounds of the estate. His initial plan had been to make a careful study of the condition of the grounds, the fields, the orchards, the livestock and the surrounding tenant farms, but he had difficulty concentrating on the task.
Instead, Jason rode as he normally did when in the country—full-bore and a bit reckless. He jumped over streams and fences, pushing his very able mount harder and faster. When the animal was spent, he returned to the manor, his head feeling a bit clearer.
Once inside the house, Jason headed toward the study, intending to once again review the account books.
As he turned toward the closed study door, his periph-eral vision caught sight of Cyril Ardley. The estate steward was walking down the hallway, a distinguished looking middle-aged gentleman by his side. The pair were talking and laughing and at one point Ardley lifted his arm and thumped his companion on the back.
Feeling unexpectedly peeved at the sight, Jason turned away from the door and waited for the men to spy him.
“Good day, Lord Fairhurst.”
“Ardley.” Jason nodded, then inquisitively looked toward the other gentleman.
“You do remember Mr. Fletcher Ellingham?” the steward asked.
“Of course. Good day, Ellingham.” Damn. His brother had at least a nodding acquaintance with Gwendolyn and Dorothea’s uncle. This was an unsettling discovery.
“Fairhurst.”
Jason held back his surprise at the familiarity of the address and concluded that Fletcher Ellingham must be a man of considerable social standing that put him on such c
lose footing with a peer. Or else he shared more than just a passing acquaintance with his brother. It was frustrating having no way to clarify the matter.
Yet if Ellingham was a viscount’s social equal, why would he befriend an estate steward? He had obviously come to the estate with the specific purpose of seeing Ardley. Why?
“I hope your visit to the area will allow you time to come to my home one afternoon for tea,” Ellingham said. “My wife would be delighted to make your acquaintance, as would my niece, Dorothea.”
Jason gave him a straight look. “If I recall correctly, you have more than one. Niece of course, not wife.”
Ardley laughed, but Fletcher Ellingham did not even crack a smile. Instead, Ellingham cleared his throat gruffly, then stared up at Jason with a look of mild unease. “Quite right, my lord. I have several nieces.
Lovely girls, fine ladies. It was a great responsibility to assume their guardianship, but they were my younger brother’s daughters and my wife and I agreed it was our Christian duty to take them in and care for them when their parents died suddenly.”
Yet you failed mightily in your duty. The truth of the words echoed in Jason’s mind. Jason felt a spurt of anger, knowing that Ellingham had not adequately protected Gwendolyn. Perhaps he was being a bit hard on the man, but ultimately the responsibility had to lie with someone.
There was a long silence that felt curiously like a stand-off. Ellingham broke the quiet by saying his farewells. Jason noticed the two men exchange a covert look and then Ardley also turned to depart. Jason decided to stop him.
“I require a word with you, Ardley. Now would be a convenient time.”
Normally he would never conduct any sort of meeting, business or social, when he was so sweaty and muddy from his recent ride. But seizing the opportunity and gaining the element of surprise overrode Jason’s personal need for fresh clothes and a bath.
“I am due at the stables in a few minutes to inspect a plow horse recently purchased from Mr. Kittering,”
Ardley replied. “The sale will not be final until I pronounce the animal fit.”
How to Enjoy a Scandal Page 6