Hugh had grown up with Higgley. They were nearly the same age and had played together as boys. Since Higgley had come to work for the Westleighs, he and Hugh had a bargain. Higgley would tell Hugh whatever family secrets he discovered and Hugh would never betray him for it. Plus he always found a way to slip Higgley a few extra coins or see he received a special privilege or two.
The footman brushed off Hugh’s waistcoat. ‘Nothing of consequence, to my knowledge. General Hensen is here much of the time, but I am certain that is no surprise to you.’
It was certainly no surprise.
‘What about my brother and his wife? What news of them?’ Hugh buttoned his breeches.
‘The earl is very busy, of course, it being his first year in the Lords. The countess is finally increasing, which is a good thing, because your mother was becoming impatient. I take it the countess was none too happy that your sister and Mrs Rhysdale bore children and she hadn’t.’ Higgley enjoyed talking about the family.
He was like Toller in that way. Hugh thought he might miss Toller. He’d missed Higgley, he realised. He’d missed the comfort of home.
‘How are your parents?’ Hugh asked. Higgley’s parents had also worked for the family. They’d been pensioned off some years ago and lived in a small house near the village. They would have been among the many people connected to the Westleigh estate who would have suffered if Hugh and Ned had not found a way to restore the family fortune.
‘Doing very well,’ Higgley answered. ‘My mother thinks her flower bed the equal of any around Westleigh House and my father claims to have the best kitchen garden in the county.’
Hugh asked about other members of Higgley’s family while Hugh buttoned his waistcoat and was helped into his coat. The familiarity of it soothed him. He allowed Higgley to tie his neckcloth, although it was something he usually did for himself. After he finished dressing, Hugh ran a brush through his hair and put on his shoes.
He left his bedchamber and descended the stairs. A memory flashed of the fiery staircase at the inn, of carrying Daphne to safety. He closed his eyes and compared walking down these steps to descending the stairs at the cottage in Thurnfield.
He opened his eyes. Forget this!
The sound of laughter came from the drawing room. The family had gathered, obviously. Hugh forgot his desire to be alone and his wish to rest. He hurried to enter the room.
‘Hugh!’ His brother Ned saw him first and immediately strode over to shake his hand. Ned’s brow was etched with lines and he looked weary, as if assuming the family title had automatically aged him.
Before Hugh could get out even a word of greeting to Ned, his sister, Phillipa, rushed over with a huge smile and sparkling eyes. Her scar still marked her face, but it had not been the first thing he’d noticed about her. The first thing he’d noticed had been her happiness.
‘Phillipa, you look beautiful,’ he exclaimed. It must be the first time he’d ever said those words to her. He kissed her cheek, the cheek with the scar, and then simply gave her a hug. ‘Beautiful.’
She laughed.
Her husband, Xavier, a longtime family friend, stood behind her. ‘Motherhood agrees with her, does it not?’
Yes. She was all softness and womanliness, no longer the little girl he used to ignore.
He released her and shook her husband’s hand. ‘Xavier. Good to see you.’
‘You must call on us soon,’ Xavier said. ‘And meet our little girl. She is the image of your sister.’ The man was nearly bursting with pride.
‘I will. I will.’ He could spare enough time to visit his sister before travelling.
Hugh spied his half-brother, Rhys, and his wife, Celia, holding back. The next person he must greet was Ned’s wife, Adele, who happened to also be Celia’s stepdaughter. Protocol demanded he greet a countess before his bastard brother. ‘Adele, you look lovely, as well.’
She giggled at the compliment, her blonde curls bobbing.
To his surprise, a wave of fondness for her washed over him. He could forgive her for being a silly chit. She was young, perhaps not yet twenty. Besides, she adored his brother. Even now she gazed at Ned as if he were Zeus.
Had his week with Daphne turned him sentimental? Or had it been her abandonment that made it so comforting to be in the company of people who cared about him?
Hugh took both Adele’s hands in his and stepped back to give her an approving look. ‘You look different somehow. A lovely difference.’ He knew the reason, thanks to Higgley.
She blushed and leaned forwards conspiratorially. ‘That is because I am increasing. We are going to have a baby!’
‘Is that not delightful news?’ His mother’s voice reached from several feet away. Stood to reason she’d heard everything. Nothing got past her.
Even that filled him with tenderness. ‘Delightful, indeed.’ He squeezed both Adele’s hands and smiled. ‘Very wonderful news. I am as happy as I can be for you.’
He meant it. Having a child would mean a great deal to Adele.
Once he’d imagined that Daphne had to give up a child—but then, he’d been mistaken in everything about her, why not that, as well?
He mentally shook himself again and kissed Adele on the cheek before releasing her to her husband. Ned put his arm around her. Their mother called the two over to where she was conversing with the general, and dutiful son Ned immediately went over to see what their mother wanted.
Hugh crossed the room to greet Rhys and Celia. ‘Rhys.’ He extended his hand.
Rhys shook it. ‘Hugh.’
Theirs was an uneasy relationship, entirely Hugh’s fault. As a boy Hugh had hated to think of his father siring a bastard son, betraying his mother like that. Hugh had taken it out on Rhys. He’d been monstrous, picking fights with Rhys every time he saw him. Now his admiration for his base-born brother was vast. As he’d told Daphne.
Blast! Why did everything remind him of her?
He turned to Rhys’s wife, Celia, who had once been a baron’s widow. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘How is my third sister faring?’
She returned a mocking look. ‘I am waiting for my compliment.’
He tilted his head, not certain he’d heard her correctly.
She laughed. ‘Well, Phillipa is beautiful. Adele is lovely—both of which are true, but where is my compliment?’
He pretended to eye her from head to toe. She was not the fashion in beauty. Too tall. Too thin. But her features shone with intelligence. She was the sort of woman who became more beautiful the longer you spent with her. In fact, she’d once been the sort of woman of whom one took little notice, but no longer. Love had transformed her.
‘You are peerless,’ he said.
She laughed again and threaded her arm through her husband’s. ‘That will do nicely.’
Hugh smiled back and turned to survey all his family. His eyes pained him, his muscles felt fatigued from riding half the day and the ache inside him persisted as his emotions continued to wage war. His anger was as raw as seared flesh, such a contrast to the loving joy surrounding him, the joy he’d briefly thought within his grasp, the joy that had evaporated like a mist.
His family was faring well. That helped ease his discontent.
* * *
Conversation at dinner covered discussion of children, Parliament, the Masquerade Club, Rhys’s steam-engine factories and Xavier’s shops. Ned and their mother wanted to hear details of the disentangling of their father’s affairs in Brussels, what Hugh had done and how much he’d needed to spend. No one asked Hugh about his own affairs. They rarely did, he suddenly realised, but this evening he was grateful. This evening he did not wish to speak of his own affairs—his brief liaison with Daphne.
Dessert was served. Baskets of cakes, bowls of fruit and, most distracting to Hugh, dishes of marzipan. Mason and
Higgley poured champagne. When they were finished, General Hensen stood.
He held his glass of champagne. ‘Your mother and I have an announcement.’
Conversation ceased.
He gazed down at her and reached for her hand. ‘I want you all to know that your mother has made me the happiest man on earth. She has consented to marry me.’
‘Ooooh.’ Adele clapped her hands in delight. ‘That is such happy news.’
Ned frowned. ‘When do you plan to marry? A year has not yet gone by. You must not marry before waiting the full year of mourning, Mama. The family must not be subjected to more scandal.’ Ned was the arbiter of everything correct in the family. In that sense he was the direct opposite of their father.
None the less, their mother tossed Ned an annoyed look. ‘Of course we will wait a year. We decided to announce our betrothal now, though, so we may be seen together without talk.’
Hugh suspected there had already been plenty of talk, but why not seize happiness when it was offered? ‘If this makes you happy, Mother, it is good news,’ he told her.
She gave Hensen a loving look. ‘It makes me very happy.’
‘I propose a toast.’ Hensen raised his glass. ‘To your mother. May she never regret saying yes. May I succeed in making her every day happy.’
Congratulations and good wishes broke out from everyone. They’d always been united in support of their mother’s happiness—unless she was telling them how to live. She’d been appalling to Phillipa in that regard. Cruel, even. Amazing that Phillipa appeared to have forgiven her.
They ate cakes and drank champagne and soon the ladies retired to the drawing room. Hensen went with them. Mason poured brandy for Hugh, Ned and Rhys. Higgley removed the baskets of cake, but left the fruit and marzipan.
Hugh took two pieces of marzipan, one shaped like a strawberry, the other like a pear, and rolled them in his fingers. The scent of the confection and of the brandy brought him back to the cottage drawing room and evenings he and Daphne had shared.
Damnation! Could he never stop thinking of her?
‘I am glad we are all here.’ Rhys’s voice broke Hugh’s reverie. ‘Because I want to discuss the Masquerade Club. I must give it up. You see, I need to spend too much time at the factories now. I’ve asked Xavier to take it over, but he cannot.’
‘I wish I could assist you.’ Xavier looked regretful. ‘Time simply won’t permit.’ He was too busy investing in shops and employing out-of-work soldiers.
‘This cannot be.’ Ned’s eyes darted around in panic. ‘We cannot give it up now. We still need the revenue. We are not yet on firm footing. One bad crop and we’ll be under again.’
Rhys shook his head. ‘I cannot run the place any longer. I simply cannot. As it is now I never see Celia or the children.’
‘I cannot do it.’ Ned’s voice grew strident. ‘Not only would it be unseemly for a peer to run a gaming house, but I am already buried in estate matters and Parliament. And now with the baby coming—’ He broke off and turned his gaze on Hugh. ‘You must do it, Hugh.’
‘Oh, no. Not me.’ Hugh put up a hand. He’d already devoted the years since the war to family needs. ‘I have other plans.’
‘What plans?’ Ned demanded. ‘What could be more important than preserving the family fortune and ensuring the well-being of our people?’
Put that way, travel seemed a petty ambition.
‘You must help us. There is no one else.’ Ned shifted in his chair.
‘You know enough about the business now,’ Xavier added. ‘It will not be difficult.’
‘You may always consult me,’ Rhys added. ‘I certainly can be available to advise you on the running of the place.’
‘And if Rhys is out of town, I will assist you,’ Xavier added. ‘I can do that much.’
‘You must do it, Hugh,’ Ned insisted, his legs shaking nervously. ‘You are the only one of us at liberty to take it on.’
‘But—’ Hugh began.
Ned cut him off. ‘Meet with me tomorrow and I’ll show you the ledgers. We cannot abandon the club now, not when solvency remains at stake. I’ll prove to you how our situation stands. Our father’s latest business in Brussels managed to cost us a great deal, as you well know. It has put stress on the finances.’ His voice turned despairing. ‘You must do this, Hugh.’
Hugh closed his eyes and sipped his brandy, but that only brought him back to peaceful evenings in the cottage with Daphne. He blinked and scanned the three pairs of eyes anxiously staring at him.
What was the use? He would be unhappy on his travels, thinking he’d abandoned his family in their time of need. He certainly knew the pain of being abandoned. Besides, what did any of it matter? He might as well be unhappy in London. He might as well make his family happy, even if he could not be.
He blinked again and sipped more brandy. ‘Very well. I will do it.’
Chapter Thirteen
Daphne stared at the calendar and realised it had been exactly one month since she’d left Hugh. It was remarkable to think so much time had passed and she’d managed to endure it without falling into complete despair.
She thought of him much too often. Wondering where he was. On some ship bound for a distant shore? Or in a carriage on the Continent on a more tried and true course? Would he travel through the valley in Switzerland? Would he pass by the whitewashed walls of Fahr Abbey?
Wherever he was, she wished him happy. She hoped he had forgotten her.
She pulled up the sleeve of her robe and tapped her finger on the desk. Sitting in her bedchamber sipping a cup of chocolate, not yet dressed, she reviewed her list for the day. She’d begun creating lists of tasks to accomplish each day. It helped to make her busy. If she did not fill her day with several things she must accomplish, she was at the mercy of that ever-lurking despair.
‘Good advice, my dear, dear abbess,’ she said aloud. The abbess had often told her that busy hands were happy hands. Happy was too much to hope for in Daphne’s case. Daphne no longer aspired to happiness.
Instead, she resolved to do good works, starting with her own property. Her husband had left her this small estate in Vadley in lieu of a dower house. When he died and his second cousin’s son had inherited Faville House, she’d come here to wait out her grieving period before searching for Xavier. This estate had not been home then, but now she was determined to make it so.
The day after she arrived in Vadley, she’d sent for Mr Quigg, the estate manager, and asked him to take her on a tour. She wanted to meet all her tenants and employees and learn their names, like Hugh had said of his mother, Lady Westleigh.
To her shock, she’d found tenant cottages in need of repair, hungry children and struggling people. Her husband’s financial arrangements for this estate had not accounted for the current difficult economic times. Or perhaps that had been her fault. She’d been the one responsible since her husband’s death. In any event, not enough money had been allotted for the tenants and workers to live comfortably and to have enough food for their children. The bank that managed his money, now hers, had ignored the manager’s request for more revenue. Had she ignored the man, as well?
Stinging with still more guilt, Daphne had immediately sent a letter to the bank, via her man of business, approving the funds.
The money was released and improvements were underway, but her man of business was travelling to Vadley to discuss the matter with her. He was expected to arrive today.
Dear Mr Everard. He’d been so devoted and she had taken such advantage of him. He’d escorted her to the Masquerade Club almost every night when she’d been in pursuit of Xavier. She dreaded his arrival. Seeing him again would remind her of how badly she’d behaved.
To think, if she’d not behaved so badly, she and Hugh might have remained together. She dropped her head into her
hands.
But then they would not have met.
Trust God’s plan, the abbess had told her. Many times.
There was a knock on the door and Monette entered. ‘Good morning, my lady. Are you ready to dress?’
Daphne stood. ‘I suppose I had better do so.’
Monette brought her a blue-madras day dress and helped her into it. When Monette stood in front of Daphne to straighten out the skirt, Daphne noticed her eyes were red. ‘Monette! Have you been weeping?’
Fat tears immediately brimmed on the young woman’s lids. ‘Perhaps a little, my lady.’
Daphne felt her own tears, the ones that were never far from the surface, sting her eyes. ‘Whatever is distressing you, Monette? You must tell me.’
Monette wiped her eyes with her apron. ‘I—I am missing someone. That is all.’
The young woman had changed her whole life. Daphne could understand that it would be sometimes difficult. ‘You are missing Fahr? Some of the nuns in the Abbey? I miss them, too.’
Monette shook her head. ‘It is not the nuns—I mean—I do miss them, but I did not want to be there. It does not make me cry to not see them.’
‘Who, then?’ Had there been someone in Switzerland who’d been important to her?
‘I—I am homesick for the cottage. The people there. I liked it there.’ She stifled a sob.
‘I liked it there, too,’ Daphne said, her voice low, the ache inside her growing.
Monette gestured for Daphne to sit at the dressing table. She stood behind Daphne and combed out her hair. ‘How do you endure being away from Mr Westleigh? I mean—I know—you—you—were lovers. How did you bear leaving him?’
The dagger always in Daphne’s heart twisted. ‘I told you that I had to leave. He could not know who I was.’
‘I know, but you did not wish to leave him, did you?’ Monette arranged Daphne’s hair into a simple knot.
‘No.’ Daphne’s throat tightened. ‘I did not wish to leave him. I had to. It was for the best.’
Monette stuck pins in her hair.
A Lady of Notoriety (The Masquerade Club) Page 14