Sons of the Marquess Collection

by Mary Kingswood

  After a while, she saw him creep into the other side of the pavilion and take a seat amongst the aunts. Julius did not reappear, so perhaps he had gone back to Drummoor to nurse his injuries. Good! If she never saw him again, she would be very well pleased. Such impudence, to interfere in that arrogant manner, as if he had any right! Humphrey had been quite justified in taking action. Her anger warmed her, and so, by degrees, she began to return to something approaching her normal equanimity. Not quite, for every time she caught a glimpse of Humphrey her heart somersaulted in the most alarming way, but at other times she even felt equal to a little conversation with her neighbours.

  After all had eaten their fill, the tables were cleared except for dishes of sweetmeats and decanters of wine, and the servants were sent off to enjoy a rest. The party now began to merge into noisy larger groups, to chatter or to play cards or to stroll about the grounds. Rosemary walked away on Lord Kilbraith’s arm, and Hortensia tried resolutely to be happy for her friend even as her own hopes had been dashed.

  Her neighbours having moved away, Hortensia sat on her own, but she was so sunk in her own thoughts that she scarcely noticed. Besides, she was so accustomed to being ignored now that she saw nothing odd in it. It was only when a passing aunt sniffed and said loudly, “Disgusting! Trying her wiles on those far above her station!” and glared at her that she realised that she was the recipient of many curious looks, with much whispering behind fans. So she was to be blamed for the little set-to between Humphrey and Julius, was she? Of course, it must be her fault, for they were gentlemen and she was nobody, just a mere companion. That should have amused her, but somehow it did not. She was too listless to be angry, but she would not sit still to be so abused.

  Rising, she walked away, head high, looking neither to right nor to left. She had no destination in mind, but her feet drew her again to the abbey. She walked through some parts that she had not seen on her previous visit, but eventually she came into the church again. This time she knew where she was bound, for the side chapel beckoned, even with all its painful memories. It was empty of prying eyes, and gratefully she sank again to her seat on the fallen stone, running over in her mind all that had been said. Was there any sliver of hope in his words? He had said, had he not, that he wished to court her—? Or had he? It was all couched in the most nebulous terms, if this, if that, with hypothetical young men and heiresses, so that she could no longer be certain what he had meant. Except that he was lost to her. Of that, there could be not the least shadow of uncertainty.

  Humphrey filled her thoughts so entirely that somehow she was not surprised to see him enter the side chapel not long after her. When he sat down beside her, just as before, there was a rightness to it that pleased her, and she was neither shy nor distressed.

  “Would you prefer to be left alone?” he said in that low voice that so thrilled her. “Because if so—”

  “Oh no! I do not object to company.” Not Humphrey’s company, anyway. With some effort, she kept her tone light as she said, “Have you been much scolded?”

  His lips quirked into a half smile. “A little. The aunts are deliciously shocked to be so close to a mill, and I have been required to describe every blood-drenched detail a dozen times, I swear. But it will be forgotten very soon, you may be sure. Just one more instance of rackety Humphrey disgracing the family name.”

  “Are you so rackety?” she said, entranced by this new idea of him. “You seem so upstanding a gentleman to me.”

  “I was used to be quite wild. Not like Gil, for he sets a new standard for disreputable Marfords, but I was always in trouble, yes. At school or at Oxford, if there was a mill in progress, I was bound to be at the centre of it. And I was game for any amusement. If there was some prank going on, I would be the one keeping the book and setting the odds.”

  “A gamester from the start. Your proposed career is well chosen.” She hesitated, but she had never been timid, so she said boldly, “What is to become of your gaming house scheme now?”

  He looked at her intently, but answered composedly, “I do not know. Perhaps it is time to abandon the idea, for it has caused nothing but trouble, and I have not the least idea where I might honourably find a hundred thousand pounds.”

  ‘From me!’ her heart cried, and suddenly her pulse was racing. Perhaps there was another way… To give herself time to think, she said, “It is a large sum. Why so much?”

  “Because I do not wish to set limits on wagers,” he said at once, his face alight with enthusiasm. “I intend my house to be entirely honest, so although over time the odds will favour the house — the odds always favour the house — there will be occasions when the customers will win, and by large amounts. If I have not a sufficient reserve to cover such nights, then I shall be sunk — bankrupt and with gaming debts that would cripple me. Carrbridge would be obliged to step in, and then the entire family would be bankrupt. So I must have a large amount to hand when I establish my house. But it is devilish difficult to find such an amount, and although…” He stopped, and took a long breath. “Although I once thought to marry my way to such a fortune, my conscience would not permit me to use my wife’s portion on such a risky venture. It is difficult to know what to do next.”

  So that was that. He would not marry her for love, and now he was telling her that he would not marry her for money either. She should be angry with him, but she was too gripped by her new idea.

  “You need an investor, Humphrey,” she said. “And I know of one.”

  “Where?” he said, his face filled with sudden hope. Then he took her meaning and the optimism collapsed. “No, no, no, that would not do at all.”

  “Why not? You need money, I have far more than enough, why not let me invest in your venture? Without… any other ties,” she added, in case he thought she was talking about marriage.

  “That would never do. You are all generosity and I thank you from the depths of my heart, but I could not possibly deprive you of half of your fortune. It would be unconscionable in me to do so. The world would question my motives and your good sense in such an arrangement, or they would wonder in what exact state we were to each other.”

  “The world, the world!” she said impatiently, rising to her feet, so that he was obliged to stand too. “You care too much about the world, Humphrey.”

  “And you care too little for it,” he shot back. “Do not imagine that your fortune will protect you. If you wish to have a place in society, you must abide by its rules or risk having your reputation shredded.”

  “A place in society?” she said scornfully. “What place is open to me? As the daughter of a man who made his own fortune, I shall always be despised.”

  “Not by me,” he said quietly.

  “Even by you,” she said, lifting her chin a little. “Have you not made it plain that my fortune defines me? My lack of fortune defined me in one way, and my possession of it defines me in another. You must do this or that, and you cannot do some other thing, and all because of my fortune. You are as shackled as any other of your class. Can you not step outside the constraints of propriety, and see me as a woman, as a person? I am your equal, Humphrey, in every way that matters. Not in the drawing room, for there you are a great nobleman and I am a rich nobody, but when we gallop together on the moors, there is no distinction between us. So treat with me now as an equal. I am prepared to stake half my fortune on this venture of yours. Will you not accept it in the spirit of the friendship we share? You are a gambler to your marrow, will you not take a chance now?”

  She knew from his face that she had not convinced him. He licked his lips, shuffled his feet awkwardly, stared at the ground. “I cannot.” The finality in his tone chilled her to the core. “It is impossible, and you must not think of it, I beg you. Your reputation—”

  “My reputation!” she said contemptuously. “What has that to do with the matter?”

  “Everything, do you not see? You must be so careful, and I cannot—” He stopped, closing hi
s eyes as if overcome by strong emotion. “It is impossible for me—” He took a heaving breath. “You have no protection,” he said, more calmly. “No father, no brother. No husband.” A long pause. “It is for you alone to defend your own reputation — at least, for the moment. For a while. What you choose to do is for you to decide, but you do not understand the ways of the ton. I know it is presumptuous of me to speak so to you when I have not the least right, but you have no other to guide you. If you will be advised by me, you should proceed with the utmost caution and not deliberately set the world by the ears.”

  “When a matter is of importance to me,” she said with dignity, “then I dare to take risks. I am not some timid shrinking debutante, terrified to open my mouth in case the great patronesses of Almacks should shun me. I am Hortensia Blythe, daughter of a gentleman, and I shall live my life as seems best to me, without reference to the arbitrary dictates of society.”

  And with that she spun on her heel and marched off.

  ~~~~~

  Humphrey watched her go, heart-wrenched by her wilfulness, but stunned by her bravery. What a woman! She was everything that he admired and respected and adored. If she had stayed but a second or two longer, he might have simply swept her into his arms and carried her off, and let the world go hang itself. But she was gone and the moment was lost.

  “That gaming house sounds like fun.”

  Humphrey jumped out of his skin. Spinning round, he saw a blond head peeping through the remains of a window.

  “Charlie! Good heavens, man, you must not eavesdrop in that way. It is a very bad habit.”

  With a quick twist, Charlie jumped through the window and dusted himself down. “In London, eh? Where all the toffs live? That where it’s going to be?”

  “What is it to you?”

  Charlie grinned, quite unabashed by the tone of censure in Humphrey’s voice. “Can I work there? Not that I mind the stables, but indoor work would be better, and I know you don’t want me as a footman at Drummoor.”

  “Can you imagine it, you and me in the same room?” Humphrey said. “It would confuse everyone horribly. They would expect me to serve the soup and you to eat it. And the same would be true if ever I contrive to establish this gaming house. Which seems unlikely at this stage, so you may forget all about it. In fact, you must forget everything you have heard here today, do you understand?”

  The grin widened, and he put one finger to his nose. “Aha! Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Good, because there is a lady involved, and if you breathe so much as a single word to a soul, I shall tear your miserable head from your scrawny body, do I make myself clear?”

  Charlie nodded, the grin wiped instantly from his face.

  “Promise me!”

  “I promise, I’ll not breathe a word, I swear. Didn’t understand half of what was said, anyway, ’cept that she’s quite something, ain’t she?”

  “Yes, she is. Now surely you have work to do?”

  With a flourishing bow, Charlie disappeared, and, very slowly, Humphrey followed. The rest of the afternoon, he diligently avoided Hortensia, spending his time as much with the Stoners as with his own family. In all that had happened, he had almost forgotten that the older Mr Stoner had the capability of unmasking the deception between Miss Quayle and Miss Blythe, but his casual questions elicited no worrying signs of suspicion. He discovered that Mr Stoner owned a small gaming establishment of his own in Newcastle, and the older man took a keen interest in his plans.

  “If you send me a detailed list of your likely initial expenses, my lord, I should be delighted to cast an eye over it and advise on where improvements might be made. My little place is not so grand as yours will be, but I shall be able to make some comparisons.”

  “I should be very much obliged to you for any advice, sir,” Humphrey said. “You are far more experienced in such matters than I, although it has to be confessed that I have spent a great deal of time in such places, over the years.”

  “It is not the same,” Stoner said. “In the best-run of such establishments, the customer will never notice the servants moving about, replenishing wine glasses, remembering what each gentleman prefers to drink, producing a lady’s favourite sweetmeat. It is like a play, where the audience is so absorbed in the performance, it is quite unconscious of the efforts behind the scenes. It takes a great deal of careful thought to produce the desired effect. Here — my card, my lord. You may write to me at any time.”

  But eventually, both parties began to drift away to the carriages, and the horses were attached. Humphrey found Hortensia standing disconsolately beside the curricle. She looked up hopefully at his approach.

  “Do you need my assistance, Miss Quayle?” he said, attempting a smile.

  Was that relief on her face? “Oh no, but I was not sure… I did not like to presume…”

  “Well, up you go, then. Tom, pass the reins to Miss Quayle.”

  She stopped halfway between ground and seat. “Oh! I am to drive back?”

  “Of course,” he said, puzzled.

  “I thought… oh, thank you, thank you!” Her smile this time was wide and sunny, the smile he so loved, and his heart jumped about painfully.

  “Yes, yes, but on you go, and then slide across so that I may sit beside you.” He knew his voice was gruff, but his throat was oddly tight.

  They drove back dutifully in slow procession, and there was no banter between them this time. Too much had happened that day, too much had been said and done, for either to be comfortable attempting the morning’s light tone. It was a bittersweet journey, Humphrey’s pleasure in her company warring violently with his grief that she would soon be gone from his life. Six days — that was all the time they had left.

  Yet he could not speak, it was impossible for him to say all he felt and desired. How could he? If he could not woo her openly, ardently as he would wish to, he could not make any declaration at all. All he could do was to wait, miserably, until a suitable time had elapsed and his pursuit of Miss Blythe — no, Miss Quayle — had been forgotten. But by then Hortensia would be long gone, and he could not depend on her waiting for him, as he would wait for her. Why should she? How she must despise him now, for today he had as good as declared his love and yet still rejected her in every possible way.

  When they reached Drummoor, he lifted her down from the curricle as before, and when he set her down, she lifted her eyes to his, those great, dark eyes that haunted his dreams. For several seconds they stood thus, their eyes locked, as if on the brink of some speech that would break the dam of constraint between them. His hands rested on her waist, and he would have stayed thus forever if he could, lost in admiration.

  Then she stepped away from him and curtsied. “Thank you so much for allowing me to drive your curricle, Lord Humphrey.”

  And without a backward glance she disappeared into the house.

  15: Storms

  “It is such nonsense! Ridiculous man! How can he say such things!”

  “Hortensia, dearest, do calm down a little,” Rosemary said. “Will you not sit down? You are making me dizzy, pacing to and fro in that distracted manner.”

  Hortensia perched restlessly on the edge of a chair. The two women were in Rosemary’s bedroom, still fully dressed despite the late hour.

  “I wish I had never said anything,” Hortensia said, her anger dissipating abruptly. “If I had not spoken, if we had just told Lord Kilbraith directly, everything would have gone on so comfortably. I had barely begun to have hopes of him, and now all my happiness is destroyed.”

  “You must not despair,” Rosemary said. “Look how suddenly things can change.” She blushed a little as she spoke.

  “Oh yes!” Hortensia cried. “That is my only consolation, that your happiness is secure. Were it not for that, I might wish we had never come here. But how nonsensical it is!” She jumped to her feet once more, and strode across to the window and back. “We were getting along so agreeably, yet as soon as I told
him who I was, he backed away from me as if I were on fire. And to say that he cannot approach me because society would see him as a fortune hunter — of all the foolish reasons!”

  “But you must see how it would appear,” Rosemary said. “Everyone knows we were invited here so that Lord Humphrey could marry a rich wife. His intentions towards me were very plain, and Lord and Lady Carrbridge have been so very kind, in the most particular way. I have been interrogated by all the aunts, you should know, as a possible bride of Drummoor. But once it is public knowledge that you have the fortune, not I, how can he suddenly turn his attentions to you? It would look so cold and mercenary.”

  “As if it is not cold and mercenary anyway! And Rosemary, if his attentions to you were calculated, his behaviour towards me must suggest a partiality, for he could not have known of the deception just at once, so surely—?” She sat down again abruptly. “It was mere kindness, was it not? He took pity on me, or perhaps he hoped to ingratiate himself with you, or—” A long pause, and then a sigh. Hanging her head, she went on, “It was no more than a light flirtation to him, I daresay. Something to amuse him, and give the plain companion some memories to warm her eternal spinsterhood.”

  “Oh no, dearest!” Rosemary said, shocked. “You are quite wrong, I am convinced of it, and Lord Kilbraith thinks so too. He is certain that Lord Humphrey likes you very much, that he has the greatest admiration for you. He let you drive his curricle, after all, and his wonderful matched pair, and what gentleman ever does that unless he is quite in love?”

  “That only makes it worse,” Hortensia said in a low voice. “If he loves me, then let him show it, instead of leaving me to wonder. Oh, how I hate these restrictions! A lady must never show her feelings, must always receive a gentleman’s advances with cool politeness and must never, ever be forward. So I cannot get rid of Mr Whittleton and I cannot promote my cause with Humphrey.”