“Good bye, Lord Chesterton.” Willie turned away and made her way toward the coach, her sister and maid in tow.
Chapter 18
Wilhelmina put her feet up on the sofa, leaning against the arm as she put the finishing stitches in a sampler she’d been working on. Almost a month after their return, and she was just as exhausted as if she’d made the trip yesterday. She’d been feeling under the weather since they left the inn near York. It had started as a cold, but had developed into a general malaise that she just couldn’t seem to shake. She blamed it on the stress of it all. She prided herself on leading a rather calm existence…that is until she dared allow Lord Chesterton back into her life. The excitement did not mix well with her constitution.
Undoubtedly, she just required a day or two more of recuperation and she would be right as rain. At least, that’s what she’d been telling herself.
“Wilhelmina?” Aunt Louisa glided into the drawing room, a footman carrying a tray with the post behind her. “Are you still sitting here? You’re exactly where I left you hours ago.”
“It was only one hour ago, but otherwise, yes.” She laid her sewing behind and cursed her misfortune at not having chosen a better hiding spot.
Louisa looked disapprovingly down her nose at her, though Willie was quite certain she was still taller, even seated as she was.
“We received an invitation to Lady Humphrey’s musicale tomorrow night. Wouldn’t that be delightful?” Louisa passed the card to Willie, who glanced over it briefly before passing it back.
“I’m not sure Kitty is ready.”
“Pish!” Louisa quickly dismissed her hesitance with a grand flourish of her arms. “It will do her good to get out. The girl’s been locked up in her room pouting since you returned. Social events such as this are the reason we came to London for the Season in the first place, and I’m afraid she’s missing them all.”
“Besides, I’m not certain I want to go. I still don’t feel quite like myself.”
“Well, this isn’t about you. This is about our Kitty. If we want her to find a good match, then we must leave our home now and again to do so.”
For a moment she wondered if he’d be there, quickly casting the thought aside. George rarely attended such stuffy events. “Fine.”
“And do make an effort to look presentable. Perhaps wear something other than black?”
“I’m a widow, black is my uniform.”
“You will forever be a widow, but nowhere in the rules of decorum and good taste does it state that you must wear black until you die. Especially when you’re so young.”
Wilhelmina nodded. She didn’t have the energy to argue. “I have a navy gown that I might be able to make some adjustments to.”
“Yes, do that. It looks as if you’ve lost a stone since you returned.”
She smiled at the exaggeration. She’d not been as hungry as usual and may have lost a bit of weight, but she doubted it required drastic alterations to any of her gowns. “May I see what came today?” She gestured toward the footman.
Aunt Louisa shook her head. “No need to trouble yourself, dear. It’s the usual correspondence.”
Wilhelmina found her aunt’s quick dismissal odd. “I thought perhaps there might be something for me. It’s been weeks since I’ve heard from any of Victor’s friends in Dorchester. They’re usually quite good about writing.”
The older woman flicked her hand and the footman complied, handing the tray over to Wilhelmina. She nodded her head in gratitude and began sifting through the pile of correspondence. It didn’t take her long before she found the reason for her aunt’s reluctance.
“There’s a letter here from Lord Wainscott,” Wilhelmina picked up the letter and fanned it for her aunt to see.
“Oh.” Louisa wandered over to a cabinet at the opposite end of the room, dragging a finger across the rosewood veneer. “They’ve been doing a terrible job of dusting in this room. Remind me to speak to the housekeeper later about this.”
“Did you hear me? There is a letter addressed to me from Lord Wainscott.”
“You don’t need to repeat yourself. I heard you perfectly the first time, dear. Just because I’m old, doesn’t mean I’m deaf.”
“Were you going to share this with me?” Wilhelmina hadn’t shared many of the details with her aunt, fearing for the repercussions to her health. But, she had shared with her enough information that any letter from Lord Wainscott should have ignited an immediate discussion.
“Should I have?”
For a moment, Wilhelmina was at a loss for words. “Yes, of course you should have. This was sent to me.”
“And should I have distributed the letters he sent to your sister as well?”
“There were more?”
Louisa turned and leaned against the cabinet. “Since the day after your return. He’s exactly like his brother. The man doesn’t appear to know when to quit.”
Willie set the letter aside. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t trust your judgement.”
The answer came swiftly, like a guillotine, effectively cutting through all the niceties and allowing them to speak candidly to one another. “And why is that?”
“Your mother came from decent stock and fell into bed with the first man who called her pretty. Your father didn’t deserve her. She was a delicate woman and not used to the life he exposed her to. Though I was sorry to hear of your father and stepmother’s passing, I thought it fitting that you had a chance at righting your mother’s wrongs. I was suddenly in charge of your education, of your development as a young lady, and thought with your intelligence that you would do well for yourself. But you took the exact path your mother did, followed in her same footsteps.”
“I did no such thing.” Wilhelmina remained seated, despite the urge to stand and throw the closest object she could reach at the wall.
“That man, he was not the marrying sort. I tried to tell you that he would only break your heart, and he did. A marriage cannot be made by emotional sentiment alone. There’s a great deal of common sense that goes along with these things. I married a man for love and he was a tyrant. I wish my own parents had intervened and not let me follow my blasted heart into what became a very tragic situation.”
“He wrote to me, didn’t he?”
“Who?”
Wilhelmina knew feigned ignorance when she saw it. “Let’s not play these types of games with each other. You know who.”
Louisa nodded. “I couldn’t allow him to hurt you anymore than he did. You deserved better than that man. He would have never been faithful to you, men like that—”
“Men like what? Rich men? Poor men? All men? I’m afraid I don’t understand your system of classification.”
“Men you love,” she answered. “Love makes us blind and far too forgiving to men’s faults. It’s the emotional investment that ruins all the promise of a good match. Just look at you and Mr. Turner. You had quite a successful marriage and admittedly, you never loved the man…”
“Victor and I should have never married. We had a dear friendship, but that isn’t enough to make a marriage.”
“But you were happy?”
“I was content. I was never happy. I was never fulfilled.”
“Happy, content – all the same.” Louisa smiled, pleased with herself. “Don’t tell me you don’t understand. We could have easily raised Kitty in the country. I had a fine estate there. She could have met a man she loved just as easily there as she could here in London. But you wanted her to have only the best possible matches. You say you want her to have a love match, but you were the first to deny her that. You are the one who went to retrieve her before she could marry the young Lord Wainscott, were you not?”
“Yes, but she’s young. I don’t believe she was making the right choice.”
“Exactly. Sometimes, it’s best we leave these choices up to those best prepared to make them for us. I believe that your heart leads you and not y
our head when it comes to the Marquess. You’ve said it yourself countless times before. You only want the best for your sister. I was doing you a favor. Really, you should be thanking me.”
Wilhelmina cupped her hand to her mouth. She had a terribly sick feeling in her stomach. She had done exactly to Kitty what her aunt, what George’s father, had done to her years before. She didn’t even give poor Henry a chance to state his argument, she simply passed judgement and removed Kitty from his presence. She thought she was helping her, keeping her from getting hurt. She believed she was the one best equipped to make those decisions for her, to keep her safe. When she’d been the one hurting Kitty all along.
“Now, are we going to the musicale?”
Wilhelmina nodded, her mind elsewhere. “Right. It’s like you said. We mustn’t allow Kitty to sit and wallow in pity. Best thing for her is to take her out, help her find someone new to take her mind off things.”
Louisa’s little gray eyes lit up. “I’m glad to hear you understand where I am coming from. It heartens me see how far you’ve come. I have to admit, I was quite worried when you brought that man back here.”
“Yes, I suppose you would be.”
“I know the power he has over you. And I wouldn’t want you to fall under his spell again.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”
“Everything I did, was for your welfare. I just wanted to keep you safe. I didn’t want to see you get hurt again. You were never strong enough for that sort of thing.”
Wilhelmina stood up. “Yes, well, I suppose I can see after my own safety now.”
With that, she walked out the room.
*
“Kitty, you look lovely.” Wilhelmina stepped out of the carriage with her sister, her aunt close behind. Kitty had always been the more beautiful of the two of them. Tonight, her blonde curls framed her face and she’d worn a pale peach gown that complimented her complexion.
“Thank you,” she replied politely.
“Now, do try and have a good time. The musicale should only last for an hour, two at the most.”
“I’m afraid I don’t feel much like going out tonight.” Kitty folded her arms across her stomach.
Wilhelmina gritted her teeth. Really, Kitty behaved more like a petulant child than a young woman ready to marry. “I understand you’re still very upset with me. Like I told you before, as your guardian, my sole responsibility is to safeguard your happiness.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” Kitty walked faster, entering the home of Lady Humphrey first, leaving Wilhelmina to chase behind her.
Aunt Louisa tapped her shoulder. “I’ll take Kitty to make the rounds. Why don’t you find me something to drink?” Wilhelmina did not have to be told twice. This was her aunt’s world, and soon to be Kitty’s. Her opportunity had come and gone. It was her place to sit demurely in the background and let Louisa handle the important things.
She wandered through the rooms, looking for the ratafia. Functions like these always had ratafia, though she much preferred a glass of fine whiskey. Of course, not-fine whiskey would do just as well in a time like this. Wandering through, she admired the home, decorated in the customary style of Greek revival, all gilt and ebony. She was already tired, causing her to question whether she had the stamina to withstand her plans for the evening.
She supposed if she were being completely honest with herself, she’d always doubted her place among such fine things. Her own rearing, though entitled in its own right, was nothing like this. That sense of insecurity fueled many spats with George. She couldn’t trust that he’d chosen her over Lady Evelyn. It was like choosing a simple wooden chair over the more ornamental type with brass medallions and fancy inlays. He had loved her because of her armor, but what he didn’t know was that there’d been chinks in it all along.
Finally, she’d found the drinks. She helped herself, making her way over to the wall where she could stand without drawing too much attention to herself. The unintended consequence of such a choice location was that she could then see everyone who entered and left the room, so she knew the moment George walked in.
He wasn’t alone. A petite brunette with a pretty face stood near him, her hand snaking up his arm.
When she was nine, she’d fallen from a tree. It was an incredibly old beech tree on their property and she’d been warned not to climb it, but she rarely listened and had almost no common sense at that age. She fell from a great height and landed flat on her back. Upon hitting the earth, it felt as if all the air had been sucked from her body. She couldn’t inhale, she couldn’t exhale, and she became overwhelmed by a feeling of panic and severe pain. She remained like that, motionless and without air for what seemed a terrifyingly long time.
This was far worse.
He looked amazing. He wore a black tailcoat and gray breeches with a silver waistcoat. With his black hair and olive skin he looked quite exotic among the sea of fair-colored gentlemen surrounding them. She wished she could say the woman on his arm was homely and possibly related, but she knew he had no cousins to speak of, and the woman made a fine match for him. She had a fine figure and a face that Italian artists would fight over the opportunity to paint.
It would have been so much easier had he come in wearing rags, escorting a wretched looking woman. But of course, that would never happen. Lord Chesterton was a desired bachelor, and would remain so even if he had no title or financial means. He was a devastatingly handsome man with talents that had ruined her for any other gentleman that came along.
She downed the ratafia in a single swig, then went back for another glass. Jealousy made her thirsty.
Wilhelmina looked around for a possible means of escape. The windows were tall but quite a distance up. She could jump, but surely she’d break a leg or an arm upon falling and that would make for an even more embarrassing confrontation. She was wearing a drab, navy gown with barely any ornamentation, so it was quite possible that she’d go unnoticed.
She stood at the table and stared in front of her, willing him to keep walking. Just keep walking…
“Mrs. Turner?”
Chapter 19
George knew she was there the moment he walked into the room. He didn’t have to physically lay eyes on her to know when Willie was there. He could always feel her presence.
When he did see her, he had to take a second look. She was beautiful in whatever she wore, especially when she wasn’t wearing anything at all. But tonight, she was gorgeous. For once, she wasn’t wearing all black. Her gown hugged close enough that he could make out the lines of her body, her taut waist, her round hips. She was tall and lean and graceful and moved as if she walked on air, not common ground like the rest of the world. Her hair had been swept up, decorated with nothing but a few combs. In a room where the women were drowning in jewels and precious metals, the sparsity of her decoration was a breath of fresh air.
He’d made a concerted effort not to reach out to her since they’d left the inn. It pained him to do so, but he knew when to leave well enough alone. Henry hadn’t learned such a lesson, and spent his days writing long letters, pouring his heart out, begging for his beloved’s hand. George had seen that they were delivered to the household, but as he’d learned, one can’t always be certain that the letter reaches its intended recipient.
Usually, he didn’t attend these sorts of things. They were more for those gentlemen in the market for a wife, or one that already had gotten married and whose wife insisted on such social exposure. But it had been important to Henry that he attend. Never in a thousand years would he have guessed she’d be here.
He remembered the woman on his arm. She was someone’s sister he’d agreed to escort. One couldn’t show up to these things alone. It was like throwing a piece of meat out to a pack of starving dogs.
“I’ll go get us some drinks,” he said, slipping his arm away from her grasp.
She smiled and fluttered her eyelids. He supposed that was a yes.
“Mrs.
Turner,” he said, approaching from behind her. It was foolish to pretend they hadn’t already spotted each other.
She turned, and he felt himself robbed of all breath.
“Lord Chesterton,” she returned quietly, bowing her head politely.
“Twice in ten years. My, aren’t I the lucky one.”
She smiled. He was relieved, thinking his little quip might have come too soon – the wounds were still so fresh.
“I can’t refuse every invitation.”
He smiled back, appreciative that she would even entertain the idea of polite conversation with him. “Are you here alone?”
She shook her head. “My sister and aunt are with me. I’m really here to support Kitty. And you?” Willie realized her error as soon as she’d spoken the words aloud. “I’m sorry, it just came out. I was trying to make casual conversation. I know you aren’t alone. But that’s perfectly fine by me. She looks like a very nice woman.”
He wanted to chuckle at her babbling, but knew better. “She is.”
“Is?”
“Nice,” he finished. “She’s one of my friend’s sisters. But I didn’t come with her, he just introduced us and I was escorting them both to find something to drink. I must have lost him somewhere in the shuffle.”
“Of course.” Willie refilled her glass.
“Do you enjoy the ratafia?”
She held up the glass, toasting. “Not at all. But, it’s what’s available.”
George reached into his tailcoat pocket and pulled out a flask. “It’s not all that’s available. May I?”
She nodded and he covertly emptied some of the flask’s contents into her glass.
“My, aren’t you the miracle worker, turning watered down ratafia into whiskey.”
“I am a man of many talents.”
He didn’t miss the blush that blanched her cheeks and crept down her bosom. It pleased him to see that she still wasn’t immune to his innuendo. “How is your sister doing?”
Second Chance Marquess (Second Chance Series Book 1) Page 16