At least the man had attempted decency in the end. “But he did not recover?”
“No, he succumbed.” Her matter of fact tone seemed odd, but perhaps she’d come to terms with her grief for the gentleman.
“And you were grief-stricken for a time, I was told.”
She paused before answering, again unusual. “Yes, I secluded myself for a time, out of respect for Lord Carrington’s passing.”
“And then the gossip began.”
Bowing her head, she nodded.
“Was there anything that might have precipitated it? Other than simply your betrothal?” There must be some reason for the gossip to start, although the ton’s tongues might wag if a dog died.
With a deep sigh, the lady raised her head, her mouth set in stern lines. “About a month after his lordship died, I became…ill. A slight indisposition only, and one that had occurred before.” Now she avoided his eyes and her cheeks had become a rosy red. “I remained in bed for several days. We believe one of the maids told this to a neighbor’s servant and that is how the tale of a child began. A story that is far, far from the truth, but has nevertheless been believed from that day to this.”
“I see.” Nathan did see how such an indisposition, coming at that particular time, could be construed as a miscarriage. And there would be no way to refute it, save denials. Which would not be believed. The prevailing lax climate that unofficially condoned couples acting as if married when they were not, would be cited as the norm, and the guilt of the lady would be automatically assumed. “Was there anything else?”
She paused, then nodded. “I was not with Lord Carrington at his death bed, but people who were there said that he continually asked about…a child. His child.”
Nathan closed his eyes briefly, then asked in what he hoped was a normal tone of voice, “What do you make of that, Miss Burrowes?”
“All I can think is that the illness caused him to speak wildly.” Defiantly, she met his gaze. “I can only tell you that I bore him none.”
A disturbing development to say the least. No wonder the lady’s reputation had remained in ruins.
“So now that you know the truth, my lord, what do you intend to do?” Her tone affirmed that she believed he could do nothing.
Likely she was correct. He’d sought her version of the facts simply to corroborate what Haversham had told him, and to hear it from her own lips, in the hope that he would discover her innocent. Did he believe her tale was now the question to be answered.
“Thank you so much for your candid words, Miss Burrowes. I know it was not easy for you to relive this episode in your life.”
“On the contrary, Lord Ainsley, I have relived it almost every day of my life since the gossip began. It no longer upsets me as it used to.” She set her jaw, giving her a fierce countenance. “I hope my story has illuminated the situation, although if you are like most people, you must make up your own mind as to my guilt or innocence.”
A swift nod of his head and he raised the ribbons to start the team. She was absolutely correct. He would need to mull her words over, play them against Haversham’s account, and decide which version seemed more likely. And then act upon that decision.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mulling over Miss Burrowes’s story, trying to reach a decision as to her innocence or guilt occupied Nathan much more than he would have thought over the next several days. He’d been certain when he’d asked for her explanation that he would be able to instantly ascertain the truth of the matter, but the facts as they’d been presented by both Lord Haversham and the lady herself seemed extraordinarily plausible in both cases. The crux of the matter of his belief seemed to come down to that passionate kiss they had shared under the cherry tree. Would a woman who had shared such a moment with him—before even an official courtship had been established—be more likely to have shared similar kisses and more with a man to whom she was betrothed and expected to marry?
He needed to make up his mind and quickly, for time was of the essence. Mr. Burrowes would surely complete his arrangements for the marriage of his daughter to Mr. Burke soon if Nathan did not speak to him. And the more he thought of that eventuality, the less he liked it. Much to his surprise, his reacquaintance with Miss Burrowes had brought back the feelings of their brief but intense association those years ago.
To say he was still attracted to the lady minced words indeed. In fact, he’d thought about nothing else but Miss Burrowes ever since they’d met at Lady Hamilton’s earlier in the week. The sight of her once more, the knowledge that she was not married, and that her reputation had been ruined had actually kept him up these past nights. Damned inconvenient when he’d business that needed attending to, but he’d been totally unable to help himself. If not for this uncertainty about her character that ate at him constantly, he’d have already met with her father and likely come to an accord with the lady herself.
So this evening he was on his way to dine with Haversham and hash out every objection to putting forward his suit for her. His friend would likely have very loud, very strenuous protests to this course of action, but he cared not a jot for that. Deep down in his soul, he wanted her, believed he belonged with her. If his friend could talk him out of that belief, then so be it. The ensuing discussion would likely be lively to say the least.
Upon being announced, Nathan entered the drawing room in Haversham’s townhouse to find he was not the only dinner guest this evening. Lady Letitia, Haversham’s sister, of course was in attendance, but so were Marcus’s aunt, Lady George Pye, and his own his aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Ivor and their daughter Celinda. Both Celinda and Letitia were out this Season, which must be the reason for the small dinner party. Perhaps a session in strategy for the young ladies had been planned. Still, he could speak to Marcus while they were having their after-dinner port.
“Ainsley, well met.” Marcus greeted him with a smile.
“Haversham. Good of you to invite me. How goes the courtship?” Nathan couldn’t help deviling his friend a bit. He’d begun his courtship of Nathan’s sister Kate a few days previous after losing a large wager. Nathan had been so consumed with thoughts of Miss Burrowes he’d neglected to monitor his friend’s progress.
Haversham rolled his eyes. “So far so good, although your sister could try the patience of a plaster saint sometimes.” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “She’s actually been quite good company, though I’d not have believed it. We went for Gunter’s ices today and discovered we both particularly like the lemon ones.”
“A match made in heaven, then.” Nathan chuckled. “By way of the gaming tables. I am very glad to hear it, Marcus. Carry on.” As his friend was about to step away, he grasped his arm. “We need to speak later, alone. About Miss Burrowes.”
“Lord God, Nathan.” Alarm shone in his friend’s raised eyebrows and sudden scowl. “What the hell do you mean?”
“After dinner.”
Haversham groaned softly but nodded and turned back to his duties as host. “Shall we go in?”
The seating arrangements were not strictly conventional, and Nathan again assumed they were for the purpose of the parents and guardians of the girls needing to discuss the prospects of their charges. Marcus and his sister sat at head and foot of the table, Lord and Lady Ivor together on Marcus’s right, Lady George, Nathan and Lady Celinda on his left. As the first course began, Lady Ivor leaned her head toward Haversham, and Nathan turned to Lady Celinda. His cousin was a particular friend of his sister. Perhaps she could shed some light on Kate’s perspective of Marcus’s courtship so far.
“Kate tells me you are being particularly wicked this Season.”
Nathan froze. Dear God, had Kate found out about his wager with Marcus?
Celinda laid her napkin primly in her lap, as though she’d just remarked on the weather rather than that volatile opening volley. “I do hope it’s true. We have never had a true scandal in our family. I cannot help but think it will be most exciting. Of cou
rse, the most exciting thing will be my marriage to Lord Finley, but that will not be a scandal. At least I don’t think it will.” She paused to consider, her soup spoon poised above her bowl.
“Has Lord Finley declared his intentions toward you already?” The Season had just begun. He’d not even scraped an acquaintance with the man yet, although Marcus had.
“Oh, not in so many words, no. But we have gotten along famously since we met at Lady Hamilton’s ball the other night, where he danced with me twice. Including the supper dance.” She smiled gaily. “It is only a matter of time before he approaches Papa. Oh, I know what I was about to say. About the scandal. I have not planned for Lord Finley and me to be the object of gossip, save the good-natured kind, that remarks on how handsome a couple we are, or how happy we look together. But one never knows.” She took a bit of soup, then nodded toward him. “Just look at Miss Burrowes. I am certain she never dreamed of becoming an example of a ruined woman when she first came out.”
Nathan’s soup got caught half-way down his throat. Either he had to calm himself, risk embarrassing himself by spewing the white soup everywhere, or else drown in it. The rock-hard discipline he’d learned at Jackson’s salon, to push through pain or surprise, came to his aid. Slowly, he relaxed and managed to swallow it down, though he went into a fit of coughing afterward.
Good naturedly, Celinda pounded him on the back while every eye in the dining room turned on him.
“Are you quite all right, Ainsley?” Haversham called from his end of the table.
“Never better, thank you,” he croaked. Clearing his throat helped, followed by a long sip of the good Bordeaux Marcus always served. He smiled at everyone around the table and when they resumed their animated chatter, he turned back to Lady Celinda. “What are you up to, imp? Has Kate put you up to killing me? And how do you even know anything about Miss Burrowes?”
Waving her hand, Celinda laughed merrily. “Kate is much too taken up with Lord Haversham at the moment to think about you, Nathan. I believe they will make a match of it, and sooner rather than later.” She leaned over toward him and lowered her voice. “I have known of Miss Burrowes ever since Mamma began preparing me for my come out. Her story was the example used to frighten me into behaving as decorously as possible where gentlemen were concerned. Never be alone with a gentleman, even one to whom you are affianced, or people will assume the worst and ruin your reputation the first chance they get.” The light-hearted Celinda actually shuddered. “I have known what happened to her for years as a caution against folly.” She arched her eyebrows at him “And I daresay the poor lady would just as soon hide as go riding in your curricle, cousin, for all the ton to see.”
Blast. Who had seen them in the park? He’d thought he’d been so careful. “I wished to speak with the lady privately and thought a ride might be a pleasant outing for both of us.”
“And of course you had a tendre for her once as well.”
Thankfully he’d not taken another sip of his wine yet, though now he wished for something a lot stronger. “What are you talking about, Celinda?”
“Your father told my mother about it, apparently just after you went on your Grand Tour. She told me of it when she warned me about Miss Burrowes and her plight.”
His cousin knew damn well too much for her own good. “I knew the lady that summer, yes. I would not go so far as to call it a tendre.” Although truth to tell, his feelings had run much deeper than that. That was the problem now. He wanted desperately to believe her, but how could he?
“You didn’t ruin her, did you, Nathan?”
“Celinda!” The child was impossible. Heads had turned toward them again. “Your sense of the dramatic will land you into trouble one of these days, mark my words.”
“It has stood me in good stead until now.” Smiling sweetly, she lifted her wine glass. “And you neglected to answer my question, cousin.”
“Of course I did no such thing. I wanted to marry her. If only I’d been allowed to stay in London, I would have done.”
“Do you wish to do so now?” His cousin stared at him frankly, much too knowing for one of nineteen.
“The situation is more complicated, as you must know. I have no way to know if she’s telling the truth about the matter.” And likely never would know unless they did marry. By which time it would be too late if the worst turned out to be the truth.
“Does it truly matter so much after all these years, Nathan?” All teasing aside, Celinda looked earnestly into his face. “If she did make the mistake of which she is accused, can the behavior not be excused? I had this same conversation with Mamma, who was totally unsympathetic. But really, the whole ton knows such behavior goes on and little is done to discourage it. I daresay when Lord Finley proposes we, too, shall anticipate our wedding night. I shall be disappointed if we do not. It seems almost the fashionable thing to do.”
“Celinda, your parents must be considering locking you up and having all your courtships handled expressly by the post.” His cousin was totally out of control to be proposing such wild behavior. Not that she wasn’t correct in her estimation that the ton turned a blind eye to the behavior of betrothed couples. Nor in her observation that such behavior, while officially condemned, was nevertheless unexceptional.
“They may try, but I doubt they will succeed. There is a tall tree just outside my bedroom window and I have been good at climbing ever since I was in leading strings. But Nathan,” she sobered again, “can you honestly tell me that had you been engaged to Miss Burrowes, you would not have pressed her before the wedding night?”
Nathan sat back, his plate still untouched. He didn’t even recall it being placed before him, so the footman likely had gotten an earful of their conversation. But Celinda’s words struck very close to the bone. As he remembered that night under the cherry tree—and he remembered it very well indeed—the idea had flitted through his mind to persuade Miss Burrowes to come away with him to a nearby bower and seal their accord with the joining of their bodies. If only he had done so, much would have been different.
“You should also take this into consideration, cousin.” Having gotten no response, Celinda had decided to forge on with her plea. “Whether or not Miss Burrowes and Lord Carrington anticipated their wedding night would have mattered not a jot had he lived long enough to marry her. Another week and she would have been his widow, and absolutely none of this would have mattered. She would have been pitied then and now rather than reviled for so long. Is the lack of that single action worth throwing away your happiness again?”
Stunned, Nathan stared at his full plate. Had he been looking at the situation wrong? Celinda’s arguments were persuasive, the most convincing being the last one. Had Miss Burrowes been married to Carrington, no matter how briefly, she would have been fussed over and prayed for, would have been given the status of grieving widow and no one would have given a second thought as to what they had done before the vows were spoken. Given all Miss Burrowes had gone through, it seemed about time she was accorded the status she should have been given years ago. By him if by no one else in the ton.
A footman moved in to take away his plate, but Nathan stood up, making the man dance backward.
“My abject apologies, Haversham, Lady George, aunt, uncle, Lady Letitia, Lady Celinda,” he smiled down at his dinner companion. Hopefully soon he’d be able to dance at her wedding. She deserved her happiness if she’d set him on the straight path to his own. “I find I have most urgent business to attend to that will not wait.”
“What has happened, Ainsley?” Marcus rose and made as if to accompany him out.
“A revelation, Haversham. Like Paul on the road to Damascus, the scales have fallen from my eyes. Wish me luck, old chap.” He bowed to the company, who all looked at him with amazement.
“Don’t tell me it has to do with—”
“It does.” Nathan started for the doorway.
“But you can’t—”
“Oh, yes, I can,
and I do, and I will.” With that somewhat cryptic statement, that Marcus should understand perfectly, he hurried from the room in search of his hat and stick. After consulting his pocket watch, he was inclined to believe he might just interrupt Mr. Burrowes’s dinner, but he cared not at all for that. He had a message to deliver and the devil himself wouldn’t be able to stop him tonight.
* * * *
Dinner had wound down, thank goodness, and Amelia looked forward to her mother rising to retire to the drawing room without the gentlemen. Her father and Mr. Burke had talked incessantly about fox hunting, which seemed to be a most popular sport in Derbyshire. Amelia rode tolerably well, of course, but she could not hunt, and so the topic held little interest for her. Her time at dinner had been spent listening to the sighings of her mother because Lord Ainsley had not put in an appearance since he had escorted her home after their ride two days ago.
She’d tried to tell her mother that they would be seeing no more of the viscount, but the woman was obsessed with the belief that he wished to renew his attentions to Amelia. Perhaps once she and Mr. Burke had signed the register Mamma would accept that she was not going to marry Lord Ainsley. From the looks of things that would be in a little over two weeks. She’d not formally accepted Mr. Burke yet, but that would likely occur in the next day or so, in enough time for the banns to begin this Sunday. Mamma had insisted that she be married after the banns and not by special license. Under no circumstances should it look like they were rushing to the altar.
The door opened and Myers, the butler, entered. “Mr. Burrowes, there is a gentleman to see you. I tried to tell him the family was at dinner, but he was most insistent. I have put him in the front receiving room.”
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