The Baron's Honourable Daughter

by Lynn Morris

  “But what I want to say is that I’m so very—”

  “Please,” she whispered brokenly. “Please, my lord, I can bear no more.”

  The wrenching depth of sorrow in that plea, and, more obscurely, the fact that she had called him by the submissive title that servants used, made Alastair feel wretched.

  During what seemed like an endless ride, Valeria cried steadily; it seemed the river of tears had no end. Once, with trembling hands, she reached behind her head, untied her mask, and let it drop to the floor. She never looked up, and that was the only time she moved. Alastair was so desperately unhappy, and felt so guilty for his outrageously harsh words to her, that he couldn’t think of a single way to begin to comfort her. He had never felt at such a loss, so utterly helpless.

  When they reached the completely darkened Maledon town house, Alastair was uncertain how to proceed. “Do you have a key, Valeria?” he asked.

  “No, I—no.” The groom appeared at the window, then opened the door and pulled down the steps.

  Valeria rose very slowly, as if she were in pain. “No, don’t,” she said to Alastair, who made a move to follow her. “Just—just please go. Please leave me alone.”

  This went against every instinct that Alastair possessed. He was loath to leave Valeria in this state. But what was he to do? Escort her in? Impossible; he could plainly see that the house was locked up for the night. He knew that Valeria must have sneaked out somehow.

  Valeria stopped and turned, and for the first time, looked up. Her beautiful face was dead white, her eyes big black blotches in the dim light. “Thank you,” she said numbly. “Good-bye.”

  Alastair was so deeply affected by the desolation in her voice that he couldn’t bring himself to respond. He signaled the groom to close the door, and knocked once on the ceiling, and the carriage moved off into the night. Slowly he bent and picked up the mask. It was soaked with her tears. Carefully he folded it and put it in his pocket.

  And then he released his tightly controlled emotions. He was, in fact, intensely angry at himself, and not at all angry with Valeria. No, he had been completely in the wrong; he had savaged her, accused her of falseness and wanton cruelty. But Alastair knew that Valeria could never be deliberately malicious. In spite of the foolish things she had done, it had always been plain to see that she really was innocent, with an almost childlike naïveté. And he had inflicted such pain on her…

  His thoughts continued in this harsh and brutal manner. As they neared the Pantheon, he began to think of Daniel Everleigh with loathing. How could he have treated Valeria so infamously? He knew very well the consequences. How could he be so careless with her reputation? Stupid, criminally thoughtless young cur…I ought to call him out.

  The idea of fighting a duel with Daniel Everleigh had a particular appeal for Alastair just now. He hadn’t fought in years, but when he was younger, and much more hotheaded than he was now, he had been out twice. Unflinchingly he had taken fire—his opponents had both missed—and then he had deliberately shot into the air. Alastair didn’t know if he could be so kind with Daniel Everleigh.

  Of course, it was impossible; if the two of them fought over Valeria’s honor, the story of what she’d done would surely get out.

  Abruptly it struck Alastair; he was anxious, even eager, to defend her honor. How…when had that happened?

  And then Alastair realized that it didn’t matter; really, nothing mattered very much. His confused feelings for Valeria Segrave were of no consequence. Probably the truest, most heartfelt, most honest thing she had said to him on this miserable night was to ask him to leave her alone.

  And so he must do as she wished; and so he would.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  EVERYTHING THAT ALASTAIR HAD SAID was true, and Valeria was so desolate over those truths that terrible night that she felt ill. In her extremity of distress she managed to really make herself ill. The headache, which had begun when Alastair started talking to her, steadily grew to such an intensity that Valeria could neither speak nor open her eyes, for she couldn’t bear even the slightest light or noise. She was violently sick every time she tried to drink even tepid water. On the third day she developed a slight fever, but in her reduced state it weakened her so much that Regina grew afraid, and the next day she called in Maledon’s doctor, Sir John Apsley.

  After examining her he came down to the drawing room, where Lady Hylton and Lady Lydgate waited with Regina. His features showed appropriate solemnity, but he was not grave. “First of all let me make it clear to you, Lady Maledon, that she is going to be just fine, probably in a few days. There is no call for serious concern at all.” He gave them a spare smile. “In fact, she was feeling well enough to tell me, with some impertinence, I might add, that she didn’t need me, there was nothing wrong with her except she was indulging in a miserable fit of the blue devils.”

  He waited a few moments to let the relief overtake the ladies, then continued, “She has what is one of the worst megrims I’ve ever seen; her sensitivity to light and sound is extraordinarily painful. The fever is really of no consequence, for I can detect no sign of any putrid infection. I attribute it more to her disturbance of mind than to any physical cause. She is exhibiting a worrisome anorexia. Give her light lukewarm barley water, and see if she can keep it down. If so, give her small portions three times a day. I shall call back on Thursday.”

  Although Sir John was somewhat brusque, Regina felt immeasurably better. As she kissed Letitia and Elyse good-bye, she said, “Perhaps, if she can keep down the barley water, she will be stronger tomorrow and you will be able to see her. I know that it would comfort her a good deal.”

  As Regina slowly went upstairs, she reflected sadly that she wasn’t sure at all whether she had told the truth. It seemed that Valeria didn’t wish to see anyone, not even her. On the first day Valeria had said, in a low weak murmur, “Please let Joan take care of me, Mamma. I feel I’m a burden to you just now. Please.” Regina had acceded to her wishes, and only sat with her for short periods throughout the day. Valeria rarely opened her eyes or said a word.

  It grieved Regina afresh when she came into the darkened room after Sir John’s visit. Valeria’s face was as pale as death, the shadows under her eyes were like dark blue bruises, and she was noticeably thinner. Without making a sound Regina sat in the chair by her bed, and just as silently Joan left the room. Very gently Regina took Valeria’s hand. It was a relief to her that Valeria’s skin was cool, even chilled, instead of heat-fevered. Regina adjusted the coverlets more securely around her.

  When she sat back down she saw that Valeria’s eyes were open, and though her gaze was dull, it was focused. “Hello, my darling,” Regina whispered.

  “Hello, Mamma. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Of course I’m here. I’ll always be here for you, Valeria.”

  Valeria swallowed hard and pressed her eyes closed for a moment. Then she looked up again, and to her mother’s consternation, Valeria’s eyes were filled with tears. “Mamma, I have—I have done something that is very wrong, and I must—”

  Lightly Regina laid her finger on Valeria’s cold lips. “I forgive you.”

  “But—you don’t know—do you?”

  “No, I don’t know what you’ve done, my love. What I do know is that whatever you have done, it was in no way malicious, and that you had no deliberate intention of harming me or anyone else. That kind of sin is not in you, Valeria. The only confession you need make, and the only forgiveness you must ask for, is from our Heavenly Father.”

  More tears rolled down Valeria’s face, and with tenderness Regina dabbed them away. “I can’t believe that God could forgive me for—for—”

  “Child, if I, a flawed, sinful woman, can freely and completely forgive you, don’t you think that the Lord Jesus will forgive you and with infinitely more love?”

  Valeria sighed, a shuddering, deep, but cleansing breath, and then nodded. “Yes, Mamma, I know that you speak the tru
th. I will confess to Him, and I will seek His forgiveness; at least, I will try.”

  * * *

  As he had done the past three days, Alastair met his mother and sister in the entrance hall as soon as they came through the front door. “How is she? Is she improved at all?”

  Acidly Lady Hylton answered, “She must be, as she was impudent to Sir John, which I’m sure astounds us all.”

  Alastair was not amused. “What is the prognosis?”

  Elyse answered, “What sounds like a vicious megrim, with some slight fever, and a regrettable anorexia. Still, Sir John says that she will be fine in a few days.”

  Some of the tension went out of Alastair’s face. Lady Hylton went into the drawing room, but Alastair laid his hand on his sister’s shoulder and said, “I wish to speak to you privately, Elyse. Will you join me in the library?”

  “Of course.”

  They sat down at a splendid mahogany baroque library table. Alastair seemed to have some difficulty in opening up the conversation, for he stayed silent for long moments, staring into space. Elyse thought that he’d had a particularly bleak look these past few days, since Valeria had fallen so ill, and she wondered at it.

  At length Alastair said, “It pains me that I must involve you in what is a complex entanglement, most of which I cannot fully explain to you. But it is necessary, it is absolutely imperative, that I make amends, and I cannot think of another way.”

  This somewhat incoherent speech, wholly foreign to her calm, composed brother, surprised Elyse. With comforting directness she said, “I don’t understand, Alastair, but be assured that I will help you in any way that I can.”

  “Thank you, yes, thank you,” he said in a distracted manner. He shifted in his seat, crossed his legs, uncrossed them, and then sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Daniel Everleigh,” he bit off, “took advantage of Miss Segrave and placed her in a very compromising situation. I was a witness to—to the situation, and I reacted very badly, perhaps as badly as I have ever done. I blamed Miss Segrave, and I said things that I most bitterly regret.”

  Elyse started to say something, but with quick harshness Alastair went on, “So I’ve dealt with that flash little sharp, but I’m not through with him yet. No, don’t look so distraught, Elyse, I haven’t called him out, though I wish I could. But in that event the—situation would become known, and I’ve gone to some pains to assure that that will never happen. At any rate, I’m not sure Everleigh would fight me even if I wrung his pert little nose right in the middle of White’s,” he growled. “You must speak to Miss Segrave, and here is where you—you can—can help me.” He jumped up and started pacing back and forth, his head bowed, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. “Are you aware, that is, has Miss Segrave indicated to you the—of the nature of her feelings for Everleigh? Is she—is she in love with him?” he asked, almost pleadingly.

  Even in childhood, Alastair had been a self-contained, rather remote little boy, and as he had grown into manhood his dispassionate demeanor had increased. For her brother to openly show such distress, such a lack of control over his emotions, was wholly foreign, and disturbed her. Still, Lady Lydgate was a woman who spoke her mind plainly, and now she rolled her eyes and said, “Alastair, for such an intelligent man you can be a great ninny.”

  “Yes, so I’ve learned,” he said dryly.

  “Of course Valeria is not in love with Daniel Everleigh, she’s never shown the least bit of romantic interest in him at all. The highest compliments she’s ever paid him are that he’s great fun and he has good calves.”

  “Calves?” Alastair repeated blankly.

  “Calves. Of his legs. His legs look fine in stockings.”

  “Great heavens, is that what refined women talk about—never mind. So if she’s not in love with him, then how will she view him now?” he muttered under his breath, still pacing.

  “I know Valeria well enough to answer that question, and so should you. When Valeria realizes that Mr. Everleigh has abused their friendship, and treated her with disrespect, she won’t wish to have anything further to do with him. And I daresay she won’t miss him at all.”

  “Good,” he said brusquely. “Then I’ll make it my business to impress on Everleigh that from now on out he will not further presume upon their friendship, or impose upon her. When they meet he must show her deference and courtesy, but keep a proper distance. And I’ll tell him that if he snubs her in any way, no matter how slight, I’ll horsewhip him.” This spate of ferocity seemed, perversely, to calm Alastair, and he resumed his seat.

  “I see. And so I am to communicate to Valeria these tender mercies you are exerting on her behalf?”

  “No! No, Elyse. You don’t understand. When you speak to her, you must not speak of me. I have treated her so—” He bit off his words, set his jaw, and went on with difficulty. “Suffice it to say that I abused her even worse than did Everleigh. In fact, I hold myself wholly responsible for her illness, and am convinced that even the mention of my name would cause her grievous distress.”

  Elyse was appalled. “Oh, Alastair, surely you exaggerate! I know that you can be rather harsh sometimes, but you are never dishonorable, like Everleigh.”

  His jaw was clenched, and his voice was ragged. “How I wish that were true. All my life I’ve told myself that I adhered to the strictest sense of honor, but I’ve been deceiving myself. My actions, my words, to Miss Segrave were disgraceful. So I intend to take my own advice to Everleigh, and not impose upon her with my presence, which can only cause her further pain. I plan on staying at my flat, so we won’t meet here. Furthermore, I’m going to ensure that I don’t appear at any events that she attends, as far as possible. For those invitations I’ve already accepted and for which I cannot make my excuses, I’ll assiduously try to avoid her.”

  Elyse was incredulous. “I see. So you are going to make sure that Everleigh doesn’t snub her, but you intend to do so?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Alastair, never in my life have I seen you so confused of mind. First you tell me that you reprimanded her for an indiscretion, and then you decide you won’t see her or speak to her anymore? Don’t you think that will be noted, and gossiped about? Has it really not entered in what passes for your mind that everyone will construe that as glaring public censure?”

  He sighed deeply. “No…no. I was only thinking of not burdening her with my presence. You’re right, of course. But I shall endeavor to intrude on her as little as possible.”

  Softly she said, “Valeria has a fiery, tumultuous spirit, and she can be obstinate. But she is at heart a loving girl, like her mother, and I know that she will certainly forgive you.”

  Alastair murmured, “You are wholly right, and you are wholly wrong, Elyse. Valeria does have a loving heart. And she will never be able to forgive me for the way I’ve spoken to her.”

  * * *

  It was two more days before Valeria was strong enough to receive visitors. When Elyse went up to her bedroom, she was shocked at how drawn and thin Valeria looked. But she gave no sign, as she kissed her on both cheeks and said cheerfully, “It’s about time you rejoined the land of the living, dearest. Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes, much better today, thank you,” Valeria answered with a wan smile. “I managed to drink a cup of chicken broth this morning, and a cup of thin tea. Joan tells me the entire kitchen regarded it as a major triumph of expert cookery.”

  “And I don’t blame them, your mother has told us of how difficult it has been to find something that agrees with you. Oh, Valeria, you really must do better than broth and watery tea. You must regain your strength quickly, so that you won’t miss any more of the fun. It’s already the shame of the world that you’re not going to be able to attend the prince’s fête.”

  Valeria looked down and picked at the bedcover. “Honestly, I’m glad that I won’t have to go through it, attending a royal function seems to me to be more of a strain than it is enjoyable.”<
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  Valeria was, Elyse plainly saw, still very weak and sickly, and she hoped that her apathy was due to that. But she suspected Valeria thought that her indiscretion, whatever it had been, was now publicly known, and she probably thought that she was now a social pariah. Alastair had sworn that no hint of the compromising situation would ever be disclosed, and had insisted that Elyse communicate that to Valeria. But then he had also made her promise not to mention him, and Elyse was sadly puzzled as to how to make these reassurances to Valeria without telling her the careful measures her brother had taken to make sure that no hint of scandal would touch her.

  Alastair had suggested that Elyse mention this, and convey to Valeria that, and imply so-and-so, and make clear thus-and-such. For a straightforward, plain-speaking woman like Elyse, such delicate obscurities seemed silly. But she loved her brother, and she had promised.

  So now she said lightly, “You only think that because you’re ill. When you’re better I’m afraid that you will regret it. I’m sure the prince regent will regret it too, and I’ve no doubt at all that you will be invited to Carlton House again.

  “Besides, we are not the only ones who sorely miss you. Everyone is so downcast at your illness, and worried about you. Why, just last night at Almack’s Lady Sefton, Lady Jersey, and even Mrs. Drummond-Burrell questioned me closely about your condition, they were so much concerned.”

  Valeria looked surprised. “Truly? They said—kind things about me? There has been no…” Her voice trailed off.

  Blithely Elyse went on, “Why should you be surprised, darling, everyone knows you’re a favorite. Even the merest acquaintances you’ve made, such as Miss Tree and Miss Cranleigh and Miss Mowbray, have all expressed the hope that you’d rejoin us soon. Even Lord Sefton, in his jolly, woolly, horsey way, asked after you…” Elyse prated on for a while, saying everything that she could recall Alastair’s telling her to say.

  Carefully she watched Valeria’s face to see if her reassurances were having the desired effect. She thought so; Valeria did seem to cheer up, though she was sadly lacking her usual brightness and vivacity. Elyse hoped that that was mainly due to her illness.