“I genuinely hope you are right, Thomas! If he…” Nellie clenched her hands into fists as they entered the parlour, unable to finish her sentence, though she need not have worried, as he seemed to understand the direction her thoughts had taken her.
“Nel, my dear,” Thomas said, and turned her to face him. “I am sure he is simply befriending her and nothing scandalous has occurred.”
“Oh, I very much doubt that. He is a rogue, Thomas, and she is clearly an innocent.”
He scoffed, “A rogue? You know this how?”
She placed her hands on her hips and glared at her husband. She knew a lot about the debauchery of the ton, but she was not going to give him the chance to ask questions. This was about Headline and Lady Amelia! She could not resist the urge to stamp her foot. She would not allow the girl to be ruined!
“Do not claim me daft, husband. I know all about the men of the ton! Even in the country, the dealings of our peers in London reach our ears.”
She saw the butler and footman enter, then pause to exchange a glance. She sighed and waved them in with the tea service they were carrying.
“That does not mean it is all true, my dear,” Thomas stated calmly.
“No, but it generally is,” she huffed.
He sighed. “Even so, why not give the man the benefit of the doubt?”
“They were unchaperoned in Hyde Park, Thomas. Anyone could have seen them. We did.”
He gave a nod. “Indeed, we did.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You seem unconcerned, husband. Do you know something I do not?”
He blinked at her. “Pardon?”
“Men are known to tell tales of their conquests. Has he already ruined her?” she asked and placed her hand over her heart. She would kill Headline with her bare hands! Where had her sudden rage come from? She had no idea, but as they had made their way back to the house, Nellie had allowed her thoughts to wander and suddenly she was indeed worried for the girl. Very much so.
Thomas said nothing, but stared at her, seeming somewhat shocked.
“If he hurts her, I will come after you, husband, so I implore you to seek out your friend and advise him of as much!” she snapped.
Thomas blinked then barked a laugh. She continued to glare at him and he raised an eyebrow. “You must be joking.”
“I assure you, I am not.”
He simply looked at her for a while before he sighed. “Indeed, I will speak with him.”
She felt as if a weight had been lifted and she walked forward and wrapped her arms around Thomas, hugging him tightly before she kissed his cheek.
“Thank you, husband,” she whispered and looked into his eyes with what she hoped was promise.
It was clear he understood her meaning. “Hmm. I will claim my reward later, wife.”
She grinned and turned from him, walking towards the servants and removing her top hat. She sighed as she sat down. She was rather tired.
“Karla was a splendid ride. You have schooled her well, Geoff,” Nellie said to the footman as he walked forward and started to serve tea where she had come to rest on the settee.
“I am glad you had a pleasant ride, my lady,” Geoff said.
“For you, my dear,” Thomas said, and handed her a small pile of letters from the tray Parker had given him.
Nellie looked at them with a bland expression before she accepted them grudgingly. He chuckled at her obvious lack of enthusiasm.
She flicked through the letters until she came to one that clearly stood out from the rest. Its embossed lettering and fine parchment were enough to make anyone take notice, but as she turned the envelope over and saw the wax seal, Nellie felt all the blood drain from her face.
“My lady, are you well?” Parker asked, and she nodded without even looking up.
Then came Thomas’ concerned voice. “Nel?”
She blinked, taking a moment to focus before she looked to him. She shook her head and looked back to the letter, breaking the seal and pulling out the card inside. She could not believe it. Shock and pain suddenly pierced her soul.
Thomas knelt before her and took the card, examining it for a moment before handing it back.
“Do you not want to attend? That is fine by me. They say it is an honour to be placed on the guest list, though I must admit I think it more a penance than a privilege,” he scoffed.
She looked at her husband in disgust. “You are truly a snob.”
He stared at her, as did Parker and Geoff. “I beg your pardon?”
“You have been brought up to expect to be on the guest list for all the grandest events of the ton, but I assure you that not all of us are raised that way. My mother wanted me to attend Almack’s during my first season, so much so that she wrote letter after letter to the patroness, seeking one of these vouchers,” Nellie said and waved the parchment in the air. “She was dying and we all knew it—we all knew it to be her final weeks, but that did not stop her. When she received no response she did not lose hope. Still she wrote, and hand-beaded a dress for me, hoping still to receive an invitation, but I did not.” Tears leaked from Nellie’s eyes in a steady flow. “Her final words to me were, ‘I am sorry I failed you’.”
Thomas stared at his weeping wife for a moment before he pulled her into his arms. Just moments ago she had been a wildcat, determined to rip Headline apart if he harmed the Lady Amelia, and now she wept over the memory of her mother.
Had her words carried truth when she had called him a snob? He had been raised as the future Duke of Sterling, so he would have thought not, but he could see her reasoning. Some people would give anything for that which had been gifted to him. It was not as if he had had a choice—it was simply his birthright.
He attempted to soothe her by running his hands down her back and whispering into her hair. Slowly she grew calmer and pulled back, wiping her eyes.
“Geoff, could you please call for Anne?” she whispered.
As the boy left the room, Thomas looked down at her. “Nel, I am sorry if I sounded harsh. I have been raised in this life. If I sound jaded, it is because I likely am. You too have been raised above others. You must understand this.”
She nodded. “I do, but it does not mean I accept it. While I have been raised with money, it does not mean I need to hold it over others like those women do at Almack’s. They ignored my dying mother as if they thought she and I were not good enough to attend. I am a daughter of a lord, yet they still deemed me unworthy.”
He gave a firm nod. “We are not attending.”
“We most certainly are!”
Thomas felt his eyes bulge. “Pardon?” he asked, suddenly very confused.
The door opened and Anne entered.
“Anne, come!” Nellie said eagerly.
Thomas looked to Parker, and the man looked just as perplexed as he felt.
Anne took the offered voucher for attendance from Nellie and stared at it in shock for several moments before she looked to her mistress. “Oh, my Lady, your mother will be cheering from the heavens,” the girl said with emotion.
“Indeed, she will be,” Nellie murmured as she took the card and sat down, looking longingly at it.
“Shall I go to Kilbride House, my lady?”
Nellie nodded. “Yes, Anne. I need her with me.”
Thomas watched the maid leave and was as confused as he had been prior to her entrance—perhaps more so.
“My dear, why is your maid attending Kilbride House?” he asked.
Nellie looked to him, her eyes glassy and filled with an emotion he could only name as pain. “To fetch the dress my mother made me.”
He nodded. “But why the rush?”
“The ball is tonight.”
Chapter Thirteen
The unpretentious building was not what Nellie had envisioned the great Almack’s to be, but she had overcome her shock two seasons ago when she and her mother had travelled past the club, eagerly peering through the curtains of the carriage as it had pass
ed by. She was no longer that naïve child, nor did she care to be walking up to the door as she did now, but her mother had wanted this for her so badly. There would be little chance of her not giving her mother what she had wished most for her daughter, even if she was now married, no longer fresh at her first season.
The brooding doorman said nothing as Thomas handed over their vouchers, only offered a nod and opened the door for them to enter. She eyed the man who stood as guardian to this elusive club, the man who stood in the way of many young girls’ and mothers’ dreams. She had the urge to kick him in the shins, yet resisted—if only marginally.
Nellie stepped through the unassuming entrance, and her breath lodged in her throat as they entered the paradoxical interior. While a footman took her coat, she could not help but gaze up at the grand entranceway which led into the majestic ballroom. Stunning draperies hung from the ceilings, looking as though they rolled down into the high walls bordering the room. Several chandeliers were hanging from the ceiling, but a grand crystal ensemble took pride of place in the centre of the room. A great number of people conversed and danced, and many looked up as she and Thomas were announced to the cultivated crowd.
Several girls stood to the side with their mothers or chaperones, drinking punch and giggling, casting glances over to the men, no doubt wondering which of them would be asked to dance next. A twinge of regret hit her. Her mother had wanted that for her and it all seemed so long ago.
Attending Almack’s as a young woman would have exposed her to the most eligible of gentlemen, giving her ample opportunity to gain an advantageous marriage, one befitting her station as a lord’s daughter. Nellie had always been somewhat glad of her mother’s lack of success in gaining favour with the patroness. The idea of being dismissed for her mind and assessed only on her ability to provide an heir had been downright depressing. However, as a lady of breeding, it had been all that was required of her. Nellie had always thought she had wished for too much from life, but as she felt the reassuring squeeze of her husband’s hand, she knew she had been right to seek more. She had found it with Thomas. Nellie knew her mother would be happy for her, and proud as well. Happiness was all any mother wanted for her child, after all.
“Oh, my dears,” Thomas’ mother—the Duchess of Sterling—said as she hurried over. She leaned over and kissed Thomas’ cheek, then Nellie’s, and together they stepped into the ballroom. “I am so glad you decided to attend. When the patroness, Countess Lieven, and I had tea yesterday, I mentioned I expected to see my new daughter included on the guest list.” She beamed at Nellie. “I am so glad she was able to fit you into this week’s event, despite the short notice.”
“It was your influence that placed me on the guest list?” Nellie asked.
“Indeed, my dear, though I have no idea why I needed to prompt her. You are a marchioness, after all,” Thomas’ mother said with slight irritation.
Nellie looked around at the debutantes and their chaperones. “And how is it that those girls received invitations?” Nellie asked, nodding her head in their direction.
“Their mothers likely had influence, or knew someone who did,” her mother-in-law said, and looked to her son. “Why do you not go off and drink or gamble with the men. I plan on stealing your wife away from you for a short while, my dear.”
Thomas hesitated as Nellie tightened her hold on his arm. She didn’t want to be apart from him right now. His presence kept her calm and she was holding on to her composure by a slim thread. The day had proved to be rather draining so far.
“Can I not accompany you both, mother?” he asked.
“You would wish that?” she asked doubtfully and this did not surprise Nellie. She could imagine Thomas would be quite happy to be in the games room with his friends.
“I do not wish to be apart from my wife, even for a moment.”
Nellie looked up at him gratefully as his mother sighed. “Ah, the power of young love,” she said fondly.
Thomas smiled, but Nellie knew it was only a cover so he could accompany them. Still, she wished it were true on both sides, not just hers. Love—how she craved it above all else from her husband!
But tonight was not about them—it was about her mother. Nellie could almost feel her standing beside her, the glow of her ever-present bubbly nature urging Nellie to make the most of this opportunity, though, if the duchess was to be believed, there would be many more opportunities to come. Once would be enough. Already she felt the night becoming tedious. Nellie almost cocked a grin at the thought. Had she not reprimanded Thomas for the same opinion just a few hours earlier?
They were served punch and Nellie decided, after a small sip, that it was mostly liquor and little of anything else. She spluttered it back into the glass when it burned her throat but tried to hide the fact—not that it worked.
“Oh, I should have warned you,” Thomas’ mother said with a regretful look.
Nellie shook her head, waiting for the burn to pass. “It is fine, just not what I was expecting.” She handed it back to the footman. She would not be drinking the punch tonight. Thomas handed her a glass of lemonade that was generally for the debutantes. She took the watered down liquid gladly.
Several people stopped them as they moved through the room. It seemed that all they passed wanted to be introduced to the new Marchioness of Sterling. The men were very gracious, while most of the women seemed interested in her, but there were a few that seemed to find her lacking.
Lady Alexandra, who was married to Sir Walter Carlyle, was one of these women.
“That is a charming gown, Lady Sterling,” Lady Alexandra said, her tone implying nothing of the kind.
“Indeed it is,” commented the Countess of Roth, an amiable and homely looking woman. “I do love the pale shade. It is not quite ivory—bluer really. Where did you find the fabric?”
“My mother acquired it on our travels though Persia several years ago.”
“It is divine. I applaud her good taste,” the countess said warmly.
“But the cut is very last season. I would have thought a marchioness could have afforded a new wardrobe,” Lady Alexandra said, and took a smug sip of her punch.
Nellie felt Thomas’ arm stiffen under her own and saw the countess’ shocked expression. She glared at Lady Alexandra, while Thomas’ mother looked about ready to explode. Whether it was from the insinuation of lack of money or simply her rudeness, Nellie couldn’t say, but regardless, she gave no one else time to speak before she herself could address this vulgar woman.
“The idea of leaving my dear husband to attend dress fittings seems like such a squander of the day, especially since I value our time together in other pursuits so much more,” Nellie said with a sexual undertone, gazing up at Thomas.
He seemed taken aback for a moment until his eyes darkened. “Indeed, wife.”
Lady Alexandra was given no time to comment, since the countess took Nellie’s other arm and led her and Thomas away. “I am so dreadfully sorry, but I must commend you on your handling of the matter.” The woman chuckled. “Her husband has just taken a new mistress and she is not at all pleased. She is taking it out on all of us. I’m surprised Countess Lieven issued her a voucher to attend,” she said, and looked to the duchess.
“She will not get another when I have my say,” Nellie’s mother-in-law muttered.
Nellie radiated unease and Thomas hated it. Yet none who did not know her would notice. She smiled and conversed like a true lady, but the tension he felt flowing from her was acute. She was here for her mother’s sake, nothing more. And he was here for hers, nothing more.
Thomas had never understood why women took receiving the vouchers for admittance to Almack’s as the highest accolade of high society. Once one had received an invitation, one had made it, amongst the ton, at least. How sad.
Nellie had brought his disinterested point of view to his attention and though he was now aware of it, it oddly hadn’t changed much. He still thought Almack’s was not
hing more than an outlet for the patronesses to feign importance, deciding those who gained admittance and those who did not. The food was bad, served late and stale, and he found it odd that no one commented on it. It was likely for fear of being barred. Perhaps he should remark on it when they saw Countess Lieven? However, he would not embarrass his mother or Nellie with the unseemly remark, no matter how tempting.
“Oh, spare us,” mumbled the Countess of Roth.
It took Thomas a moment to understand the countess’ meaning until he noted Lady Mary approaching, her eyes sharp as she gazed at Nellie by his side. Once she locked eyes with Thomas, Lady Mary forced a smile. Nellie stiffened beside him.
“Hello, Lady Mary,” his mother said diplomatically. “I hear our congratulations are in order?”
“Indeed,” she said, her gaze still lingering on Nellie.
Thomas felt himself unable to avoid glaring in Mary’s direction. Her very presence irritated him immensely. He did not want Nellie anywhere near this mendacious woman.
“Allow me the pleasure of introducing my husband, Mr Mario Popellie, youngest son of Lord and Lady Muellie of Rome,” Lady Mary announced with an indication to the man beside her. “My dear, allow me to introduce the Duchess of Sterling, the Countess of Roth and the Marquess of Sterling. I am sorry to say I am not familiar with you,” she said to Nellie rather blandly, feigning disinterest when Thomas knew it to be anything but.
“Allow me to rectify,” Thomas said tightly. “This is my wife, the Marchioness of Sterling.”
Lady Mary’s face hardened. “It seems we should be offering our congratulations as well, my Lord.”
Thomas gave a nod but said nothing more. He wanted no excuse for this woman to cause trouble between him and Nellie and from the look in her eye it was not far from Lady Mary’s mind.
“It is a pleasure to gain your acquaintance,” Mr Popellie said in his accented English. He leant forward and kissed Thomas’ mother’s hand, then the countess’, then Nellie’s. His hand and lips lingered on Nellie’s gloved hand for longer than Thomas would have liked.
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