The Railway Countess

by Julia Justiss

  ‘Mr Gilling dines with you often?’

  ‘Quite frequently. He did so much for all of us during the awful time after my brother died, Papa often treats him as the second son he never had.’

  ‘Does that...pain you?’

  ‘No. Well, a little. It’s hard, sometimes, to see an outsider receive his full confidence and encouragement, but I’m so fond of Gilling myself, I can’t really resent Papa’s partiality for him.’

  ‘If he’s already virtually part of the family, your current circumstances will only be formalised if you wed him.’

  ‘Yes. In a way, it will just be an extension of how we have gone on these past ten years.’

  Conversation halted for a moment as the waiter brought over their tea and ices. As they sipped their tea and sampled the ice, Crispin reflected that wedding her engineer had been Marcella’s sole aim since the Season began, prompting Gilling to declare himself the reason she’d agreed to their bargain. But he found he no longer viewed her marriage to the man with quite the disinterested equanimity he had at first.

  ‘You truly think Gilling is worthy of you?’ he asked a moment later, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

  ‘He’s certainly proved himself worthy over the years.’

  ‘But?’ he prompted, hearing an uncertain note in her voice.

  ‘But...nothing. It will be best for me to proceed with my original plan, and see if he can envision me as his wife. Especially if I can persuade him to let me continue my work in the office.’

  ‘Will he?’

  She shook her head. ‘As I told you before, I really don’t know.’

  ‘If he doesn’t? Would you look for someone else? Though I can’t imagine he wouldn’t want to wed you if you gave him the slightest encouragement.’

  ‘A flattering assessment I hope will prove correct. Since he has observed how Papa and I work together, there’s a better chance of him allowing our continued association than there would be with someone unfamiliar with our arrangement. And I know Austin so well. We’re comfortable with each other. The transition from friends to partners could happen with minimal...awkwardness.’

  Crispin found he didn’t really want to further discuss or envision her wedding Gilling—or anyone else. ‘But you did say you prefer to delay marriage as long as possible.’

  ‘Yes, I still hope to do that. Even if Mr Gilling will allow me to work in the office, in the natural way of things, there will eventually be children to supervise and the house to run. My time will no longer be entirely my own.’

  Crispin found he liked envisioning what would be necessary to create those children even less. In fact, his whole being revolted at the idea of some other man kissing those lips, holding that body close, caressing the slender legs he’d so admired when she’d worn her trousers.

  Which was ridiculous, when he had no claim on her, nor any intention of making one beyond friendship—a bond that would not extend to the privilege of making love to her.

  Despite logic, his instinctive revulsion at the idea of someone else touching her didn’t dissipate.

  ‘The pineapple was delicious,’ she said, finishing the ice in her bowl as he struggled to order his reaction. ‘Thank you for that, and for tea. But I really must be getting home. I’ll see you at the ball tomorrow night?’

  ‘Definitely. I shall claim all your waltzes.’

  Though he would be seeing her again the next evening, Crispin found himself reluctant to let her go. Perhaps because he was beginning to realise how very few additional occasions he would have to dance with her, squire her for ices or escort her to view railway viaduct construction sites.

  Something deep within protested at that conclusion.

  He recalled again the warmth and tenderness that had swelled his chest when she’d looked in awe at the railway viaduct construction at London Bridge and called it ‘magnificent’.

  While, watching her, he was thinking the most magnificent thing within view—was her.

  His shock at her withdrawal today made him realise he didn’t want their close association to grow more distant. How could he prevent that when their interactions became limited to only occasional visits to her father’s office and rides in park?

  There had to be something else, something more, he could do, he thought as he signalled her groom to bring over their mounts. This time, he dared to give her a hand up into saddle, resisting the urge to stroke that booted ankle.

  Somehow, he was going to figure out a better way forward.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Setting aside for the moment his need to figure out what to do about Marcella, the following afternoon, Crispin rode to the family town house on Portman Square. He’d been concerned about whether his tender-hearted mother had yet recovered from her husband’s blistering reproof, and was relieved to find her out of her chamber, working on some needlework before the hearth in her sitting room.

  ‘Crispin, what a delightful surprise!’ she said as he walked in.

  ‘No, don’t get up and disturb your work,’ he said as he came over to give her a kiss. ‘I’m pleased to see you up and about.’

  Sighing, she patted his hand. ‘After all these years, one would think I would have developed a tougher skin. But the Earl still seems to so easily overcome me. What a poor honey I am! But I had a comfortable coze this morning with Lady Richardson, getting all the latest gossip, so I’m feeling better now.’

  ‘You are a darling, and don’t let anyone ever convince you otherwise.’

  ‘And you are a darling to say so,’ she said warmly. ‘Can you stay for tea?’

  ‘I’d be happy to. So what is new? Any juicy titbits for me?’

  She hesitated, a troubled look passing over her face before her expression cleared and she smiled again. ‘One thing you will truly find amazing, if you don’t know about it yet.’

  ‘And what would that be?’ he asked, taking a seat on the sofa beside her after she rang for tea.

  ‘You may have heard that the Duke of Farisdeen’s heir, Lord Penlowe, passed away unexpectedly a month or so ago.’

  ‘Yes. Considering he was often the bane of Alex Cheverton’s existence, I didn’t feel much regret, although it is always sad for anyone to die so young. Is the gossip about the new heir? Some distant cousin, I would expect.’

  ‘A very distant cousin. Also someone you know quite well.’ As he raised his eyebrows in enquiry, she continued, ‘The new heir is... Alex Cheverton.’

  ‘Alex?’ he exclaimed. ‘How is that possible?’

  For a moment, his mother traced the vagaries of a family tree that had seen his friend become the Duke’s nearest male descendant. ‘So you hadn’t heard?’

  ‘No! Nor have I heard a word from that rascal. Lattimar’s back in Northumberland, but I would have thought Alex would have written us both.’

  ‘It was all very sudden. Alex is actually in London now, and has been for several weeks. The Duke is running him to a frazzle, trying to educate him about assuming a title he wasn’t bred to inherit, Lady Richardson said, so I expect that’s why you’ve not heard from him.’

  ‘He probably doesn’t know I’m in London either,’ Crispin said. ‘When we all met last February, I was setting off on my exploratory trip for the Great Western, with no clear idea of when I might be back in the city.’

  ‘He has been out in society a bit,’ his mother said. ‘But with the family in mourning, they’ve attended only a few select events. And since Farisdeen and your father loathe one another, it would be highly unlikely for anyone in our family to be bid to an entertainment at which the Duke or his new heir were to appear.’

  ‘Alex—a duke. What a fine joke that will be on him! He was always so smug about how, as simply the master of a small country estate, he’d be able to live life on his own terms, while the rest of us would be encumbered by titles and obligati
ons. I imagine the Duke will have something to say about the terms he will live on now.’

  ‘You should send him a note to let him know you are in London. He can probably get away long enough to meet you for tea.’

  ‘Or something stronger. That’s assuming the butler at Farisdeen House doesn’t look at the seal on the letter, recognise the Comeryn crest, and throw my note into the fire.’

  ‘There is that possibility,’ his mother agreed with a smile.

  Conversation halted for a moment as the butler entered with their tea and his mother occupied herself fixing them each a cup.

  After taking several sips, Crispin shook his head. ‘Alex, a duke. I still have trouble getting my mind around that news! Any other shocking revelations from your morning session with Lady Richardson?’

  ‘Well, there was something about...about Miss Cranmore.’

  His irritation with his father immediately reviving, he said, ‘Whatever it is, I hope you don’t feel you must share it with the Earl. He had no reason to rip into you about her. Only to him does it not appear ridiculous that he could on one hand push me to court the girl and on the other forbid his daughter to associate with her.’

  ‘To be fair, if Miss Cranmore does not succeed in marrying into the gentry, an association with her won’t do Maggie any good during her presentation next year.’

  ‘So, you would deem her unworthy too?’ he asked hotly.

  His mother raised her eyebrows at his impassioned tone. ‘I don’t think you are quite as indifferent to the lady as you previously indicated.’

  ‘I like and admire her. In looks, talent and charm she is far superior to most of the gently born females I’ve encountered.’

  ‘Then... I’m not sure what you will want to do about this news.’

  ‘What news?’

  She sighed. ‘I know my son, so of course I don’t believe a word of this. But whispers are going around that you had an assignation with her in the maze at Norwalk House on the afternoon of Lady Norwalk’s garden party. That the two of you were discovered practically in flagrante delicto.’

  ‘That’s absurd!’ Crispin cried, setting his cup down with a clatter. ‘Who is repeating such calumnies?’

  ‘You know how rumours are. Someone heard a whisper from someone who knows someone who talked with the person who supposedly discovered you. No names revealed, of course, except for those of the scandalous couple. But there are also rumours that you were not the only one with whom she had a tryst in the shrubbery. That she met other men as well, and is no better than a lightskirt.’

  Crispin sat stock-still, reviewing in his mind the episode in the maze. Neither he nor Hoddleston had made any attempt to keep their voices low when he confronted the Baron after rescuing Marcella. Their argument might well have been overheard—leading someone to believe something had happened. Indeed, she had wanted to speedily leave the maze, so that they could be seen mingling with the group gathering on the lawn. She’d expressed the hope that no one had overheard or glimpsed her struggle with Hoddleston.

  ‘It is a bold-faced lie, isn’t it?’ his mother asked.

  ‘I did walk in the maze with her. The rest is total invention,’ he confirmed. ‘So...how do I refute it?’

  ‘You were seen going into the maze? Oh, that is unfortunate.’ His mother shook her head. ‘That’s the thing about rumours. One can’t really refute them. Especially as you are known to have been walking there with her. If you try to deny the story, half the listeners will believe you must be guilty, or you wouldn’t lower yourself to comment on such an absurd tale. If you say nothing, others will believe it must be true since you didn’t deny it. Generally, it’s best to ignore scandal. You have the luxury of saying nothing and emerging unscathed, since few would be foolish enough to challenge the word of a d’Aubignon. Unfortunately, that will not help Miss Cranmore. A lady’s reputation is so fragile! Especially someone like her, who does not have a powerful family to protect her.’

  ‘So she is disgraced, no matter what happens next?’ he asked angrily.

  ‘Her reputation is tarnished regardless, though she could be saved from utter ruin if she received a proposal of marriage. Not, of course, with the rumour being entirely untrue, from you! Sadly, though, with such a vicious story circulating, it’s unlikely any other gentleman will offer for her now. I’m afraid her best option is to quietly leave society and look to marry elsewhere.’

  Marcella didn’t wish to marry anyone anyway. But the idea that her sterling character would be so unfairly besmirched made him furious. There was only one way to save her from that...give her a powerful family to protect her.

  After watching him for a moment, his mother said, ‘Surely you’re not considering marrying her, are you? You told me you were quite set against it!’

  ‘I’m quite set against marriage in general. But what if someone who disliked the family started such a rumour about Maggie? Would you not want the gentleman with whom her name had been linked to do the honourable thing? Even if neither of them were guilty of any transgression? And please, do not insult me or her by noting that since Miss Cranmore isn’t a lady born, the rules of honour don’t extend to addressing the wrong done to her.’

  ‘So you are considering wedding her,’ his mother said wonderingly.

  ‘Since I’ve only just heard this, I’m not sure yet what I mean to do. But I shall certainly not stand by and let her suffer from that venal man’s machinations.’

  ‘You mean you know who is behind this?’ his mother asked, shocked.

  ‘I know exactly who’s responsible.’ In a few brief sentences, Crispin related to his mother the incidents that had occurred with Lord Hoddleston. The Baron’s disdain for Miss Cranmore’s origins balanced by his need for her dowry and his certainty that Crispin would sooner or later abandon her, leaving her no alternative but to accept his hand.

  ‘In this despicable act, he believes he’s found the perfect way to punish her for rebuffing him. Destroying her reputation to guarantee I drop her, with no one left in the ton willing to marry her but him. What the varmint doesn’t understand is that she won’t have him on any terms. She never planned to marry into the gentry to begin with.’

  ‘Never planned—then why embark on a Season?’

  ‘It’s complicated. I’ll explain more when I can. I know I’m not at fault, but I can’t tolerate letting Hoddleston get away with ruining the reputation of an innocent woman—a woman whom I respect and admire. I don’t know whether she’ll have me or not, but I’m going to have to make her an offer.’

  His mother stared at him. ‘You’re certain of that?’

  Crispin sat for a minute, his mind working feverishly. He’d been ever more drawn to her, despite not resolving his reservations about matrimony—particularly to a woman he fervently wished to have as happy a family life after marriage as she had before. But Hoddleston’s despicable trick had swept away everything else.

  He’d promised to protect her. And the only thing that would protect her now was a wedding.

  ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘I’m certain. Loath as I am to gratify my father.’

  His mother smiled. ‘At least your sister will be ecstatic. She likes Miss Cranmore very much. Which, if you esteem her and she has won over a cynic like my daughter, makes me believe I will like her, too.’

  She leaned over to press his hand. ‘Just make sure, if you choose to follow the dictates of honour, there’s at least a fair chance that choice will make you happy.’

  And that was the crux of the matter. He might have been creeping down the road towards resolving that tricky question, but he was nowhere close to the end yet.

  Despite what his mother said, he didn’t really have a choice. He’d known from the beginning if anything compromising occurred between them, he would have to offer for her. He’d always worried it would be he himself who would do the compromis
ing.

  Instead, that slug Hoddleston had taken care of it for him.

  ‘You’re going to be sorry you did this, Dellamont,’ the Baron had said in the maze as he’d wiped the blood off his lip.

  But Crispin couldn’t regret protecting her.

  Had Marcella heard the rumours yet? he wondered suddenly.

  It was too late in the afternoon now to stop at Lady Arlsley’s. With the ball to prepare for, her sponsor would likely not be receiving callers anyway. Unless some malicious ‘well-meaning’ friend felt compelled to stop by and chat with Lady Arlsley, Marcella would walk into the Thaxford ballroom tonight completely unaware of what she would have to face.

  Should he try to write and warn her? But he’d never called on her at her parents’ home and wasn’t sure of the exact address.

  He’d just have to arrive at the ball early, ready to support and protect her.

  * * *

  Later that evening, garbed in her flattering new gown, Marcella followed Lady Arlsley up the stairs at Thaxford House, pausing outside the ballroom with the guests waiting to be presented to their hostess. As they halted, several people turned to stare at them, leaning to whisper to their companions before turning away.

  Several of them Marcella knew slightly, but none met her gaze or offered greetings. Which puzzled her a little, but as she wasn’t intimately acquainted with any of them, she dismissed the oddity.

  Her hostess, Lady Thaxford, was noticeably cool when she greeted Marcella. However, as a marquess’s wife, she probably shared Lady Arlsley’s opinion that the lowly Miss Cranmore didn’t belong in her ballroom. Shrugging off the snub, Marcella told herself such attitudes were precisely why she would be thrilled to be quitting society in little more than a week.

  Although she hadn’t revealed that intention to Lady Arlsley yet.

  As they walked through the ballroom, the strangeness continued. Almost everyone they passed looked over at her and then away, not meeting her eyes before immediately turning to whisper to their companions.