By the time they reached the other side of the ballroom, Lady Arlsley, a genial smile fixed on her face as she nodded to several in the group gathered there, leaned close to Marcella and said in an urgent undertone, ‘What have you done?’
‘Nothing that I am aware of,’ Marcella replied—before the guilty memories recurred. Nothing, except kiss Crispin in Lady Arlsley’s garden, and then kiss him again, even more passionately, on the tavern terrace.
Though it was possible that another servant besides Mary—who would never have spoken of it to anyone—might have been gazing out a window and overseen them in the town-house garden, she was certain they had been unobserved on the terrace.
‘You must have done something,’ Lady Arlsley replied, anger in her voice. ‘Even my friends shied away from speaking with me as we entered. And you must have heard the murmur of voices, seen the interested gazes following us as we crossed the room. As soon as an escort appears for you, I shall corner Lady Anderson in the card room. This is intolerable!’
Or rather, only typical behaviour on the part of the ton towards an interloper like her, Marcella thought, recalling the Earl of Comeryn’s fury at discovering his daughter had been riding with her.
Was his anger, conveyed to his many acquaintances and friends, the reason behind the sudden chill?
The orchestra began tuning up, gentlemen walking over to invite ladies to dance, but no one approached Marcella. Even her widower, who’d half-heartedly continued his attentions despite obviously feeling as long as she was pursed by an earl’s heir, his chances of winning her hand were slim, turned away without acknowledging her when she saw him and smiled.
Something had definitely happened. But she had no idea what.
Lady Arlsley fiddled at her side, clearly frustrated at having to remain with her rather than darting off to find her friend. Once the first dance began with Marcella still standing unclaimed, the older woman turned to her and snapped, ‘Follow me. Since you failed to secure a partner, you can accompany me to the card room.’
Not that she ever expected to truly enjoy these entertainments, aside from the two dances and associated conversation she was able to share with Dellamont, but Marcella was pleased with her pretty new gown and had been looking forward to the evening with mild enthusiasm. That dissipated as she followed her irate sponsor around the edge of the ballroom and into the card room.
In even more dramatic fashion than the ballroom, as soon as the card players looked up to see who the newcomers were, the low hum of voices in the room faded—and everyone stared.
‘I do wish you would not bring that person in here, Lady Arlsley,’ a viscount’s wife said. ‘We do not appreciate having someone of her ilk mingling among us.’
Lady Arlsley stopped short, two rosy spots of embarrassment appearing on her cheeks, while Marcella, though mystified, was otherwise unmoved. She even pitied her sponsor a bit, since that lady quailed before that evidence of this group’s disapproval. Marcella didn’t care one whit what they thought of her.
Before a sputtering Lady Arlsley could come up with a reply, Marcella felt a touch at her elbow. ‘Miss Cranmore, here you are!’ Dellamont said, bowing to her and her sponsor. ‘I’ve been looking all over the ballroom for you. Since we’ve missed the beginning of the dance, perhaps you will stroll with me. If you will permit, Lady Arlsley?’
Any faces that hadn’t already been turned their way swivelled towards them at the sound of Crispin’s voice echoing through the silent room. Marcella noted astonishment on some faces, dropped jaws on others.
What in blazes has happened? she wondered.
Goggling at him, still incapable of speech, Lady Arlsley nodded at Dellamont. Offering her his arm, the Viscount said, in a voice guaranteed to penetrate to every corner of the room, ‘Thank you for doing me the honour, Miss Cranmore.’ And led her away.
‘So what is it? Have I been identified as a carrier of the plague?’ Marcella joked as Crispin walked her, not back into the ballroom, but into an anteroom that was being set up for refreshments. Proceeding with her to the windows, out of the way and out of earshot of the servants busily filling the tables with trays of food and drinks, he said, ‘I’m sorry I’m late. I had intended to arrive before you, but two carriages collided on the street, and the horses from one had to be cut from their traces—’ Breaking off, he sighed. ‘I would have spared you that episode in the card room.’
‘So you do know what’s afoot. Thank heaven! Tell me, please.’
Quickly he related the rumours about them. ‘I told my mother they were a complete fabrication, and asked how we could go about refuting them. She said...there was no effective way.’
‘Well, that’s typical! Hoddleston attacks me and I’m the hussy. Am I allowed to call him out?’
‘Are you a good shot?’
‘Tolerable.’
‘That’s a match I’d like to see,’ he said, the serious expression on his face lightening. ‘But no, you can’t. Even I am not allowed to call him out, despite the slur to my name, since acknowledging the story is the same as confirming it. “No smoke without fire, etc.”’
‘Then what are we to do?’
‘That’s what we need to determine, and I don’t intend to discuss it with a ballroom of people, already morbidly curious, sneaking about trying to overhear us. Will you go to Lady Arlsley’s tomorrow?’
‘If my ruin is as complete as it appears, yes I will. To tell her I am leaving society, which will come as a huge relief to her, I am sure.’
‘Don’t tell her anything yet. Not until after we talk. For tonight, I intend to dance my two dances with you, escort you in for some refreshment, chat with you, and then recommend to Lady Arlsley that you make your exit.’
He stared down at her for a moment. ‘You are...at ease, aren’t you? You don’t appear nearly as upset by the news as I feared you might be.’
‘Oh, I’m upset. I should like to wring Hoddleston’s neck. Or rather—what would be a suitable equivalent? Perhaps march him at pistol point through Hyde Park with him wearing only his nether garments? But as for the opinions of the assembled multitude here tonight?’ She snapped her fingers. ‘I care less than that what they think of me. Though I am pained anyone could be stupid enough to imagine you would behave so badly.’
‘Everyone loves a scandal and believes no one is above it.’
‘Everyone believes a girl who tries to rise above her station deserves whatever she gets,’ Marcella said. ‘There are probably many who believe I enticed you into the shrubbery to tempt you with my body and try to force you into marrying me. They will probably applaud you for refusing.’
‘We’ll talk about that later. I’m just relieved that you aren’t more distressed.’
‘Not me. No screaming or swooning, remember?’
‘I do. So,’ he said, tilting up her chin and grinning at her, ‘would you tempt me with your body?’
His disturbing news had distracted her for a time, but at his teasing words, her awareness of him returned in a rush, sending a tingle of sensation sweeping across her skin. She was very conscious of his tempting mouth just above hers, and how easily she could pull his face down to kiss him. ‘Could I?’
‘In a heartbeat.’
She might easily kiss him, but since she’d already been the cause of besmirching his reputation, she should probably refrain from creating any more scandal. ‘Then we’d better go back into the ballroom.’
Chapter Sixteen
The next afternoon, Marcella wrapped her arms around herself as she paced the town house garden to avoid any further discussion with her sponsor, marking time until she could expect Crispin to arrive.
On the carriage ride home last night, Lady Arlsley had been alternately upset and relieved. ‘Dellamont’s attentions kept us from disaster, bless him,’ she exclaimed after the vehicle set off from Thaxford House. ‘
With him failing to repudiate you, no one is sure whether to believe the rumours or not. After all, society couldn’t imagine Dellamont would continue to pay attention to girl socially so far beneath him if he’d already had her.’
To which Marcella replied with asperity, ‘I’m pleased you have so much faith in my virtue.’
Glaring at her, Lady Arlsley demanded, ‘Well, are the rumours true? Did you give yourself to Dellamont? Or to any other man?’
Disgusted, Marcella replied, ‘I shall not dignify those vulgar questions with an answer.’
A night’s repose had left her sponsor still upset and uncertain. Marcella had barely handed Mary her pelisse when Lady Arlsley began questioning her again, and when she still refused to disclose any further details, cried, ‘You ungrateful chit! Don’t you realise that your disgrace threatens my good name as well?’
She’d not been able to refrain from snapping back, ‘If you had bothered to accompany us on the garden walk, you would know nothing happened. But you may rest easy on one score. I expect Dellamont to call this afternoon. I don’t wish to speak with anyone else, however, so I will await him in the garden.’
Stomping out of the parlour, she’d called for Mary to bring back her pelisse and escaped the house.
Would Crispin find a way to get them out of this imbroglio? He was very clever, and he knew the workings of society much better than she did. Although she was truly not concerned about her own reputation, she hated that anyone might believe he had acted so badly. Despite what anyone thought, she refused to feel embarrassed or ashamed because a vicious, venal man had tried to ruin her.
Nor had she any interest in trying to defend herself. In her opinion, their best course of action was to follow through on her original plan: let her bid Lady Arlsley goodbye this very afternoon, and terminate a presentation she’d never wanted.
What would his suggestion be?
After pacing through several circuits around the park, she heard her name called, and looked up to find him striding towards her.
Her pleasure at seeing him softened the edge of her disgruntlement. She went to meet him, happy to give him her hand to kiss. ‘You must trust me,’ he said, smiling down at her. ‘You’ve not even stationed Mary here to keep watch over us.’
‘But I’m already a ruined woman, remember?’ she said wryly. ‘Therefore I have no reputation to protect. Jesting aside, Mary does trust you. She credits you with ensuring I came to no harm when I attended the Stephenson lecture.’
‘Which is my object today. To make sure no one does you any harm. Including that bastard Hoddleston, whom I wish even more fervently than you that I could call out. However satisfying that would be, it’s not an effective solution.’
‘Have you come up with something that would be?’
‘There is really only one remedy.’ Before she realised what he intended, he dropped down to one knee. ‘Marcella Cranmore, will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?’
She froze, strong emotions clashing within once her shocked brain made sense of his words.
Fury that there was no way to counter Hoddleston’s vile accusations. Awe and admiration for a sterling character that was willing to protect hers, regardless of the cost. And a deep, dangerous desire to disregard all the good reasons she should refuse and accept the hand of this exceptional man.
So difficult was that temptation to resist, she blurted out the first response that came to her lips once she forbade herself to say ‘yes’.
‘I thought you were offering an escape, not a trap! Please, Crispin, get up.’
He laughed as he rose to his feet. ‘I’m not sure I shouldn’t be highly insulted that you consider my heartfelt declaration a trap.’
Pressing on to keep temptation at bay, she said, ‘I told you long ago that I didn’t care one bit about my reputation among the ton. My family knows my true character, so once I leave society for ever, their opinion will not affect me. As long as what Lady Arlsley told me is true—that you would suffer no lasting harm from the scandal. Feeling pettish at thinking herself a victim in this, she said whenever a scandal happens, the blame is always laid on the woman. That when you are ready to wed, the competition to snag a future earl will erase any doubts about marrying you this affair might have created in the minds of eligible ladies or their mamas.’
He nodded. ‘Completely unfair, but that’s the way of the world. My reputation might be temporarily tarnished, but the gilded coronet in my future will soon restore its lustre.’
‘Then, though I’m immensely touched that you have made me an offer, there’s really no need.’ To remind herself as much as Crispin, she continued, ‘Neither of us should be forced into marriage before we are ready. Certainly not at the behest of a dissolute like Hoddleston! It should be our choice when and how we wed.’
Finally allowing herself to voice the question for which she really needed an answer, she added, ‘Unless...unless you’ve experienced a change of heart since we last spoke about the matter of marriage?’
She held her breath, but after a moment, shaking his head, he looked away. ‘No, not really. But I can’t abide having a dissolute like Hoddleston ruin your good name.’
A stab of disappointment struck her. Summoning up what she hoped was a breezy smile to mask the pain, she said, ‘He can’t ruin it. Not where it matters to me, in my world. It’s unlikely anyone there will ever hear any tales of what supposedly happened at Norwalk House, and those who know me wouldn’t believe it if they did hear anything.’ She laughed shortly. ‘They would be more likely to attribute it to the right place, the arrogant venality of aristocrats who look down on everyone else. So, no more talk of a declaration. You are sure this will not harm you permanently?’
‘Other than with my father, no. He’ll probably believe the rumours and be furious that I put temporary pleasure over acquiring filthy lucre.’
‘Surely not,’ she protested, once again pained that he believed his own father could think so poorly of him.
Crispin shrugged. ‘Maybe not, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. In any case, he’ll be incensed that I didn’t secure your dowry, regardless of the scandal.’
‘Since we are both agreed on not wishing to be forced into marriage, shall we keep to our original purpose? Leave society now, with you departing for places unknown for a safe interval. After which we may meet again later, as...as dear friends and colleagues?’
He studied her face, and for a moment, she thought he meant to say something—that on second thought, he’d changed his mind? That he wanted to explore the possibility of becoming something more than friends?
But when he did speak, with a wry smile, he said, ‘I suppose that means you are refusing my proposal.’
Surprising how much it hurt to agree, but somehow she managed to summon a smile. ‘I suppose it does.’
‘You are sure?’
Once she had been completely sure. Now, unsettled and facing the prospect of his imminent departure from her life, she wasn’t sure at all. But he, it appeared, entertained no doubts about continuing simply as friends. Which settled the matter.
‘I think I must be.’
Dellamont blew out a breath, which Marcella could only interpret as relief. ‘Part of me feels I should insist, in order to save your good name. But another part knows I must honour your choice.’
Which was really his choice, too, else he would have pressed her harder. Declare his affections had become so engaged, he could now seriously consider the possibility of wedding her.
That he did not was an omission that required her to refuse him under any circumstances. Even though the mixture of dread and distress she now felt made her fear that despite her best efforts, she’d somehow allowed her own emotions to become too engaged.
‘Then honour my choice. To maintain our friendship, trust and mutual admiration in a relationship that prog
resses at the pace we choose.’
‘That is truly what you prefer?’ When she nodded, he said, ‘Then we will make it so.’
She would have to be content with that. She would be content with that, she vowed to herself.
‘With my supposed reputation in tatters, I see no point in going through the final week I’d expected to remain in society. I might as well make my exit now.’
‘You don’t want to face down the disapproving hordes before you go? Not let it appear they have forced you out?’
‘I’m normally a fighter, but that fight would have no point. My staying wouldn’t change any opinions. To most of society, I’m now not merely low-born and ill bred, I’m a low-born, ill-bred lightskirt. Leaving will save Lady Arlsley further embarrassment. I can return to Papa telling him that I have done what was asked of me and the situation is now truly intolerable.’
‘Very well, then. If that is what you wish, that is what we will do.’
What she’d really wish was for him not to leave her. But that was impossible, so she had better stiffen her spine, curtail further foolish imagining, and face the facts. ‘You will leave immediately, too? Before the Earl learns of your intention, and tries to take you—or your poor mother—to task?’
‘Yes. I’ll escort Mama back to Montwell Glen as soon as she can make ready, to ensure the Earl can’t abuse her, at least not until his initial anger cools. And leave on my explorations from there.’
‘Then I suppose this is goodbye,’ she said, steeling herself to say the words aloud.
‘But we haven’t had time to figure out how or when we will meet again.’
‘You intend to be out of London for a good while. Call at Papa’s office, if you wish, when you return, and see if we are still in London. We can figure out something then.’
Once again, she hoped he would protest and insist that they pin down now a definite time to meet again. But that sudden upswing of hope plummeted just as quickly when, after staring into the distance, at last he nodded. ‘Yes. I suppose you are right. We can figure it out...later.’
The Railway Countess Page 20