“I believe that Lady Carrbridge still nurtures hopes that you and Miss Blythe will make a match of it.”
She looked directly at him, and saw his eyes widen — indeed, he could not mistake her meaning! But the dismay in his face cut her to the quick. He did not want her! Even with her fortune, he did not want her! Was she right, then — she meant nothing to him, and all his attentions had been nothing but flirtation? Was that how it was? Her breath caught in her throat, and she dropped her gaze.
“Oh, if only it were so simple,” he said, his voice so soft that she was not sure she heard him correctly. Her head shot up, and he was looking at her with such… such regret that she gave a little gasp.
“Is it not?” she said before she could stop herself.
“Miss Quayle.” He took one of her hands and held it in both of his, and this time he was the one who looked down, gently stroking her gloved fingers. “Let us consider a situation… purely hypothetical, you understand. Imagine, if you will, a young man of impeccable family, but a younger son, without fortune or an independence. If he should happen to meet a young lady of wealth, and he should happen to attach himself to her, why then society will smile upon both of them. ‘How happy they will be,’ society will say, and declare it a love match, heedless of the actual circumstances. ‘How convenient that that impoverished young man should happen to fall in love with that rich young lady, and she with him.’ Society, in short, will give such a match its blessing.”
She said nothing, guessing how the story would end, but mesmerised by the warmth of his hands, and the softness of his voice! Ah, his voice! What would she not do for a man who spoke to her in such a way, a voice as mellow and warm and soothing as chocolate.
“But imagine now,” he went on, “if that young man should discover that the object of his attentions is not, in fact, rich at all, but poor. Were he now to divert all his attention to another young lady, a rich young lady, what will society make of him now? He will be thought the worst kind of fortune hunter, and will be frowned upon and ostracised. And the young lady, should she happen to permit his attentions, would be deemed weak in understanding and foolish, and will also be frowned upon and ostracised.”
“And is no allowance to be made,” she cried indignantly, “for the feelings of these people? It is uncharitable to assume there to be no affection in the second case.”
His head jerked up, just for an instant, his eyes afire with some strong emotion. But just as quickly he lowered his gaze, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet.
“Yet that is how society views the world, by surface characteristics only. Who can know what a man truly feels inside… or a woman? However much the young man—” Here his voice wobbled a little. “However much he might wish to court the second young lady, he had much better not do it, for the sake of both.”
She could not speak, choked with misery as she was. Tears coursed down her cheeks unheeded. To be told, in the same breath, that he wanted to court her but he could not because of some nebulous fear of society’s disapprobation was all too much. How could he be so foolish? If he cared anything for her, if her happiness was of the slightest importance to him, then he would set aside such fustian and offer for her at once. It was very necessary to tell him so.
“But Humphrey—” she began, leaning forward eagerly. He looked up sharply at the intimate use of his name, and suddenly his face was but an inch from hers. His lips were so close, so tantalisingly close. If she leaned forward just the tiniest bit—
“What is going on here!” came an angry voice. She groaned, and they sprang apart.
Humphrey jumped to his feet. “Julius, go away, will you? You are not wanted here.”
“I can well believe it. How dare you steal Miss Quayle away to a secluded spot and make violent love to her? And look, you have made her cry! You are no gentleman, sir.”
“For God’s sake, Julius, have a care what you say to me, for I am in no mood to deal gently with you. Do not push me or I shall be forced to set you straight.”
“Ha! Do you threaten me? But I see what your game is, Cousin. Kilbraith has cut you out, so now you think to look elsewhere, and of course you would make a mull of it. You have no delicacy of touch with the ladies. As if Miss Quayle could possibly prefer your heavy-handed—”
Hortensia jumped up and placed herself between them, brandishing her parasol. “Mr Whittleton, do go away. You are not needed in the least, I assure you.”
“But he has made you cry!”
“We were speaking of… of my father,” she said, improvising wildly. “His death is still fresh in my mind. Lord Humphrey was… was consoling me.”
“You must think me very green if you expect me to fall for that faradiddle!”
“Are you calling me a liar?” Hortensia said hotly. “You are offensive, Mr Whittleton.”
She turned away in disgust, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back so sharply that she cried out in surprise. And to her inestimable delight, Humphrey drew back his arm, curled his right hand into a fist and landed a punch squarely on Mr Whittleton’s nose.
14: A Picnic
“I really think you might stop laughing,” Humphrey said, as he fished around in various pockets. “It is very distracting when I am trying so hard not to laugh at the poor fellow myself. Drat Billings! He fusses so over my cravat, but fails to put a handkerchief anywhere. Do you have anything to stop him bleeding? Oh, Julius, do stop yowling!”
“I fear my handkerchief would be inadequate for the task,” she said, still chuckling. “Who would have imagined that one nose could bleed so much? Perhaps we might fetch a tablecloth from the pavilion?”
That set Humphrey off again, and so when more people started to appear, drawn by the shouts and Julius’s cries of pain, they found Julius rolling on the ground, and Humphrey and Hortensia consumed with merriment.
The others seemed to be better provided with handkerchiefs than Humphrey was, and also took Julius’s injuries with the seriousness he felt he deserved. “Shall we slip away while they are attending to the patient?” Humphrey whispered. “I shall be in the soup with Connie for spoiling her party, but there is no need to wait around to be scolded by everyone else, is there?”
Miss Quayle was agreeable, so they crept away through a gap in the wall, and then ran, still giggling, around the outside of the abbey ruins until they gained the lake again, and were visible once more from the pavilion.
“I had better take you back,” he said, not quite able to keep the regret out of his voice.
“Must you?” She looked up at him with such a pleading expression that he was almost undone.
“I believe I must,” he whispered.
“Oh.” She hung her head and said not another word until they reached the pavilion, where she curtsied and thanked him politely for his company.
He bowed, and, before he could change his mind, walked swiftly away from her.
~~~~~
Hortensia did not watch him go, for it was too painful. She allowed herself to be directed to a seat, and took food from plates that were passed to her. She may even have eaten a little, although she hardly knew what. Someone set a glass of champagne before her, but she could not touch it.
After a while, she saw him creep into the other side of the pavilion and take a seat amongst the aunts. Julius did not reappear, so perhaps he had gone back to Drummoor to nurse his injuries. Good! If she never saw him again, she would be very well pleased. Such impudence, to interfere in that arrogant manner, as if he had any right! Humphrey had been quite justified in taking action. Her anger warmed her, and so, by degrees, she began to return to something approaching her normal equanimity. Not quite, for every time she caught a glimpse of Humphrey her heart somersaulted in the most alarming way, but at other times she even felt equal to a little conversation with her neighbours.
After all had eaten their fill, the tables were cleared except for dishes of sweetmeats and decanters of wine, and the servants were sent off to
enjoy a rest. The party now began to merge into noisy larger groups, to chatter or to play cards or to stroll about the grounds. Rosemary walked away on Lord Kilbraith’s arm, and Hortensia tried resolutely to be happy for her friend even as her own hopes had been dashed.
Her neighbours having moved away, Hortensia sat on her own, but she was so sunk in her own thoughts that she scarcely noticed. Besides, she was so accustomed to being ignored now that she saw nothing odd in it. It was only when a passing aunt sniffed and said loudly, “Disgusting! Trying her wiles on those far above her station!” and glared at her that she realised that she was the recipient of many curious looks, with much whispering behind fans. So she was to be blamed for the little set-to between Humphrey and Julius, was she? Of course, it must be her fault, for they were gentlemen and she was nobody, just a mere companion. That should have amused her, but somehow it did not. She was too listless to be angry, but she would not sit still to be so abused.
Rising, she walked away, head high, looking neither to right nor to left. She had no destination in mind, but her feet drew her again to the abbey. She walked through some parts that she had not seen on her previous visit, but eventually she came into the church again. This time she knew where she was bound, for the side chapel beckoned, even with all its painful memories. It was empty of prying eyes, and gratefully she sank again to her seat on the fallen stone, running over in her mind all that had been said. Was there any sliver of hope in his words? He had said, had he not, that he wished to court her—? Or had he? It was all couched in the most nebulous terms, if this, if that, with hypothetical young men and heiresses, so that she could no longer be certain what he had meant. Except that he was lost to her. Of that, there could be not the least shadow of uncertainty.
Humphrey filled her thoughts so entirely that somehow she was not surprised to see him enter the side chapel not long after her. When he sat down beside her, just as before, there was a rightness to it that pleased her, and she was neither shy nor distressed.
“Would you prefer to be left alone?” he said in that low voice that so thrilled her. “Because if so—”
“Oh no! I do not object to company.” Not Humphrey’s company, anyway. With some effort, she kept her tone light as she said, “Have you been much scolded?”
His lips quirked into a half smile. “A little. The aunts are deliciously shocked to be so close to a mill, and I have been required to describe every blood-drenched detail a dozen times, I swear. But it will be forgotten very soon, you may be sure. Just one more instance of rackety Humphrey disgracing the family name.”
“Are you so rackety?” she said, entranced by this new idea of him. “You seem so upstanding a gentleman to me.”
“I was used to be quite wild. Not like Gil, for he sets a new standard for disreputable Marfords, but I was always in trouble, yes. At school or at Oxford, if there was a mill in progress, I was bound to be in the centre of it. And I was game for any amusement. If there was some prank going on, I would be the one keeping the book and setting the odds.”
“A gamester from the start. Your proposed career is well chosen.” She hesitated, but she had never been timid, so she said boldly, “What is to become of your gaming house scheme now?”
He looked at her intently, but answered composedly, “I do not know. Perhaps it is time to abandon the idea, for it has caused nothing but trouble, and I have not the least idea where I might honourably find a hundred thousand pounds.”
‘From me!’ her heart cried, and suddenly her pulse was racing. Perhaps there was another way… To give herself time to think, she said, “It is a large sum. Why so much?”
“Because I do not wish to set limits on wagers,” he said at once, his face alight with enthusiasm. “I intend my house to be entirely honest, so although over time the odds will favour the house — the odds always favour the house — there will be occasions when the customers will win, and by large amounts. If I have not a sufficient reserve to cover such nights, then I shall be sunk — bankrupt and with gaming debts that would cripple me. Carrbridge would be obliged to step in, and then the entire family would be bankrupt. So I must have a large amount to hand when I establish my house. But it is devilish difficult to find such an amount, and although…” He stopped, and took a long breath. “Although I once thought to marry my way to such a fortune, my conscience would not permit me to use my wife’s portion on such a risky venture. It is difficult to know what to do next.”
So that was that. He would not marry her for love, and now he was telling her that he would not marry her for money either. She should be angry with him, but she was too gripped by her new idea.
“You need an investor, Humphrey,” she said. “And I know of one.”
“Where?” he said, his face filled with sudden hope. Then he took her meaning and the optimism collapsed. “No, no, no, that would not do at all.”
“Why not? You need money, I have far more than enough, why not let me invest in your venture? Without… any other ties,” she added, in case he thought she was talking about marriage.
“That would never do. You are all generosity and I thank you from the depths of my heart, but I could not possibly deprive you of half of your fortune. It would be unconscionable in me to do so. The world would question my motives and your good sense in such an arrangement, or they would wonder in what exact state we were to each other.”
“The world, the world!” she said impatiently, rising to her feet, so that he was obliged to stand too. “You care too much about the world, Humphrey.”
“And you care too little for it,” he shot back. “Do not imagine that your fortune will protect you. If you wish to have a place in society, you must abide by its rules or risk having your reputation shredded.”
“A place in society?” she said scornfully. “What place is open to me? As the daughter of a man who made his own fortune, I shall always be despised.”
“Not by me,” he said quietly.
“Even by you,” she said, lifting her chin a little. “Have you not made it plain that my fortune defines me? My lack of fortune defined me in one way, and my possession of it defines me in another. You must do this or that, and you cannot do some other thing, and all because of my fortune. You are as shackled as any other of your class. Can you not step outside the constraints of propriety, and see me as a woman, as a person? I am your equal, Humphrey, in every way that matters. Not in the drawing room, for there you are a great nobleman and I am a rich nobody, but when we gallop together on the moors, there is no distinction between us. So treat with me now as an equal. I am prepared to stake half my fortune on this venture of yours. Will you not accept it in the spirit of the friendship we share? You are a gambler to your marrow, will you not take a chance now?”
She knew from his face that she had not convinced him. He licked his lips, shuffled his feet awkwardly, stared at the ground. “I cannot.” The finality in his tone chilled her to the core. “It is impossible, and you must not think of it, I beg you. Your reputation—”
“My reputation!” she said contemptuously. “What has that to do with the matter?”
“Everything, do you not see? You must be so careful, and I cannot—” He stopped, closing his eyes as if overcome by strong emotion. “It is impossible for me—” He took a heaving breath. “You have no protection,” he said, more calmly. “No father, no brother. No husband.” A long pause. “It is for you alone to defend your own reputation — at least, for the moment. For a while. What you choose to do is for you to decide, but you do not understand the ways of the ton. I know it is presumptuous of me to speak so to you when I have not the least right, but you have no other to guide you. If you will be advised by me, you should proceed with the utmost caution and not deliberately set the world by the ears.”
“When a matter is of importance to me,” she said with dignity, “then I dare to take risks. I am not some timid shrinking debutante, terrified to open my mouth in case the great patronesses of Almacks should shun
me. I am Hortensia Blythe, daughter of a gentleman, and I shall live my life as seems best to me, without reference to the arbitrary dictates of society.”
And with that she spun on her heel and marched off.
~~~~~
Humphrey watched her go, heart-wrenched by her wilfulness, but stunned by her bravery. What a woman! She was everything that he admired and respected and adored. If she had stayed but a second or two longer, he might have simply swept her into his arms and carried her off, and let the world go hang itself. But she was gone and the moment was lost.
“That gaming house sounds like fun.”
Humphrey jumped out of his skin. Spinning round, he saw a blond head peeping through the remains of a window.
“Charlie! Good heavens, man, you must not eavesdrop in that way. It is a very bad habit.”
With a quick twist, Charlie jumped through the window and dusted himself down. “In London, eh? Where all the toffs live? That where it’s going to be?”
“What is it to you?”
Charlie grinned, quite unabashed by the tone of censure in Humphrey’s voice. “Can I work there? Not that I mind the stables, but indoor work would be better, and I know you don’t want me as a footman at Drummoor.”
“Can you imagine it, you and me in the same room?” Humphrey said. “It would confuse everyone horribly. They would expect me to serve the soup and you to eat it. And the same would be true if ever I contrive to establish this gaming house. Which seems unlikely at this stage, so you may forget all about it. In fact, you must forget everything you have heard here today, do you understand?”
The grin widened, and he put one finger to his nose. “Aha! Your secret is safe with me.”
“Good, because there is a lady involved, and if you breathe so much as a single word to a soul, I shall tear your miserable head from your scrawny body, do I make myself clear?”
Charlie nodded, the grin wiped instantly from his face.
Lord Humphrey (Sons of the Marquess Book 2) Page 13