Bound by a Scandalous Secret (The Scandalous Summerfields)

by Diane Gaston

  She should have known Lorene would have something to say about her behaviour. Too often her husband’s words seemed to be coming out of Lorene’s mouth.

  ‘Too free? I do not take your meaning.’

  They started up the stairs.

  ‘You say too much. About wanting to go to the Egyptian Museum, and Astley’s and all. Might he not take it you want an invitation from him?’

  She made herself laugh. ‘Perhaps I did! How else am I going to do things unless someone invites me?’

  ‘Not the son of a duke!’ Lorene cried. ‘You must not mistake his father’s interest in Lord Tinmore for the son’s intention to court you.’

  Sometimes Lorene could sound every bit as dispiriting as her husband.

  She continued up the stairs, a few steps ahead of her sister. ‘I like Lord Rossdale. And I think he likes me. But he is not going to court me. It is not like that.’

  No one would court her if she had anything to do with it. Tinmore could not force her to marry. She just needed a little more time to be ready to forge her own way.

  Lorene went on. ‘You must not speak so familiarly to gentlemen. It is not the thing to do. You must be careful. The last thing we want is to be the objects of gossip.’

  Of scandal.

  Genna did not have the horror of gossip and scandal that her two sisters did. She did not care what others thought of her.

  Had her mother been like her?

  If she should ever again be in the company of the Duchesses of Archester and of Mannerton, she would ask them.

  They were met on the first floor by the butler. ‘A package arrived for you, my lady.’

  ‘For me?’ Lorene sounded surprised.

  ‘It is in your sitting room.’ He bowed.

  Lorene had a parlour near to her bedchamber where she could receive callers—if anyone called on her, that was.

  ‘Let us go see what it is!’ Genna cried, the sharp words between them forgotten.

  They rushed to the sitting room. On the tea table was an envelope very similar to the one Lorene held in her hand, the music Rossdale had purchased for her. She placed that envelope on the table and picked up the other. It was tied with a ribbon like a gift. A card was stuck underneath the ribbon.

  Lorene pulled the card out and read it. She handed it to Genna.

  ‘“For your enjoyment”,’ Genna read. She looked up at Lorene. ‘It is not signed.’

  Lorene opened the envelope and pulled out sheets of music. She gasped. ‘The Mozart pieces from the musicale last night!’

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ Genna exclaimed. ‘It must have been purchased by that gentleman the clerk mentioned. Who could it be?’

  Lorene traced her fingers along the lines of music, a strange, soft expression on her face. ‘I do not know.’

  Not Tinmore, that was for certain.

  * * *

  Two weeks later Lord Tinmore, Lorene and Genna were invited to the Duchess of Archester’s ball, the first important ball of the Season. It was a coup Tinmore credited to his new alliance with the Duke of Kessington, Rossdale’s father. He was more certain than ever that Lorene or Genna would embarrass him completely, so every dinner for over a week had been consumed with his incessant instructions.

  He insisted both Genna and Lorene have new ball gowns, as if they would not want a new gown themselves. Their modiste made certain their dresses were beautifully fashionable. Genna’s was a pale blue silk with an overdress and long sleeves of white net. The hem of the skirt was trimmed in white lace as were the neckline and cuffs.

  Tinmore insisted that a hairdresser be hired as well, but Genna disliked what the man did. She had her own maid take down her hair and rearrange it to a style less fussy and more comfortable for her. She wound up with curls around her face and the rest pulled high on her head. A long string of tiny pearls was wrapped around her head and up through the crown of curls.

  Lorene’s gown was white muslin embellished with gold embroidery that shimmered in the candlelight. She wore a gold-and-diamond band in her hair and diamonds around her neck. Her usually straight hair had been transformed into a mass of curls. How anyone could look at another lady there, Genna did not know. Her sister took her breath away.

  When they were announced at the ball, Genna felt secure in their appearance—and totally mismatched with the grey-haired, wrinkled man who escorted them. They first waited in a line to greet the Duke and Duchess of Archester. When it was finally Genna’s turn, the Duchess greeted her warmly.

  The Duke held on to Genna’s hand for a moment. ‘You are the image of your mother, young lady,’ he said with feeling.

  Genna felt a stab of pain. She could not remember what her mother looked like.

  She curtsied. ‘Thank you, your Grace.’ What else could she say?

  Tinmore quickly whisked them away from the Duke and Duchess.

  As they crossed the ballroom floor, Tinmore whispered, ‘There will be some eligible men here, girl. I expect you to be on good behaviour. Make a good impression. I have already spoken to some gentlemen on your behalf, so you will have some dance partners.’

  Genna forced a smile. ‘I never want for dance partners, sir.’

  She had no intention of encouraging his matchmaking. She was perfectly capable of having a good time all on her own.

  ‘Now, do not come bothering me if I am in conversation,’ he whispered to Lorene. ‘It will likely be about a matter of importance. There will be other ladies for you to speak to. Make certain you are agreeable.’

  Lorene was always agreeable, Genna wanted to say, but Tinmore left them before she could open her mouth.

  ‘There are so many people here!’ Lorene looked around nervously.

  Genna scoured the room. ‘Good! Perhaps Tinmore’s gentlemen will not be able to find me. If I spy them coming, I’ll hide behind a jardinière of flowers.’

  ‘He merely wants to see you settled,’ Lorene said defensively.

  ‘He wants me out of his house so he can have you all to himself,’ Genna retorted in good humour, although she really meant it.

  She caught sight of two men walking towards them. ‘Here are two gentlemen we know.’

  Rossdale and Penford.

  Rossdale smiled. ‘Good evening, ladies.’

  Lord Penford merely nodded and asked, ‘May I get you some refreshment?’

  Genna saw liveried servants carrying glasses with what she hoped was champagne. ‘Yes, Penford. Thank you.’

  Was he Lorene’s secret admirer?

  Impossible. Genna could not tell whether or not Penford even liked Lorene. He was all obligation, Genna feared.

  ‘Are you available for the first set?’ Rossdale asked Genna.

  Her heart danced in her chest. ‘I am.’ There was no one she would rather dance with.

  He turned to Lorene. ‘Will you be dancing, ma’am? Perhaps you will favour me with a set?’

  Now Genna’s heart melted. He’d included her sister who desperately deserved to enjoy herself.

  Lorene’s eyes darted towards where her husband was conversing with other men. ‘I am not certain if I should.’

  ‘Of course you should,’ cried Genna. ‘It is a ball and you look so lovely many gentlemen will want to dance with you.’

  Penford came up and handed her and Genna a glass of champagne.

  ‘Dance the second set with me,’ Rossdale said. ‘Then you may retire if you wish.’

  ‘Oh, say yes, Lorene!’ Genna said impatiently.

  She lowered her eyes. ‘Very well.’

  By the time they finished the champagne, couples were lining up for the first dance. Rossdale took Genna’s hand to lead her on to the dance floor. Genna turned back to smile at her sister. She felt a little guilty for leaving Lorene,
but Penford, taciturn as he was wont to be, stood by her side and was some company, at least.

  Genna filled with excitement. To see Rossdale again. To be dancing with him. To have a friend.

  * * *

  Ross smiled as they faced each other in the line, waiting for others to join.

  The music started and the couples at the head of the line began dancing their steps and figures. Each couple would repeat the figures, couple by couple, down the line.

  ‘Do you enjoy dancing?’ Ross asked Genna, although it was clear she did.

  Her colour was high and her eyes sparkled.

  ‘I do indeed.’ she responded. ‘It is so lively. And I love how pretty it is when all the couples perform the figures together.’

  Ross mostly considered dancing a social obligation, but it was impossible not to catch Genna’s excitement and enjoy himself along with her. There was a rhythm to it, a pattern, he found pleasant, especially if he forgot anything but the dance.

  And Genna.

  He noticed that Dell and Lady Tinmore had joined the line. When he and Genna came together in the figures, he said to her, ‘Your sister dances.’

  ‘I noticed,’ she replied as the dance separated them.

  It brought them together again.

  ‘Do you suppose Penford felt an obligation?’ she asked.

  His answer had to wait until they came together again. ‘That is what he says.’

  ‘I am delighted she is allowing herself some fun,’ Genna said. ‘I wonder if Tinmore even notices.’ They parted and came together once more, turning in a circle. ‘I hope she thinks of nothing but the dancing.’

  He decided to offer Genna what she wanted for her sister—a chance to think of nothing but the dancing. He did not attempt more than a comment or two after that.

  * * *

  The sets often lasted a half-hour or more and this one was no exception. Ross usually succumbed to boredom after the first ten minutes, but this time he was not even aware of how much time had passed.

  When the music stopped, he stood facing Genna again. They both stared at each other as if shocked the dance had ended. Finally she curtsied, he bowed, and he took her hand to return her to where she had stood with her sister.

  Her step quickened when they neared her. ‘Was that not lovely?’ she asked.

  Lady Tinmore darted a glance at Dell, who quickly looked away. ‘Lovely. Yes.’

  A footman bore a tray with champagne and they each took a glass.

  It made perfect sense for Ross to remain with Genna and her sister. He would be dancing with her sister the next set, but after that he must leave them and dance with others. He could swing back for a second dance. Two dances were the limit unless he wished for there to be speculation about a betrothal between them.

  He glanced around the room and saw his father’s wife standing with the Duchess of Mannerton. His father was deep in conversation with the Duke of Mannerton and Lord Tinmore was hovering around the edges of these higher-ranking men. His father’s wife, on the other hand, kept tossing disapproving looks Ross’s way.

  Another reason why he must leave Genna and seek out other partners. The Duchess could be a formidable enemy if she so chose and he certainly did not wish her to choose Genna as an enemy.

  A young gentleman with whom Ross had a passing acquaintance, approached them.

  He bowed to Genna. ‘Miss Summerfield, how good to see you.’

  She smiled at him. ‘Why, good evening, Mr Holdsworth.’

  Holdsworth was the younger son of Baron Holdsworth. He could not be more than twenty-one, more of an age with Genna than Ross, who was nearing thirty.

  Holdsworth nodded nervously to Ross and Dell, who easily outranked him.

  His attention returned to Genna. ‘Are you engaged for the next set? If not, would you do me the honour of dancing with me?’

  ‘Yes, of course, Mr Holdsworth,’ she responded right away. ‘I remember dancing with you last Season. I enjoyed it very much.’

  The young man beamed with pleasure. He bowed and withdrew.

  Ross’s mood turned sour.

  ‘Do you know Mr Holdsworth?’ she asked Ross. ‘I should have introduced you, shouldn’t I?’

  ‘I am acquainted with him,’ Ross answered.

  ‘He is quite fun to dance with, as you will see.’ She laughed. ‘Very energetic.’ She leaned closer to his ear. ‘And he is not one of Lord Tinmore’s choices.’

  Ross frowned. ‘Tinmore has chosen who will dance with you?’

  ‘Widowers with a dozen children to manage or younger sons needing the dowry Tinmore offers.’ She glanced around the room. ‘I shall avoid them if I am able.’

  Lorene glared at her. ‘Genna, may I speak with you for a moment?’

  Her sister drew Genna aside. ‘What are you saying to Rossdale about Lord Tinmore—?’

  Ross could not hear the rest.

  He turned to Dell, who looked preoccupied. ‘How are you faring, Dell?’

  ‘Well enough, I suppose.’ Dell composed his features, but only briefly. His eyes shone with pain. ‘Actually, not well at all. I need some respite.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ Ross asked. He’d been surprised that Dell had danced at all. In fact, he was surprised Dell had agreed to come. These social events were not easy for him.

  ‘No. Nothing.’ Dell glanced towards Genna and her sister. ‘Please make my excuses to the ladies.’ He turned and walked away without waiting for Ross’s agreement.

  Both sisters, looking somewhat heated, returned to where Ross stood. Neither looked very happy.

  ‘Dell had to excuse himself,’ he told them. ‘He bids you goodnight.’

  ‘Oh?’ Genna glanced at her sister. ‘I do hope he comes back.’

  ‘Was there anything amiss?’ Lady Tinmore asked. ‘He appeared upset.’

  ‘He is not yet completely recovered from the loss of his family,’ Ross replied. ‘It strikes him unawares at times.’

  ‘What happened to them?’ Genna’s face looked pinched.

  ‘They were killed in a fire. All of them,’ he said in a low voice.

  Lady Tinmore gasped.

  ‘You and your sisters and brother, Lady Tinmore, are all the relations he has left,’ he added.

  The musicians signalled the next set and couples began to line up on the dance floor. Mr Holdsworth strode over eagerly and extended his hand to Genna, who seemed to have lost her sparkle.

  He ought not to have spoken. Both ladies immediately grasped the enormity of Dell’s loss and were affected by the news.

  Ross turned to Lady Tinmore. ‘This is our set, I believe.’

  She glanced up at him and for a moment he thought she would start weeping. ‘You do not have to dance with me, Lord Rossdale. I—I feel it is almost unseemly to dance after hearing…’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘This was not the proper time to tell you of Dell’s loss. He would be vexed with me if he found out I ruined this ball for you. Please dance with me.’

  She nodded.

  They took their place in the line not far from Genna and Mr Holdsworth.

  Lady Tinmore noticed him looking Genna’s way.

  He changed the subject. ‘I hope you and your sister settled your quarrel.’

  ‘Quarrel?’ She could not quite meet his eye. ‘She has such lively spirits. Sometimes she is too forward and her tongue runs away with her.’

  Ross responded, ‘I admire your sister’s forthrightness. It is a refreshing change from those who only say what is expected.’

  ‘Then do understand. She is not trying to get you to court her.’

  The music had begun and the first figures were starting down the line of dancers.

 
He knew that. Even from his first meeting with Genna, he knew she was not trying to trap him into marriage. But it depressed him to hear her sister say it aloud.

  It was Genna’s and Mr Holdsworth’s turn to dance. They were quite well matched in lively steps and grace, which somehow did not please him. Genna seemed to regain some of her former enthusiasm, though.

  * * *

  At the end of the set, Lady Tinmore thanked him and added, ‘I do hope Lord Penford returns to the ballroom.’

  He bowed to her. ‘I hope so, as well.’

  He escorted her back to the place they’d been standing and she lowered herself into a nearby chair. ‘I believe I will sit for a while.’

  ‘Shall I bring you some refreshment?’ he asked, although he also watched Genna and Mr Holdsworth still on the dance floor talking together.

  ‘I would love something to drink.’ Lady Tinmore fanned herself.

  He brought her a glass of champagne and noticed Genna leaving the dance floor.

  ‘I see your sister is returning to you,’ he said to Lady Tinmore. ‘I must take my leave.’

  She thanked him again for the dance and said goodbye.

  He made himself walk through the ballroom and converse with various people he knew. His father was doing the same, as was his father’s wife, but they had an agenda—to turn as many members of Parliament as possible to their way of thinking. Important work, but when did his father ever simply enjoy himself? His father used to smile and laugh and be willing to do things just for the doing of them.

  Ross spied Genna conversing with yet another young man. A man who looked to be in his forties—one of Lord Tinmore’s choices, perhaps?—hung around her for a bit, but gave up trying to get her attention away from the young buck. A quadrille was called and the young man escorted her to the dance floor.

  Ross asked the daughter of one of his father’s closest allies to dance the quadrille with him, which certainly would meet with the Duchess’s approval. The young lady was in want of a partner and Ross did not wish to leave her a wallflower.

  But he intended to get a second dance with Genna before the night was through.

  Unless another gentleman claimed her first, that was.