Bound by a Scandalous Secret (The Scandalous Summerfields)

by Diane Gaston

  ‘Even so,’ Dell said.

  * * *

  Ross left Dell’s bedchamber with some of his high spirits dampened. He supposed he harboured the hope that Dell would understand his reasons for this betrothal, not that he could tell him the whole of it.

  He had an idea of how to make certain Genna’s plans worked out just as she wished, even though he had more to work on how to make that happen. To help her live the life of her own choosing was all he desired. He might be destined for duty, but he’d make certain Genna could be free, like he, his mother and father had been free in the days before duty took over.

  Ross’s next task was to inform his father and the Duchess. He dreaded it.

  It was nearing time to dress for dinner. With luck he’d catch his father and the Duchess alone for a few minutes before guests arrived. There were always guests for dinner, it seemed. Dinner was one of the venues where his father could influence others to agree with his views.

  He had his valet dress him hurriedly and he was the first to enter the drawing room where they would wait for dinner to be announced. A decanter of claret was on the table. Ross poured himself a glass and sipped it while he waited for his father and the Duchess.

  They walked in the room, discussing the impending marriage of the Princess Charlotte to Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld and the various monies and property Parliament would vote to bestow upon the young woman who might some day become Queen.

  ‘Ross!’ his father exclaimed upon seeing him there.

  Ross was rarely early.

  ‘Do you stay for dinner, Ross?’ the Duchess asked. ‘I do hope so. It will even out our numbers. I already told the butler you would dine with us.’

  ‘I will stay, then,’ he said. ‘When do the guests arrive?’

  ‘Not for a half-hour,’ she said. ‘Unless they are late, which they usually are.’

  He poured them each a glass of claret. His father took a long sip of his.

  No reason to delay, Ross thought. ‘There is something I wish to tell you.’

  Interest was lacking in both their eyes. His father considered most of what Ross talked about to be of no consequence, usually about some poverty or injustice he’d discovered. His father thought only in terms of the fate of the country, not individuals. The Duchess merely regarded Ross as the heir and not as a person who could further the Duke’s influence and power.

  ‘I have done something you have begged me to do—’ he began.

  They both glanced at him then.

  ‘I have become betrothed.’

  ‘What?’ cried the Duchess.

  ‘This is excellent!’ His father’s face lit with excitement. ‘Who is the lady?’

  ‘As long as she is suitable,’ the Duchess said warily.

  Ross met her eyes. ‘She suits me very well.’

  The Duchess blanched. ‘Please do not say it is that woman—’

  Ross knew that his father and the Duchess would not approve. That was part of what would make the scheme work, but it angered him, nonetheless.

  ‘Miss Summerfield, do you mean?’ He did not want the Duchess to say her name first. ‘Yes. I have made Miss Summerfield an offer and she has accepted.’ Which was the truth.

  ‘Summerfield?’ His father raised his voice. ‘That chit connected to Tinmore?’

  ‘Ross, she is a nobody,’ the Duchess said quickly. ‘Worse than that, look at her family. There is not a one of them who has not been the subject of gossip. Her mother and father—bad blood, indeed.’

  ‘Has Miss Summerfield done anything objectionable?’ Ross challenged.

  The Duchess’s lips thinned. ‘Not as yet.’

  In that she was correct. In a few months, Genna would cry off and that would certainly cause gossip. Not to mention what people would say when she became an artist and lived as an independent woman.

  ‘Will you not reconsider?’ his father pleaded. ‘I’ll never get Tinmore off my neck if you are married to his wife’s sister.’

  Of course, his father would think of himself. ‘Miss Summerfield will have no difficulty distancing herself from Lord Tinmore, if that is your only objection.’

  ‘Not my only objection,’ his father snapped. ‘She’s not spent any time in town. She knows nobody of importance. What does she know of entertaining? Of managing houses as grand as our family’s?’

  ‘She has a quick intelligence,’ Ross said. ‘These matters can be learned.’

  His father’s eyes turned pained. ‘Some women cannot learn.’

  Like Ross’s mother. She’d never adapted to the strains of being a duchess.

  Ross’s anger at his father melted a little.

  ‘You are in your prime, Father,’ he said softly. ‘There will be time for Genna to learn how to be a duchess.’

  But it would never get that far. He’d forgotten that for a moment.

  His father’s wife broke in. ‘Why could you not court Lady Alice? She is a sweet girl. And her father is a marquess. It would be much wiser for you to court the daughter of a marquess and bring some advantage to the union.’

  ‘It is done, Constance.’ There was no use arguing over what would never come to pass. ‘I am betrothed to Miss Summerfield.’

  ‘But we could induce her to cry off even before word gets out,’ she persisted. ‘It is not too late.’

  ‘I do not want to break this engagement. I have a high regard for Miss Summerfield.’ Which was very true. ‘And I intend to honour my promise to her.’

  Both the Duchess and his father’s faces were pinched in disappointment.

  For no reason. The marriage would never take place.

  ‘Regard this,’ he told them. ‘I have done as you wished, as you have begged me to do for years now. I have become betrothed. We will marry in the autumn, probably.’

  The Duchess lifted a shoulder as if to say that was not concession enough.

  ‘Well, if you say it is done, it is done and we will have to devise the best way to approach this.’ His father poured himself another glass of claret. ‘I beg you not to speak of it at dinner. Let us think upon how to have this announcement made.’

  ‘As you wish.’ Ross finished his claret.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  For the next week Ross called upon Genna every day, taking her to all the places she’d desired. They’d battled the crowds to see Napoleon’s carriage at the Egyptian Museum, gaped at the beasts kept at the Tower, and sat in choice seats at Astley’s Amphitheatre. Every day brought new delights and new ideas and Genna could not have been happier.

  She had almost been able to forget that Lord Tinmore had invited the Duke and Duchess of Kessington and Ross to dinner to discuss the announcement of the betrothal.

  She wished the announcement could be made in the newspapers, rather than for her to face the stares and whispers of those who wouldn’t think a duke’s son would actually wish to marry her. It made it worse knowing she and Ross were deceiving everyone about their true intent.

  The dinner with the Duke and Duchess was the only entertainment for Tinmore and Lorene this week. It had taken that many days to find an evening the Duke and Duchess could attend. Ross requested that Lord Penford be invited, to which Tinmore readily agreed, but about whom Genna and Lorene heard Tinmore’s endless complaints that the table would be uneven.

  Lorene had little to do with the planning of the dinner. Nothing would do but for Tinmore to see to every detail, in consultation with Mr Filkins, his secretary, and Dixon, the butler. She knew nothing of planning important dinners, Tinmore had said, so Lorene spent long hours practising her new music instead. Genna regretted leaving her for the pleasures Ross’s outings provided, but she shoved her feelings aside. She must learn to see to her own well-being and leave Lorene to cope with the life she’d c
hosen.

  Even though Lorene had chosen this dismal life for Genna’s sake.

  When the evening of the dinner came, Genna’s mood darkened. She did not need Ross to tell her that the Duke and Duchess would disapprove of the betrothal. No one would approve such an unbalanced pairing. Besides facing them, she would also be seeing Lord Penford for the first time since he’d learned the truth of the betrothal. And she would have to endure Lord Tinmore, who took credit for the match.

  In a way, Tinmore deserved credit. If he were the least bit tolerable, she might never have decided to pursue a career as an artist. Truth be told, she was nowhere near being able to do that. She’d solved one problem by agreeing to this pretend betrothal, but she still needed to learn so much more before she could begin to support herself with painting and she’d not painted for days.

  Before her maid came in to help her dress, she sat down with her crayon and sketched some of the images she’d seen over the week. A lion from the African continent. Dancing horses from Astley’s. The crowd gaping at Napoleon’s carriage. She forgot everything else and lost herself in her drawings.

  When the maid entered the room carrying her dress, Genna jumped in surprise.

  ‘Is it time already?’ She closed her sketchbook and walked over to her pitcher and basin and washed the chalk from her fingers.

  ‘I’ll dress your hair first,’ the maid said.

  Genna missed the camaraderie she’d had with Anna, her maid at Summerfield House. She did not dare confide in this woman even in simple ways. Tinmore’s servants had a habit of reporting back to Tinmore everything Genna or Lorene said or did. So she merely told her how she wished to wear her hair and what dress she desired.

  This night she was donning a pale rose dinner dress, a nice complement to the deeper red Lorene had chosen. She wanted to take some care with her appearance for Ross’s sake, so the Duke and Duchess would not find fault with her looks.

  The maid seemed to be moving particularly slowly this evening. Genna feared she would be late in presenting herself in the drawing room where they would all have a drink of wine before dinner.

  Before the line of buttons down the back of her dress were fastened, Genna heard a carriage arrive. ‘Please hurry, Hallie. I believe they have arrived.’

  ‘Yes, miss,’ the maid said, but she went no faster.

  When the maid finally finished, Genna dashed down the stairs to the drawing room. She forced herself to stop at the door and compose herself. Why did she worry? The more the Duke and Duchess disliked her, the less dust they would kick up when she broke the sham betrothal.

  She lifted her chin, put a smile on her face and walked in.

  ‘About time, girl,’ Tinmore snapped.

  He stood near the fireplace with the Duke and Ross. The Duchess sat on the sofa with Lorene and Penford stood apart from them all.

  Ross was the only one to smile at her entrance. ‘Genna!’ He walked up to her and took her hand.

  She curtsied to the Duke. ‘Good evening, Your Grace.’ And to the Duchess. ‘Your Grace. Forgive my tardiness.’ She decided to give no excuse.

  ‘We have been discussing how to make an announcement of this betrothal,’ the Duchess said, making it sound like it was something loathsome. ‘We have decided that it should be done at the ball we are already scheduled to give in two weeks’ time.’

  Tinmore spoke up. ‘I would be honoured to host the entertainment where the announcement is made. I think it only appropriate—’

  The Duchess held up a hand. ‘No. We’ve settled it. It will be at our ball.’

  Genna glanced at Lorene, but her face was blank and she could not tell how Lorene felt about this.

  ‘I should most like to do what my sister wishes to do,’ Genna said. ‘If you have her approval, then I am happy to have the announcement at your ball. I do wish for my whole family to be included. Our brother will not come, of course. He and his wife are too far away, but I insist my sister Tess and her husband be included. And his parents, of course.’

  ‘Lord and Lady Northdon?’ the Duchess said through a sneer.

  Lord and Lady Northdon were practically shunned by the ton, because Lady Northdon was a French commoner by birth and the daughter of French Jacobins.

  ‘Yes.’ Genna kept her gaze steady. ‘I consider them part of my family.’

  The Duchess glanced away. ‘If we must.’

  ‘Certainly we must,’ added Ross. He turned to Genna. ‘Would you like some Madeira?’

  ‘I would.’ Lots of it, in fact.

  It was Penford who poured her the wine and handed it to her.

  ‘How are you, sir?’ she asked him.

  He met her eyes. ‘Very well.’

  His expression was as blank as Lorene’s, but not hostile. Genna supposed she must be content with that.

  He turned to Lorene. ‘More wine?’

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, handing him her glass.

  The dinner was a stilted affair. What troubled Genna the most was her sister, who seemed even more unassuming than usual. It was as if all the life had been sucked out of her. Genna had caused it, she knew, and it ate at her. But what could she do about it now? She could not blurt out to them all that the betrothal was a sham and they should not take it all so seriously.

  Her saving grace was having Ross seated across from her. When Lord Tinmore and the Duke’s conversation became particularly tedious, Ross needed only to look at her and she could smile inside.

  * * *

  After dinner when the ladies left the gentlemen to their brandy, the Duchess spent the time lecturing Genna and Lorene in proper behaviour at this upcoming ball, as if they did not know how to behave. She also discussed the politics of the day, to which Lorene and Genna agreed to her every word merely to be polite.

  When the men returned to the drawing room, Ross rolled his eyes at Genna, making her smile again. Dell looked bleak. Lord Tinmore and the Duke continued to discuss Princess Charlotte’s impending wedding and the Duchess joined in.

  Dell looked down on Lorene. ‘Do you play for us this evening, ma’am?’

  Her gaze rose to his. ‘If you wish it.’

  Dell extended his hand to Lorene to help her rise. She sat at the pianoforte in the corner of the room and played softly the Mozart piece that had been performed at the musicale.

  While Tinmore, the Duke and Duchess discussed politics and Lorene played Mozart, Ross gestured for Genna to come with him. They sneaked out of the room and into the hallway. Genna pulled him into the library, which was dark. She could hardly see his face.

  ‘Has it been too ghastly for you?’ he asked.

  She smiled. ‘Perhaps a bit more than dinners here usually are.’

  He stood close. ‘The Duchess is intent on having her own way. I apologise for that.’

  She felt the warmth of his body even though they were not touching, such an odd but pleasant sensation. ‘I wish we did not have to make a formal announcement.’

  ‘Do not put too much on it,’ he responded. ‘No one else will. We will be stared at for a while, whispered about and then they will forget us. They will be talking of Princess Charlotte and no one else.’

  The wedding of the Princess was a welcome distraction. As the only child of the Prince Regent, she would be Queen one day.

  ‘I hope you are right,’ she said.

  He held her hands. ‘I will call upon you early tomorrow. Are you able to spend the day with me?’

  She smiled. ‘I would be delighted.’

  He gave her a kiss on the cheek, then stepped away. ‘We should go back.’

  She put her fingers where his lips had touched and where she still felt the sensation of the kiss. ‘Yes. Let us go back.’

  * * *

  The next day Genna stopped by
Lorene’s sitting room before leaving for her outing with Ross.

  Lorene was playing the pianoforte when Genna knocked and entered the room. ‘I’m off with Ross in a few minutes. I just wanted to let you know.’

  Lorene made an attempt at a smile. ‘Where do you go this time?’

  Genna sat in a chair near the pianoforte. ‘I do not know. It is to be a surprise.’

  ‘A surprise? How nice.’

  Genna had not had a chance to speak with Lorene after the Duke and Duchess left after dinner. ‘I wanted to see if you are all right.’

  ‘All right?’ Lorene blinked. ‘Of course I am. Why ever would I not be all right?’

  ‘You—you seemed different last night,’ Genna said. ‘So very subdued. I worried about you.’

  Lorene turned back to the keyboard. ‘Oh, there is nothing to worry about. I—I merely had little to say. The Duke and Duchess and Tinmore had so many strong opinions on what should be done, I merely let them sort it out.’

  Genna rose and leaned over to give her sister a hug from behind. ‘I am certain I would have been happier with whatever plan you could come up with.’

  Lorene covered Genna’s hand with her own and squeezed it. ‘A very small dinner party with family and close friends?’

  ‘Perfect!’ Genna said. Especially if the betrothal were real.

  Lorene turned to her again. ‘I cannot tell you how delighted I am that you are going to marry Rossdale. The two of you are so fond of each other. Your happiness shows.’ She still held Genna’s hand and squeezed it again. ‘It is what I dreamed of for you.’

  Genna felt her guilt like a dagger twisting in her chest. How shameful to deceive such a loving sister! Still, she had to steel herself. She needed to find her own way.

  ‘I am happy,’ she said and realised there was truth in those words. When she was with Ross, she could push aside all the other feelings that swirled around inside her.

  A footman came to the door. ‘Lord Rossdale has arrived, miss.’

  She hugged Lorene again. ‘I’ll stop in when I return and let you know where it is he has taken me.’