“Yes, my Lady, it is the truth. For the last six years, that has been my life. It is not, I assure you, a life that I would recommend to anyone.”
“But… my Lord, was it not exciting, dangerous and thrilling?”
Sin fixed her with a stern glare, feeling his lip curl in a bitter-edged sardonic smile. “Dangerous, perhaps – but exciting, thrilling? No, none of that – poor food, a hard bed, salt encrusted clothing, long months at sea, the risk of death – that is not my idea of a pleasant or exciting life.” The girl looked fit to swoon with something which seemed part horror at his words, and part foolish admiration for a man who had survived such privations. He was, he supposed, being harsh – and, he realised, not entirely truthful – there was one part of it he had found worthwhile. “Although…” her wide eyes watched him, expectantly, waiting for his words, “I will admit to having developed a liking for the sea – the wide blue before me, the wind in the ship’s sails – that creates a sense of freedom not found anywhere else.”
She blinked at him, seemingly lost for words. One of the others – Lady Anne? – became brave enough to speak.
“But… is that freedom worth the privations you described?”
“Perhaps not, my Lady, yet it might well have been the whole of my life.”
“Then… regardless of the circumstance that has brought you back to Society, my Lord, I cannot but think that your life will be better for no longer being a privateer.”
Sin gave the tiniest snort of self-deprecating laughter.
“I have not yet come to a conclusion on that matter, my Lady. Only time will tell.”
Faith, finally realising that he wanted to escape, slipped her arm through his again, and smiled at the girls.
“My dear friends, I simply cannot let you monopolise my brother’s time any longer – there are so many people I must introduce him to, so many he has not seen for many years. If you will excuse us?”
Giving them no time to reply, she turned him away, and led him across the room, towards a group of older people who stood talking quietly. He whispered to her, as they went.
“If everyone is like that, I think I shall go mad.”
“Endure, brother dear, endure. If we are to be treated well by society, if they are to forget Hugh’s bad behaviour, then you must deal with it all. You may scream and rant about it after we get home.”
“Screaming and ranting is rather unlikely. But multiple glasses of brandy are a distinct possibility.”
Faith gave a small laugh, and kept walking. He was, he realised, impressed with her wisdom – he did need to be unfazed by the ton, no matter what they said or did. Rumours about himself, he could accept, but if those touched on his mother and sister in any negative way, he would not be so tolerant.
They reached the group of older people, Faith provided introductions, and he was treated to frosty disdain by most of them – obviously, these people were of an age where they well remembered the scandal around his leaving the country. But they did not give him the cut direct, and they were, on the whole, pleasant to his sister. It was better than it might have been.
And so the evening went – a round of introductions, where he was greeted by either frosty politeness or thrill seeking curiosity, over and over again. Then a pause in that, while they all filed into the room where the musical performance was to occur, and sat through a lacklustre series of pieces. He took the respite from conversation willingly, even if the music was terrible. Then back to conversation and introductions.
By the end of the evening, his head was whirling – full of names and faces that he needed to remember – and aching from the effort of having maintained a calm and smiling façade, no matter what impertinent questions he had been asked, no matter what foolish young women had attempted to flirt with him. The carriage ride back to Saint House was broken only by one tiny piece of conversation.
“That went far, far better than it might have, Drummond. I can see that the years have granted you more wisdom than you had when you left.”
The tone of his mother’s voice suggested relief – had she truly thought him likely to still be a young fool? He simply nodded, and rested his aching head back against the padded wall of the carriage.
~~~~~
In another carriage, making its way home from Lady Templeton’s musical soiree, Cecil Carlisle, Baron Setford, was quietly discussing the evening with his wife.
“So, my dear Anna, did you learn anything of use to us tonight?”
Anna looked at him, her lips curving gently into a wry smile.
“Not really. For once, there seemed to be none of those we are currently watching, with relation to any of your current ‘cases’, present. But… did you notice Lord Hungerwood, and the stir that his presence caused?”
“I did indeed my dear. I have been wondering when he might start to go about in Society. And how they might treat him.”
“Oh? Why? What did you expect to happen? I noted that his past as a privateer, combined with his dark good looks and manner, seems to have the young women all swooning after him, but I admit that I found the rather frosty reception that he received from most of the older people puzzling.”
“Ah. So you know nothing of the family, of the history?”
“Nothing. Should I?”
Cecil considered a moment – she might not like his answer, but he would tell her anyway. From Anna, he held no secrets.
“There was no reason, at the time, for you to know. Even though it touches on events you were close to. Hungerwood was a second son, and never expected to inherit. He left the country six years or more ago, under a cloud of disgrace.”
“Disgrace? For what?”
“Everyone believes him to have been Second to Lord Jasper Sinclair, in the duel that took Martin Stafford’s life, and to have pretty much incited Sinclair to call the duel.”
Anna gasped, shocked – for she knew those involved with the consequences of that duel very well. Then Cecil’s words echoed through her mind again. “Believes…?”
“Yes. The truth of it is, it was the older brother, Hugh, who was the Second. Drummond, the now Lord Hungerwood, allowed everyone to think it was he who had been Second – both brothers were there at the time, and apparently Drummond took on the dishonour, to spare his family name. He left the country, and I suspect he had never intended to return. Hugh, his fool of a brother who was a rash hothead of a man, then went on to waste that sacrifice, by continuing to duel, and then getting himself killed – all over a tawdry actress, just a year gone next week. Drummond has a job ahead of him – the ton have not cut him completely, but that family’s honour hangs by a bare thread. But from the look of tonight, I think he is solid and honourable enough to win out.”
“I agree… but… Marion – does she believe he was the Second? And if so, what will happen, when they inevitably meet?”
“Yes, she does. And that is exactly my worry.”
Chapter Four
The carriages were loaded, and all was in readiness. The early morning sun cast a soft gold glow through the mist that rose from the gardens and fields around them, and gilded the beginning leaf buds on the trees that lined the drive of Windemere Towers. It was a beautiful scene, but Marion found herself completely unable to appreciate it. Instead she felt sick in her stomach, almost shivering with dread.
Daniel was oblivious to his mother’s mood, too full of excitement to think of anyone else too closely. He tugged at Marion’s hand, with all the force that a five-year-old boy could bring to bear, attempting to drag her the last steps to the carriage.
“Hurry, mama, I want to go now! I want to see London again, I want to ride in the carriage. Now, please mama.”
Marion took a deep steadying breath, and forced herself to calm. Regardless of her fears, she was going anyway, for Daniel’s sake. At that moment, the Duke and Duchess arrived beside her, both smiling at Daniel’s enthusiasm.
“Now grandson, you must have some patience. We will go in but a fe
w minutes. Please do not drag on your mother like that!”
Daniel looked at his grandfather, his brow creasing.
“I don’t like patience.”
His voice was a little sulky, but he did as asked, and stopped pulling at Marion. She breathed a sigh of relief, casting a thankful glance at the Duke. Her father-in-law was the kindest man she had ever known, and doted on her son. Moments later, the last bag had been loaded, and the footman let down the carriage steps and opened the door. The four of them settled inside, the luxurious leather and velvet interior wrapping them in comfort.
All through the morning’s travel, Marion stared out of the window, watching the early spring countryside pass. But all she could think of was what, and who, might await her in London. She had only spent a brief few months in London, since that terrible time after Martin’s death – a few months in which she had mostly been hidden away, and had not needed to deal with the ton. This time, it would be different. This time, she could not hide.
Soon, the swaying of the carriage lulled the Duke to sleep, his Duchess also sleeping, held steady in the curve of his arm. Daniel slept too, his head on Marion’s lap, and the carriage blanket wrapping him in warmth. The quiet was undisturbed, beyond the steady rumbling sounds of the carriage wheels on the earth of the road, and the occasional drift of birdsong, as spring led birds towards nestmaking. It brought no peace to Marion’s thoughts. Over and over, the past replayed itself in her mind, especially those moments which had been full of fear.
Their faces were all clear in her memory, as they had been then, laughing and leering at her, so full of their own arrogance and what she could only call greed. Would they look the same now? Would she recognise them instantly? Or might they have changed – might their weakness of character and unmannerliness be hidden beneath a veneer of civilized behaviour. She shuddered. It was as if she was back there, being grabbed at, and demanded of.
She remembered quite clearly the day that two of them had come to the house, and accosted her. If Perryman, her footman, had not been present, they would likely have had their way with her, no matter what she had said, for they were far stronger than her. Perryman had saved her – with the aid of a large marble vase, and a punch which would not have been out of place at Gentleman Jackson’s. He had then unceremoniously dumped the young men in the street, and locked the doors against them.
What if they were still like that? What if they were at a Ball or Soiree, and got her alone somewhere? Her thoughts were not rational, she knew – for now she was the Countess of Scartwick, acknowledged and supported by many people of high rank in society – the chance of her suffering such a fate was slim – but the fear resisted logic, and she shivered as she sat there.
There was no choice. She would face her fear, and do as she must. She would be well supported, and, she hoped that, with time, the fear would fade. At least she could be certain of not having to ever see Martin’s killer, who was himself now dead, or his Second, who was gone from the country. The others, she would find the courage to deal with, somehow. Finally, exhausted from the churn of fear, she also slipped into sleep.
~~~~~
The first week in London had passed quietly, with no attempt made to attend society functions. They had focused on getting Daniel settled, and quietly introducing him to some other families with children of a similar age. A pattern had been set, where, each morning, well before most of the ton were up and about, Marion, with the Duke and Duchess, and the assistance of a maid and the Nanny, would take Daniel to Hyde Park. There, whilst the adults, with whatever friends might be there that day, settled on blankets with some picnic food, Daniel, and any other children present would run wildly about, burning off that excess of energy which all children seemed to have.
Marion found it peaceful, Daniel was making new friends, and London was beginning to seem not so threatening after all. This particular morning, Marion allowed Nanny to run about, keeping the children in sight, whilst she watched the world around her, especially the others who had ventured into the Park early. The ton, she had discovered, made endlessly fascinating watching – their dress, their manner, the beautiful horses many rode, all were intriguing to watch from afar, even if, close up, Marion still felt completely out of place.
In the distance, she saw a man riding – he caught her eye, simply because he was not bright, unlike most of the dandies she saw about. This man wore stark black, relieved only by the white of his cravat, and rode a horse as black as his clothes. He moved with a spare elegance which was in keeping with his appearance, and the horse was of a quality rarely seen, with perfect gaits and a shining coat that spoke of much care.
He looked quite sure of himself, and yet, in so many ways, he did not fit in with what she was used to seeing. She wondered idly who he was, before turning her gaze back to where Daniel tumbled over the grass, laughing as he chased a ball. She rose, and went to him, scooping the ball from his grasp, and throwing it, to set him running happily again.
The man in black, on the glossy black horse, slipped from her mind completely.
~~~~~
Faith was just coming out of the breakfast room when Sin returned to the house from his ride. He had taken to riding every day, the need to be out and moving, doing something, driving him. At first, he had felt it keenly, his muscles long unused to any amount of riding after years at sea, but now, his body was remembering the way of it, settling into patterns created when he was a boy. He rode well, and was pleased with the horse he had obtained. Early in the day, the Park was at its quietest, and he revelled in the sense of peace it brought him.
“Drummond! I don’t know how you can rise so early.”
“Habit. And I appreciate the quiet. Especially when my day is like to be as busy as today. I must spend the day with Mr Swithin, sorting out the last of the tangle of papers that Hugh and Mr Wilton created between them.”
Faith frowned a little.
“It… it will be all right, won’t it, Drummond? There is enough money to deal with it? I… I can still have a Season, can’t I? oh dear, that sounds so selfish!”
Sin laughed, taking her hand, and squeezing it reassuringly.
“Yes Faith, there is enough. Had I not come home with funds of my own, it might have been rather difficult, but now, there are no major problems. You will have your Season, and the room full of gowns that no doubt entails.”
She released a very large sigh.
“I am so glad! I was quite sure that things were worse than Mother was telling me.”
“Well, you can stop worrying about that now. Now we just have to convince the ton that I am not a dishonourable reprobate.”
He heard the touch of bitterness in his own words, and regretted it, as Faith tilted her head slightly to consider him. She spoke softly, carefully, as if he might object to her words.
“I never believed that you were, Sin. I worked out, long ago, that whatever had happened, whatever made you leave, could not actually have been of your doing. It was Hugh, wasn’t it? You let them blame you for something he did, for the sake of all of us, didn’t you? He was my brother, but I cannot say that I ever liked his behaviour – and I know that I probably didn’t ever see anything like the worst of it.”
Sin was struck, again, by just how wise his little sister had become. He swallowed, unsure of what to tell her, and settled on the bare minimum.
“Thank you for your belief in me, Faith. I won’t speak of it in detail – it’s the past, and cannot be changed. But yes, you are right – I chose to take the blame for something Hugh did – the actions of a second son are not regarded so much, after all.”
She nodded, twisting her lips a little, thinking.
“But… now that you are the Earl, it is regarded seriously, and it’s a problem? Is that why so many people treat you… coldly?”
“Sometimes, little sister, you are far too astute. Perhaps, one day, I will explain. But for now, it is best that you know nothing of it, that you act as you always have
done, being open and friendly with the ton, as if there could be nothing ever, which they might be concerned by. The more truly you present that, the more strongly they will believe it, and the more hope I have of the past being forgotten.”
Faith regarded him with some annoyance, then shook her head, as if shaking the feeling off.
“As you wish, although the curious part of me finds that deeply frustrating! You have always been honourable to a fault, Drummond. I really fail to see how anyone can miss it.”
That did draw bitter laughter from him, and Faith raised an eyebrow at his reaction.
“That is funny – in the darkest possible way, my dear sister. But I thank you for your assertion of my character.”
“Well! I only say what seems obvious to me! Will you be attending the Chesterton Ball this evening?”
“I think not. I can only stand so many events in a week, before I risk snapping impolitely at some simpering maiden. I don’t know how you stand their company – they seem all rather insipid and, dare I say it, a little stupid.”
Faith sighed. “But you will come to the Norwood’s event, in two days’ time?”
Sin drew in a breath – he would have to attend, even though he wished not to – it was a fine balance between his sanity, and being seen and acknowledged by enough people of importance to improve the family standing.
“I will, although I do not look forward to it.”
“Good.”
That said, Faith took herself off to spend the afternoon preparing, and Sin went in search of some food, his ride having raised his appetite.
~~~~~
Nervous apprehension filled Marion, leaving her feeling decidedly queasy as she entered Chesterton House beside the Duke and Duchess. Sylvia, the Duchess, gently put her hand on Marion’s arm, and whispered to her.
“Don’t be afraid – we will be right beside you. The past is gone, this is now.”
Restoring the Earl's Honour: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 17) Page 3