Restoring the Earl's Honour: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 17)

by Arietta Richmond

  His eyes still followed her, until she left the room at the Duke of Windemere’s side, and he ached to call her back. The spell was only broken when she disappeared from sight.

  “Drummond? Drummond, what is it? You look as if your thoughts are miles away.”

  Sin turned back to Faith and his mother, giving his head a tiny shake. His mother’s eyes were full of concern.

  “Do not worry, I am all right. A little distracted, and, truth to tell, somewhat blue-devilled. Cold politeness is deeply wearing, especially when I cannot find a way to change that reaction. It is as if every event like this is simply some hours of punishment, with no hope of forgiveness. Even the young women who seek me out do not care for genuine conversation – they simply want the thrill of being near the dangerous and dishonourable Earl.”

  Faith rested her hand on his arm a moment.

  “I am sure that, eventually, they will see you for who you are, not simply as a set of stories.”

  “I hope that also,” Lady Hungerwood spoke softly, “but if it wearies you so much, let us depart for the evening. There will be many more Balls for Faith to enjoy, all through the Season.”

  “Thank you.”

  In the carriage on the way home, Sin closed his eyes, but the image of Lady Scartwick’s beautiful face, her eyes full of anger and bitterness, rose before him in his mind. He suspected that image of her would haunt him forever.

  ~~~~~

  Marion sat on the blanket in the Park, watching Daniel run and play, trying her hardest to find the peace that usually came to her in that place. The effort was futile. She was tired, for the last few nights, since that dreadful Ball, she had slept poorly, the dreams worse than ever, and now populated by Lord Hungerwood, and Cardston, as well as those others she remembered from the past. Lord Hungerwood’s face, as their eyes had met, had stayed with her, haunting her.

  The starkness of his pain – for she could call it nothing else – when her gaze had met his, had shocked her. The honourable manner of his behaviour, so soon after Cardston’s caddishness had shattered her certainty about what sort of man he must be. She felt all at sea, finding that nothing about him aligned with what she had expected. And what would she do, next time they met, as they were sure to do?

  She turned her thoughts away from it all, forcing herself to watch Daniel, to talk to her friends – for this day they had been joined by Baron Setford and his wife.

  Lady Setford had been one of the first to help Marion when she had returned to London, even before the Duke knew of her whereabouts, and had become a very dear friend.

  “My dear Marion, you look quite pale – is London not agreeing with you? Or is it something more than that?”

  Anna was very astute, and Marion winced a little at her words – she was not ready to speak of any of it yet, not to anyone – her feelings were far too tangled.

  “I… still struggle with the echoes of the past. And dealing with the ton is such an effort, for I was not born to it. But yes, I would rather be at Windemere Towers. Spring is so beautiful there, and the air is so much cleaner.”

  “It would not be difficult for the air to be cleaner than it is here in London! But do not worry about the ton – you are doing very well, and they have taken to you – I have heard nothing disparaging said, anywhere.”

  Marion was glad of that reassurance, for there was virtually nothing which happened in London that Baron Setford did not hear of, given his role as the King’s spymaster. And his wife, she had come to understand, was privy to all that he knew.

  She turned back to watching the children playing, glad that Daniel had friends of similar age, and glad that the relationships of children were so much simpler than those of adults.

  ~~~~~

  As the day warmed, Sin eased his horse back to a walk, after some time of moving faster through the long paths of Hyde Park. The Park was busier now, and more care was required. He turned from the gravelled paths, and rode in under the trees, enjoying the dappling of sun and shade, idly watching the people around him.

  There, ahead of him, on the grass between the trees and the Serpentine, some children played, running endlessly after a ball, their high-pitched cries and laughter drifting on the gentle breeze. He turned a corner on the path, and saw past them, to where adults sat on blankets, with a picnic basket beside them.

  He stopped, not even conscious of having done so. The horse, glad to rest after a morning’s exercise, simply accepted the halt, and waited. There, on that blanket, was Lady Scartwick. She was, if anything, even more beautiful when seen in this unstudied simplicity. As he watched, one small boy ran up to her, and flopped down into her lap. Her arms curled around him, and she pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

  The boy looked up to her, and the bright morning sun limned his face, the profile clear, even from the distance. Sin had no doubt – that boy was Martin’s son. The lines of his face were the same, and Sin knew then that the boy would look very like Martin when he grew. A deep sadness filled him. There, before him, was the picture of happiness and love that Martin would never see. That Hugh’s actions had stolen from him, by inciting the duel that had cost him his life. Actions that everyone believed to have been Sin’s actions.

  The child displayed such simple happiness, he was glad that the Duke had found him, had acknowledged him as heir. The happiness of a well-loved and cared for child was a thing to be treasured. Such happiness was something Sin would never feel again, himself. So be it, that was the choice he had made, on that fateful night so long ago.

  He watched a little longer, seeing in her unaffected manner the true beauty of the woman, and the quality of her character. Eventually, he forced himself to turn away.

  Watching only made his guilt greater, and the emptiness inside him more noticeable. He had not understood, when he had taken up the burden of Hugh’s dishonour, just how much he was giving away.

  ~~~~~

  Not all that far from where Sin sat on his horse amongst the trees, another man stood, leaning against the bole of a tree, also watching the picnic party on the grass. His face was twisted into a sneer.

  “Such disgusting domesticity!”

  Lord Frederick Cardston could not see the pleasure in such entertainment – sitting on a rough blanket on the grass and watching children did not at all appeal to him. But watching Lady Scartwick did. He would prefer to be watching her naked in his bed, but that would require further work to achieve. He had not expected her to reject his proposition so resoundingly – for, after all, she was a common trollop that Martin Stafford had taken up with.

  The fact that Stafford had actually married her was amusing, but also annoying. It seemed that the status it had brought her had given her airs and pretensions above her station. Still, he was sure that there was a way to get what he wanted – which was marriage to her, so that he had not only her rather delectable body, but her money – for he knew that the Duke had settled a dowry upon her, to help her find another husband. That money was the only reason he was offering marriage. Otherwise, he would simply have coerced her into his bed as a mistress.

  It was most fortuitous that he had noticed the Duke’s carriage drawn up nearby, and decided to investigate. For, watching her with the child, he began to have an idea of how he might achieve his aims. Her obvious affection for the child made it clear – the boy could be used as leverage. Now all he need do was work out just exactly how that was to be arranged.

  He would continue to observe her, and the boy, whenever he could, until the right opportunity presented itself.

  Chapter Eight

  Carlton set the last precise crease in place in his cravat, and placed the large sapphire pin for best effect. Sin stared at himself in the mirror, amazed yet again at the effect which could be created by a skilled valet.

  Not that the elegance of dress and appearance made any difference to how the ton treated him. He felt that he was making no progress at all – the women still viewed him as a titillating adventure, t
he men as a dishonourable scoundrel not to be trusted. They were coldly polite to his face, did not welcome him to the card rooms, and generally made quite certain that he realised he was only tolerated because of his position, and because many of them held his mother in high esteem.

  But he would continue to attend Balls, and subject himself to their disdain, for his sister’s sake. Faith now had a number of admirers, and he held out hope that she might find a man she cared for, soon. But she watched him, and watched how the ton treated him – he saw her frown and glance at him often.

  He had the dreadful feeling that, eventually, she was going to ask him to explain, in detail, exactly what had caused them to treat him so. He did not look forward to that moment.

  After a last check that he was as well presented as he should be, he went downstairs to await Faith and his mother. Tonight was yet another Ball. They all seemed to blend into one another, an endless round of gossip and whispers, only enlivened by dancing, and the occasional genuine conversation. He wondered if his quest to restore his honour, his family’s honour, was doomed to fail – if he would remain barely tolerated forever.

  The depressing thought was pushed aside by Faith’s arrival in the parlour. She looked truly beautiful, her gown a shimmer of lace over a soft pale blue, which caught the colour of her eyes. Her dark hair was intricately piled on top of her head, and threaded through with tiny silver chains. It was no wonder that men had begun to take notice of her. Soon, his mother joined them, and they departed for the home of Lady Templeton, where the Ball was to be held.

  The journey was short, but the queue of carriages waiting to set down their passengers was long, and the spring twilight was long descended into the deep blue purple of night by the time they entered the building. The ballroom glittered with the light of hundreds of candles, and the swirl of people was almost dizzying. Sin tried to see it as others did, who were warmly accepted, but could not – it seemed something apart from him, something artificial and almost cruel. He sighed, and led Faith through the crush to some seats near a tall vase in one corner. His mother settled onto one, but Faith simply stood, scanning the room, seeing who was present.

  Across the room, a movement caught his eye – a woman, in a gown of the clearest, brightest blue that he had ever seen – a colour which reminded him of the plumage of the birds of the West Indies. His eyes were drawn to her, and with a shock, he realised that it was Lady Scartwick. The more he saw her, the more he was forced to acknowledge her beauty. But appreciating her appearance was not for him to do. He was the last man in the world that she would wish to be admired by. As he thought that, she turned where she stood, and for a long moment, their eyes met across the width of the room.

  Her face tightened, and she stilled. The moment stretched. Then she gave the tiniest inclination of her head, and turned away, breaking the eye contact. The meaning was obvious – it was not the cut direct, but it was close – and she wanted him to be very aware of that fact, of the courtesy she did him, by not ostentatiously cutting him. He turned away, to find his mother’s eyes upon him, and Faith’s – had they seen what had passed?

  He did not wish to know, did not wish to speak of it, or even think of it. Instead, as Lord Haleford came to his sister, seeking a dance, he moved away from his family, and sought a young lady to dance with. Any young lady would do, he simply required an acceptable distraction, otherwise he would be left standing in obvious isolation. Lady Phoebe simpered at him when he asked her for the dance, and she happily followed him to the floor where the set was forming up. Her conversation was insipid, but he smiled at her nonetheless – anything to keep himself occupied.

  And so went the evening – one dull dance after another, one almost cut direct after another, and barely any conversation worth having.

  Even those who had once been his supposed friends, who had been there that fateful night, treated him with coldness, obviously glad that he was the one to bear society’s disapprobation, rather than them. After the supper, he settled on a chair, feeling weary – his mother was elsewhere, talking with old friends, and Faith was at the other side of the room, talking to Lady Scartwick. Sin’s heart constricted at the sight.

  He was glad that Lady Scartwick did not condemn his sister for her brother’s actions, that they were it seemed, friends, but the sight hurt, yet again reminding him of his responsibility to Lady Scartwick. The desire to tell her the truth – all of it – became stronger each time he saw her, yet her coldness to him did not abate in the slightest. He closed his eyes for a moment, the sight suddenly too much to bear.

  “Drummond! Are you truly so tired that you are falling asleep on a chair in a noisy ballroom? I own that so much socialising can be tiring, but still!”

  Sin’s eyes snapped open. Faith stood beside him, an amused look on her face – but her eyes were clouded with concern.

  “Not quite asleep, dear sister.”

  “But close. Drummond, might I pull you away to somewhere quieter – there is something I wish to speak of, privately.”

  Sin swallowed. Was this the conversation he had been dreading? Or something else altogether?

  “If you wish. I believe there is a library just down the hall. That should hopefully be private enough.”

  He rose, and offered Faith his arm, and they left the ballroom.

  ~~~~~

  Marion was uncomfortable. Cardston had been painfully attentive all evening, without ever actually crossing the line of acceptable behaviour. But being near him made her feel queasy. She had been happy to talk with Lady Faith, for it had provided a guaranteed reprieve from the man’s attentions. But now that Lady Faith had returned to her brother’s side, and the current set was coming to an end, she needed to escape – for Cardston would, of a certainty, come to her once he released his current dance partner.

  Quickly, she rose, and slipped through the nearest exit from the room, hoping that Cardston had not seen her go. She hurried down the hallway, until, through a part open door, she glimpsed tall shelves of books. A Library! That should be a quiet spot to hide, for it was not the sort of place that most attendees at the Ball would seek out. She entered the room, putting the door back to its almost closed state, and cautiously went forward.

  There was no sign of anyone else, and blessed quiet surrounded her. To be better certain of Cardston not finding her, she went to the furthest corner of the room between two tall sets of shelves, where there was a single chair deep in shadow. She sank down into it gratefully.

  Oh, how she wished that Lady Faith was from any other family. Lady Faith was the first woman of the ton, of anywhere near Marion’s own age, that she had met, who she thought could truly be a long-term friend. But how could Marion allow that, when her brother was who he was?

  Each time she saw Lord Hungerwood, it all came rushing back to her, all of the emotions of that dreadful night, even though it was years ago now. Yet… each time she saw him, she could not help but note, again, how honourable his behaviour was, or, for that matter, how attractive a man he was. How could a man who looked like that, who behaved like that, have done something as terrible as he had?

  It all left her feeling deeply confused. As she sat in the armchair, her mind whirling pointlessly around the idea, she heard a sound. The door. Fear held her motionless, barely breathing – what if it was Cardston?

  The door clicked shut. Footsteps, barely heard on the rich Aubusson carpets which covered the floor, moved into the room – towards the other chairs she had seen, which were placed fortuitously out of sight from where she sat. Two people, she thought. Helpless to do anything else, Marion sat there – she could not show herself until she was sure it was safe, and even then, she could not do so if the people were here for more… amorous… reasons – for that would be utterly embarrassing. And then they began to speak.

  “So, Faith, what is it that you feel such an urgent need to discuss with me?”

  Marion’s thoughts spun – it was his voice, Hungerwood’s, and it was o
bvious that he was speaking to his sister. In that instant, Marion wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. She definitely could not reveal herself! But what might she hear if she stayed here? It was too late to do anything but be an unwilling eavesdropper.

  “You probably won’t like what I am about to say.”

  Hungerwood gave a bark of half laughter.

  “Well, I expected that, as soon as you dragged me away to talk.”

  Lady Faith made a ‘hmmph’ sound, then spoke.

  “Drummond, I have observed, very closely, the way that people treat you. The way that they have treated you, since you returned to England. People who are normally cheerful and pleasant are cold to you. Lady Scartwick almost runs from your presence, and speaks to you in a voice of ice when she must encounter you, yet she is normally the most delightful, warm, and friendly person. I want to know why. Not some excuse, but truly why. Has it something to do with whatever it was that Hugh did, that you took the blame for, when you left us all those years ago?”

  Marion blushed at Lady Faith’s words. Both because she had not realised how positively Lady Faith saw her, and because it seemed that her antipathy for Hungerwood had been so clear as to be rather unconscionably rude. For some time, he did not speak, and she wondered if he would answer his sister, or not. When his voice finally came again, it was hesitant, as if he feared his sister’s reaction to what he would say.

  “I… yes, it has something to do with that. Everything to do with that. But I am not at all sure that I should tell you, that you should know the bald truth of the dishonour that has tainted our family.”

  “Drummond! Do not try to ‘protect’ me, by leaving me ignorant. How can I deal with whatever may come, how can I allow a man to court me, even encourage one to do so, if I do not know the truth of what I would be asking him to deal with?”