When the music stopped, and every eye was upon them, he drew himself up, settled his face into the most dignified expression that he could manage, and ignored the lot of them. As he led her from the floor, he knew, with absolute certainty, that there would come a time, and soon, when he would lay the truth before her, no matter what she did with it. After this moment, he could no longer countenance leaving her believing the lie.
Chapter Ten
By the time she arrived at Lord and Lady Northcott’s residence the following evening, for yet another Ball, Marion had regained some semblance of confidence in her ability to remain serene, no matter what whispers happened – for she was sure that there would be some. The ballroom was crowded, and she was greeted by many acquaintances as she moved into the room. Nothing was said, but she could tell that all of them were bursting with curiosity.
She had hoped that the slow change of manner towards Hungerwood might have been noted, and made this moment easier – but apparently, dancing with him had gone quite beyond what they had been ready to accept. She drew herself up, smiled, and chose to act as if she had not noticed their attitude. Soon, as if it was fated that she cause more gossip, Marion found herself near Lady Faith, and drawn into conversation. At that moment, Hungerwood was elsewhere – Marion was part disappointed and part relieved.
“I wish that people did not gossip so!”
Lady Faith frowned as she spoke, almost glaring out across the room at everyone in general.
“I quite agree – but I doubt that they will ever stop.”
“I suppose that I am more sensitive to gossip than most, for my family has been subjected to rather a lot of it. Especially since my brother returned from the Americas.”
“Indeed, being the subject of gossip makes one far more aware of it. I have suffered that fate as well, although they had mostly decided that I was dull, once the first year or so passed. Until now.”
“I wish that would happen for us – but they never seem to tire of it.”
“That is true – I hear many whispers about Lord Hungerwood – mostly from ladies who find his history exciting, but I have also overheard the men speak of him. May I ask you… why do some of them call him ‘Sin’?”
Lady Faith gave a small brittle laugh.
“It’s a contraction of our surname. Spoken rapidly, St. John sounds like ‘sinjun’. When Drummond was a boy, the other boys at Eton started calling him that, making jokes about ‘Sin the sinner’, whenever he did anything wrong. He told me about it, when I, as a small child, asked him why he didn’t like going back to school. But, typical of him, he chose to turn it against them – he began to go by that name much of the time, away from the family anyway, and they left him alone because he was no longer distressed by it. I gather that, once he left the country under… dishonourable… circumstances, he felt it appropriate to be that identity.”
Lady Faith had hesitated a moment when she said ‘dishonourable circumstances’ and Marion knew that it galled her to speak of Lord Hungerwood that way, when she knew the truth of it.
“But – if that is the case, why does he tolerate men calling him that, now, when he is Earl, when he is, I gather, taking pains to change the perception of the ton towards your family?”
“I think that he is simply used to it. And if he objected, then those of the ton who like to discompose others would use it to annoy him. Perhaps he even finds it darkly amusing.”
Marion nodded, considering Lady Faith’s words – what might it be like, as a child, to have been treated so? That the man could wear such a sobriquet with equanimity was yet another sign of how steady and strong his character was. At that moment a gentleman arrived to claim a walk on the terrace with Lady Faith, and Marion found herself alone. She edged back, hoping to hide herself in the alcove where palms and flowers shaded chairs.
She had barely moved two steps, however, when a hand took her by the elbow. She jerked to a halt, spinning to face the person who had so accosted her. It was Cardston. Her heart sank. His expression was almost gloating, and she repressed a shudder.
“My dear Lady Scartwick, one would almost think that you were avoiding me. But surely not, for you know how… ardently… I admire you. And how much I would wish to demonstrate that admiration in a far more… physical… manner.”
Marion forcibly removed her arm from his grasp, and stood straighter, glaring at him.
“However much you may wish it, that, Lord Frederick, is something that you will never have the opportunity to do. I do not appreciate your crude innuendos, or your presence.”
The man laughed, as if she had said something flirtatious and amusing, and reached to take her arm again.
“Never is a long time, my Lady. And I am most confident about my ability to change your mind.”
“You will not have the chance.”
Quickly, Marion wrenched her arm from his grasp, and pushed past him, almost running out into the main part of the room.
~~~~~
Sin had, again, tested the waters of acceptance by going to the card room. The men there noted his arrival with frosty stares, then turned back ostentatiously to their games. No one suggested that he join them, and no one greeted him. He stood for a while, watching them play, but found nothing entertaining about it – it reminded him too much of the things which Hugh had enjoyed – and the money he had wasted on gambling. Sin turned away – eventually, he had to hope, they might be less cold towards him.
He stepped back into the ballroom, and simply stood, leaning against the wall, observing the room. As always, now, he looked for Lady Scartwick, somehow unable to prevent himself from doing so. He found her, some distance away, near a decorated alcove with chairs. His sister stood with her.
He was struck again by just how beautiful Lady Scartwick was. The shy young girl whom he had seen with Martin had matured into a stunning woman, who held herself with confidence and grace. As he watched, his sister was claimed by a gentleman, who led her towards the terrace, and Lady Scartwick was left alone. She turned to step towards the chairs. For a few seconds, his view of her was obscured by people moving between them, then the path to her cleared again.
Lord Frederick Cardston approached her from behind, reaching out to take hold of her elbow. Sin felt a rush of anger rise within him. Cardston was a cad – he had been six years ago, and he still was, just with a little more polish now. His fists clenched, and he found himself moving, without having intended to do so.
As he walked towards them, he saw Lady Scartwick spin around, saw her face as she flinched back from Cardston. It was obvious that they spoke – a few sentences, no more, before Lady Scartwick wrenched herself from his hold and rushed past him, towards the centre of the room, a look of almost fear upon her face. Cardston turned to watch her go, and his expression was not one that Sin liked in any way. It was reminiscent of a wolf viewing its prey.
Sin increased his pace, and turned to intersect Lady Scartwick’s path. She almost collided with him, before she came to an abrupt stop, her face colouring.
“Oh, I am sorry, Lord Hungerwood, I did not see you approaching!”
At that moment Faith arrived beside them – Sin wasn’t at all sure that he was happy about that.
Before Sin had a chance to speak at all, Faith was exclaiming – he was not sure which of them she intended to address.
“Well! I shall not be dancing with Lord Willston again! He asked me to walk on the terrace, and almost immediately attempted to steal a kiss. I do not like him that much at all. I rejected him soundly.”
Sin considered her words a moment.
“Do you wish me to have a pointed word with him?”
“No,” Faith shook her head, “I believe that I made my opinion more than clear.”
Sin turned his attention back to Lady Scartwick, who was pale, and simply stood, as if their presence was a shield. She glanced behind her, and her tension eased a little when she did not see Cardston. Sin wondered where the man had gone.
“Good. But I will be watching him, lest he try anything inappropriate again.”
“Thank you.” Faith looked about her, and her face transformed with a smile as Lord Haleford approached and offered his arm. “Is it our dance already, Lord Haleford?”
The man nodded, and led her away. Sin turned back to Lady Scartwick, and found himself helplessly caught in her gaze.
~~~~~
“Let us start the conversation again, now that my sister has been distracted by a man whom she obviously finds more to her taste than Willston. Good evening, Lady Scartwick. I trust that you are well?”
That voice… Marion felt the resonance deep within her, as she always did. But she did not allow her reaction to show. She smiled at him, and sought words which would answer the unspoken question, as well as the spoken one. As much as she was willing to. He referred to the gossip after their dance the previous evening, she assumed – for he would know nothing of her encounter with Cardston.
“I am well, Lord Hungerwood. I am most glad of Lady Faith’s presence, for her conversation is far preferable to the surfeit of gossip that most others attempt to dress up as conversation. Or as commentary, thinly veiled, upon who is dancing with whom.”
He nodded, his eyes flickering with emotion which did not show on his face. Was it relief, that she was not suffering too badly from the gossip that their previous evening’s dance had engendered? Or something more? It seemed a most intense emotion.
The memory of that dance rose in her mind, and suddenly she felt overheated, flushed, and unaccountably nervous in his presence. His eyes held hers, and she was mortified to realise that he had most likely just followed the path of her thoughts and reactions. She looked away.
“It is, my Lady, wise to ignore the gossips, for they are never satisfied with a person – they will always find something to disparage and whisper about. Some time ago, I made the decision to do what I needed to do in my life, as honourably as possible, and let them make of it what they would, without allowing that to disturb me. I must admit that I have come to find some degree of amusement in the wild stories which they manage to concoct from tiny grains of truth.”
“I am in complete accord with you on that matter. When the Duke first introduced me to society, there was a great deal of gossip, and taking the approach that you describe was the only way that I survived that first few months.”
He looked at her again, and his eyes filled with sadness – she wondered exactly why, but resigned herself to the fact that she would most likely never know.
“I can only begin to imagine how difficult that must have been for you. Especially with the attitudes of some who had… met you before.”
His hand moved gently, indicating the group of men across the room, gathered around Cardston, who had simply returned to his cronies after accosting her, apparently. Marion felt a shiver of the old fear run through her. So, Hungerwood remembered how they had treated her – and appeared to disapprove of them still.
Now, she thought that she understood what she saw in his eyes – it was, at the least, compassion, a recognition of the similarity of their suffering at the hands of the judgemental ton. In that moment, she realised that she felt safe with this man, secure in the idea that, when he was beside her, Cardston would not attempt to approach her again. It was most odd that she should feel so, yet she did. This man, who had for so long been among those she considered enemies, had somehow become a haven of safety. She half shook her head at the oddness of her own reactions.
Then he smiled again, banishing the thoughts of the past, the thoughts of Cardston – how could she think of anything terrible, when such a smile lit his face, directed at her?
The orchestra struck up for the next set. It was almost a repeat of the previous evening – here they stood, alone together, as Lady Faith had already moved off to dance with Lord Haleford. Again, she found herself drowning in his blue eyes, utterly caught, to the extent that everything around her faded away. Her heart beat faster, and her mouth was dry. She licked her lips, unsure what to say.
His eyes lit with a mischievous glint, and he offered her his arm.
“Given our mutually agreed position on the subject of gossips, shall we then be scandalous, and give them further material for their whispers? Will you dance with me again, Lady Scartwick?”
Words failed her for a moment, and she sucked in her breath in a gasp. But… why not? As they had discussed, she should do as she wished, not let her life be controlled by the gossips. She placed her hand on his offered arm, inclining her head in acceptance.
“Why not, Lord Hungerwood? After all, tis but two dances separated by a day – which surely is nothing so scandalous as would be two dances on the same night.”
He turned that smile upon her again, his lips quirked in a wry twist.
“Of course. But should you wish to truly scandalise them, two dances in one evening could be arranged….”
“I do believe, Lord Hungerwood, that you are quite as devilish as they whisper that you are. For to do such a thing would be seen as a declaration of intent…”
“It would. But would we allow their expectations to dictate to us?”
Marion shook her head, astounded that she was actually flirting with this man, of all men, and enjoying it! She could no longer pretend that she did not find him attractive, not just of visage, but of character. That realisation left her confused – for, although Martin was six years in the grave, it felt somehow almost disloyal to him. She had much thinking to do, obviously. But for now, she pushed all thought aside, and allowed herself simply to enjoy the moment. From the corner of her eye, she watched the whispers begin, as people noticed him leading her to the dance floor. It was comical, when she considered it without fearing it. The set was a country dance, and they took their positions in the line, beside Lady Faith and Lord Haleford. Lady Faith raised an eyebrow at her brother, but did not speak, for which Marion was exceedingly grateful. The dance began, and, as the movements brought them close, Hungerwood spoke softly.
“You have not answered my last question, Lady Scartwick. Does it pose such a conundrum, to require long thought?”
They spun apart again, relieving her of the need to respond immediately – for what on earth could she say? Great care was needed with her words. They came close again, spinning about each other, their hands clasped.
“Why my Lord, that is a question where there is no good answer. For if I declare that I do not care what they think, what they expect, and encourage you to offer such a scandalous thing, then I leave myself and yourself open to having our intent questioned by all. And when I do not truly know your intent…”
He gave a soft laugh as the dance parted them again. She found herself impatient for the moment when he would be brought close enough to speak. She wished that it had been a waltz, not simply a country dance.
“I am not certain, if I am truthful, that I know my own intent. But I would explore that with you, by your leave. I am certain that more time spent conversing with you… and dancing with you… will bring clarity.”
“Then by all means let us seek clarity. I would not have you spend your life uncertain, in addition to dealing with gossips and your bro… past history.”
The dance spun them apart again, and Marion wondered what might come of this – for she had just effectively agreed to dance with him in future, to speak with him often, had she not? His hand took hers as the dance brought them back together, and a warmth spread through her from that contact. She realised that, with every moment she spent with him, she found it harder and harder to avoid admitting that she knew the truth of his past. Why, she had almost said ‘your brother’s past indiscretions’ rather than simply ‘past history’!
But how could she admit to her eavesdropping? For she would have to, if she was to tell him that she knew the truth of it.
The music came to an end, and he offered her his arm again. She placed her hand upon it, expecting that he would escort her to the Duke and Duc
hess. Instead he led her to the terrace doors. She looked at him, the question clear in her expression.
“I thought that some cool night air might be refreshing.”
“I am sure that it will. Even though it will give the gossips yet more fodder for their whispers.”
He gave a soft laugh, and she felt it, deep within her. They stepped out and walked along the terrace, finally coming to a halt at one end, where the shadows were deeper and they could look out across the garden below, where coloured paper lanterns created an almost magical effect.
“I find, Lady Scartwick, that your company is worth the price of being gossiped about. Indeed, I must admit that I admire you. Your equanimity in the face of gossip is to be respected, and speaking with a woman who neither disdains me, nor regards me as a thrillingly dangerous flirtation is most refreshing. I feel that I can trust what you say to be honest -which is more than I can say for most people.”
Marion’s heart beat faster. Now the fact that she had not admitted to her eavesdropping burnt in her mind – he thought her unfailingly honest! Yet she held such a secret from him! It was untenable. She must speak. She turned to face him. They were so very close – his deep blue eyes caught hers, and the words she had been about to utter failed her. His lips curved into that wry smile, and he raised an enquiring eyebrow.
“I…” what could she say? Anything would spoil this new… friendship… between them, and she found that she very much did not wish that to happen. Her breath caught, and she simply looked at him. He, as if unable to help himself, bent his head to her, until his lips were almost brushing hers. She wanted… she could not allow… not with her dishonesty hanging between them…
Marion turned and fled, before he could kiss her.
Chapter Eleven
Marion barely slept, so much were her thoughts in turmoil. She had enjoyed the time with Lord Hungerwood the previous evening – far too much. If she was truthful with herself, she had wanted him to kiss her, there on the terrace. Yet… that still felt, in some way, as if she was being disloyal to Martin. But now that she knew the truth of that night of Martin’s death, how could she regard anything the same way? She could not.
Restoring the Earl's Honour: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 17) Page 8