‘It was so kind of you, and thank you for thinking of me as a way of getting him out of his shell. I am not sure how well I managed it, but… is he some connection of yours?’
‘No, no, though I knew his elder brother, who was killed at Toulouse.’
‘Well, that makes it even more generous of you to take him under your wing, my lord. He seems quite a thoughtful young man beneath the shyness, but until he conquers it I fear he will not do well with feminine society.’
Henry Inglesham mentally crossed Lord Otterburn off his list, and at their next encounter, introduced her to a rather stolid young man, heir to a viscountcy, and with a predilection for philanthropy. He was worthy but bored her, which made her feel guilty, since such a worthy man and cause ought not to do so. Moreover, she was confused by Lord Inglesham’s behaviour. He was still charming to her, made her feel the prettiest and most interesting lady in the room, but once he had introduced her to the young men he brought forward, he withdrew and, since she sometimes caught sight of him at a distance, watched her with an air of melancholy.
Even her sister Charlotte thought this odd.
‘Surely he must see that I am presenting you to as many potential partners as possible? I am not found wanting. Nobody has said I am, have they?’
‘No, no.’
‘Well, it is most disconcerting. Who knows what he is trying to achieve. I wish he would stop, but it very difficult to intimate this to him.’
Lucy Sudbury agreed wholeheartedly.
*
The one eligible younger man Lord Inglesham did not introduce to Miss Sudbury was Sir Geoffrey Knowle, for reasons which were not immediately apparent. Perhaps he thought that Lady Ledbury might be the person to do so, since Sir Geoffrey clearly liked the countess’s company. Despite their first encounter going less than well, Sir Geoffrey had not shied away but rather amended his behaviour, and did nothing to put Lady Ledbury on edge. Why he sought her out remained a mystery, since only a fool would not notice that Kitty Ledbury was looking happier by the day, and not because of him.
In fact she was feeling sorry for him, the more so as her own life brightened. He did not pester her, but if she as much as considered seeking refreshments, he would appear as if clairvoyant, with sweetmeats or champagne. Kitty was kind, without being encouraging. After all, he was an innocuous young man, and with time he would find a more suitable object for adoration.
*
Sir Geoffrey Knowle was not as sad a figure as Lady Ledbury imagined, or indeed as he portrayed himself to her. He was actually perfectly content with how his sojourn in London was progressing, as he wrote in his letters to his mama, which he set down in a neat round hand every morning at ten o’clock. These provided the events of his previous day in remarkably minute detail, because, as he wrote in one, ‘I know that you are with me in spirit and keen that my enterprise is successful.’ A few days later he wrote, ‘You will be delighted to learn that things progress even better than I had thought possible.’
Had these missives been read by his new acquaintances, they would have all agreed that either Knowle had not expected any progress whatsoever, or that he was deceiving himself. Whilst he received a fair number of invitations from those who found his occasional frank faux pas entertaining, or those who took pity upon him, he had not found any debutante who would willingly stand up with him on a second occasion, and matchmaking mamas did not even include him on their invisible lists of ‘possibles’. His chances of finding a bride by the end of the Season appeared thin.
His acquaintanceship with Lady Ledbury grew quickly, almost to mild friendship. After the distinctly unpromising start, he had reined in his overt flattery, and acted, as Kitty remarked to Lady Rowington, ‘much more like a sensible man after all’.
Lady Rowington knit her brows.
‘And yet, you know, there is something about him, something I cannot quite like.’
‘What is there not to like, or to like particularly? He listens, which is a rare thing in a man, and he does have some terribly honest comments to make upon the Social Round. He told me, at the Fitzpayne’s last night, that Almack’s was pretty much the same as Tattersall’s, with the mamas trotting out their fillies to show they are sound in wind and limb.’
‘Well, I would not call that very handsome of him, in fact it is quite insulting, both to the young ladies and their mamas.’ Lady Rowington, bringing out her sister, felt this comment rather more than Kitty.
‘Now, Charlotte, you know you are not included, and you must admit there are a few rather desperate ladies who do seem to be trying that bit too hard.’ Kitty smiled. ‘At least with me Aunt Topcliffe gave up trying rather early on.’
‘Well, think how astounded she must be to see you now, Lady Ledbury, and wife of a man few ever thought to see…’
‘Caught in parson’s mousetrap? Is that not the common phrase?’ Kitty lifted an eyebrow.
‘No. I was not going to say anything so vulgar, and you know it, Kitty. I was going to say “settling down”.’
‘Hmm, well I am not sure he will ever be “settled”. He will always be impulsive. It is a bit like living with a firework.’ Kitty did not sound as if this discomfited her particularly.
‘A firework! Oh, my dear friend, what a thought.’ Charlotte Rowington laughed so much she said that her sides ached.
‘Well, it is true. He fizzes quite quietly for a while and then bang, he does something unforeseen and probably unsociable.’ Kitty sounded both exasperated and, thought her friend, simultaneously rather entranced.
‘You would not want a dull husband, would you, Kitty?’
‘Oh no. Definitely not. Which sort of brings us back to poor Sir Geoffrey in a way, does it not?’
Lady Rowington proffered her friend another little cake.
*
Lady Yarningale looked worried. It was not a look she exhibited very often but she carried it off well, and it meant that Lady Dunwich felt very self-satisfied. That lady preened herself on her skill in trapping Louisa Yarningale into indiscreet revelation, when in fact it was she who was being played like a fish. Having seen Lady Dunwich from a distance, Louisa Yarningale merely had to ensure that she was observed, feigned concern at this, and then placed herself in a position where she might be cornered. She could have laughed at the speed with which Lady Dunwich managed to present herself, but instead achieved an expression of acute discomfort.
‘Lady Yarningale, I do hope you are in good health. I was quite worried about you the other morning. Your horse seemed very “on the fret” as my lord would say.’
This played into Lady Yarningale’s hands immediately.
‘He would? My, what a surprise. I have never heard him discussing horseflesh. No indeed, horses did not appear to concern him at all.’ She stressed the ‘horse’ with just enough of a hint that flesh of another variety might have been under discussion. She also let her lips twitch.
Whilst Lord Dunwich was highly unlikely to have taken an interest in any female form that did not adorn a piece of oriental porcelain, it was enough to heighten Lady Dunwich’s colour to a marked degree. ‘It was your horse we were discussing. It might have unseated you.’
‘I think not. Once I am mounted I rarely have problems.’
Lady Yarningale was determined to be outrageous, and it was evident that her double meaning was not lost upon the straight-laced Lady Dunwich, whose cheeks went from flushed pink to crimson. She made a recovery, however.
‘You do not normally take the air so early in the park though, and just after I entered, I noticed Lord Ledbury.’
‘Did you? I did not encounter him, and I doubt he noticed you.’ The barb struck home.
‘I would not care for him to do so. He is not the sort of man I would choose to engage in conversation.’
‘And I doubt he would leave that big bay “on the fret”, as Lord Dunwich apparently says,’ Lady Yarningale could not resist, ‘to stop and make small talk with you.’
‘H
ow do you know he was riding a big bay horse?’ Lady Dunwich sprang her trap with relish. Lady Yarningale’s eyes widened and she rushed her reply.
‘I… guessed. I am sure I have seen him upon such a horse.’
‘But he has a large stable. How interesting that you picked the exact horse, despite having not seen him.’
‘Ah.’ At this point Lady Yarningale played an ace, taking the chance of denial, whilst looking desperate. ‘Exactly. I did see him, but did not encounter him. That is, I noticed him at a distance, a great distance, and thought it was him, but we did not speak.’ Her face had guilt written all over it, and her eyes darted beyond Lady Dunwich. ‘Oh, there is Lady Mary Radlett. I simply have to ask after her poor dear… aunt.’
With which Lady Yarningale almost pushed past Lady Dunwich and made her escape, leaving that lady smiling in a very smug manner. She would not have looked as smug had she seen the merriment upon Lady Yarningale’s face. Louisa Yarningale nearly rubbed her hands in glee. The rumour would be all over Town in days.
*
Lady Dunwich could not keep to herself such a morsel of gossip that combined waywardness and a bride to be pitied. Her interest in everyone else’s affairs sprang, according to the less charitable, from the fact that her own existence, married to a man whose only passion was Chinese porcelain, was a grey, passionless void. This she filled with ‘virtuous gossip’, which entailed tutting over the errors of the rest of Society from a moral height, with the addition of ‘commentaries’ which would have done the strictest of Methodist preachers proud. Lord Ledbury, who had snubbed her very pointedly on several occasions in the past, was an obvious target. She took the greatest delight in proving that he had not entered the married state with any intention of reforming his reprehensible and adulterous lifestyle. That he was betraying a ‘poor blameless bride’ made it the more poignant, and the most delicious part of it all was that the femme fatale in question was Louisa Yarningale, whom Lady Dunwich loathed.
‘Of course, we all knew nothing would change. The only person who was unaware of the liaison was the poor Elford girl, who has been hidden away in the Shires some years. Louisa Yarningale looked most put out, as well she might, but sin will always show through deceit, and a more deceitful wretch I have rarely encountered.’ Lady Dunwich did not reveal the slanderous comments about her own husband. ‘Her sort cannot conceal a secret, and you should have seen her face when she realised that she had given the game away.’ Lady Dunwich settled herself more comfortably in her chair, much like a chicken settling on eggs, poured another cup of tea for Mrs Drummond-Burrell, and described her ‘winkling out of truth’, which, had it been accurate, would have been worthy of Torquemada himself.
From the ears of Mrs Drummond-Burrell it was but a short distance to the lips of Lady Elizabeth Newton, and thence ‘common knowledge’. Four days after Lady Yarningale’s encounter in the park, Kitty caught the whispers, mostly behind her back, and accompanied by sympathetic sighs. One lady went so far as to pat her hand and tell her she was ‘so brave’. Kitty was hurt, but also angry. Her husband had gone out of his way to be charming and frequently at her side these last few days. She had initially put it down to his wishing to make amends for the Richmond incident, but then it had burgeoned into something far more real. Now, alas, it looked very much as if it had been to conceal, or assuage, his guilt. She had been such a fool to enjoy the attention.
She resolved to pretend that she had heard nothing and see how he continued, but it proved a strain, for he persisted in being everything that she might desire in a husband, even as the gossip began to be embellished. When she resumed their rides in the park, he made it obvious that it delighted him, that he had missed her, so much so that in those hours she could discount the gossip as total fabrication. They laughed together, and there was a closeness that persisted. He cried off an evening engagement to escort her to a party he would otherwise have avoided, and flirted quite blatantly with her on the dance floor, which set several tabbies wondering whether he was making up for a guilty conscience. For her own part, Kitty could not but respond to such treatment, however much the worm of doubt niggled.
When he was with her it was so easy to forget the world, trust those smiling and wickedly twinkling eyes, the natural laugh, the warm feeling it gave about her heart, but when alone, and especially so in public, sensing the glances, then the feeling of betrayal would flood over her in waves, and leave her immobilised by the misery of it.
She went alone to Mrs Croome-Ripley’s rout, the earl being engaged with a party of his racing friends, and was all brittle smiles and lively conversation, until left alone for a minute or so, when the despair hit her, and left her staring at nothing.
*
Lady Feltham noticed the mask slip, and pursed her lips. Louisa Yarningale was a heartless piece. For herself, Lady Feltham made no claims of sanctity whatsoever, but, much as Lord Ledbury only dallied with bored married ladies, she had never set her cap at a happily married man. The Yarningale woman would say that Ledbury was not happily married, but Lady Feltham had seen the change in him, the protective and possessive demeanour, the yearning hunger in his eyes when she had seen him watching his wife. It had come as quite a shock to her. The newlyweds had every chance to be happy, in her opinion, and that chance was being ruined for the sake of a false hope, since Ledbury was never going to resume relations with his erstwhile lover, or a callous vengeance. Lady Feltham dithered for a moment, and then made her way to where Lady Ledbury stood with the stricken look fading but still present. She approached her from one side and placed a hand on Lady Ledbury’s arm.
Kitty flinched in surprise, not having been aware of her, and then in dislike. Lady Feltham gave a twisted smile.
‘No, I doubt very much if you relish my proximity, but I beg you, Lady Ledbury, to listen to me.’
‘Has he sent you?’ There was no need to clarify ‘he’.
‘Oh no. I am not Ledbury’s intermediary. It would be a foolish choice and he and I… That was a long time ago, my dear. I will not apologise to you over it, why should I, but whether or not you believe it, I wish him, and you, well. A good marriage will be the making, or perhaps “saving” of him.’
‘”A good marriage,”’ Kitty stifled a choking laugh.
‘Yes, for that is what it could be, ought to be. If I presumed to give you advice you would ignore it, and I can see why, but I beg you to listen to facts, Lady Ledbury. Please.’
There was an earnestness in the red-haired woman’s voice that made Kitty nod slowly, even as that old image of her flickered in Kitty’s head.
‘Louisa Yarningale is a poor loser. She is also both clever and stupid at the same time. She is clever because she has put herself in Ledbury’s way and created doubts in your mind. She is also stupid if she thinks that her antics will win Ledbury back. Once he has cut the tie it remains cut, and one can either acknowledge it and resume as old acquaintances do, or play the Tragedy Jill and look foolish. I was not foolish. Even if that truth becomes clear to her, she will want to hurt him, in revenge, and the perfect way is through you. Any fool, except her it seems, can see how you have been together.’
Kitty raised an eyebrow, at which Lady Feltham shook her head.
‘No, do not pretend. If you were not deep in love with him you would not look as I saw you look these minutes past. And he… is a changed man, as far as a man can change. I have never seen him consider another before himself, other than Inglesham, and that was one deed when the angels stood at his shoulder, not a doubt. He never conceals his selfishness, for he is honest, and I understand it, being much the same. Yet I have come to wonder whether it has been a thing to protect himself. I knew him well, and yet not at all, not beneath the selfish shell, but I know that if you do not open your heart to others, do not truly trust, you cannot be hurt. Selfishness is safety.’ Lady Feltham sighed. ‘Such forthrightness is shocking, yes? You may safely forget my own revelations, but think carefully before you set him so far fr
om you that he gives up the best chance he will ever have of “feeling”. All you have against him is gossip, which is always a shadow of truth, and gossip that Lady Yarningale will have been encouraging. There, I have said my piece, and will leave you to make what you will of it.’
Lady Feltham gave a small smile, patted the arm upon which her hand still lay, and turned to slip away among the guests, leaving Kitty with her head reeling.
Her inclination was to disbelieve anything Lady Feltham said, but the sense of her words went home. There had been such a ring of truth to it that Kitty re-evaluated the situation. Could it be that what was so widely believed was not true? She wanted it not to be true. She would ask him, openly but without rancour. After all, if he were innocent, he could defend himself.
*
She brought the subject up after they returned from their ride the next morning. It had been an especially entertaining exercise, since there was an easterly wind blowing that had given Something the fidgets, and Kitty had been forced to concentrate rather more than usual. The earl had observed her skill with pride, and not given into the desire to grab the bridle above the bit when the mare’s caracoling looked likely to unseat her. They entered the house together and it was as they stood upon the upper landing, about to part to change their clothes, that she broached it.
‘By the way, you made no mention of having replaced me with Lady Yarningale as a riding companion, when I was indisposed.’ She sounded piqued, although she had vowed she would remain calm. It was not a good beginning.
‘I made no mention of it because I did not do so. Where did you get that idea?’
Kitty shrugged, noncommittally.
‘One hears things.’
‘Listening to gossip will give you heartache to no purpose, you know.’
‘It hurts even without attending to the detail, when women cast me pitying looks and whisper behind their hands.’
‘Brazen it out, Kitty.’ He paused, sighed, and then continued, watching her closely. ‘Louisa Yarningale met me by chance, at least on my part, though I imagine she was hoping to encounter me. It was indeed that morning you were indisposed after Almack’s. Had you been present she would have confined her act to knowing looks and flirting to embarrass you and make you think I…’ He looked severe. ‘The old adage about “Hell hath no fury…” seems to be right in her case.’
The Devil You Know Page 21