The Disgraced Bride: The Spinsters Guild (Book 2)

by Pearson, Rose

  Swallowing hard, he licked his lips and tried to put his thoughts into coherent order. Knowing that Lady Smithton was also present, he let out his breath slowly and closed his eyes.

  “The reason I sought you out, Miss Bavidge,” he said softly, not able to look at her, “was because I feared for what your reception might be. I was… aware of what had gone on with your father and therefore…” Shaking his head, Nathaniel hesitated for a moment, not quite certain of what her response would be. “Therefore, I wanted to ensure that I could aid your passage somewhat in any way I could.” This, he realized, was a very poor explanation and certainly did not go into detail about his part in her father’s fall from grace, but it was the most he could manage at the present.

  “Might I ask, Lord Morton, why you had such consideration for Miss Bavidge?” Lady Smithton asked, suddenly reappearing beside Miss Bavidge, her eyes flickering with interest. “Why is it that she, out of all the young ladies touched by scandal, was the only one you considered?”

  Nathaniel felt a flush creep up his throat but held Lady Smithton’s gaze steadily, his heart thumping furiously. “She was the only one I was aware of,” he replied, honestly. “I knew none other that had been ‘touched by scandal,’ as you say. I am not one inclined to listen to gossip and, therefore, I had no similar concerns for any other young ladies who were in similar straits.” This, at least, was the truth, and that meant he could speak without hesitation, for no uneasiness nor guilt bit at his heart. Instead, he looked from one to the other, seeing how Miss Bavidge’s expression had softened, how her eyes seemed almost alight as she glanced up at Lady Smithton.

  “I see,” Lady Smithton replied, giving him a small smile, before looking back at Miss Bavidge. “Does this satisfy you, Miss Bavidge?”

  Nathaniel held his breath, the truth still burning in his mind but searing his mouth so hot that he could not speak another word.

  “In a way,” Miss Bavidge answered, slowly, her gaze still lingering on his face. “I am touched, I suppose, by your concern for me, although I must wonder why Lord Rochester speaks so ill of you.” Her lips thinned for a moment. “He means to speak to me on Thursday evening of your poor character, Lord Morton. This goes entirely against what you have said about yourself, for a gentleman who considers others and is aware of the unfortunate consequences that falls upon shoulders such as mine does not, I think, make a gentleman’s character rather questionable.”

  Seeing a sudden opportunity, Nathaniel leaped for it at once. “You have known that Lord Rochester and I were once friends, as I have said to you on a previous occasion,” he began, seeing her nod. “Did Lord Rochester also confirm such a thing?”

  “He did,” Miss Bavidge agreed, quickly.

  “Then there must have been a reason for our friendship to come to an end, must there not?” he queried, seeing both Miss Bavidge and Lady Smithton watching him closely. “I should tell you, Miss Bavidge, that the reason our friendship came to an end was simply because I realized I could not trust him.”

  Miss Bavidge blinked but said nothing, her lips twisting just a little. Lady Smithton interjected, her own curiosity apparent. “Did he fail you in some way?”

  “He did,” Nathaniel stated, wondering just how much of the truth he could give away without endangering himself. “I spoke to him about a matter that was both private and important. However, he did not keep it to himself, as I had hoped.” Swallowing hard as the same emotions of anger and betrayal began to haunt him, Nathaniel looked back Miss Bavidge and prayed silently that she would not ask him about the specifics of the matter. “Therefore, I knew that I could no longer trust him. His behavior towards the young ladies of the ton had concerned me, and whilst I had spoken to him of my worries previously, I considered the matter was between himself and his conscience. I did not expect that there should be anything that would injure me personally, but on that regard, I was proven wrong.” He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, not revealing the depths of his pain. “The truth is, Miss Bavidge, as petty as it may seem, Lord Rochester holds me in contempt for my steadfast desire to bring our friendship to a close. He thinks me judgmental, and mayhap, in that regard, I am, but I consider trust to be of the most vital importance between friends. Therefore, I could not in good conscience continue.”

  Thus said, Nathaniel sat back in his chair, aware that there was nothing else he wished to say at the present. He had told Miss Bavidge as much of the truth as he could and, whilst he had not mentioned how he had involved himself in the matter between her father and the Earl of Knighton, Nathaniel considered that he had dealt rather well with the difficulties that faced him. Yes, he had not been entirely truthful, but Miss Bavidge did not need to know that particular fact as yet.

  Although she will need to become aware of it at some time, if you are set on courting her.

  The thought startled him, sending a rush of heat all through him as he let the words linger in his mind. He had told himself that calling upon Miss Bavidge had been a mere distraction so as to end their conversation the previous night, but now that he reflected upon it, the idea of courting her did not seem at all unpleasant. In fact, he found his desire to do so growing quite steadily, increasing with almost every second that passed. His heart trembled within him, making him fear what he might say next should Miss Bavidge be willing to accept what he had said thus far.

  “You mean no ill will towards Miss Bavidge I think,” Lady Smithton murmured, her gaze intense but gentle. “Your concern, from what I have seen, is genuine and that should be merited to you.”

  Nathaniel nodded fervently, accepting what Lady Smithton had said but speaking directly to Miss Bavidge herself. “I assure you, Miss Bavidge, as Lady Smithton has astutely stated, I have no ill will toward you. My intentions are clear. I have nothing within my character that should cause you any concern; I give you my word.”

  At this, Lady Smithton leaned over and murmured something in Miss Bavidge’s ear, something that Nathaniel could not make out. His heart was racing, his mind working through all the different outcomes that could follow this conversation. If he had done well, then mayhap Miss Bavidge would be willing to forgo her conversation with Lord Rochester, which meant he could work out a way to speak to her about her father’s situation—but in his own time and without any threat from Lord Rochester.

  However, she might very well accept his explanations but still wish to speak to Lord Rochester himself, which would mean that he had no hope of courting her further. He would be gone from her presence, thrown from her side. Nothing he would do thereafter would mean anything to her.

  “I am grateful for your willing explanation,” Miss Bavidge said slowly, her brows knotted as she considered him. “It would be rude of me to pry further into the matters that you speak of, for they were clearly between yourself and Lord Rochester.” She hesitated, her lip caught between her teeth for a moment as she studied him. “Lady Smithton has set store by you, Lord Morton, and I believe that my heart is inclined to do so also. Therefore,” she finished, with a slightly embarrassed smile, “I should be glad of your visits and your company at any time, Lord Morton. And I shall take your advice as it regards Lord Rochester.”

  A weight rolled off Nathaniel’s shoulders as he inclined his head, feeling the pressure that had been building within him suddenly fading away. “I am grateful for that, Miss Bavidge,” he said, his relief pouring out of him. “For I should like to call upon you a little more frequently, I think.”

  Lady Smithton let out a laugh that made Nathaniel flush with mortification.

  “You only ‘think’ you wish to see Miss Bavidge again, Lord Morton?” she asked, teasingly. “You do not know for certain?”

  Nathaniel stammered a response, trying to state that yes, he did wish to see Miss Bavidge again and that he was certain of it, only to see Lady Smithton smiling broadly and a gleam of mischief in Miss Bavidge’s eyes.

  He was making a cake of himself.

  “If you would permit it, L
ady Smithton,” he said, trying to form his words so that they were clear and decisive. “I should like to seek to court Miss Bavidge, if I may.” The intention in his mind began to grow steadily, his heart beating with the firm confirmation that yes, this was precisely what he wanted. “That is, Miss Bavidge, I should like to court you if you would be willing to accept me.” The air between them grew thick as Nathaniel looked across the room into Miss Bavidge’s eyes, seeing the flicker of uncertainty there. His courage quelled for a moment, fearing that she would refuse him, only for Miss Bavidge to sigh and nod, her cheeks turning a gentle shade of red as she looked away.

  Nathaniel thought her beautiful.

  “A walk, mayhap?” he asked, his happiness mounting each second. “Or the theatre?”

  Miss Bavidge laughed softly, although Nathaniel did not know why.

  “The theatre would be quite spectacular,” she replied, with a quick smile. “Shall we say, Thursday evening?”

  A flush crashed over Nathaniel as he realized what she meant by that. She would choose him over any other gentleman; would choose to spend time with him instead of spending time with Lord Rochester. This brought with it wonderful thoughts, happiness and regret dancing together, intertwined and filling him completely.

  “I would be glad to accompany you to the theatre on Thursday evening,” he told her without missing a beat. “More than contented, Miss Bavidge. I thank you.” He rose to take his leave, seeing how both Miss Bavidge and Lady Smithton were smiling at him. “Good afternoon to you both.” Bowing smartly, he moved quickly towards the door and walked straight through it, feeling as though he were walking on the clouds in the sky.

  Chapter Ten

  The truth was, Emma reflected, that being in the company of Lord Morton was one of the most delightful times of her day. He had been most attentive towards her these last few days and, much to her surprise, she had begun to find herself looking forward to his daily visits. Sometimes they would walk, sometimes they would stay within the house and speak about so many things—but no matter what they did, Emma had found herself enjoying every moment.

  Emma felt a deep but gentle fondness in her heart for Lord Morton. It was not something she had ever expected, and certainly more than she had ever anticipated! Lady Smithton had been the most helpful of guides, giving her encouragement when she had needed it and allowing her to talk about all that she felt whenever the need was there. Given that Emma’s aunt was still quite unwilling to engage with her at almost any social occasion, Emma was hugely grateful to Lady Smithton and her willingness to come alongside her so that she would not be alone. Lady Smithton had been her chaperone, her confidante, and now, her friend. Lord Havisham too, had done his part, for he had sought to discover the truth of Lord Morton’s character and had been able to do so rather quickly. Much to Emma’s relief, it appeared that Lord Morton was precisely the sort of gentleman he had promised her he considered himself to be: thoughtful, compassionate, and less than eager to throw himself into any of society’s vices—including the rumor mills.

  Walking slowly through the small bookshop, Emma let her mind go back to the previous night when she had walked with Lord Morton into the theatre. Lady Smithton had accompanied them, of course, but there had still been a good many exclamations over her presence beside Lord Morton. She, who was so stained by her father’s sins, was now walking beside a respected gentleman who clearly had taken an interest in her. It was more than many had expected, of course, but Emma did not care. She did not listen to a single whisper, choosing simply to hold her head high and enjoy the performance. It had been excellent, and she had thoroughly enjoyed the evening. Lord Morton had proven to be a wonderful companion, for he had spoken at length to her with both wit and intelligence during the interval and then again afterwards. She had not expected him to make any forward gestures and, thus far, he had not done so, and for that, she was grateful. He was behaving like the perfect gentlemen, which she was beginning to believe him to be.

  The only dark spot of the evening had been the presence of Lord Rochester, who had attended the theatre with another young lady instead of with Emma, as had been previously arranged. Emma had not felt any regret in turning Lord Rochester down, nor for sending him a note that made it quite plain that she did not want his continued attentions any longer. She had written that she had made a very simple mistake in having accepted his offer to attend the theatre; she had forgotten that she had already engaged herself that evening to another. Having mentioned this, she also continued on to state that she was now courting another gentlemen and, therefore, did not require his attentions any longer.

  It had been brief but direct, which she hoped meant that Lord Rochester would have no more great concerns and would not feel the urge to come to her side and begin to spout more unfavorable comments regarding Lord Morton—comments which Emma was not particularly inclined to believe. The gentleman who was so willing to disparage another was not a gentleman she wished to acquaint herself with, no matter how handsome or genteel he was.

  Lord Rochester had walked past both herself and Lord Morton during their time at the theatre, although Emma had been able to tell that Lord Rochester had not recognized them for a moment or two. They had almost walked past him and his companion before Lord Rochester said a single word. The name of Lord Morton had practically exploded from his lips as he had come to see them, his mouth hanging a little ajar as he turned to glare at them both.

  Emma had disliked him all the more and had not given him more than a few curt words before continuing on their way, not paying him any particular attention. She was quite determined in her mind that Lord Rochester was not the sort of gentleman one could trust, for he had not responded to her note nor even greeted her as they passed in the theatre. He had simply shouted Lord Morton’s name and appeared utterly furious for one reason or the other.

  “I must speak to you, Miss Bavidge!” Lord Rochester had called, making her face turn scarlet with embarrassment as she had walked away. “It is of the utmost importance!”

  Closing her eyes, Emma let out a long breath and tried to steady herself. There was no need to think of Lord Rochester any longer. Lord Morton had been wise to advise her to stay far from him, and in listening to him and doing as he advised, she had found that every word he had spoken about Lord Rochester had been true. Lord Morton had, as far as she was concerned, proven himself, and that meant a great deal.

  Hearing a quiet murmur of voices in one corner of the bookshop, Emma turned her head to see where the sound was coming from—only to gasp in shock. A gentleman and a lady were ensconced together, with the gentleman standing much too close to the lady to be in any way proper. Emma did not know what to do, for the scene made her hot with embarrassment. Turning her head away, she made to look for Miss Crosby and Lady Smithton, who were in the bookshop with her, only to hear the unmistakable sound of Lord Rochester’s voice.

  Emma froze, hearing him chuckle darkly, as the young lady with him murmured something that was light and breathless with apparent anticipation. Emma closed her eyes and swallowed hard, fearing that the young lady was being dragged into a situation that could have dire consequences for her if she were not careful. Most likely, Lord Rochester had promised the girl that he was true in his affections, that he cared for her in some way so that her defenses would be lowered and he could take from her what he pleased.

  She took in a long breath, feeling the urge to do something but not being quite certain about what such a thing should be. She could go and interrupt them, could speak to the girl about what she was doing and question whether she was being wise in her considerations, or she could do nothing and leave the girl to make up her own mind about such things. After all, she did not know who the girl was and certainly had no need to be so concerned for her.

  But you know what it is like to have your reputation blackened, she reminded herself, wincing inwardly. Can you not use that insight to prevent another from doing something so foolish?

 
Her back straightened, her shoulders settling as Emma made her decision. Clearing her throat loudly, she approached the corner where Lord Rochester and the young lady stood, hearing the small exclamation that left the young lady’s lips as she approached.

  “Oh, good afternoon!” Emma said, loudly, as Lord Rochester turned in haste, blocking the view of the young lady behind him. “Lord Rochester. How… pleasant to see you.” This was said with a good degree of irony that Emma could not keep from her voice. She saw the dark frown that lowered his brows and took in the way that his jaw set, his eyes flashing with evident anger. “And who is it that you are hiding behind you?” Taking a step forward, she forced Lord Rochester out of her way simply by moving ahead and saw a young lady of no more than seventeen standing there, her face ashen and her eyes flared with fright.

  “And who might you be?” Emma asked, calmly, although inwardly her fury towards Lord Rochester was burning hotter than ever. “Are you engaged to Lord Rochester?”

  Lord Rochester interrupted at once before the young lady could answer. “You need not speak to this young lady, Miss Bavidge,” he told her firmly, putting one hand on her shoulder and attempting to tug her back. “She is in my care.”

  Emma turned swiftly, reached up, and wrenched Lord Rochester’s hand from her shoulder. “That is precisely what concerns me, Lord Rochester,” she stated, her heart beginning to quicken with both anger and fright over his foreboding presence. “Why is this young lady here with you alone if you are not engaged? Even if you were engaged, which I do not believe for a moment, her chaperone should still be nearby.” She arched a brow and, with another long look towards Lord Rochester, turned back to the young lady, who was now a sickly green color.

  “Miss…?”

  The young lady closed her eyes tightly. “Miss Helen Jackson,” she whispered, one hand reaching out towards Emma, trembling furiously as it did so. “Oh, I beg you, my lady, please…” Her words trailed off, her eyes begging Emma to remain silent about what she had just discovered, but Emma was not about to allow the young lady such a simple escape.