A Shameful Secret (3 page)

“I shall look forward to meeting the young lady,” he said. “Indeed, I envy you for finding a lady you can contemplate marrying with equanimity. I have never yet met one that made me feel I should enjoy living with her in quiet domesticity, though I shall have to think of finding a wife once this other business is done. My mother is quite right. It is time I got myself an heir—but I shall look for a widow I think. A woman with a sensible mind who does not look for romantic love but who is willing to oblige me for the sake of a comfortable life.”

“Good grief,” Josh said, blenching at the thought. “You will be so bored, Paul. You can’t possibly mean it?”

“I’ve had my fill of tempestuous beauties,” Paul told him with a wry smile. “Isabella and Madame Desmoullins . . .”

“Veronique!” Josh said and rolled his eyes. “We all envied you her, Crawford. She was matchless—those eyes and that figure!”

“And a temper to match,” Paul said and chuckled. “She was a bloodsucker, Josh, never satisfied, always wanting more—both in the matter of gifts and in bed. A woman like that wears a man out. No, no, give me a nice little widow of quiet, decent habits, and I shall be satisfied.”

“For six months perhaps,” Josh retorted, but he could see the smile in his friend’s eyes. “But you are bamming me, of course. I dare say you have another high flyer up your sleeve already.”

“I promise you there is no one,” Paul said with his lazy smile, a smile that hid a keen, intelligent mind and a slightly wicked humor. And yet, even as he spoke, he remembered the woman who had directed him on his way. She had looked a bit startled when he spoke to her, nervous even, but when she smiled he had seen a very different person. He did not know why she had lingered in his thoughts for she was certainly not beautiful, attractive in a quiet way perhaps—but that smile had lit her face up from inside. “Do you know a woman by the name of Miss Weston?”

“Hester? Yes, of course,” Josh replied and frowned. “She is an odd sort of creature, used to be good fun when she was younger—but then something changed. I don’t know the details, but I think there was some kind of scandal a few years back. It was all hushed up, and I was away at Cambridge at the time, but when we met again, after a period of some four years when she didn’t go into company at all. From what I’ve gathered, she was different.”

“What do you mean different?”

Josh wrinkled his brow. “It isn’t easy to put a finger on it. When I left home, she was not quite seventeen, not really pretty but a sweet face, innocent, if you know what I mean. And she used to laugh a lot, talk to anyone. But when I saw her again, she avoided me. She would say hello in company, but if I came upon her alone, she would just shake her head and run off, almost as if she were afraid to speak to me. We used to play together as children, and I considered her to be another sister.”

“It sounds as if she grew up,” Paul said. “Could it not simply be that she had put her childhood behind her?”

“Yes, certainly,” Josh agreed. “But . . . she was chastened, Paul. It seemed to me as if someone had attempted to crush her spirit. They had not succeeded, for she still has the same sense of humor, though she tries to hide it. But sometimes she can’t quite manage, and her eyes betray her. She has rather expressive eyes.”

“Yes, her eyes are remarkable, a deep, warm brown, and her smile lights up her face.” Paul wrinkled his brow in thought. “I had believed when I saw her that she was older, but you speak of her as being a contemporary—and unmarried?”

Josh frowned as a thought occurred to him. “But why do you ask, Paul? She isn’t the kind of woman you usually notice.”

“It was merely curiosity,” Paul replied but looked thoughtful. “She sounds interesting, as if she might have had some secret sorrow in her past.”

Josh gave him a speaking look. “All the more reason not to hurt her. I’ve always liked Hester. Told you, she’s like a sister to me. Take care, Crawford, I shouldn’t like to see her hurt.”

“Indeed? Your sentiments do you credit, my friend.” Paul’s brows rose in amused query. “What makes you think I would hurt her?”

“I don’t think you would do it deliberately,” Josh said, his frown deepening. “But I think she is vulnerable. She wouldn’t know how to behave with a man like you.”

“Well, I daresay we shan’t meet again,” Paul said and felt slightly wistful though he did not see why he should. “Something about her lingers, but I have other, more important things on my mind for the moment.”

“This business of the traitor? Do you think it could have been Mortimer’s grandson? He was a bad sort so they say. The earl banished him years ago, but I suppose he will be forced to bring him back now that Simon is dead. Richard is the heir now. Any word spoken against him would cause a fearful scandal.”

“He may be the heir to an earldom,” Paul said with a grim look. “But that will not save him if I discover that he was in league with the enemy.”

A little shiver ran down Josh’s spine as he looked into the cold blue eyes, and for a moment, he felt sorry for the traitor. Captain Paul Crawford was a man of his word. If he were convinced that Mortimer was the traitor, a little scandal would not prevent him from making sure that justice was done.

You will have to have proof,” Josh said. “Faulty cannon is one thing—and could have been the fault of the manufacturer—but the rest of it is a more serious charge.”

“Had I traced him while we were out there I would have had him shot, but now it is a matter for the courts,” Paul said. “If he is found guilty, it is a hanging offence.”

Hester dressed that evening in the new deep blue silk gown that her cousin had insisted on buying for her as soon as they arrived in Bath. Charlotte had sent her personal maid to dress Hester’s hair in a softer style, giving her a more fashionable look. In the glow of the candle, her hair seemed to have reddish tones, which were not always noticeable in daylight.

“Charming, my dear,” Charlotte said when Hester came downstairs. “I was sure that my Maudie would know what to do. She has given you a new touch, Hester.”

“My hair looks very nice, but I am not sure that Mama would approve of my gown. I know it is all the rage, but do you not think it a little revealing?” The expensive silk clung to her like another skin, moulding her curves in a way that was both fashionable and revealing.

Charlotte laughed affectionately. “We are in Bath now, my love, and not the wilds of Norfolk. You would not have everyone think you a dowdy. No, no, do not blush. You look delightful, and you have perfect manners. You will do me credit this evening, Hester.”

“Thank you, cousin. I fear I am just a little nervous.”

“Which is only to be expected in the circumstances. You have been treated shamefully these past years. Your father was too harsh, and Araminta let him have his own way.”

“Father was very forceful,” Hester said, a flicker of pain in her eyes. In fact, he had been a harsh bully who had treated his wife as if she were a featherhead. “Mama was not strong enough to stand up to him. None of us were. Even Robert was afraid of him.” Yet, despite knowing his faults, she had cared for her father, had longed for the forgiveness that never came. It was like a shadow that hung over her, haunting her thoughts both waking and sleeping.

“Well, he is no longer with us,” Charlotte said. “And I believe you deserve a little happiness. So shall we forget the past and look to the future?” She gathered up her fan and reticule, smiling at her protégée. “Come along, Hester. I believe the carriage is waiting.”

Hester followed obediently in her wake. Believing she was actually here in Bath and on her way to a dance at the Assembly Rooms was almost impossible. She had long given up all expectation of such pleasures, but now that her cousin had taken charge of her life, it seemed that anything was possible.

The light from the chandeliers were dazzling as it picked out the fabulous jewels worn by both the ladies and some of the gentlemen. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires flashed in the light of a myriad of candles, and long mirrors set at intervals along the wall reflected the peacock colors of the rich fabrics worn by the wealthy gathered to pleasure themselves that night.

That Charlotte had many friends present was obvious. Their progress through the congested rooms was slow, for they were accosted by both ladies and gentlemen at every step. Hester was an object of curiosity, for she had been so long absent from polite company that no one remembered the friendly, pretty and talkative girl of seventeen she had once been. And the woman she was now, a little reserved, serious, but prone to smile suddenly, provoked more than usual interest.

“Lady Blackwater.” Charlotte smiled at a woman of middle years gowned in crimson and purple and wearing a fearful turban on her head, which had a large white feather stemming from a diamond clip. “Have you met my cousin Miss Hester Weston? She has kindly agreed to bear me company for a while.”

“Miss Weston,” the lady said, offering the tips of her fingers and looking down her long nose. “I do not believe we have met before?”

“No, indeed, ma’am, for I should have recalled it,” Hester said politely. “I have been living very quietly at home with Mama.”

“Hester’s health was not all it might have been, but she is perfectly well now, are you not, my love?” Charlotte said, thinking Hester’s statement needed some explanation.

“Yes, perfectly well.” A glint of reproof flickered in Hester’s eyes for the briefest time. She had always been well, but people would wonder why she had not been given at least one season in London unless some such excuse was made. Yet, it went against the grain with her to lie.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Lady Blackwater said “I do enjoy meeting new people.  You will discover that I have a lively curiosity, my dear. She smiled at Hester who realized she was trying to discover her secret. “You must both come to my card party next week. I shall send you an invitation, Charlotte.”

It was a good beginning, but not the exception. The Countess of Danbury held a leading position in society and was well liked for both her good nature and her generosity. Her cousin must be acceptable and invitations were offered continuously throughout the evening, though many an ambitious mama thought it prudent to make some inquiries about the gel.

Hester attracted the attention of several gentlemen. While she could not claim to be the sensation of the evening or to have the largest number of admirers queuing up for a dance with her, she was not forced to sit out above twice before supper.

The young lady attracting most attention was Miss Geraldine Holbeach, the youngest daughter of Lady Holbeach, a matron of advanced years who had given her husband four sons and five daughters.

Lady Holbeach sat with the other matrons, gossiping and watching her lovely daughter from a distance. Geraldine was a lively, pretty girl who laughed a lot at the gentlemen’s sallies and seemed very innocent. Hester was reminded of herself at the same age and felt a pang of regret. Had she ever been that carefree?

Once, their gazes met across the room, and Hester responded to the other’s lovely smile. They met just before supper when they both happened to seek the ladies’ restroom at the same time.

“Oh, bother!” Geraldine said as Hester entered. “I think my flounce is torn at the back, but I cannot quite reach it.”

“Let me look for you,” Hester offered immediately. “Yes, unfortunately there is a large tear. I have a needle and thread in my reticule—may I mend it for you?”

“Would you be so kind? It was torn by one of my partners, I’m afraid. He was a little boisterous in the country-dance. I did not want to disturb Mama, and I cannot find an attendant to help me.”

“My cousin always carries a needle and thread, and I thought it might be useful this evening,” Hester said. She was busy as she spoke, and the tear was very quickly repaired. “There, that will do for now, though your own maid may make a better job another time.”

“I am sure it is perfect as it is,” Geraldine said. How kind you are. I am afraid I do not know your name.”

“I am Miss Weston, Hester to my friends. We have not been introduced as yet, though you were pointed out to me. Everyone is talking of you, Miss Holbeach. You have many admirers.”

Geraldine blushed. “Everyone has been so kind to me. I have no idea why. This was supposed to be just an informal visit with some friends. I shall have my season next year.”

“You are bound to be a success.”

“All I wish for is to be happily married,” Geraldine said. “My sisters married well, and Mama says that she expects the same for me, but I would prefer a quiet gentleman like Papa. I like to visit town occasionally, but it would not suit me to be forever there. I am happier in the country with my horses and dogs.”

“I think you are very wise,” Hester said. “But often one cannot choose whom one loves.”

“Are you in love with someone?”

“Oh no,” Hester disclaimed and blushed. “I thought once but . . .” She shook her head, wondering what had prompted her to make such a slip. “Is there a gentleman in particular that you like?”

“Well, perhaps,” Geraldine admitted. “He isn’t rich, but that does not matter. He is a gentleman, and I think he likes me, but Mama says I should have my chance to see something of life before I settle. So I am to have a season in London next year, for I shall be eighteen quite soon.”