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Authors: A Rakes Reform

Anne Barbour (28 page)

BOOK: Anne Barbour
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“There will be no date, my lord, for Robert and I are not to be married.”

Robert stepped forward.

“Hester, this is nonsense. I will agree that neither of our hearts are engaged, but please believe me that I am most sincere in—”

“Why don’t we all sit down,” interrupted Thorne, “and discuss this rationally?” Pausing to ring for coffee, he settled into a comfortable chair in one of the groupings that dotted the room and motioned Robert and Hester to a nearby settee.

“There is nothing to discuss,” said Hester tightly, but allowed herself to be guided to the settee.

“Now then,” Thorne said to Hester in an avuncular tone, “it seems to me that Robert is behaving in a most proper fashion. You do not dislike him, do you? It has always seemed to me that you hold him in esteem.”

“Yes, of course I do and yes, I like him very much. And he likes me, but that is far from being a basis for marriage, my lord.”

“It seems to me that it is the only basis,” returned Thorne. “Mutual esteem is the cornerstone of a successful connubial relationship.” As though aware of the pomposity of his words, he shifted in his chair and continued earnestly. “Robert will make an excellent husband for you, Hester,” he continued earnestly. “And you know—”

“Perhaps, my lord,” interposed Robert, “you would allow me to speak for myself.” He turned to Hester. “My dear, as I was saying, although we have been more or less catapulted into this situation, I believe we shall deal very well with each other. I am well able to support a wife, and I would be pleased to enter into your interests. I—I would be very proud to call you my own.”

Touched, Hester placed her hand over his. “And any woman would be proud to call you husband, Robert, but I—I simply cannot marry you. Not only do I not hold you in the sort of regard that I feel is necessary for a happy marriage, but”—she shot a glance at Thorne—“there are other circumstances—of which we spoke earlier.”

Robert, too, allowed his gaze to skitter to where Thorne sat, an expression of polite interest fixed to his features. “Er, yes, but I must reiterate, you are quite mistaken in that—other matter. In addition, as Lord Bythorne has pointed out, you have no choice. Despite the innocence of the occasion, you were quite compromised last night.”

“Please,” said Thorne, interrupting again. “Call me Thorne. And, Hester, if you call me ‘my lord’ one more time, I shall be forced to conclude that I have offended you in some manner.”

Hester flushed and leaped to her feet. She was offended, so deeply that she thought she would bear the scars on her heart for years to come, but it was the height of absurdity to blame the earl for her own stupidity in falling in love with him.

“Very well, then, Thorne. I will say again that I do not care a button for the ridiculous imperative of society that says a woman is ruined in such situations. Even if Robert and I had been indulging in a truly passionate embrace, I do not see how I could be considered ruined. Robert, do you feel compromised? No, of course not. It is always the woman whose purity is sullied if she allows a man to pleasure her in such a way.”

Feeling a little foolish at her outburst, she sank down once more onto the settee.

Robert rose to stand before her. “It is apparent—” he began soberly, but was interrupted by the sound of voices in the hall downstairs. In a few moments, the door opened wide to reveal Gussie and Lady Lavinia.

Two pairs of bright, interested eyes swung between Robert and Hester as the ladies moved into the room.

“Well, how nice to see you this morning, Mr. Carver,” said Gussie, her voice lifting in a question.

“Good morning, ladies,” Robert replied in a tone so somber that not the meanest intelligence could take him for a man just betrothed.

Gussie’s mouth dropped open, but her breeding would not allow her to broach the question that obviously burned on her lips. An awkward silence descended on the group until Robert cleared his throat.

“Actually, I was just leaving.” He turned to Hester. “I believe we still have something to settle between us, Miss Blayne, but this does not seem the time or place to continue our discussion. I shall call on you again—tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh, but—” began Hester before clamping her lips shut. “Yes, yes of course, Mr. Carver. I shall see you out.”

She whisked herself around Gussie and Lady Lavinia, and taking Robert’s arm, led him from the room.

Gussie immediately whirled on Thorne. “What happened?” she hissed.

“Absolutely nothing,” replied her nephew somewhat grimly. He had risen on the ladies’ entrance to the room, but now seated himself as Gussie and his aunt took chairs on either side of the fireplace. “Hester is being her usual stubborn self and Carver has not the backbone to bend her to his will.”

“Oh, Thorne!” cried Lady Lavinia faintly. “Who would wish to marry a man who would use such methods?”

Thorne’s face cleared a trifle. He laughed ruefully. “Or what man could hope to bend that little termagant’s will? Ah well, I shall keep at her, and since Carver promises to call again, perhaps we will wear her down. By the by,” he continued, “I have some news of my own.”

He related the stirring events that had taken place in Weymouth House that morning, which effectually drove any thought of Hester and her future from Gussie’s mind. Lady Lavinia, too, pronounced herself gratified in the extreme and the next several minutes were spent in a brief, but exhaustive discussion of the probable wedding date, as well as the prenuptial celebrations that must be planned.

“But, where is Chloe?” asked Thorne at length. “Did she not go out with you this morning?”

“Yes,” replied Gussie, “but we encountered Melisande Grapewin and her mother in that little apothecary shop in Bond Street—you know—the one near Locke’s, and a few minutes later Seraphina Bliss entered with her cousin. The girls put their heads together and decided to go to Gunter’s for ices, with Mrs. Grapewin remaining to chaperon. She should be home shortly after luncheon.”

But it was somewhat later in the afternoon when Chloe returned to the bosom of her family, by which time Gussie had departed for her own home. When she arrived, Chloe was accompanied not by her friends, but by John Wery.

The two seemed to move in a haze of suppressed excitement, and Pinkham, who had, of course traveled in Chloe’s wake all day, giggled in a most peculiar manner.

“Is Hester here?” were Chloe’s first words on entering the house. Thorne, strolling into the hall from the library, was just in time to hear Aunt Lavinia reply in the affirmative. The little group paraded up to the drawing room.

Observing the glowing countenances of the two young people, Thorne felt a stirring of hope in his breast. Indeed, Chloe’s first action when Hester entered the room was to fling herself on the older woman’s breast while John stood back, blushing furiously.

“Oh, Hester! You will not believe . . . That is, we have something very particular to tell all of you.” She shot a sparkling glance at John from beneath her lashes.

“Yes,” said the young man, blushing. “Ladies, Lord Bythorne, Miss Venable has consented to be my wife.”

Lady Lavinia, clasping a hand to her bosom, uttered a genteel crow of delight, while Hester drew Chloe into a congratulatory embrace. Thorne grasped John’s hand as though it were a lifeline tossed to a drowning man and shook it vigorously.

“By God,” he cried, “what excellent news!”

Chloe was babbling happily. “Melisande and Seraphina and I had just finished our ices and were promenading in Berkely Square, when we met John. He asked if he might walk with me in Green Park, and since I had Pinkham with me, I thought it would be quite unexceptionable.”

“Of course, dear child,” murmured Aunt Lavinia.

“Miss Blayne, you were right,” interposed John, a wide grin splitting his features. “Although I was cast down when Ch—Miss Venable rejected my suit, it seemed to me that of late I had noticed a change in her demeanor toward me. I had decided to try my luck once more, and when I ran into her with her friends this morning, I knew the gods smiled on my aspirations.”

He took Chloe’s hand in his and pressed a light kiss on her fingers, whereupon Chloe bent on him a glance of adoring tenderness.

John made his departure soon afterward in order to impart the glad tidings to his parents, but he promised to return for dinner that night. A note was sent off to Gussie, requesting that she and Lord Bracken join the family, thus it was a merry group that came together in the dining parlor at Bythorne House that evening.

If Hester found herself unable to join wholeheartedly in the general hilarity of the gathering, she was able to conceal her feelings. She was truly happy for Chloe and young John, and took genuine pleasure in their happiness.

Gussie, with yet another wedding to plan, was in alt. Her voluble speculations effectively masked Hester’s silence, and Thorne’s as well. Hester could not help remarking that, though he smiled a great deal and nodded in agreement with all Gussie’s pronouncements, he contributed very little to the scene of bonhomie around the table.

“Well,” said Gussie, sometime later as the family regrouped in the drawing room after dinner, “this certainly has been a day for wedding news in our family. How very singular that three of you should have become betrothed almost simultaneously.” Her eyes glinted purposefully as she spoke.

“Gussie,” said Hester quietly, “there are only two betrothals.” She lifted a hand as Gussie opened her mouth. “I have no wish to spoil this happy occasion with another brangle. Perhaps we could discuss my situation at some other time.”

She darted a glance at Thorne, who stood, stiff and unresponsive near the fireplace. Gussie, too, turned to look at Thorne, but, receiving no support from that quarter, sighed.

“Very well, my dear, but you must know I am not giving up on this. There is no doubt that talk of the incident is already circulating. An announcement must be made soon. Very soon. All right, all right,” she said in response to the protest that formed in Hester’s eyes. “I shan’t say any more now. But”—she wagged a finger—”you may count on hearing more from me on the subject, for your attitude is quite unacceptable.”

The guests departed not long after that, with John Wery spending an untoward length of time at the doorway with his beloved before making his final adieu. As the door closed behind him, Chloe waltzed dreamily about the hall.

“Isn’t he wonderful?” she murmured. “I think I must be the most fortunate girl in London—no, in the country—or no—in the whole world, right now.”

Aunt Lavinia sighed romantically and led her charge off to bed.

Hester set her own foot on the stairs, but was stayed by Thorne’s hand. At his touch, she jerked as though stung and turned to face him, her face set.

“This has been a long day, Thorne. I really would like to retire, if you don’t mind.”

“I merely want to add to what Chloe just said,” Thorne said earnestly. “I only want to ask you to think seriously about Robert’s offer before he visits again, and what it will mean to you if you refuse.”

“But don’t you see? It will mean nothing to me—especially now.”

Thorne lifted his brows questioningly.

“Chloe is betrothed. Our agreement has come to an end. I shall begin making arrangements tomorrow to leave Bythorne House for a return to Overcross, and it will make not a particle of difference if I am ruined in polite circles, for I shall never see any of those people again. As for your family
amour propre
, the story of my scandalous defection will no doubt make the rounds, but by next week some other nonsense will have replaced it, and the gossips will have a hard time remembering my name.”

“Leave?” whispered Thorne, repeating the only word in Hester’s speech that had penetrated his consciousness.

“Of course. With Chloe’s betrothal, our agreement is at an end. There is no reason for me to stay any longer and— and I am anxious to return to my home.”

It was as though the floor had suddenly tilted under Thorne’s feet. Somehow, despite Hester’s previous protestations, her announcement had come with the effect of an unexpected blow.

“I see,” he said. “Of course. That is—you have become very much a part of our family, Hester, and I—we would like to see you remain longer—perhaps until the wedding. If—”

“No!” Hester’s reply was sharp and instantaneous. “No, I would prefer to leave as soon as possible. Oh!” she added. “I just remembered—my lecture at the Blue Boar next week. With your permission—

Thorne’s face darkened. “As I have just said, you are welcome to stay as long as you like. But are you still determined to speak in Seven Dials? I wish you would reconsider.”

“I have considered it carefully, Thorne, and I cannot see any reason for me to change my plans. I told you, the women who will attend are the ones I most want to reach, and I shall have plenty of stalwart masculine company.” She tilted her head and slanted a glance toward him sparkling with mischief. “Perhaps you would like to attend, as well?”

“Thank you,” he said remotely. “I think not.”

The twinkle died from her eyes. What had made her think that he would be interested in watching her speak to a group of lower-class women? “Of course. And now, if you will excuse me, it’s been a rather long day.”

She turned and again began to make her way up the stairs. Thorne, however, an odd expression in his eyes, grasped her hand once more.

“This has, indeed, been a momentous day for us,” he said softly, cradling her hand in his.

“Oh. yes,” replied Hester a little breathlessly. “I am glad Chloe changed her mind, and—and I am happy for you, as well, although—”

“Yes?”

“What I told you about Barbara’s previous attachment still holds. I don’t know what prompted her to accept you, but if you marry her, you must be aware that you have not captured her heart.”

He laughed shortly. “The state of Barbara’s heart is her concern. It is enough for me that she has promised to be my bride. I know that I can trust her to behave with discretion afterward.”

She wrenched her hand from his. “Good God, Thorne, what a dismal picture of marriage.”

“But a pragmatic one, I’m sure you will agree. One that you would be well to adopt in your own considerations.”

BOOK: Anne Barbour
9.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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