Abandoned to the Prodigal, page 15
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Inevitably, her mother was still trying to build bridges between them and placed her beside Jeremy for dinner. Fortunately, Ferdy was on her other side, so the silence between them wasn’t too noticeable.
It was only when the fish course had been taken away and the meat course was being placed on the table that Jeremy said suddenly, “I do owe you an apology.”
Surprised, she turned her head to find him gazing earnestly at her.
“You are right. I acted cruelly and without thought, merely giving in to my pain with no thought of yours. Or of the truth of the matter.”
He appeared to mean it, so she replied, “I accept your apology.”
“It does not mean,” he added hastily, and broke off, biting his lip.
She raised her eyebrows. “It does not mean what?”
“That our engagement is resumed,” he muttered. “It will take time.”
For a moment, she could only gawp. “No, it won’t, Jeremy,” she said flatly. “For it will never happen. There is nothing you or anyone else can say or do that would make me marry you. Pass the sauce, Ferdy.”
“I have made you angry again,” he said miserably.
“Oh, I am beyond anger. It doesn’t matter. I am glad to be on civilized terms with you, Jeremy, but under no circumstances imagine I want or will tolerate, more than that.” She put a forkful of food into her mouth, barely even tasting it, though when she’d swallowed it, she said, “You should have some sauce with that. It’s really very good.”
Chapter Thirteen
On his journey north into Yorkshire, Lord Barden had plenty of time to reflect on his Great Plan of Revenge.
The first part—the presence of the young ladies at Connaught Place after the departure of the princess and anyone else who might have counted as a chaperone—had gone better than he had hoped. The girls might have hidden, but several people had glimpsed them, and many people knew they were there. And he had personally seen to the circulation of the newspaper in the right quarters. Such as to the Alfords and to Lord Cosland up in Yorkshire.
Oh yes, the women were ruined. But that was only the beginning. Taking advantage of that ruin proved to be somewhat more difficult.
He had begun the journey north in a filthy temper because he had been forced to abandon his plan for Hazel Curwen. This annoyed him on many levels, not least of which was that he had wanted Juliet’s father to be aware that the Curwen girl had recently become his mistress. It would all have added to the insult and humiliation of the offer he was about to make. The offer which the mighty Earl of Cosland could not refuse.
Only when the horses were changed at Kidfield and he began the last stage of his journey to Hornby Park, did he begin to think much about Lady Juliet. He had paid little attention to her, avoiding her at both ton parties and the princess’s residence. Her only interest to him was as Cosland’s daughter. It was Hazel Curwen who had stirred his blood as well as his ire.
But now he thought of Juliet, he had the impression of a beautiful, vital young creature, courted and toadied. Why her father had placed her with the princess, he had no idea. It wasn’t as if Cosland had need of the salary, which Prinny rarely troubled to pay in any case. No, it must have given the earl some political advantage, which Barden had every hope was now shattered with the girl’s ruin.
Enter Lord Barden, their only hope.
He smiled out of the window. They were almost there. He was ready. He knew his lines.
But then, he had known his lines at Brightoaks, and it had all gone horribly wrong. He shuddered at the memory of his departure and swung his attention to his valet, Rogers, whom he had allowed to travel inside the vehicle.
“You will not gossip with the servants at Hornby Park,” he commanded.
“Of course not, my lord.” Rogers sounded shocked.
“You will say merely that we have just come from Lady Sayle’s party at Brightoaks.”
“We have.”
“And the mode of that departure will never be brought up.”
“Never,” Rogers agreed, clearly bored.
Barden eyed him suspiciously, but no sign of amusement was visible in the valet’s expression. “Good. You will soon have cause to congratulate me. And with the rise in my fortunes comes your own comfort, Rogers.”
“You mean I will be paid?” Rogers inquired with a hint of sarcasm.
“Liberally, my good man, liberally. Look, ahead, over there, that must be Hornby…”
Of course, it was as impressive a house and grounds as one would expect of a wealthy earl. It riled Barden, but only a little, for he would have his share. He thought with longing of his own ancestral pile in Hertfordshire, mortgaged to the hilt and rented out to some wealthy cit. Soon, it would be his again. Soon, he would be the one inviting people to stay for week-long parties with his beautiful wife playing hostess to everyone he chose to invite. Everyone.
He smiled. Oh yes, the great earl and his family would be brought low. There was no way out for them, though he would make it appear there was.
The gracious, tree-lined drive swept up to the house, where the carriage pulled up. Well-trained servants appeared to carry baggage and deal with the horses. Leaving Rogers to instruct them, Barden walked up the steps to the open door. Satisfied, he stepped inside to be greeted by a very superior butler. Barden had once had one of those.
“Welcome to Hornby, my lord,” this individual said with a bow, without even glancing at the card in Barden’s fingers. “His lordship is expecting you. Her ladyship wonders if you would care to be conducted straight to your chamber? Or if you would care to join the party in the salon?”
“My chamber, if you please.”
A footman was summoned with one flick of the butler’s eyes and led him across the entrance hall and up the grand staircase—grander than his own—two flights and then along wide but winding passages to a large apartment with two windows and comfortable furnishings.
His bags were already there. And a few moments later, Rogers joined him to dig out a fresh cravat. In truth, he did not have so many clothes that he could change several times a day, but a wash, a brush down, and a clean necktie made all the difference.
He sauntered downstairs and had a footman direct him to Lady Cosland in the salon. Here, welcomed most civilly by the earl and countess, he discovered he was not the only guest. The earl’s brother, Lord Stephen Lilbourne, and his family were also present.
“We are having a few guests to dinner this evening,” Lady Cosland explained. “By way of marking the engagement of our younger daughter. I hope you will enjoy the company, but if you are tired after your long journey—”
“By no means, ma’am. I should be honored to join you,” Barden said politely. “I can only apologize for intruding on a family occasion.”
“Not at all, my lord,” Lady Cosland assured him. “It is a pleasure to welcome you here, and several of our neighbors will be present, too. We have even set up the drawing room so that the young people may dance afterward.”
At that moment, several young people entered the room from the open French windows. Lady Juliet really was a beautiful girl, he saw with fresh pleasure. She outshone her merely pretty sister and the other young lady who must have been a cousin. On the other hand, he wasn’t best pleased to see her in the thick of company, as bright and vital as ever. He had assumed she would be punished for her indiscretions, or at least kept out of view. But then, apart from himself, only family members were present.
And then, behind them, came a young man Barden had never expected to see here.
Jeremy Catesby.
For an instant, Barden’s world tilted. Dear God, had this plan gone wrong, too?
Behind Catesby, came Cosland’s youthful heir, Lord Albright, and a few moments later, Lord and Lady Alford.
Damnation!
“Do sit down, sir,” Lady Cosland invited him, “and let me give you a cup of tea. Was your journey very horrible?”
“Why no, not at all,” Barden babbled, seating himself beside her. “Surprisingly smooth and trouble-free. The roads are much improved from the last time I was in the north. Is that young Catesby? I must say I am delighted. I had thought the engagement was over.”
“Oh, well, young people, you know,” Lady Cosland said vaguely. “They may or may not sort out their differences.”
A closer look showed Barden that Catesby looked anything but happy. He did put on a pleasant expression when he and the others greeted Lord Barden, but Catesby and Juliet were definitely stiff in each other’s company.
Parental pressure, he realized. Cosland was squeezing Alford to fall back into line, and Catesby didn’t like it. Obviously, no one, least of all Barden, cared what Juliet liked. The avoidance, or at least reversal, of scandal, was the important thing, as he had always understood.
He barely glanced at Juliet as he bowed to her and her sister, but as he sat down, he realized she had not offered her hand. On leaving him, she retreated to a chair in the corner, and that pleased him more.
Making civil conversation with Lady Cosland and Lord Alford, who had joined them, he finished his tea. The young people began talking about a game in the garden, and the party was about to split up until dinner. Now was Barden’s time.
“Perhaps your lordship has a few moments?” he suggested as he rose from his chair.
“Yes, of course,” Cosland replied with gratifying promptness. “Come along to the library, where we won’t be disturbed.”
Barden’s heart beat with anticipation. As he took a seat in the opulent library, without waiting to be asked, he watched Cosland close the door, and thought, This is the man who ruined my life, who took everything from me but the shirt on my back. And now he is about to pay, with interest.
“I was surprised by your letter,” the earl admitted, walking across to join him. He sat in the chair opposite. “Not quite sure what you meant, but I’m very happy to hear you out.”
“I knew you would be. May I be blunt, my lord?”
“Preferably.”
“I am aware—frankly, who is not?—of your daughter’s…fall.”
“My daughter did not fall,” Cosland barked. “Vile lies perpetrated by some rag I’ll see shut down before the month is out.”
“I have no doubt you will, and of course, I am well aware of Lady Juliet’s actual innocence. However, we are both men of the world. We both realize it is not fact that governs such frail matters as a young lady’s reputation. An unmarried lady found discussing the most unexceptionable topics two yards away from a gentleman but behind closed doors, is compromised. A young lady who spends a night in a house without her family or a chaperone is ruined. Add an orgy to that night, and there is really no hope. I am surprised she is even visible when you are entertaining guests.”
Barden was delighted by the effect of this speech. Cosland’s face flushed with anger and his lips thinned. His eyes darkened under a growing frown.
“You may leave my daughter’s care to me,” the earl snapped.
“Apparently, I can’t,” Barden said insolently. “You placed her with a royal lady of questionable morals, to say the least.” Here was where he had hoped to make clear his own illicit intimacy with another of the princess’s ladies. Regretfully, he let the line go, enjoying instead the narrowing of the earl’s furious eyes. “It was surely only a matter of time before something went horribly wrong.”
“And if you imagine I don’t know why or how it went wrong,” Cosland growled, “you are very much mistaken!”
This part of the discussion was not meant to come until later when Barden revealed it, but it was no matter. He could adapt.
He smiled. “Then that is one matter I don’t have to spell out. Between these walls—although, of course, I shall deny it elsewhere—of course, I was responsible for your daughter’s fall. And you should know, I am also prepared to lift her back up.”
The earl’s hand clenched on the arm of his chair until his knuckles whitened. “How?” he asked between his teeth.
“I am prepared to marry her.”
Barden had hinted as much in his letter, in order to be sure of his welcome to Hornby, so the earl did not look particularly surprised. Slowly, his hand unclenched.
“You have an old and respected name,” the earl allowed, just as if he still imagined he could negotiate. “But your fortune is…lacking.”
Barden’s eyes narrowed at the temerity. “Only because you took it from me.”
“You lost it to me, Barden, in two nights of foolishness neither of us is proud of. Which is why your offer surprises me. Why offer for her now? She has had two London seasons and only became engaged a month ago. Yet now, when you have made her damaged goods…”
“Why, I hoped to provoke you to greater generosity,” Barden replied. “The girl does not interest me.” Here, again, was where he had hoped to add the extra insult of his relationship with Hazel Curwen, but it didn’t matter. The point was still made. “Her dowry does.”
Cosland’s eye twitched. “If she were to accept your offer, you would not find me ungenerous. However, as you saw, Jeremy Catesby is also here.”
Barden smiled. “And neither he nor your daughter look very pleased about it. That bird has flown, Cosland, and we both know it. The Alfords are here in a futile attempt to salvage a little of Juliet’s reputation, in the hope of keeping any of your favor at all. They don’t want the marriage, and judging by Juliet’s face, neither does she. It’s insulting. I, however, have never insulted her.”
Cosland’s jaw dropped. “Never insulted… What do you call that damned newspaper piece?”
Barden examined his nails. “Do I control such a scandal rag? Or any other newspaper?”
“You may drop the act. Both she and I know you are responsible for the story. Her friend, another lady-in-waiting to that princess of questionable morals, has already written to her. From Brightoaks, where the girl appears to be under the protection of the Sayles.”
Barden was annoyed, for he hadn’t considered the girls would be on such terms of friendship that they would correspond with each other. But he managed a smile. “Indeed, she is. Sir Joseph appears besotted. However, he is not besotted with Juliet. And neither is Jeremy Catesby.”
“Nor you!”
“No. But I have terms.”
Through his inevitable shame and anger, Cosland tried hard not to look interested. “You had better tell me what they are.”
“I’ll take her for half of what you promised Catesby for her,” Barden said carelessly and waited for the relief to lower Cosland’s shoulders before he added, “plus the return of everything you took from me ten years ago.”
Cosland’s head snapped up. “You lost that fair and square. It was a debt of honor, and you cannot ask for it back.”
Barden smiled. “I can, and I do. I deserve it back, not for the ten years—ten years—of poverty, at the beck and call of that fat, petulant fool who will one day be king. I deserve it for taking your ruined daughter off your hands and saving her reputation. It’s possible I can even get the newspaper in question to retract Juliet’s name from the story.”
“I tried that,” Cosland snarled.
“As I said, it’s possible I will succeed where you failed. Either way, your daughter ends up a viscountess with a comfortable life. Society will forgive her in time. You may even get a better husband for your second daughter if you hold off.”
“Hold off what?”
“Palming her off on the first gently born bumpkin who came her way.”
“We are not speaking of Kitty,” the earl said firmly.
“No, we are not. Our men of business can meet as soon, but you could do worse than announce Juliet’s engagement along with your other daughter’s. I can still make the damage worse if you weasel out.”
The earl shot to his feet. “How dare you, sir?” he raged.
Barden laughed. “I dare because I finally have what I want. The return of my property, with a little extra. And a very cold but pleasurable revenge.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Have you seen the dining room?” Kitty asked in dismay, swirling into Juliet’s chamber in a waft of gauze and perfume. “Mama must have invited the whole county!”
“Hardly,” Juliet said calmly.
“They have opened the partition so that the table stretches across two rooms.”
“They often do when they have guests.”
Kitty looked very pretty in her gown of pale yellow muslin, with pearls around her throat, dangling from her ears, and threaded through her hair. However, her face was flushed with more anxiety than excitement. She sank onto the edge of Juliet’s bed and sighed. “Mama asked me if I would like to do anything to mark the occasion, and I suggested dinner. I was thinking perhaps my aunt and uncle and cousins, and a few of our closest friends. A cozy dinner. But this is a-a banquet.”
Juliet smiled. “I know. It has been taken out of your hands a bit, but that was inevitable. I think Mama is so determined to prove to everyone how they value Lawrence that she has forgotten your preference for smaller parties.”
“Because he is not a great catch by the world’s standards?”
“Exactly. But he is a great catch for you. You mustn’t worry about everyone else. Lawrence will be beside you. Your friends will be there, and you will enjoy it.”
She groaned. “And then I will have to worry about the wedding breakfast! If this a mere engagement, what kind of fuss will there be over the wedding?”
“None,” Juliet soothed. “Let me just fetch my reticule, and we’ll go down together. Once you’re with Lawrence, you won’t care about anyone else.” It was true, and yet another reminder that she had never felt like that about Jeremy. She had been pleased to see him once. She had enjoyed his company, but it had never shut out the world for her.
Snatching up the reticule, she glanced back at her anxious sister and smiled. “You do look particularly beautiful, you know.”
