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‘Exactly!’ he cried, surprised and gratified to discover someone who understood. ‘No one else can compare. Coming upon her again unexpectedly, the difference was...shocking. As if I’d been living in a grey world under cloudy skies, and suddenly, the sun came out, painting everything with vivid colour. Not that I’ve found my life dull or purposeless up till now, I assure you. But she just makes things...different. More beautiful.’
‘I know. I lived in just such a dull world—before I found Giles to illumine it.’
He gave a rueful sigh. ‘Ben and Christopher keep insisting that if I really wanted to, I could forget her and turn my attention to someone more suitable. But just because one knows one can’t have something, that doesn’t mean one can make oneself stop wanting it.’
‘I know. I am sorry.’
‘Don’t be. Loving her is an old ache, and I’ve known from the beginning that nothing could ever come from it. A penniless farmer’s orphan does not marry the well-dowered daughter of a family whose ancestors came over with the Conquest.’
‘And why should the daughter of an ancient family be valued any higher than a commoner who, by his own efforts, has risen to a position of power?’
He smiled at her. ‘That sounds like Lord Grey and the Friends of the People. Has Giles been converting you?’
‘I should hope I always appreciate individuals for what they themselves accomplish, not for their pedigree. However, you...you do not intend to attempt more than rekindling a friendship, do you?’
He didn’t pretend not to understand her. ‘No. I wouldn’t tarnish her honour—or mine—by attempting an affair. Goodness knows, nothing more is possible.’
She sighed. ‘It makes me sound a terrible snob, after just stating how much I value you—and I do, you are worth ten of her wretched Duke!—I have to agree. Hadley’s Hellions are doing their best to make the world a more equitable place, but we are nowhere close to being a society that would react to a duchess’s remarriage to a commoner with anything but shock and derision. Not so much for you, of course. But for her... I never had any desire to move in the late Duke’s circle, but like most of society, I heard enough of his exploits—and the falsely sweet “sympathy” expressed for his “poor little Duchess”. She’s suffered enough. I’d not be a party to anything that would bring more scorn upon her, or result in her permanent banishment from society.’
‘I assure you, all I wish is to offer her is the chance to meet other individuals from her own rank, whose company she may find more interesting and fulfilling than the endless rounds of idle society parties she told me she’s come to hate.’
‘With all the snide remarks her husband’s infidelities must have forced her to endure, I can understand why she detests them. Just promise me you won’t complicate her situation. She has already had enough to bear, married to Ashedon all those years.’
‘That’s an easy promise to give. I want to lighten her burden, not make it heavier.’
‘In that case, I shall be delighted to include her in the dinner I’m planning for next Friday. Giles and Papa are assembling some men of less radical views, with the hope of building a moderate coalition that will see the Reform Bill passed more swiftly. I’ll send her a card. And one to you as well.’
‘Thank you, Maggie. I very much appreciate it. I think you’ll like the Duchess, and I know she will enjoy your gathering.’
‘I hope you will as well.’ She looked at him, her face troubled. ‘You did me a very good turn once, bringing me back to the man I loved. I only wish I could conjure a magic spell, so I might create as favourable a result for you.’
‘Helping Faith is the best thing you can do for me.’
‘I’ll do all I can.’ She walked him to the door, halting on the threshold to give him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Have a care for yourself, too, Davie. As I know only too well, hearts can break more than once.’
‘But only once for the same person,’ he replied, and walked out.
He certainly hoped so, anyway.
* * *
In the afternoon two days later, having received a note from Davie informing her that Lady Lyndlington would be sending her a card of invitation for a dinner the following Friday, Faith ordered a hackney and went to pay a call on her erstwhile hostess. She’d suffered the expected dressing-down from the Dowager over her dinner-party flight—and her absence from the obligatory drive in the Park the next day—in a silence meek enough not to call down more criticism on her head. She felt safe enough attempting this errand; as Davie had said, even the high-in-the-instep Dowager couldn’t fault her calling on the daughter of a marquess.
Knowing how persuasive Davie the politician could be, she wanted to assure herself that Lady Lyndlington truly wished to include her in the gathering...and to discover whether she would feel comfortable enough with her hostess to want to attend.
In the early years of their marriage, Ashedon had done a very effective job in isolating her, distancing her from her family while at the same time actively discouraging her developing friendships with anyone else. At the time, still radiantly in love and certain of his love in return, she’d been too preoccupied trying to learn the duties required of the mistress of numerous properties and a multitude of servants, then waylaid by a succession of pregnancies and the delight of newborns, to fully realise just how alone she’d become.
But as the boys grew and her husband’s attentions dwindled, she’d become only too aware that she had virtually no friends of her age and class. The society women in whose company she often found herself all seemed to have already established circles of friendship, which were not interested in admitting any newcomers. And even if they had, most of the members were either indifferent to or contemptuous of the country life and activities that she prized so much more highly than the idle amusements of London.
She could tell that Davie admired Lady Lyndlington, and she valued his opinion. But a man’s view of a woman could be very different from one woman’s view of another. Would this marquess’s daughter, with her superior intellect and expertise in politics, hide beneath polite words the same contemptuous pity for simple little Faith Wellingford that made her association with other sophisticated ladies of the ton so unpleasant?
The carriage slowed to a halt, the footman coming over to open the door and hand her down. Heading to the front steps of the Upper Brook Street town house, Faith took a deep breath, suppressing out of long habit a too-often disappointed hope. One way or another, she was about to find out.
The butler showed her into an elegant room done in the Adam style in shades of white and blue. Several bookcases stood against one wall, filled with a variety of volumes. Perusing the shelves to discover several plays and novels she had enjoyed, Faith felt a renewal of the hope she’d tried to squelch.
Perhaps Lady Lyndlington might be someone of similar interests after all.
A moment later, the lady herself entered. ‘Duchess, how kind of you to call! I do hope you didn’t do so to convey your regrets for the Friday night gathering! I’m very much looking forward to becoming better acquainted. Davie—Mr Smith—is my husband’s closest friend, and we both have a very high regard for him—and for anyone of whom he speaks with as much warmth and respect as he did of you.’
‘He is very kind.’
‘Indeed. Would you take tea?’
‘If I wouldn’t be imposing, or taking you away from other duties.’
‘Not at all. I should like it very much.’
As would I, Faith thought, her cautious optimism increasing as her hostess rang the bell pull and informed the butler to bring refreshments. She’d spoken briefly with Lady Lyndlington at several society balls, among a crush of other attendees, but meeting her here in her own parlour, she was immediately drawn by her warm, open friendliness.
She’d already seen enough to decide she could safely accept the dinner invitation. She’d try not to hope for more.
‘I understand you’ve known Mr Smith since you were very young,’ her hostess said as she took a seat on the sofa.
‘Yes, before I even made my come-out. I was spending the summer with my cousin, and Mr Smith had come to serve as secretary to her husband.’ Faith gestured to the bookshelves. ‘After dinner one night, we found ourselves both in the library, searching for a book. Which led to a discussion about favourite authors that lasted the rest of the evening. After that, we met in the afternoons when he’d finished his work, and talked or rode. I’d read him poetry; he’d tell me about history and politics and his plans for the future—to become a parliamentarian, and help to change the government of the nation. He was so...intelligent, and caring, and full of conviction! I’d never met anyone like him.’
Lady Lyndlington smiled. ‘It sounds as if he hasn’t changed very much. He’s still intelligent, caring and full of conviction.’
He’s changed in one way, Faith thought, conversation lapsing as the butler brought in the tea tray. The romantic young hero has become a compellingly attractive man.
‘Yes, he seems much the same as I remember,’ she continued after Lady Lyndlington handed her a cup. ‘Foolishly, I suppose, I expected we would maintain our friendship over the years. But of course, once I married and he began his career we...didn’t see each other very often.’
‘I expect not. Running such a large household, a duchess must have many duties.’
Declining to correct that erroneous assumption, she said, ‘Mr Smith tells me that you’ve managed your father’s household for years, and arrange his political dinners. How fascinating it must be, to literally have a seat at the table of power as matters of national interest are discussed!’
Lady Lyndlington laughed. ‘Along with a smattering of gossip and personal anecdotes. But you are right; it is stimulating. Not that I did anything special to deserve being so blessed, other than having the good fortune to be born my father’s daughter. I do hope you will find the evening enjoyable.’
‘I’m sure I shall! I expect to do no more than listen, which I hope will be acceptable. What’s the old saying—‘Better to be silent and be thought foolish, than to speak and remove all doubt’? I shall refrain from displaying my ignorance!’
‘Listening to the discussions, you will soon have a fairly accurate picture of what’s transpiring. Please, feel free to ask questions! Coming into the debates with no preconceived ideas, you will have a fresh perspective that could be most helpful.’
‘Well, I don’t know about that, but I shall certainly listen most carefully.’
‘The discussions often become quite lively—and I hope they will be, for there’s no cards, or singing, or other entertainment. I would hate to bore you on your very first evening with us.’
‘I don’t care at all for gaming, and I shall be quite content to listen to intelligent discussion of issues that matter, rather than the snide, biting comments that so often form much of the conversation.’ She shrugged. ‘Perhaps because I have been so often the subject of them.’
Lady Lyndlington frowned. ‘Surely people are not disrespectful to a duchess!’
‘Oh, no, they are obsequious—to my face.’ Perhaps it was the ready sympathy she read in the other woman’s expression, but once she’d started, Faith couldn’t seem to keep herself from adding bitterly, ‘But I often “overhear” comments made, I’m sure, deliberately just within my hearing. About what a poor little dab of a thing I am, how it’s no wonder, after getting his heirs on me, my husband looked elsewhere. And now that my mother-in-law has moved back in, I am treated daily to a recital of all the ways in which I fall short of being worthy of the high position I occupy.’
‘I feel so fortunate in my family, who have supported me through the worst of times!’ Lady Lyndlington shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry you haven’t experienced that, and I wish I could protest that most in society are kind. But as I know only too well, many are not.’
Faith grimaced. ‘They seem to assume I don’t have the wit, or the courage, to toss back some biting response. I could answer in kind. I just don’t want to. Isn’t there enough heartache and cruelty in the world, without deliberately adding to it?’
Impulsively, her hostess seized her hand. ‘I so agree! And I understand more than you know. Before I met Giles, after being a widow for several years, I began to think about remarrying. I’d been acting as Papa’s hostess for some time, and had a number of interested suitors. Sadly, having married my childhood best friend, I was completely naïve, never questioning that the admiration a man expressed might be due more to my wealth and family connections than to the charms of my person.’
‘Now that, I cannot believe!’ Faith protested.
‘Believe it,’ Lady Lyndlington said with surprising bitterness. ‘One particularly ardent suitor, who had political aspirations my father’s support could assist, convinced me of his love, and I persuaded myself I returned his regard. Just before we were to wed, I discovered that he maintained a little love-nest where he continued to entertain chère-amies. Apparently I was the only one in London who didn’t know about it. I broke the engagement, but you can imagine the titters behind fans and malicious comments I “overheard”. But you may know this already; it was quite the on dit.’
Hardly believing so lovely, confident, and intelligent a lady could have been subject to such treatment, Faith said, ‘I didn’t know. So you truly do understand.’
‘Yes. By the way, I did, quite inadvertently, discover a way to respond to the malicious that did not require descending to the same level as the speaker. Soon after the...incident, I overhead a comment that so infuriated me, I couldn’t utter a word. I simply turned and stared at the perpetrator, as if she were a worm I’d discovered on one of my prize roses and intended to crush. She ended up looking away first, and never bothered me again. The technique worked so well, I used it on several other occasions during that awful time, to good effect.’ She patted Faith’s hand. ‘I recommend the tactic.’
Faith had to smile. ‘As a marquess’s daughter, you were probably born to it, but I doubt I could manage the “look”. Papa lost all our money when I was still so young, I grew up with no expectations of making a grand match, more comfortable climbing trees and riding in my brother’s old breeches than mastering curtsies and clever drawing-room conversation. But thank you. I’m sure I’ll have occasions I could try out the technique, whether or not I can carry it off.’
Lady Lyndlington nodded. ‘Practise it in front of your glass. I did.’
At the idea of this elegant lady practising set-down looks in a mirror, Faith had to laugh out loud. ‘No! I don’t believe it!’
‘Oh, it’s true. I’d remember the remark that so incensed me, and look into the mirror until I perfected an expression that should have made the glass shatter and vaporise into dust. You must try it.’
Subsiding with a giggle, Faith set aside her cup. ‘Perhaps I will. But now, I’ve taken up enough of your time.’
She rose, and her hostess rose with her. ‘You will come to dinner on Friday?’
‘Yes. I shall be looking forward to it.’
‘Excellent. I think we should be friends. After all, we principled ladies must stick together.’
Drinking in the warmth and encouragement like a wilted plant responds to water, Faith could almost feel her withered optimism and trampled hope begin to stir. ‘That would please me very much.’
‘Until Friday, then.’
After an exchange of curtsies, the ladies parted, Faith returning to her carriage with more anticipation for the future than she’d felt in years
Bless Davie! Not only had he given her a stimulating evening to look forward to, he might have steered her towards something she hadn’t had since she’d been distanced from her sisters.
A close female friend.
If only she could keep them both.
Chapter Four (#ulink_67960e6e-9e9c-560e-b44f-d55bce24dd1e)
On Friday night, Davie arrived early at Lord Witlow’s town house, already so energised at the idea of seeing Faith again, he’d been more or less worthless in committee that afternoon. Once or twice he’d seen Giles send an appraising look in his direction, from which he’d turned away without acknowledgement. But, arriving as far in advance of the appointed hour, he knew that sooner or later his hostess’s husband was going to take him to task.
Lord Witlow’s butler showed him to the Blue Drawing Room, remarking with a touch of reproach as he directed him to the wine decanter on the sideboard, that, it being so far in advance of the hour for dinner, the host and hostess had not yet come down. Chuckling at that veiled set-down about his poor manners, Davie began pacing the handsome chamber, trying to dispel some of his nervous excitement and anticipation.
As luck would have it, the first to join him in the drawing room was Giles. The look of enquiry on his friend’s face told him that he was about to be taken to task for his renewed interest in ‘the Unattainable’.
Considering that he’d volunteered a few judicious words of caution to his mostly unappreciative friend when Giles was first pursuing Maggie, he figured it was only fair that he suffer Giles’s comments with good grace. Particularly as he knew whatever Giles might say would stem from a genuine concern for his welfare.
‘So, Maggie tells me that you asked her to invite the Duchess of Ashedon to our little gathering?’ Giles asked, confirming Davie’s expectations.
‘Yes. I ran into her unexpectedly a week or so ago. She still...hasn’t found her feet since the death of her husband, and seemed very low. Years ago, when we first met, she had a lively interest in politics. I thought attending this evening would help draw her out of grief, and let her focus on something other than her own cares for an evening.’
‘From what Maggie tells me about the character of the late Duke, I doubt the Duchess is experiencing very much grief.’
‘More like regret for what might have been, probably,’ Davie admitted, advancing to the wine decanter on the sideboard. ‘I understand the Duke...frequently availed himself of the company of other women, particularly after the Duchess had borne him several sons to secure the succession.’ Choosing two glasses, he poured them each some wine.
‘Now that I’ve reconciled with my father and been more or less forced to attend ton gatherings, I’ve had to listen to a lot of gossipy rubbish,’ Giles said, accepting the glass from Davie. ‘One bit, from that fribble Darrow, said the late Duke met his demise while attempting to...copulate with his current doxy while racing his high-perch phaeton. A drunken wager, apparently.’
Shocked, Davie froze, the wine glass halfway to his lips. ‘The devil he did!’ he exclaimed a moment later. Faith told him she’d never enjoyed the attention paid to a duchess. Especially as Ashedon and his women provided so much scandal for society to watch my reaction to. How embarrassing and degrading it must have been to face down that bit of salacious gossip! ‘I hadn’t heard. Poor F—poor Duchess.’
‘Not much to lament about the passing of such a man,’ Giles said acerbically.
‘I don’t believe he ever truly cared for her,’ Davie said, trying to mask the anger that fact always aroused in him. To have been able to claim the beauty and innocence and joy that was Faith, and not appreciate it, was stupidity of such colossal proportions he could never forgive it.
Why couldn’t that gift have been tendered to a man who would have treasured it? Not him, of course—it could never have been him—but surely there was some man of suitable birth and station who could have loved her and made her happy.
At least now she was free of the husband who hadn’t. He squelched the little flare of excitement that resonated through him. Free, maybe, but not for you.
Ah, but a man could dream, couldn’t he?
He surfaced from that thought to find Giles frowning at him. ‘Maggie told me two days ago that you’d asked her to invite the Duchess tonight, so I made sure Ben and Christopher were occupied elsewhere. You ought to tell them, before they find out from some other source, that you’re...involving yourself in her life again. I’ll make sure they don’t harass you about it. But...be careful, Davie. Don’t let yourself hope too much from this.’
‘I’m not!’ he assured Giles—and maybe himself? ‘If I can help her break free from the unhappiness of her life with Ashedon that will be enough.’
‘Will it?’ Giles asked, giving him a penetrating glance. ‘I’m not sure how much she can “free” herself from that life. Don’t forget, Davie, she’s a rich widow, her oldest son now the Duke, her minor children protected by a trust. Her family may well have further plans for her.’
A fierce protectiveness rose in him as the austere, disapproving face of the Dowager surfaced in his mind. ‘As long as she has a say in making those plans, rather than have them imposed on her.’
‘As long as you remember it’s not your place to determine that.’
‘I just want to stand her friend. She has few enough of them.’
‘Well, here comes one who should be.’
Davie looked over as a tall, well-dressed gentleman entered the parlour. ‘Englemere,’ Giles said, walking over to shake the Marquess’s hand. ‘Good to see you. Perhaps tonight we can make some progress on hammering out that coalition.’
‘I hope so,’ the Marquess replied. ‘If your lovely wife has anything to do with it, there will certainly be a lively discussion. Good evening, Mr Smith. You’ll add your voice of reason to that debate, I’m sure.’
‘Always,’ Davie answered, reaching out to shake the hand the Marquess offered. He owed a great deal to Englemere, the best friend of his sponsor, Sir Edward Greaves, and one of his backers for his Parliamentary seat, and respected him even more. Did the Marquess know his sister-in-law was going to be present this evening? he wondered.
Almost before he’d completed the thought, the lady in question appeared at the doorway as the butler intoned, ‘The Duchess of Ashedon.’
For a moment, everything in Davie’s world halted while he took in the loveliness that was Faith. Her gown, a lavender confection of lace and silk, hugged her tiny waist and moulded itself over her rounded bosom in a way his hands itched to trace. Her golden hair, pinned up in an elaborate arrangement of curls, made him yearn to rake his fingers through it, freeing the heavy mass to cascade around her shoulders, as it had when she was a girl. She wore only simple diamond drops in her ears, the soft expanse of bared skin and shoulders rising above the bodice of her gown her only other adornment.
