Part 47 (2/2)
Lady Harleigh frowned in puzzlement. ”Congratulate, Your Grace?”
”You haven't heard?” the Duke continued in his booming voice. ”Robert Carstairs has been personally appointed by the Prince Regent to design the development of Marylebone Park. Quite an undertaking for a young architect, eh, Carstairs? You've certainly kept it quiet enough. From what I've heard, it's going to be a 'garden city' with villas, terraced houses, crescents and even a ca.n.a.l and lakes. Good going, man!” He gave Robert a hearty clap on the back. ”Prinny himself told me he's a great admirer of your work.”
Lady Harleigh stood frozen in astonishment. When finally she gathered her wits about her, she addressed Robert. ”Why that's . . . that's . . . I never dreamed! I thought-”
”That he was Lord Melton's ne'er-do-well brother, Mama? Well, obviously not.” Julia threw a why-didn't-you-tell-me glance at Robert, followed by a long sigh of contentment. She addressed her mother again. ”By the way, whenever you and Papa can squeeze in a spare moment, Mr Carstairs and I have something to tell you.”
French Intuition.
Delilah Marvelle.
London, England June 1828, evening.
The Pickworth Ball.
He hadn't come. Even though he said he would.
Of course, Lady Gwendolyn Elizabeth Redford knew all too well why her husband hadn't arrived. Instead of being a mature and rational man, he'd finally opted to believe the outrageous rumours that she was involved with Lord Westbrook. And whilst, yes, Westbrook had once ardently vied for her hand in marriage, the man had never meant anything to her. Not then, and most certainly not now. No man could ever be as handsome, or as witty, or as charming, or as . . . annoying as her Camden.
Somehow, this mutual agreement of theirs to spend a little time apart had led to a lot of time apart. Followed by complete chaos brought on by the ton, who held nothing sacred if it created some amusing entertainment.
Perspiration trickled its way down the length of Gwendolyn's exposed neck beneath her pinned curls. And she hadn't even been dancing. It was all due to the stagnant heat of a ballroom that harboured an unsightly amount of people. A result of too many invitations sent.
Far worse than all the heat and the people, their fading scents of oiled perfumes mingling with rancid sweat, was having to a.s.sist her younger brother's new-found aspiration to wed. Edwin's dreamy enthusiasm towards a love match achingly reminded her of herself when she was his age. But it took far more than dreamy enthusiasm to make a loving marriage thrive. She should know.
Lord Westbrook's stocky frame reappeared at her side again. For the fifth time that night.
She stiffened, but otherwise remained in place, knowing he was going to follow her no matter where she went.
Westbrook swept aside the curling, dark hair from his forehead and cleared his throat. ”Lady Redford. Might I have a word with you out on the balcony?”
Gad. The annoying man wouldn't go away. No wonder everyone thought she was involved with him. He was forever at her elbow, insisting on attention that was anything but respectable.
She sighed, wis.h.i.+ng there were no rules in society about being courteous. ”I am not interested in sharing words, My Lord. And most certainly not on a balcony where our conversation may be construed as something it is not.”
He scooted closer, his gloved hand curving around her corseted waist. ”You cannot keep eluding me.”
Gwendolyn sucked in a breath and stepped outside of his grasp, eyeing the crowds around them, including her brother who lingered only a few feet away. Of course, her brother was far too occupied with his own life to notice she was being shoved into the devil's own cupboard.
She set her chin, trying to remain calm. If she overreacted, it would bring attention. And that she most certainly did not need. ”There is a very good reason as to why I am eluding you, My Lord, but I am far too civil to express that reason. Now I am demanding you cease this. You have already created more gossip than I know what to do with.”
Westbrook reclaimed the distance she had set between them and leaned towards her. His dark eyes boldly traced her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and whispered, ”I will only cease once I get what I want. Do you need me to tell you what I want? Or has your husband never properly educated you on the matter?”
She buried her right hand within the folds of her gown, fisting the silk material in an effort to keep herself from outright smacking him. She stepped away again and glared at him. ”I will see to it my husband calls on you tomorrow afternoon so that you may discuss this with him in greater detail. Will that better suit you?”
”There is no need, madam. When it comes to you, Redford and I already share an understanding.” Westbrook smirked, adjusted his evening coat and stared her down with haughty, dark eyes. Offering her a nod, he turned and strode over towards her brother, interrupting his conversation with a few curt words.
Gwendolyn narrowed her gaze, wis.h.i.+ng it were legal to publicly castrate men. With each pa.s.sing day, she was beginning to believe it was far better being miserable with Camden than being miserable without him. Their separation was supposed to bring them a form of uniting, healing peace not this . . . war.
She wandered closer to her brother and waved a frantic hand towards him from behind Westbrook's back. She urgently mouthed, ”We must leave. Now.”
Edwin flicked a nod in response to her silent plea, and discreetly held up an apologetic gloved hand, asking for patience. He then continued his in-depth discussion with Lord Westbrook.
It reminded her of something Camden would do. Tell her to wait a moment and then two hours would pa.s.s.
She hissed out a breath. Didn't Edwin realize that by engaging Westbrook, he was only going to further complicate her life? She flicked open her fan and waved it frantically back and forth before her heated face.
A superficial laugh one she'd never heard in all her five and twenty years - escaped Edwin in response to something Westbrook said.
Gwendolyn blinked, freezing the tip of her fan below her nose. She lowered her chin slightly and continued to observe her brother's unusual antics. Edwin's chestnut hair fell farther out of place with each exaggerated, eager nod.
Oh, no. If she didn't know any better, she'd say Edwin was trying to impress Westbrook in an effort to gain an introduction to the man's ever-so-popular younger sister. Dear Lord, this did not bode well for her. At all. She did not want or need Westbrook for an in-law.
Someone leaned towards her, bringing the refres.h.i.+ng scent of citrus into the frowsty air. ”Gwendolyn,” her mother chimed. ”You look incredibly annoyed.”
”I am incredibly annoyed.” Gwendolyn snapped her fan shut and released it, letting it dangle again from her wrist. She spun towards her mother. ”Where have you been?”
Despite the heat that was causing everyone's rouge to fade, Lady Stanton's own remained flawless. Like the rest of her. Even with those greying tresses, her pretty, oval face held a fresh youthfulness from which no amount of grey could detract. Now why couldn't Westbrook obsess over someone like her mother who had been widowed these past six years? The woman needed attention far more than she did.
Gwendolyn leaned towards her mother. ”Edwin is entertaining Westbrook. I demand you do something. He is your son and therefore your responsibility. Not mine.”
Lady Stanton's green eyes flicked over towards Edwin and Lord Westbrook, then back to her. She shook her head and ushered Gwendolyn away from the two, her emerald satin and lace gown brus.h.i.+ng against her own.
Once they were a few steps away, her mother flicked open her own silk fan, hiding her lips from those around them, and whispered, ”You do realize Westbrook is waiting for you and Redford to divorce, yes?”
Gwendolyn rolled her eyes. ”As if I would ever-”
”What is more,” her mother added in an even more hushed tone, now appearing concerned, ”Redford may be planning on it.”
Gwendolyn stared at her, her breath hitching. ”Whatever do you mean? Camden and I aren't-”
”Apparently, upon hearing all the gossip, Redford went to Westbrook and demanded proof of your involvement with him, lest he call the man out for slander. Two days later, Westbrook provided him with proof.”
Gwendolyn choked. ”What proof? I never-”
Her mother grabbed her arm and s.h.i.+elded both of their faces with her fan. ”Westbrook bribed one of your servants and acquired one of your silk stockings, then delivered it to Redford. Therein providing proof.”
Gwendolyn gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief. She grabbed both of her mother's gloved hands and squeezed them in a frantic effort to balance herself and her thoughts. ”How do you know all of this?”
Lady Stanton fluttered her fan for a moment and eyed her sheepishly. ”With Redford moving out, I was worried about you living alone. So I . . . paid your butler and housekeeper additional funds to watch over you a bit more carefully.”
Gwendolyn felt her throat tightening as she glanced back towards Lord Westbrook who was still enthusiastically conversing with her brother. ”Keep me from slitting his throat from ear to ear,” she rasped. ”Why is he doing this to me? I never once-”
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