Part 11 (1/2)

'Regret?' His father's brows rose.

'She is not an eligible bride. She is illegitimate, she is not received at court or accepted at Almack's and therefore she cannot a.s.sist my mother or Sara.' Ashe made himself continue dispa.s.sionately down the list. He was not going to fudge what a disaster this was. 'Her brother has no political influence, his lands are a significant distance from ours and will bring no benefit to you or to the estate. She has no dowry. She owns a shop and buys and sells for it herself-in other words, she is a trader and if word of that ever gets out it will mean she is received in even fewer places.'

'Your mother is illegitimate and her father was a trader,' his father said in the quiet tone that Ashe knew disguised tightly reined emotion.

'Yes,' he agreed. 'But she is the daughter of a princess, he was a nabob. You are a marquess. The case is very different in the eyes of society.'

'How is she compromised? Is she with child?'

'No!' Ashe caught up the unravelling ends of his temper. Guilty conscience, he told himself. 'No, it was all very innocent and d.a.m.nably unfortunate. She was taken ill as we returned and fainted in the inn. I was loosening her stays in a bedchamber when Lady Castlebridge, who appears to be a voracious scandalmonger, walked in on us.'

The marquess gave a bark of laughter that sounded as though it was wrenched unwillingly from his throat.

'It is not funny,' Ashe said mildly. He was inclined to kick something. Someone. Probably himself.

'It has all the elements of a farce,' his father countered. 'But there is nothing to be done about it. You are quite right, you must marry the girl and we'll make the best of it.' He narrowed his eyes at Ashe. 'Do you like her?'

'Yes.' Ashe shrugged. 'As far as that goes it would be no hards.h.i.+p to be married to her.'

And making love to Phyllida would be a perfect pleasure.

'A special licence would appear to be the best method under the circ.u.mstances.'

'No. I have been thinking about this.' All the way back from Hertfords.h.i.+re. 'I believe less damage will be done if I very publically court Miss Hurst and marry her after a couple of months. There will be no question of her being with child then, which should confound the gossip and retrieve her name somewhat.'

'There is a question of pregnancy?'

'She was casting up her accounts after eating bad fish. The innkeeper's wife a.s.sumed she was increasing and said so loudly for all to hear.'

The marquess sat back in his chair and ran both hands through his hair. 'G.o.d! And to think I had a.s.sumed we could descend on England and sink quietly into society with hardly a ripple.' He gave a huff of laughter that sounded more like genuine amus.e.m.e.nt. 'We had better go and tell your mother that she is about to acquire a new daughter.'

His father was taking this well. Ashe suspected that his mother, always unconventional, would forgive him, too, and Sara, the romantic chit, would think him in love and happily ignore any snubs that came her way as a result. He would rather they all abused him roundly for allowing this to happen.

And he would be rewarded for not closing a door and impetuously not waiting for a maid by having to marry the woman he desired as his mistress. No, his inconvenient conscience reminded him. If you had not been as intimate with Phyllida as you were, then it would never have occurred to you to stay in the room, let alone loosen her gown and remove her stays, and you know it.

He had always a.s.sumed duty and honour went hand in hand. It seemed that in this case his honour demanded that he default on his duty. You reap what you sow, he thought bitterly as he went to find his mother. He would do the honourable thing by Phyllida Hurst-now he had to find a way to do his duty by his family.

As for Miss Hurst, she would be delighted at a marriage beyond her wildest dreams and it should not be too much trouble to put an end to all those hidden elements of her life that proved such a risk. The shop must go, the stock be sold-she could have no objection.

'Gregory! Oh, you are home, thank goodness!'

He appeared in the doorway of the back parlour in his s.h.i.+rtsleeves, a pen in his hand, his hair on end as though he had been raking his fingers through it. 'Welcome home, Phyll. I have good news for you.' She stepped into the light from the open drawing-room door and he saw her face clearly. 'You are ill! Anna, what is wrong with Miss Phyllida?' He strode forwards, dropped the pen and took her arm.

'Anna, please go and ask for tea to be sent up. It is just bad fish, Gregory. I have been sick in the stomach, that is all. Come into the drawing room, we must talk.'

She let him guide her in, seat her on the chaise with her feet up, wrap a shawl over her legs. 'Give me that bonnet. Can you manage the pelisse? You should be in bed.'

Don't fuss, she wanted to shout. Don't make me feel any worse than I already do. 'Thank you. Gregory, what is your good news?'

'Harriet has accepted me!' Despite everything she felt a glow of pleasure at the genuine warmth and happiness on his face. He did care for Harriet.

'Thank goodness! How wonderful, Gregory.'

'And Millington has been all that is generous and welcoming. Very straightforward about settlements and what he expects and none of it unreasonable. I was just working through the papers when you got home. He wants certain guarantees for Harriet's future and trusts for the children and so forth.'

'He sees your true character, Gregory,' Phyllida said warmly, feeling the guilt like a knife in the stomach. 'But I am sorry, I have done something so imprudent that I fear Mr Millington may withdraw his consent to the match.'

'What?' He stared at her. 'What on earth could you have done? Is it Clere? I knew I should never have allowed you to go off with him!'

'Gregory, sit down, please. It was the most awful combination of circ.u.mstances and not Lord Clere's fault at all.' She explained what had happened at the inn while he paced up and down the room, swearing under his breath. 'I must go and speak to Mr and Mrs Millington before they hear of this in any other way.'

'Lord, yes.' Her brother sank into a chair and rubbed his hands over his face. 'I'll come with you, of course, they must see I support you completely. But where is Clere? He should be here with a special licence in his hand, telling me how he intends to safeguard your honour.'

'I have no idea where Lord Clere might be.' Phyllida closed her eyes, overcome with weariness. 'I escaped from the inn before we could speak of it. I do not wish to marry him.'

But she did need his help to calm the scandal and safeguard Gregory's betrothal. She had expected him to overtake them, stop the chaise, demand that they discuss it there and then. Now she wondered with a s.h.i.+ver whether Ashe simply intended to ignore the whole thing and brazen it out. She was on the knife-edge of respectability as it was, a completely unsuitable wife for him, but surely there was something he could do to help?

'Be d.a.m.ned to that!' her brother exploded. 'You must marry him. I am going round there right now and if he is not prepared to do the right thing he can name his seconds.'

'Gregory-' The knock on the door cut her short. Ashe.

'A letter for you, Miss Phyllida.' Jane had remembered to put it on the silver slaver and presented it with a flourish, all crisp expensive paper and heavy red seal.

Phyllida knew that seal. She broke it, spread open the single sheet with hands that shook and read out loud, 'Miss Hurst,

I trust you will have recovered sufficiently from your indisposition to attend Mrs Lawrence's party this evening. I am reliably informed that Lady Castlebridge will attend, as will the Millington family. I intend to silence the lady and rea.s.sure those whom you hope will be your future in-laws in a manner that I trust will meet with your approval.

I remain your obedient servant,

Clere.'

'He is going to propose and announce it there and then,' Gregory said, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. 'Thank heavens for that.'

'I do not wish to marry him and there is absolutely no reason why I should,' Phyllida protested. 'If I just explain to the Millingtons, and then carry on as though nothing has happened, it will quickly become apparent that the cause of my sickness is exactly what I say.'

'You cannot refuse an offer of marriage to the heir to a marquisate,' Gregory protested. 'Besides, the mud will stick.'

'I most certainly can refuse him. It would seem as though I had schemed to entrap him! My only concern is your marriage to Harriet and if we can convince the Millingtons that there is no truth in this, then all should be well.'