Mary Nichols - Regency High Society Vol 5 - The Disgraced Marchioness / The Reluctant Escort / The Outrageous Debutante / A Damnable Rogue

‘I see.’ Eleanor felt as if the walls were closing in on her. She fought to stave off the blackness that threatened to encroach and rob her of all sense. Then, through the mists, she became aware of a warm hand on her shoulder, a firm pressure. The heat spread through the black silk of her spencer to reassure and comfort. As she turned her head to look up, there could be no doubting the depth of understanding in Lord Henry’s face as he willed her to be strong. For one moment she covered his hand with her own and struggled to smile in reassurance.

It almost broke his heart.

His voice was harsh as he spoke again to the lawyer. ‘Do you truly believe that my brother married Octavia Baxendale some three years ago, sir?’

‘I do not like it, my lord. But on the face of it, yes. I am unable to argue against the evidence.’

So there it was. Eleanor covered her face with her hands.

‘Forgive me, my lord, my lady. I would never willingly cause you such pain. If there is anything I can do.’

Lord Henry took Eleanor’s arm in a firm hold, encouraging her to rise to her feet, then tucked her hand within his arm. She obeyed as if in a trance, all her hopes and dreams for the future destroyed. He fixed Hoskins with a flat stare. ‘Will you be so kind as to do one thing for us, sir? Sir Edward claimed that an annual sum was paid to Miss Baxendale from the date of her marriage. A substantial amount, it would seem, to ensure her complicity in keeping the marriage secret. Is there any trace of such a sum being paid from the estate finances? I have asked the agent to look at the estate accounts at Burford Hall. It would be interesting to know if and when any large amounts of money were paid out and apparently unaccounted for.’

‘I will certainly do that, my lord. But if there is no evidence of such, it may not prove that they were not made, of course.’

‘I know. But it is a start and the best we can do.’

They returned home in pensive and uncomfortable silence, in a hackney that Lord Henry hailed outside the lawyer’s rooms, to relay the depressing results of their morning’s endeavours to Mrs Stamford and Nicholas who awaited their return.

‘It is as we feared.’ Lord Henry stripped off his greatcoat and strode into the front parlour to pour glasses of port. ‘The documents would appear to be legally binding.’

Eleanor handed her spencer, gloves and bonnet to Marcle and followed, determined to hold herself together. Henry cast one glance in her direction and stalked to her side to take her hand in a firm hold. ‘It would be better if you sat before you fall to the floor.’ His tone was harsh to cover the depth of his feelings for her. She looked so fragile, the impression enhanced by her black gown. Lost and vulnerable. He suppressed the fury that surged within him as he saw the result of their morning’s work and felt the uncontrollable trembling in the hand that, for a brief moment, clung to his. ‘Here.’ He held out the glass of port. ‘Drink this. Don’t argue with me, just do it. You have had a most distressing morning, perhaps the worst hour of your life. It is not weakness to admit it and take a little stimulation!’

Eleanor looked up into his face, her eyes betraying her inner fears. She looked stricken—he realised that she must indeed be so, if she was willing to lay her emotions bare before him. All he wished to do was sit beside her and pull her into his arms to shield her from the cruelties of the world. Anything to smooth away the look of helpless desolation.

‘Don’t give up yet. This is only the first hurdle. We shall come about.’

Tears threatened at his gentle words but she would not, determined to keep her voice calm and composure intact. She sat at the pressure of his hand and obediently took the glass. ‘But what hope is there? You heard what Mr Hoskins had to say. Thomas was in all probability wedded to Octavia Baxendale at least a year before I even knew him.’

‘I am not convinced, in spite of the evidence to the contrary.’ Lord Henry tossed back the port as if he needed it and poured another glass. ‘Let us start from the opposite premise. That the claim is false. Consider this. If the whole venture is nothing but a deliberate trickery, a charade, why would they embark on such a risky enterprise in the full view of the haut ton? If they fail, and so are unmasked as frauds, the result will be a disaster for them. So what motives would they have to risk all on the turn of a card?’

‘Money!’ Nicholas stated without hesitation.

‘Social consequence?’ Eleanor suggested.

‘The title!’ Mrs Stamford added in flat tones.

‘Money would seem to me to be the strongest motivation.’ Henry cast himself into the chair opposite his brother. ‘I wonder about the financial circumstances of the Baxendales.’

‘An easy enough matter to discover, surely?’ Nicholas lifted his brows.

‘Do you believe,’ Eleanor asked, considering a matter that had worried her since the first meeting at Burford Hall, ‘that Miss Baxendale is strong enough to have stood against her brother if he wanted her to reveal her marriage to the world? Sir Edward said that she refused to do so when Thomas contracted to marry me, in spite of his persuasion to the contrary. Do you really believe it? She seems so biddable.’

‘She might. If she loved my brother enough.’ Henry acknowledged the point. ‘But she is certainly not made of stern stuff. I think that we should get to know Miss Baxendale a little better. And perhaps without the presence of her more forceful brother. There is a role for you, Eleanor! You will not like it, I dare say, but I think you should further your acquaintance with Octavia.’

‘But she is in black gloves.’ Mrs Stamford pushed herself to the edge of her seat in horror. ‘It is not yet six months since dear Thomas died. It is not fitting that Eleanor start going about in society. What will people say? I cannot condone a plan of action which would result in the Marchioness of Burford being considered fast. How can you suggest it?’ Her eyes locked with Lord Henry’s in accusation. ‘I suppose that such casual ways are acceptable in New York…’ she sniffed ‘…but they are not considered respectable in London!’

Henry turned his glittering gaze on Mrs Stamford without compunction. ‘I both can and will suggest it. And I will suggest even more outrageous action. I think that you, Eleanor, should put off your full mourning and begin to go about a little. There is no hint of scandal yet, but there will be, and without doubt it will take the Polite World by storm. It is too salacious a story to keep quiet.’ His lips thinned at the disagreeable prospect. ‘We shall soon find that we are living our lives under full public scrutiny and, however unpleasant, I think we must not be seen to be in hiding over this matter. We should go about as normal, make no comment, presume that Eleanor is without question the Marchioness of Burford, and I think that you should try for an intimate relationship with the fair Octavia. If she wishes to confide her troubles, you should be available with a sympathetic ear! I am not asking your daughter to attend a full dress ball!’ he informed Eleanor’s outraged parent. ‘Merely to show herself and the child in public a little and pay some private visits.’

‘That should be an interesting development!’ For the first time that day, Eleanor managed a faint smile, appreciative of the plan. ‘It is better to be active than afraid. I will do it.’ Sipping the port, which restored colour to her ashen cheeks, she signalled her agreement. ‘We should go about as if nothing were amiss. And I will put off my mourning.’ She frowned as her mama prepared to interrupt. ‘Better to be fast than a pawn at the whim of Sir Edward Baxendale.’