Mary Brendan - The Regency Season - Ruined Reputations - The Rake's Ruined Lady / Tarnished, Tempted and Tamed

‘Do you think Mr Kendrick overheard us talking about him?’ Mary whispered, aghast. ‘He seems to be staring at us rather too frequently, Gloria.’

Lady Groves frowned thoughtfully, then looked at Beatrice. ‘You were talking to him earlier, weren’t you, my dear?’

‘Yes...I was...’ Bea avoided looking his way, although she felt the side of her face burning and wondered if he’d guessed that she’d just heard an intriguing hint about his sordid way of life.

‘He is your brother-in-law’s good friend, is he not?’ Mary Woodley picked up on her ladyship’s unspoken thought that Miss Dewey might have caught Hugh Kendrick’s interest.

‘I believe they’ve known each other since their schooldays,’ Bea answered with a neutral smile.

‘Do you have a beau, my dear?’ Lady Groves had already taken a surreptitious look at the young woman’s pretty white fingers and noted they lacked any rings. ‘A sweet gel like you must have admirers buzzing around like bees about a honeypot.’

Mary discreetly nudged her companion in the ribs, having just brought to mind a stunning titbit. Dolly Pearson had told her recently that a swine of a country doctor had jilted her niece. No names had been mentioned, and Mary had taken little interest in the tale as she’d doubted she’d know such provincial folk. But it seemed she did! Obviously the niece in question could not be the viscount’s wife, and that only left...

‘I am not being courted,’ Bea answered as cheerfully as she could. ‘Well, I did promise Elise I would visit the nursery and see baby Adam before he goes to bed.’ She rose gracefully. ‘Apparently we are all to be given dinner soon.’

‘Such charming hosts,’ Lady Groves murmured. ‘I hope Mr Kendrick changes his mind and stays. I should like to have a chat with him.’

‘I’m afraid I’m hoping he will disappoint you,’ Beatrice murmured beneath her breath, walking away. She had seen the sudden intelligence on Mary Woodley’s face and knew that Dolly hadn’t after all kept the news of her jilting to herself. Philosophically, Bea realised people would soon know—and besides, what occupied her now was imagining how debauched Hugh might have become in the years since she’d last known him.

The two ladies exchanged a look as soon as they judged Miss Dewey was at a safe distance.

Lady Groves shook her head. ‘I doubt it, Mary. She might be his friend’s sister-in-law, and a beauty too, I must add, but rather mature to seriously catch the eye of such an eligible gentleman. She is the senior of the two gels and it must be galling for her to have nothing when her sister has done so well. Miss Dewey could pass for twenty with that perfect complexion...but she must learn to control that forward nature.’

Mary nodded vigorously. ‘She is twenty-five; Dolly told me her niece’s age and said she’d be lucky to come so close again to her wedding day. I expect the doctor has found someone younger and more demure and that’s why he jilted her!’

‘Jilted?’ Lady Groves sounded horrified. ‘Poor child! That is a setback. Gentlemen like to think they’ve won a prize with a wife, not a cast-off—’

‘Hugh Kendrick has just watched Miss Dewey leaving the room, Gloria,’ Mrs Woodley interrupted excitedly. ‘I think he likes her...’

Chapter Nine

A ghostly shroud appeared to be hovering over the sodden ground as Bea stepped out of a side door onto shingle. Following yesterday’s downpour a thick early-morning mist had formed and cool droplets tickled her complexion as she crunched over gravel towards the stable block. While surveying the pearly landscape she drew in a deep breath, savouring its earthy effervescence. It was barely seven o’clock and, apart from the servants, nobody else was yet up at Blackthorne Hall.

Bea was kitted out in sturdy boots and one of her sister’s riding habits, with a hat sitting jauntily on her fair tresses. As she jumped a puddle, one hand on the brim to prevent her hat flying off, she felt inexplicably joyful, considering the ordeals of the last few weeks. Others might pity her, and think there was little in her life to celebrate, yet Beatrice was determined that failed love affairs would never crush her while she had Elise and her papa close by. And her little family was expanding all the time: yesterday, after dinner, when the gentlemen had taken port and cigars, and Lady Groves and Mary Woodley had settled down in the drawing room to play cards, Elise had quietly confided to Bea that she suspected Adam might soon have a little brother or sister.

While pondering on the lovely idea of a little niece to cherish alongside Adam, Bea realised being a spinster aunt held a certain warm appeal. Vigorously she brushed a splash of mud from the fine cloth of her sister’s bottle-green skirt. The viscountess had a collection of the most exquisite silks and satins stitched by feted modistes and would press on Bea any garment she might praise—not simply to borrow, but to keep. Bea understood the sweetness behind Elise’s generosity but rarely accepted such lavish gifts, quipping that there was little need for pearl-encrusted ball gowns in her neck of the woods.

Having traversed a courtyard, Bea glimpsed the stables situated beyond a walled physic garden. As she approached the neat shrubs and plants some of her child-like delight at being up early on this fresh new morning dwindled. The sight of the herbs had reminded her of Colin. His work as a doctor had necessitated him knowing about natural remedies for ailments and Bea had taken an interest in the healing powers of plants too.

Her fingers brushed against rosemary spikes, filling her nostrils with a pungent perfume. Suddenly she crouched down, unable to pass by without touching the velvety leaves of lady’s mantle, cradling their watery jewels. The image of tiny diamonds jolted her upright, thinking of another gentleman who had the power to disturb her peace of mind.

She marched briskly on, trying to shake off the unwanted memory of Hugh’s degeneracy. Mulling the secret scandal over in private, she’d guessed, from Lady Groves’s hint, that it had occurred abroad, and that Hugh’s investment in India held the clue to the outrage he’d committed. When she’d joined Elise in the nursery yesterday she’d asked her sister—quite casually—if she could shed any light on the matter alluded to by Lady Groves. The viscountess had given a little shrug, reminding Bea that Hugh was a notorious rake and saying that she doubted he’d remain celibate just because he was on foreign soil.

Bea had already arrived at the same conclusion: the idea of Mr Kendrick having foreign affairs, as well as a few closer to home, had probably sent the elderly ladies into a tizz...but it certainly didn’t surprise her.

Of course Bea knew the only way to find out for sure what it was all about was to ask him...and she’d no intention of doing that! Why would she bother when she didn’t care a jot what he got up to...?

‘You’re up early, Beatrice.’

‘So...so are you, sir.’ Bea had swivelled about and automatically stuttered a reply, despite her amazement at seeing the very person who’d been intruding on her thoughts.

Hugh was emerging from the first stall she’d passed, leading a large chestnut horse. ‘Are you riding alone?’

‘I am... Elise told me last night she would not stir herself before ten o’clock. She and Alex often like to lie in...’ Bea cleared her throat, wishing she’d kept her answer brief.

‘I’m sure they do...’ Hugh muttered, glancing at the house.

‘I thought you would by now be in London,’ Bea blurted, unable to curb her curiosity at his reappearance.

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you,’ Hugh drawled. ‘But it was foolish of me to suppose I’d get even as far as Enfield last night. Half the road had been washed away by the flooding so I turned back after a couple of miles.’