Мэри Бэлоу - Someone to Wed

“Thank you for all you have done for me,” he said, catching her up in a tight hug, “and for inviting Mama and Abby here. I understand it was your idea to use your wedding as an extra inducement. Thank you, Wren.”

Abigail hugged her too. “Yes, thank you,” she said. “It was important I come for poor Jess’s sake. She has taken the changes in my fortune very much to heart. I have been able to spend our few days here explaining that I am at peace with it all, that I am not a tragic figure for whom she should sacrifice her own hopes and happiness. It has been easier to convince her person-to-person than by letter. And it has been lovely seeing everyone again and meeting you. I think you are quite perfect for Alex. For one thing, you are almost as tall as he is.” She laughed. “Thank you, Wren, for everything.”

Viola took one of her hands between both of her own. “Thank you,” she said, “for the tender care you lavished upon my son. Thank you for giving Abby and Jessica the chance to spend some time together. In many ways they are more like sisters than cousins and the events of the past year or so have been hard on them. And thank you, Wren, for … friendship. I feel that I have found a friend in you, and that is not something I say to many people. You have inspired me with your quiet courage.”

“That,” Wren told her, “is one of the loveliest things anyone could possibly say to me. And please know how happy I am to be able to call you friend as well. Enjoy your month or two with Harry. I will write, and hope to see you again soon.”

“I shall you as well.” And they hugged each other amid the noise and fuss of general farewells.

Harry had drawn Alexander into a hug too, Wren noticed, and was slapping his back. She even overheard what he said. “I don’t resent you, Alex,” he said, “despite what I know you half believe. When I see you going off to the Lords, I think how dreary it would be if that were me. Give me a battleground instead any day of the week.”

Then everyone was moving out onto the pavement and Alexander was handing the ladies into their waiting carriage and Harry was climbing in after them. Two minutes later the carriage disappeared along South Audley Street, and those who remained stood gazing after it.

“Viola has changed,” Wren’s mother-in-law said. “I was always very fond of her. She was so elegant and dignified and gracious, as she still is, but there used to be a certain aloofness about her too. She seems a little warmer now.”

“I believe the aloofness could be attributed to the wretchedness of her marriage, Mama,” Elizabeth said. “You did not miss anything in not knowing Cousin Humphrey, Wren.”

“I like her very well indeed,” Wren said as they entered the house again. “And Abigail is very sweet. She is mature beyond her years.”

“I would wager Harry will be back in the Peninsula before his two months are up if he has any say in the matter,” Alexander said. “He told me the life of an officer suits him better than that of an earl. Perhaps he even believes it.”

“Wren?” Elizabeth linked an arm through hers as they climbed the stairs. “Lord Hodges is your brother?”

Alexander had told his mother and sister about the relationship. “Yes,” Wren said. “Colin was six when I left home. I adored him. He was told I had died.”

Her mother-in-law, coming up behind them on Alexander’s arm, drew in a sharp breath, though she did not say anything.

“His shock was greater than mine yesterday,” Wren said. “My greatest shock was knowing he is Lord Hodges . My father was alive when I left home. So was my elder brother.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth said.

“I am going to see her,” Wren said as they entered the drawing room.

“Lady Hodges?” Her mother-in-law looked shocked. “Oh, my dear. You are going with your brother?”

“No,” Wren said. “He has no dealings with her and has strongly advised me to stay away.”

“But you are going anyway?” her mother-in-law said. “Wren, is it wise?”

Elizabeth released her arm before they sat down. “I can understand that she must go, Mama,” she said. “I do not know your story, Wren, but I can perhaps imagine some of it, for I do know a bit about—But she is your mother and the least said the better. Yes, of course, you must go, and I applaud your courage. Alex is going with you?”

“Kicking and screaming,” he said, looking from one to the other of them, a frown on his face. He had not sat down. “This must be a woman’s logic at work. To both Hodges and me it is madness. And I do know Wren’s story, Lizzie—or some of it anyway. I daresay there is far more. Yes, I am going with her. Tomorrow morning if the lady is at home. And then I am going to miss what remains of the parliamentary session. I am going to take Wren home. No, correction. Wren and I will be going home together. To Brambledean.”

“With my blessing,” his mother said. “And home is the right word. Wren will make it home for you, Alex.”

“Now if you will all excuse me,” Alexander said, “I have some business to attend to.”

Wren went to see him on his way.

Lady Hodges lived with her eldest daughter and son-in-law on Curzon Street, in a home owned but not inhabited by her son. She did not go out a great deal, and when she did it was to a place, like the theater, where she would be fully on display but not exposed to sunlight or direct light of any sort—and, preferably, where she would be set a little apart from her beholders. At home she occupied rooms in which the curtains were drawn permanently across the windows and the lights, though many, were artfully arranged to give an impression of warmth and brightness and to twinkle off jewels without illumining the lady herself. She surrounded herself there with beautiful young men who were drawn by the gifts she lavished upon them and by the fame of her beauty, which had persisted for more than thirty years and become legend. Her eldest daughter, still lovely though she was now in her middle thirties, had stayed with her, though the others had left for various reasons, her elder son by reason of death. She liked to have Blanche with her so that people might flatter her by believing they must be sisters.

Her vanity knew no bounds. When she looked in her mirror—and she did so only after spending a couple of hours each day in the hands of a small army of maids and wigmakers and stylists and manicurists and cosmetics artists—she saw the seventeen-year-old who had once taken the ton by storm. She had captivated a dozen or more gentlemen, most notably a married duke who had offered her carte blanche and riches galore and a wealthy, handsome baron who had offered her marriage. Her only regret when she chose the latter had been that she could not switch the ranks of the two men. She would have liked to be a duchess.

She was at home and in the middle of her toilette when a footman tapped on the door of her dressing room and murmured a message to one of the maids who then informed a more senior maid who informed my lady that the Earl and Countess of Riverdale had called and asked to pay their respects to her.

She was surprised. Indeed, she was amazed and not at all pleased. It was the very last thing she had expected. She had heard—who had not?—of the ugly woman with a purple face whom the Earl of Riverdale had been forced to marry, poor gentleman, because his pockets were sadly to let and she was fabulously wealthy. She had looked curiously at the woman when she had seen her in the box across from her own at the theater, as no doubt everyone else had done. And at first she had wondered, with a twinge of disappointment, why the reports of the woman’s looks had been so inaccurate.