Chapter 25

Twenty-Five

“ W hat do you mean, she’s gone?” Stephen dropped his bags in the entryway, astonished. “I was gone for only an hour’s time to run the bit of business you asked of me, and now you tell me you that Miss Selwyn has already departed for March Manor?”

“Miss Selwyn?” Lord Richmond asked, looking up lackadaisically from the paper spread out before him. “I would have thought you would have been more concerned at your aunt’s absence. Why you should be interested in the departure of a lady’s maid, I cannot guess.”

Stephen felt that his father very well could guess, and imagined that therein lay the reason Ruth had been squired away without a proper goodbye. He would not allow his father to bait him, however. He took a breath, and pretended to be unconcerned again.

“It is no matter,” he said. “I will be seeing my aunt soon enough.”

“I hope you haven’t sent around for your horse,” his father said, still adopting that casual air that told Stephen he was up to something. “I am having him reshod today.”

Stephen frowned. “Today? That seems terribly inconvenient.”

“It is actually quite fortuitous,” Lord Richmond said, pulling out his pipe and lighting the packed leaf with care. “We have dinner plans, and I wouldn’t want you to miss them. Your horse getting reshod could not have come at a better time.”

Stephen felt a sickening premonition. The night before had dragged on ad nauseum, and in the end they were no better off than the start: Lord and Lady Richmond were convinced Aunt Cecelia needed the convent, and were unwilling to budge. Exhaustion and frustration had driven the three to bed at last, and Stephen was beginning to feel hopeless that a good compromise could be reached at all.

“Dinner?” he asked. “And who, may I ask, will be joining us at this dinner? ”

“Why do you assume we are having guests?” his father asked.

Stephen just stared at him, waiting for the truth to come out.

After a pause, Lord Richmond slapped his paper gently against the table and forced a smile. “You’re no fun anymore, Stephen. Heavens. We are just having a few people over. Lady Lina, for one, and her parents.”

Stephen bit his lip to hold back his frustration. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Father,” he said quietly. “I did not leave Lady Lina in a very good state last night. I don’t think revisiting the scene of the crime will bring any good.”

“That is precisely why we ought to have them over,” Lord Richmond said earnestly, at last setting aside the pretense of not caring. “The whole evening was a disaster, and our family’s reputation is in danger of falling into utter shambles. Think of your mother, Stephen.”

“I don’t think this is about our family’s reputation,” Stephen said. “I think this is about some manufactured idea of a marriage match that you and mother have concocted.”

Lord Richmond looked at him for a long moment and then set his pipe down on the table. “Perhaps you are right,” he said quietly. “There’s no use lying to you. Your mother and I have certainly thought of Lady Lina as a good candidate for marriage—” he held up his hand to cut off Stephen’s protestations. “But that is not a problem, Stephen. It doesn’t mean that one dinner is going to thrust you into her arms forever. You can cling to your stubbornness, but at least do your mother and I the kindness of indulging her visit and mending the fences your aunt tore down last night.”

Stephen looked at his father in silence for a few moments and then crossed his arms and nodded. “Only one night,” he said. “Only for Mother.”

His father smiled half-heartedly and picked his pipe back up.

“For your mother,” he echoed.

The day seemed to drag until dinnertime — not because Stephen was particularly eager for the arrival of their guests, but because every hour that passed he was thinking about Ruth traveling further away from him. He wondered what she had thought about the events of last night. He wondered what his parents had told her before she was hurried out the door. She must think I’ve abandoned her. He ached at the thought.

When it came time for dinner he walked downstairs to find Lady Lina and her parents, the Earl and Lady Winter, already in the parlor with his parents. Everyone looked up when he entered, conversation dying on their tongues.

“Stephen,” his father said, rising with a smile too bright for the occasion. “So pleased you’ve come. We can go on to dinner now.” He turned his smile to the group as a whole. “And afterwards, perhaps Lady Lina will regale us with one of her lovely tunes.”

Lina smiled graciously at him, and then turned her gaze tentatively to Stephen. He could hardly look at her. The black curls, elegant gown, and pinched face all reminded him of the night before — a night he’d wasted dancing with her instead of the woman he really cared about.

He walked over to her and woodenly offered her his arm for the escort into the dining room. She took it, seemingly oblivious of his reservations, a wide smile lighting her face .

At the dinner table he sat beside her as his mother indicated, Lord Winter on one side, his father at the head; the two ladies across from them.

The meal progressed in high style. Stephen did not miss that his parents had spared no expense on the entrée and the pre-courses. As the food paraded out in fine style, however, the conversation soured.

“My Lord,” Lina said softly, keeping her voice somewhat lowered so that the conversation might stay between the two of them. “I was sad to see you go last night. It all felt very sudden.”

Stephen cleared his throat. “I am sorry to have left you so rudely,” he apologized. “I was quite caught up with thoughts of my aunt.”

“Before you left,” Lina said, taking a tiny sip of soup and then setting her spoon aside, “I was quite taken with our conversation.”

“Were you?” he asked, barely containing his thoughts. How? We talked of nothing of import.

“I was. I confess I have waited with bated breath for our next meeting.” She blushed prettily. “Your parents have a very fine house, do they not?”

“Yes,” he said slowly.

“I have always wondered what it would be like to be the lady of an estate like this,” she sighed, happily looking around the grand dining room at the paintings on the wall and the elegant fireplace. “I think it would be diverting, don’t you?”

“I don’t often think about what it would be like to be the lady of a grand estate,” he said. He meant to push back against her obvious suggestions regarding their future and his inheritance, but she just took it as a joke, laughing a little too loud and a little too long.

All eyes at the table were drawn to them. Lady Richmond smiled benevolently at the two.

“It is good to see you both growing acquainted,” she said. “Stephen, dear, Lady Lina went to the Continent just last year with her mother. You ought to ask her about her experience there.”

Stephen turned dutifully to his companion. “You did not mention travelling last night,” he said. “When we were speaking about your interests.”

“Oh,” Lina said, giving another little giggle. “That’s because it isn’t really one of my interests. What is it they say about ladies? They ought to know enough of a foreign language to read love poetry, but no more.” She put a hand delicately to one of her curls as though checking to be sure it was displayed to the best advantage. "I'm afraid once you’re past the French love poetry and the Italian views it’s all quite dull from there. The people are difficult to connect with and don’t have any proper knowledge of English customs.”

Stephen set down his fork. “So your principal difficulty with visiting another country is that they don’t have the same customs as your own country?”

“Stephen.” Lord Richmond cleared his throat in warning.

“No, he’s right,” Lina interjected blithely. She seemed oblivious of the building frustration in Stephen’s voice. “I don’t see any reason to visit another place because I like England. To put a fine point on it, all I care for is London.” She gave another of her inane giggles, and Stephen thought briefly about stabbing the fork into his head to block out the sound.

Instead, he went back to eating, wordlessly. The ensuing silence seemed awkward enough to force someone else to pick up the mantle of conversation. It was Lady Winter who spoke, interjecting in a high thin voice.

“I never did have a chance to meet your sister, Lady Richmond.” She pursed her lips together. “I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

Lady Richmond blanched. Stephen felt for his mother. Even after everything that had transpired, he wanted to take this burden from her shoulders. He answered for her.

“Aunt Cecelia keeps to herself mostly,” he explained. “I don’t know that she has been to many public balls as of late.” Or any, he added mentally.

“Well, she was certainly a striking character,” Lady Winter said. Lord Winter merely looked down at his soup, pushing it around his bowl wordlessly.

Lord Richmond set down his spoon decisively. “It was a sad situation last evening,” he said. “I do not think it does us any good to dwell on it. Let us avoid talking about Lady Cecelia and her illness and focus on our own matters.”

“Her illness?” Lady Winter prodded, raising an eyebrow with interest as though she was privy to the best of the ton gossip. Stephen wondered how long it would take for everything discussed at the table to make it into the next scandal sheet.

“Yes,” Lady Richmond added, looking quickly over at Stephen. “Alas, my sister has a very developed case of hysteria. We have known about it for some time, but our dear Stephen here has given her the most personal care. You see how he dotes on her.” She gave a quick smile, forced and thin. “Stephen is such a kind man. I confess that it was heartening for me to see him with her in the ballroom.”

Stephen froze. Where is she going with this? The narrative was veering away from the truth, and he had a feeling it was not going to right itself.

She went on, gesturing in the air as she spoke. “In the end I think it a good thing, after all. My sister’s condition is lamentable, to be sure, but it is a good thing for the young ladies of the ton to see what a kind and tender man Stephen is. I am glad he thought of it. We have only heard increased interest in his hand since the incident.”

Stephen could not believe it. After everything Aunt Cecelia had been through, here his parents were insinuating in no uncertain terms that he had brought his aunt to the ball to impress the women of eligible age and status. Like you would ever use her illness to your own gain. It was disgusting. It was the final straw.

Stephen pushed back his seat; standing abruptly.

His mother looked up at him in alarm. He saw a harsh line of concern in his father’s eyes as well.

“I apologize,” Stephen said, turning coldly to Lina, “to be leaving you so suddenly again, but—”

Before he could continue, the door at the end of the hall swung open and the butler hurried in, a letter in his grasp.

“It is most urgent, sir,” he said, extending the letter to Stephen instead of the Duke of Richmond. Stephen saw the words scrawled on the front: Open with the utmost urgency.

He didn’t hesitate — not even to speak a few final words to Lady Lina. He did not recognize the handwriting, but he recognized the seal — it was from March Manor .

He walked out of the dining room, hearing but ignoring his parents’ calls from behind him and the sound of their chair sliding back as they left in pursuit. He was focused on the letter. Doubtless it had been sent by Ruth with some news of his aunt. He wondered if the events of the night before had wrought something more serious, and cursed himself for having agreed to his parent’s foolish dinner party.

He opened the letter in the hall outside. Inside, only a single line was scrawled out in his aunt’s shaking hand.

Stephen. Miss Selwyn terribly ill. Come at once. C