His Mistletoe Marchioness. Georgie LeeЧитать онлайн книгу.
are men like any other and, given your opponent’s spotless reputation, a judge might look upon him more favourably than he does you.’
‘Careful how you call my reputation into question, Lord Westbook, or I may find a way to revive it in your eyes with a more formal challenge,’ Hugh growled in a low voice. Thankfully, Mr Alton asked Sir Nathaniel a question, drawing his attention away from the less-than-civil turn in Hugh and Lord Westbook’s conversation.
Lord Westbook went pale beneath his ruddy complexion, his spine not so stiff when faced with a challenge more formidable than making society ladies titter with delight at scandalous tales in order to secure an invitation to yet another party.
Hugh rather hoped Lord Westbook was man enough to force his hand, but Hugh didn’t wish to be rude to their host or to lose Sir Nathaniel’s newfound respect by calling out a fellow guest. Nor did he appreciate the kernel of truth in Lord Westbook’s nasty words. Hugh might not have done more than most lords in London, but he’d been careless in keeping it discreet. Lord Westbook was right. If his matter came before the wrong judge, Hugh’s past behaviour might be taken into account. It made his need to be impeccable and avoid any whiff of scandal from here on out far more pressing.
* * *
‘Lady Kingston, we haven’t had a chance to speak since you arrived.’ Lady Fulton squeezed in between Clara and Lady Pariston where they sat on the sofa, enjoying the fire and a great deal of catching up. Anne had been forced to leave the women directly after dinner to help take care of poor Lillie who’d eaten too many sweets and become sick in the nursery where the rest of the children dined. From across the new arrival, Lady Pariston threw Clara a sympathetic and curious look, both of them wondering what in the world Lady Fulton could possibly have to speak with Clara about. Lord Fulton was an agreeable man, but his considerably younger wife, who’d possessed more mercantile money than lineage before becoming Lady Fulton, wasn’t such a charming delight. She was tall and slender, and although her bloom had faded she was still attractive. However, her constant sneer did a great deal to temper it. ‘I must say, your necklace is gorgeous. Was it your mother’s?’
‘No, it was a Christmas present from my late husband,’ Clara answered coolly, irked by the woman’s uninvited intrusion and her ignoring Lady Pariston.
‘He had exquisite taste in jewellery,’ she purred with a covetousness to make Clara think she meant Alfred had more taste in baubles than he did ladies, but she smiled and accepted the compliment with far more graciousness than Lady Fulton deserved. ‘It’s a pity precedence has forced you to waste this display of finery on a man like Lord Delamare. One would think after what happened the last time the two of you were here together that he would have had the decency to stay away. I’m surprised, given his reputation in town, that he was even invited.’ She raised her hand to speak from the back of it as if she and Clara were sharing some great intimacy. ‘As much as I adore Lady Tillman, I’ve always questioned her selection of guests. Sometimes they can be so common.’
Her gaze flicked over Clara, who was certain that Lady Fulton was including her in that collection. Clara’s title might garner her respect, but not from everyone, especially someone like Lady Fulton who, despite the fashionableness of her dark blue evening dress, and the gaudy gold jewellery she wore, could not completely hide her more humble roots.
‘I believe a wide variety of guests always lends a touch of surprise to any gathering. One never knows who one might meet here, isn’t that right, Lady Pariston?’
‘It is,’ the grand dame concurred, too old to be ruffled by a parvenu like Lady Fulton. ‘Who knows what might come of new friendships.’
‘But they aren’t all new, are they?’ Lady Fulton leaned closer to Clara, her look of affected concern as sickening as her overly sweet perfume. ‘It can’t be easy for you to see him again.’
Clara sat up straighter so she could peer down her nose at the rude woman. Whatever impression she’d made on Lady Fulton in the hallway before dinner had worn off. It was time to assert herself again. ‘I find it as easy to see him as I do to see those who overstep the bounds of propriety by speaking too intimately to their betters.’
Lady Fulton jerked back and pressed her thin lips tight together at having been put in her place and by Clara of all people. Clearly she hadn’t expected this show of spirit and if she hadn’t risen at that moment to seek out other companionship, she would have tasted a great deal more of it. Clara almost wished she had stayed for, with her hackles raised and the tension still lingering from dinner, a little tiff would help her sit much easier on the sofa while they waited for the men to join them.
‘Well done, Lady Kingston,’ Lady Pariston congratulated, patting her on the knee. ‘You stood up to her as you should.’
‘I wish it hadn’t been necessary to do so.’ But Lady Fulton had been the one to strike the first blow. Who was she to cast any aspersions on Clara or even Hugh? Yet she’d felt bold enough to do it simply because of Hugh’s presence and their unfortunate seating at the dinner table. ‘With any luck, that will put an end to any of her other observations about me, at least in public.’
She could not control what they said in private any more than she could command Hugh to leave. She could only hope that nothing else happened this weekend to give that vile woman or anyone else more cause to look down their noses at her or to insist on seeing her as nothing more than the awkward young girl she’d once been. She would not be made to feel inconsequential again, not by Lady Fulton and certainly not by Hugh.
‘Care less what others think and you’ll be happier, I promise,’ Lady Pariston instructed, as if able to hear her doubts about herself and this week. ‘Besides, the way Lord Delamare regarded you tonight won’t silence anyone’s tongues and if they’re going to whisper then you might as well give them something worth whispering about. A house party is as good a place as any to do it.’
‘Lady Pariston!’ Clara could not believe she was having this conversation with a woman who could be her grandmother or that Lady Pariston was suggesting that Hugh had regarded her with a great deal of interest. The only thing he was probably interested in was her money.
‘Oh, don’t look so shocked. You’d be surprised by what all these ladies get up to, but you won’t hear about it because they’re discreet. I was discreet, too, and oh, I did have my fun, not when I was married, mind you, but on a number of occasions afterwards.’ She laid a wrinkled and bejewelled hand on her chest and smiled with winsome pride. ‘With a little discretion you could get up to a little trouble with that fine specimen of a marquess yourself.’
First Anne, now Lady Pariston. There were times when Clara seemed like the only one who cared about the blemishes of Hugh’s past. ‘I’ve already had enough trouble with Lord Delamare and, judging by what I’ve heard of him, he’s had a fair amount of his own trouble.’
‘Good, it means he knows his way around a woman.’ Lady Pariston winked at her before throwing back her head and laughing. Clara’s cheeks began to burn as people turned to view them before returning to their amusement. Then Lady Pariston sobered and faced her again. ‘Seriously, my dear, you have been placed in this position at far too young an age and now you must make the best of it. Don’t work so hard to please others, only yourself, and if that pleasure should include the young man, then so be it.’
Clara waved her hand in front of her face against the heat of the fire. ‘I assure you, what I want does not include Lord Delamare.’
‘Don’t be so set against it. It does no good for a woman to be alone, especially when there is a man willing to keep her company.’ Lady Pariston sat back, regarding her out of the corner of her eyes as if she didn’t believe for a moment what Clara had said.
Clara laid her hand in her lap with a sigh. She could insist it was true but there was no point. Lady Pariston was right, people would believe what they wanted and Clara should not be guided by a desire to try to control it. All she could control was how she responded to everyone, including Hugh, but she had no energy to do any more of that tonight. Rising, she offered the ladies goodnight and took her leave,